How to Save Shakespeare and the Western Civilization He Espoused
“Shakespeare and the Idea of Western Civilization” is the Shakespeare book we need in this age of abuse and hatred. We find love and wisdom through its marvelous pilgrimage. And we find the true Shakespeare who has been buried by “the scholars” because of their ideological prejudices.
We live in an age of hatred: hatred toward our cultural inheritance, Western civilization, and Christianity most especially. Shakespeare, the “principal poet of Western civilization,” is also guillotined regularly for his ties to all that is passé.
Postmodern critics condemn Shakespeare as guilty of the sins of the West, especially sexism, racism, and imperialism. R.V. Young, however, offers a spirited defense of Shakespeare from his anti-Western and anti-Christian critics in his new book, “Shakespeare and the Idea of Western Civilization.”
Anyone who has traversed the halls of Western academic institutions knows the rot that permeates them. Take, for example, my own alma mater, Yale. One can now obtain a BA in English without ever having studied a single sentence of Shakespeare. Yale says it offers Shakespeare as an elective. But it is a gross offense to pass through four years of English literature without studying the great Bard.
This abuse in our education system is not new. Young reminds us, “During the past half century, however, Western civilization has been challenged as never before from within, by academics and intellectuals of an ideological bent.” And Young is far from some right-wing provocateur; he is a professor emeritus of English literature at North Carolina State University.
Shakespeare’s Modern Critics
There are two dominant strands of Shakespeare abuse that have occurred in the past half-century. The first is hard to detect. Harold Bloom is the shining representative of romantic Shakespeare abuse. Bloom, who is also deeply anti-Christian in his criticism, removes the religious significance of Shakespeare as well as the rich cultural well from which the greatest dramatist of the West drank. Bloom’s Shakespeare is a radical “genius,” a man who broke so thoroughly from the classical and Christian past he invented the modern human individual.
Bloom is challenging to critique because he was a soft defender of the Western canon. In the canonical battles over the future of the Western humanities, Bloom was a lonely voice articulating why Shakespeare should be required reading. However, Bloom’s defense of Shakespeare rested on his personal need to strip Shakespeare of his Christian heart and soul and create a secular romantic individualist. Young doesn’t let Bloom off the hook.
The other dominant strand of Shakespeare abuse is best represented by Stephen Greenblatt and Karen Newman, the celebrated literary critics and Shakespeare scholars who both embody the worst of postmodern ideological enslavement. Postmodernism’s Shakespeare is guilty of all the sins the contemporary woke zeitgeist identifies with every stratum of Western civilization. The postmodern Shakespeare, so seductively and cruelly peddled by Greenblatt and others, transforms from eminent dramatist and poet into a mouthpiece of sexism, racism, and colonial imperialism.
Shakespeare on Love
The postmodern critics claim that Shakespeare promoted sexism and enslavement through his idealization of femininity and chastity. Far from their interpretation or the Shakespeare of Bloom, Young reads Shakespeare as he is: someone who critiqued “self-absorbed [romantic] individualism” and reminded us that love in its fullest and freest sense entailed sociality and bonds of duties to others and not to our mere sentiments.
Shakespeare’s luminous writings on love cover the totality of the human condition: jealousy, anger, lust, gentleness, and wisdom. Love is difficult, but also transformative. The highest expression and triumph of love is in marriage, friendship, and community. In other words, Shakespeare’s sexual freedom—understood in the classical and Christian sense of human flourishing and not mere choice—is found in the exact opposite of modern sexual ethics: duty, perseverance, and chastity. Shakespeare is excoriated for these views, though they are informed by two millennia of philosophy and theology.
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A Review of “A Praying Church: Becoming a People of Hope in a Discouraging World”
I will be returning to this book’s early chapters for material on biblical foundations for prayer and thinking hard about how to overcome obstacles for helping God’s people pray. Foremost, Miller’s case rings true that a prayerful church starts with prayerful leadership. He is on the mark to remind us that nothing about the church should rest on the foundation of merely a good plan but should be planted and watered in the soils of prayer.
Paul E. Miller, A Praying Church: Becoming a People of Hope in a Discouraging World (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2023). paperback. 304 pp. $21.99.
Prayer is one of the pillars holding up the Christian life. As the Heidelberg Catechism 116 says, prayer is necessary for Christians, “Because it is the chief part of thankfulness which God requires of us: and also, because God will give his grace and Holy Spirit to those only, who with sincere desires continually ask them of him, and are thankful for them.” Our thankfulness before the Lord and our hope to receive his grace channel foremost into our life of prayer.
Paul Miller has written a book exhorting the church to return to this basic Christian practice, specifically focusing on the church’s corporate prayer. The argument is that the church as such needs to rediscover the riches of seeking the Lord in prayer together, not only because it is one of the best ways of loving and serving our fellow believers but also because it is one of the ways seeing the Lord at work in our midst as he noticeably responds to our spoken needs.
In chapters 1–8, Miller outlines rich and nourishing biblical and practical insights about prayer in the context of the church. His biblical arguments remind us how the church is not a merely earthly institution but is the interface between our earthly lives and the supernatural. We are not meant to solve our problems only by expected means but to rely on the Lord to provide for us. He also gives an account of the decline of the church’s corporate prayer meeting, prompting us to consider how our churches might reengage with the use of prayer meetings.
Throughout the book, Miller gives additional insights about how prayer meetings prove faulty. We become too fixated on enumerating medical issues. Of course, we should pray for genuine medical concerns. Miller is right, however, that opportunities to mention prayer needs becomes more about listing ailments that greatly vary in their true seriousness. Further, Miller notes how prayer meetings can gravitate toward religiosity, becoming “syrupy” in the style of prayers that we implement, rather than serious in seeking God’s help for the full gamut of spiritual and earthly needs among our church.
Although the strengths named above provide thoughtful recalibration for churches to double down on their commitment to prayer, much of the book sadly misfires. Primarily, Miller wrote a book about the church at prayer but is decidedly non-churchly in his outlook. His stories about his father’s pastoral work are clearly set in the context of the work of the local church. Even those stories, however, seem to be more nostalgic about dear old dad than driven by providing wisdom for prayer in the church. In this respect, they themselves have a syrupy feel that Miller himself says is not helpful.
Further, Miller’s primary focus is rarely the church as he writes in the context of a parachurch organization. Often he snubs his nose at churches that he finds to be too minded for the elite and not attentive enough to ordinary people. Yet, Miller regularly writes about the prayer meetings that he leads for his staff. For those of us working in churches, we are not attempting to promote prayer among people whom we employ but people whom we pastor. Certainly, I could drum up support and attendance if I pay my employs. My interest, however, is on encouraging a life of prayer among people who need to see the volunteered value and need for seeking the Lord in prayer.
The book has further tensions. Miller regularly notes his own prayer life – although at the end says that we should be quiet about our practices of private prayer and fasting – while also stating that he imagines most of his readers’ churches are relatively prayerless. He further criticizes churches for ignoring the (metaphorically speaking) janitors and people who prefer to shop at thrift stores, instead favoring the (again metaphorically) corporate directors. Now, I was a student intern for a year at New Life Glenside, where Miller’s father used to be pastor. Terry Traylor, who went to be with the Lord too early from the human perspective, was the pastor when I was there and gave me lots of wisdom in the year that I had with him. Terry was a brilliant pastor whom I look forward to seeing again one day. I understand that the culture at New Life was press toward a casual, low-level atmosphere that was proud of bringing in those who felt uncomfortable in other church environments. The problem is not that New Life was good at promoting this atmosphere for their own congregation, but that Miller gives the impression that he thinks that approach is the only way to bring in people from all parts of society. Many churches, including my own, are composed of blue and white collar workers, those with various types of and view on pedigree. Miller at times comes across as condescending by discounting churches that look differently from that which makes him most comfortable as likely unprayerful and focused on professional polish rather seeking the Lord.
These issues are again routed in the issue of the church. Miller seems to have a very loose view of the institutional church. He seems to count the call to corporate church prayer as applying to families and people who happen to meet up. These instances of prayer are necessary, good, and valuable but are not part of a guide for a praying church. Undoubtedly, part of problem here relates to Miller’s explicit embrace of pietism (pg. 155–60). Miller’s view of recovering churchly prayer seems to revolve around this sort of view of the church with fluid boundaries rather than members of congregations being recommitted to the means of grace, which includes prayer. Miller laments that “A whole generation of our youth finds syrupy spirituality cringeworthy.” (pg. 157) I personally fear that many will see much of Miller’s case to fall afoul of his own lament. His admirable commitment to expand prayer to include all who would pray and to penetrate to every aspect and person of our churches falters when he gives the impression that his sort of concerns are the only ones that drive “authentic” and “real” prayer, which he has not clearly related to the church’s formal means of grace ministry. A balance must be kept, which I think Miller has missed.
I will be returning to this book’s early chapters for material on biblical foundations for prayer and thinking hard about how to overcome obstacles for helping God’s people pray. Foremost, Miller’s case rings true that a prayerful church starts with prayerful leadership. He is on the mark to remind us that nothing about the church should rest on the foundation of merely a good plan but should be planted and watered in the soils of prayer.
Dr. Harrison Perkins is a Minister in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and is Pastor at Oakland Hills Community Church (OPC) in Farmington Hills, Mich. He is also a visiting lecturer in systematic theology at Edinburgh Theological Seminary and online faculty in church history for Westminster Theological Seminary.
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The Compass Christ Sails By
Remember, Christian: Your heart is not the compass that directs Christ. His love, Word, and promises are His compass—and so they must be ours. Your salvation in Him is secure because His covenant is sure.
“Follow your heart.” We hear this time and again, the world’s mantra to find assurance in emotion and intuition. Yet this is hardly a consolation for the Christian who knows that the heart is ever-fickle and oft-misleading. When the weight of sin overwhelms, or when doubts arise, or when fears assail, what comfort is there to be had? When weary saints distrust their salvation, where can they look for assurance, rest, and peace?
The prophet Jeremiah would warn, contra the world’s call to “trust and follow your heart,” that the subjectivity of our feelings are no sure guide for our lives. “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” (Jer. 17:9). Or, to borrow the language of Samuel Rutherford, the heart is no sure compass:
Your heart is not the compass Christ saileth by. He will give you leave to sing as you please, but he will not dance to your tune. It is not referred to you and your thoughts, what Christ will do with the charters betwixt you and him. Your own misbelief hath torn them, but he hath the principle in heaven with himself. Your thoughts are no parts of the new covenant; dreams change not Christ.[1]
In a letter written in 1637 to Earlston the Younger, Samuel Rutherford penned these assuring words to remind his friend that our salvation depends on the steadfastness of Christ and not our unsteady hearts. Evidently, Earlston was a youth who felt like he was being beaten while struggling against all manner of sin and doubt. Rutherford responded to him in three ways: He encouraged Earlston to not listen to the lies of sin or Satan; he implored Earlston to turn to Christ as the Physician of his soul; and he offered several compelling ways to fight such doubts of the heart.
Beware the Lies of Sin and the Devil
Satan “cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy,” while Jesus comes, “that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). Is it any surprise that Satan would aim to steal, kill, and destroy the Christian’s assurance in Christ? And what better tactic or strategy is there for the devil to employ than that of temptation? Is there any experience more subjectively deceiving than the momentary and fleeting pleasure of sin followed by extraordinary remorse, regret, and doubt?
The Apostle Paul had cautioned his youthful protégé Timothy to, “Flee also youthful lusts: but follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart” (2 Tim. 2:22). Rutherford’s warning to Earlston was similar:
I have seen the devil, as it were, dead and buried, and yet rise again, and be a worse devil than ever he was; therefore, my brother, beware of a green young devil, that hath never been buried. The devil in his flowers (I mean the hot, fiery lusts and passions of youth) is much to be feared: better yoke with an old gray-haired, withered, dry devil. For in youth he findeth dry sticks, and dry coals, and a hot hearthstone; and how soon can he with his flint cast fire, and with his bellows blow it up, and fire the house! Sanctified thoughts, thoughts made conscience of, and called in, and kept in awe, are green fuel that burn not, and are a water for Satan’s coal.[2]
To return to youthful lusts and passions is to dig up the devil. To do so is not only to give into the demands of a wicked enemy, but to return to an old life, though we be new creations in Christ. By turning back to Satan and sin, the Christian essentially gets on the ground alongside Satan’s burning coals and blows upon them with his own breath, causing the consuming flames of temptation and sin to burn brighter and spread. Is it any surprise that sin produces doubt in the heart?
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The Real Meaning of Christmas
We must look to a baby born not with fanfare, pomp, and circumstance, but to poor parents in desperate times. Joseph and Mary, and the Baby Jesus for that matter, were real historical figures. But in a way, Joseph and Mary extend beyond themselves, beyond their particular place and time. They represent all of us. We are all poor and living in desperate times. Some of us are better than others at camouflaging it. Nevertheless, we are all poor and desperate, so we all need the promise bound up in that baby.
One of the most remarkable stories of Christmas comes from one of the darkest moments of modern history. World War I ravaged a continent, leaving destruction and debris in its wake. The human cost, well in the millions, staggers us. But from the midst of this dark conflict comes the story of the Christmas Truce of 1914. The Western Front, only a few months into the war, was a deplorable scene of devastation. Perhaps as if to give the combatants one day to breathe again, a truce was called from Christmas Eve through Christmas Day.
As darkness settled over the front like a blanket, the sound of exploding shells and the rat-tat-tat of gunfire faded. Faint carols, in French or English voices on one side and in German voices on the other, rose to fill the silence of the night.
By morning, soldiers, at first hesitantly, began filing out of the maze of trenches into the dreaded and parched soil of No Man’s Land. There was more singing. Gifts of rations and cigarettes were exchanged. Family photos were passed around. Soccer balls appeared. Up and down the Western Front, soldiers, who only hours before had been locked in deathly combat, now faced off in soccer games.
For one brief but entirely remarkable day, there was peace on earth. Some have called the Christmas Truce of 1914 “the Miracle on the Western Front.”
Anxious to print some good news, The Times of London reported on the events of the Christmas Truce. Soldiers recorded the day in letters home and in diaries. Some of those lines made it to newspapers, while others remained unknown until later brought to light. Here’s one such line from the diary of a German infantryman: “The English brought a soccer ball from the trenches, and pretty soon a lively game ensued. How marvelously wonderful, yet how strange it was. The English officers felt the same way about it. Thus Christmas, the celebration of Love, managed to bring mortal enemies together as friends for a time.”
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