Book #4 Conrad's Heart of Darkness: A Critical and Contextual Discussion

I’m back writing after a hectic week where I reaped the fruits of my inability to plan my time well. This is probably the book that helped me begin to understand Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. I remember when I first read Heart of Darkness, I was lost in the jungles of Africa for large swathes of the book. However, reading Cedric Watts’ book has helped to provide a framework by which to approach the novella.

          Watts’ discussion divides Conrad’s book into three sections: pre-departure, journeying into the Congo, and back to civilisation. In each section, he looks at some of the literary techniques Conrad employs and discusses how these create certain effects in the reader and how identifying them might elucidate the ‘meaning’ of the text. There are three techniques I would like to mention here: the oblique narrator, delayed decoding and the covert plot.

          The oblique narrator is the first-person narrator (hence the primary or ‘frame’ narrator) who narrates the first-person narration of another character in the book. This is probably the first time I have encountered this technique. What it does is give Conrad the flexibility to play with Marlow’s telling of his experience in the Congo. This means that Marlow does not need to tell a story in a straightforward manner, which he in fact does not do. We can then regard him as an unreliable narrator which makes us question the things he says, lending ambiguity and uncertainty – which is pretty much what Conrad’s book is about.

          Also, this means that Conrad is able to use ‘delayed decoding.’ How this works is that Marlow sees the effect that images, events, people have on him, and only later understands what these actually are or mean. This technique creates a sense of surprise because something seemingly unimportant or comic might be later disclosed as significant or even horrifying. Furthermore, it adds to the air of mystery and foreboding prevalent in the book, because revelation comes slowly and gradually as we travel, with Marlow deeper into the Congo. Also, there is a sense that we are sharing Marlow’s journey. I know certainly that in reading other books, we seem to be participating in the adventure. But this technique that Conrad uses ties in also with the bigger themes of the book, which is interesting if we actually spend time to study these books like literature students or critics.

          Finally, an interesting aspect of the book is the idea of the covert plot. This plot is definitely not the main plot, neither is it a subplot; it is rather a plot that we as readers will not be able to identify (even after multiple readings), however, not knowing it will not leave us completely in the dark. It is a plot that helps to make sense of the story, and might influence us to interpret the text differently. Watts suggests that not many authors do it (thankfully, otherwise I’ll be covert plot-hunting every time I read a book), but Conrad uses it very effectively. The covert plot in Heart of Darkness stated concisely is that the manager of the Central Station wishes Kurtz dead in order to earn promotion. Thus, it is possible to immediately condemn Kurtz as a man who succumbed to the darkness, but in light of this, we could see Kurtz as victim and that because help does not come earlier, he finally yields to the darkness.

          Conrad does not make this darkness clear. It could mean Africa; it could mean the darkness within each individual; it could mean the darkness of the civilised world. And that is what makes Heart of Darkness so thought-provoking. We just cannot be sure! It seems to me that Conrad wants us to think and not jump to conclusions. He wants us to ponder about the state of the human condition. And I think that he has managed to capture one sense of it: that our hearts are indeed dark, but often we cannot accept it, and so we hide behind a veneer of civility and illusory light. And that is why we deceive ourselves. We keep up this image because the truth is too horrifying to behold. So, the light is there, but instead, we often choose darkness – we think that is safer.  

Understanding Catholics

This week (9/2/15 – 13/2/15) is the annual ‘Events Week’ organised by the Durham Christian Union (DICCU). There are lunchtime and evening talks every day of the week where we look at specific questions raised against Christianity (lunchtime) and examine the claims Jesus makes (evening). There are also events catered for international students. All of the talks are geared towards explaining the Gospel and what it means to be a Christian.

          It was at the evening international event last night that I had a chance to discuss Catholicism with a friend. Through the conversation, I was struck by how clear it is that both Catholics and Evangelical Protestants have misunderstood each other for many years. My friend might not be representative of what all Catholics believe, but I think some of the questions he raised are helpful for Protestants to think about and examine. But firstly, a bit about my friend. He is a Singaporean reading Philosophy and Theology in Durham. He comes from an independent Protestant church but converted to Catholicism before coming to Durham. And this is his reason (with my paraphrase): the Catholic Church is the authentic and true church of Christ. She is right, and Protestants are wrong in their beliefs.

          His main concern, I found, was not on matters of salvation (soteriology) but on the church (ecclesiology). He argues that the principle of the Reformation is troubling. Where Biblical interpretation is left to the individual, how can there be consensus on its meaning and truth? He draws on the example of church splits, starting of new denominations, and liberal Protestantism. His challenge is that with no central figurehead to authenticate and give authority to Biblical interpretation, it is easy to misuse, abuse, and misapply the Bible in all matters of Christian living. Expressing angst against post-modernism, he says that Biblical interpretation becomes a wholly subjective and personal exercise if the Protestant principle is held. In short, no one Protestant can consider another’s interpretation of the Bible as incorrect, since authority lies in the individual and not in the (Catholic) Church.

          I think I understand his qualms, but perhaps he has misunderstood Protestants. His suggested ‘Protestant principle’ seems to work in theory, but in practice, I don’t think the argument holds water. As an individual, I don’t interpret the Bible one way and reject all other interpretations. I am ready to acknowledge that I’ve understood a word or verse or passage wrongly when someone else shows me a better reading using careful hermeneutics.

This is because I believe that the Bible’s authority is intrinsic, and not imposed extrinsically. The spirit of the Reformation is that we constantly check our understanding against Scripture. We weigh our interpretations, and measure their validity against the big picture of the Biblical message. Consistency and assurance can then be arrived at. However, because we are fallible, our interpretations can be incorrect. That’s why I think the ‘Protestant principle’ good in the sense that no one man or institution or tradition is right, and studying the Bible is both an individual and communal activity as the Christian seeks to understand God’s Word in the context of the Christian community – and this community transcends time, space and denominations.

Sure we have our doctrinal differences, but the Gospel message is essentially the same. Perhaps the reason why Protestants fought, and continue to fight is because we are still sinners. And Protestants have to seriously consider whether by sacrificing unity for pet peeves is right and proper.

So can there be right interpretation? I believe so, but that is for another discussion. God spoke decisively as the author of Hebrews puts it ‘in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world.’ (Hebrews 1:1) Final authority, however, doesn’t lie in the individual, neither does it lie in the Catholic Church. Before the mutual defamation continues, let’s think carefully about what this entails. 

Book#3 The Theology of the Book of Genesis - R. W. L. Moberly

          I grew up with the vague idea that somehow the Old Testament and the New Testament were related. They had to right? Because they are in the Bible, and if they were not connected, why place them together? Then I was introduced to the idea of Biblical Theology, which argues that the Bible has a unified story: God progressively working to redeem his people, his actions culminating in the Person and Work of Jesus. Another important understanding is that because God’s revelation is progressive, Jesus’ coming changes the way we look at certain things in the Old Testament.

          I adopted this approach as I read the Old Testament, which in practice meant that many characters and scenes had typological significance instead of having a more general moralistic application. Also, the link between the Old and the New Testaments became more firmly established. For example, the story of David and Goliath is often applied as challenging and encouraging us (the readers) to be like David in trusting in God to defeat adversity. However, according to Biblical Theology, we are the Israelites, trembling and helpless against the enemy, and David is a type of Christ. His act of saving the Israelites points to Jesus’ act of saving humankind from sin.

          However, this might present problems (of which I hope to engage more in a separate post), one of which is (I think) this: that we are reading into the text (specifically the Old Testament) meanings that were not intended by the original authors. Vaughan Roberts suggests that ‘we need to let each Old Testament passage speak in its own right before we consider how it points to Christ¹.’ So I think that as I try to understand an Old Testament passage and attempt to make its connection to Christ, I need to seriously engage with the text, in its contexts, on its own terms.

          Sorry for the delay but I finally reach my main point. I think that Prof. Moberly (he is my Old Testament module lecturer) does precisely that in his book The Theology of the Book of Genesis (ISBN: 9780521685382). He looks specifically at Genesis, starting with a broad overview of its literature and how one approaches the book, then focuses on passages that have been hotly debated. What characterizes his work is that he does not force his own interpretations on the reader. Instead, most chapters first examine the views of other scholars on the discussed passage and then offers a different viewpoint before presenting Moberly’s own understanding of the text.

          He writes the book from an academic framework, albeit constructed within a Christian frame of reference – something different from what I was previously exposed to. Thus, reading this book is akin to being part of a theological discussion on Genesis. We as readers are practicing theology, which he defines as ‘not a once-for-all exercise in finding the right words and/or deeds, but rather a continuing and ever-repeated attempt to articulate what a faithful understanding and use of the biblical text might look like in the changing circumstances of life’ (p. 19).

          In a gentle way, he challenges us to look beyond our presuppositions, to suspend the preconceptions we always have towards something (in this case the Bible or a particular passage in it) and engage with the text on its own terms. Certainly my understanding of Genesis has been somewhat altered, and more questions have to be asked. I am now less certain about the theology of Genesis but I do not think it is an issue.

          Now, problematic or seemingly insignificant material can be heuristic in any Christian’s attempt to understand Genesis, and consequently, the Bible. We just need to ask the right questions.

1. Vaughan Roberts, God’s Big Picture (Nottingham: IVP, 2009), p. 165.

Book #2: Reformation Spirituality

This is the first book I have read that has taken a distinctively Christian approach to English Literature. The author, Gene Edward Veith Jr., writes that ‘not only can Calvin help to interpret Herbert, but Herbert can help interpret Calvin…’ (p. 24) Herbert is certainly a poet worth studying in relation to his art, but beyond that, to how Christianity and creativity interact to produce beautiful poetry. Reformation Spirituality (ISBN: 0838750710) is a good guide to see that connection.

In the few weeks since I have been introduced to the poetry of Herbert, he has been a great comfort in my Christian walk. It is perhaps easy to think of Christianity as rigid because it is dogmatic; or while reacting to the modern over-inclination towards ‘feelings’ to want to uphold objectivity of truth over the subjectivity of emotions.

However, Veith Jr. shows from Herbert’s poetry that the spirit of the Reformation can be captured in poetry that appeals both to one’s mind and one’s senses. He traces a theological sequence in The Temple (Herbert’s collection of poems): the Law and its function of showing human beings their sinfulness without offering salvation, then Justification in the Person and Work of Jesus and an individual’s response, then the process of Sanctification where the Christian life is a constant battle between sin and God, spiritual despair and assurance of salvation, which culminates in death, then there is an injunction for the Christian to continue warring against the world just as the Church has historically done.

This book is very readable and helps to thread the various theological themes that are present in Herbert’s poetry. To understand Herbert, one needs to grasp the doctrines of the Reformation that he held dear. And to understand the Reformation, Herbert’s poetry sheds light on how the break away from the Catholic Church and the embracing of the doctrines of Predestination and Perseverance of the Saints give comfort and hope to a generation previously living in perpetually fear.

For the modern Christian, Herbert’s poetry captures the truth of the gospel succinctly and his ‘plain style’ makes his poems easy to read and understand. There is much comfort in his trust in God and confidence in the character of the God he believed. I would certainly like to know God the way he does. In a time when a lot of things are uncertain, globally and personally, it is easy to swayed and blinded, having my eyes veiled to see the gloominess of reality instead of the light that gives all reality the shadow that looms over me.

Veith Jr. is helpful in presenting a Herbert who does struggle in his Christian life, yet at the same time is able to find comfort and security in the character of God. Perhaps that is the way for me to deal with the vicissitudes of life present at this juncture: to pick up my Bible and let God speak.

Maybe if one day you find yourself lost, read a few poems by George Herbert, get a glimpse of the God that loves him, then pick up a Bible and read about the God that loves us – you and me – and that He still cares, no matter what.

Book Project: 50 Books In 2015, Book #1

          In a conversation with another literature student about New Year Resolutions, she mentioned about setting herself a resolution to read 100 books in a year. I had a thought about it and found that it was a great idea to set a reading target for the year.

          Thus, I have decided to start a personal project of reading 50 books in a year. And after reading each book, I hope to share some personal reflection. I hope this will encourage me to read consistently and also to be thinking about what I am reading. Perhaps what I have learnt will be an encouragement to others.

          So here is book 1 (and some thoughts), The Trellis and the Vine by Colin Marshall and Tony Payne (ISBN: 9781921441585). The trellis represents the structure of a church that keeps it functioning. This includes the various committees, administration work and management issues. The vine however, represents gospel work: the process of making disciples through proclaiming and praying.

          They argue that God is doing this in the world: ‘Spirit-backed gospel preaching leading to the salvation of souls.’ (p.35) If that is really the case, that means our efforts should be on vine (gospel) work, which involves proclaiming, prayer, and people.

          Their point has implications to at least two groups of people: church leaders, and ‘normal’ church members. I think for church leaders, it is a challenge to re-evaluate the many programs that are run by the church. The question to ask is: are our activities making disciples of Jesus - disciples who will boldly live a distinctly Christian life in an increasingly secular world? Our focus should be training the next generation of Christians who will bring the gospel out to people who need it rather than to maintain existing church structures so there is a sense of observable achievement.   

          For the ‘normal’ church-goer, the Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20) is a great indictment against our oftentimes ‘consumeristic’ approach to church. Marshall and Payne argue that the Great Commission is ‘a commission that makes disciple-making the normal agenda and priority of every church and every Christian disciple.’ (p.13) This means that I am as much involved in gospel work – the prayerful proclamation of the gospel to people – as my pastor is. I am a minister, I am a servant. And every week (and throughout the week) as I meet other Christians, it is my job to disciple them as much as I am being discipled by other Christians. I cannot sit back and do nothing, expecting that it is ‘other’ people’s job to greet newcomers or ask about a Christian brother’s Christian walk.

So vine work happens when Christians are equipped through prayerful proclamation from people to do prayerful proclamation to people in the pattern of 2 Timothy 2:2 ‘and what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.’

That means that when I go to church next Sunday, as I am reminded of the gospel through the preaching of the Word, I am being equipped to serve other Christians and non-Christians. When the sermon ends, it’s not time to go back, but time to start serving.

I know that there are lots of challenges that await, but let’s try it out. I think we will realise how inadequate we are, and perhaps we will learn to trust the God ‘who gives the growth’ (1 Corinthians 3:7) and cling to the gospel even more dearly. 

Poem #3 Redemption – George Herbert

Redemption

by George Herbert

Having been tenant long to a rich Lord,

       Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,

       And make a suit unto him, to afford

A new small-rented lease, and cancel th’ old.

In heaven at his manor I him sought:

       They told me there, that he was lately gone

       About some land, which he had dearly bought

Long since on earth, to take possession.

I straight returned, and knowing his great birth,

       Sought him accordingly in great resorts;

       In cities, theatres, gardens, parks, and courts:

At length I head a ragged noise and mirth

       Of thieves and murderers: there I him espied,

       Who straight, Your suit is granted, said, and died.

          I have recently discovered the poetry of George Herbert which reflect, and help to understand the influence of the Protestant Reformation on the individual. It is in this vein of ‘Reformed Spirituality’ (as Gene Edward Veith, Jr. terms it in his book of the same name, ISBN: 978-0838750711) that Herbert writes about the experiential element of Reformed theology.

  

          There are quite a number of negative baggage attached to Reformed theology but I think through Herbert’s poetry, we can begin to understand what Reformed theology is like – not merely through intellectual study or debates, but also as conveyed through our emotions and our experiences.

          I chose this poem for its brevity and simplicity. The narrative is quite straightforward: the persona finds that he is not ‘thriving’ under an ‘old’ order and seeks God in places ‘great’ people can be found in order to become a new ‘Lord’. Instead, he finds this ‘Lord’ in most unlikely circumstances.

          However, through this poem, we can gain plenty of insight into the heart of the Christian understanding of salvation (soteriology). The opening quatrain shows the inadequacy of the ‘Old Covenant’ where the persona is ‘not thriving’. The Old Covenant of the Law cannot redeem us, its function is to show us our sinfulness.

          The second quatrain and the first tercet shows us that God had to come down to earth to redeem us, and that he left his greatness. The climax is in the volta (the turn) in the final tercet. It shows us that God is found among sinners and through his death grants redemption. I think the beauty in that final line is that before the persona, for all his efforts in seeking redemption and trying to find God on his own terms, has time to make his request, Jesus (without hesitation) already granted it through his death which initiated a New Covenant based on grace and not on works.

It was helpful for me to think about the massive truths of God’s salvation in a mere 14 lines: the redemption God ‘dearly bought’ was prepared way before I was even aware of my need for it. This reminds me of Philippians 2:5-8 ‘Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself to the point of death, even death on a cross.'

Have we found our redeemer dying among, and for sinners like us, or are we still seeking our own kind of redemption? Let’s consider.

Poem #2 The Darkling Thrush - Thomas Hardy

The Darkling Thrush

by Thomas Hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate

     When Frost was spectre-grey,

And Winter’s dregs made desolate

     The weakening eye of day.

The tangled bine-stems scored the sky

     Like strings of broken lyres,

And all mankind that haunted nigh

     Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be

     The Century’s corpse outleant,

His crypt the cloudy canopy,

     The wind his death-lament.

The ancient pulse of germ and birth

     Was shrunken hard and dry,

And every spirit upon earth

     Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among

     The bleak twigs overhead

In a full-hearted evensong

     Of joy illimited;

An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,

     In blast-beruffled plume,

Had chosen thus to fling his soul

     Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings

     Of such ecstatic sound

Was written on terrestrial things

     Afar or nigh around,

That I could think there trembled through

     His happy good-night air

Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew

     And I was unaware.

          The New Year approaches, and this year has not been an easy year. There have been countless deaths and suffering through wars, diseases and many other causes. Humanity has wrecked our world and destroyed the lives of our fellow creatures. If I consider the anguish the world is experiencing, there certainly is ‘little cause for carolings’.

          Yet the perfect rhymes in the final stanza of the poem creates a mood of hope and harmony; that not all is doom and gloom. If we placed our trust in humanity, then I think whatever hopes we carry into the New Year will slowly peter out and leave us disappointed by failure or deluded by pseudo-success.

          Yet we know that ‘the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people’ (Titus 2:11). We are aware of our ‘blessed Hope’ (v13) and we are waiting for it. This is a hope that transcends the promise of politicians, economists, environmentalists and self-help specialists. It is ‘the appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ’ (v13). There is something for us to look forward to in a New Year certain to be filled with loss and hatred, symptoms of our rebellion against our Maker.

          Just as we celebrated his humble birth, we should also eagerly await his glorious return. But for now, let us ‘declare these things’ (v15). There is a Hope that is offered to everyone, let us not (like Hardy) be unaware.