This is a writing assignment I did for my World Literature class. We had to choose an Emily Dickinson poem and write a reflection on it:
1768.
Lad of Athens, faithful be
To Thyself,
And Mystery—
All the rest is Perjury—
Part 1
As I was browsing the online database of Emily Dickinson’s poetry, I saw only the first line to this poem, and clicked on the link to it—because I consider myself a student; not just someone who goes to school, but someone who is eager to learn (the meaning of the Latin root of the word student,
studere, means “to be eager for”). I took “Lad of Athens . . .” to refer to the student, as historically Athens was known as a center of learning and philosophy. Indeed it is the place whence “Western civilization” has its origin. It is probably also worth mention that the name Athens (Gk
Athenai, Lat.
Athenae) was named after Athena, goddess of war and, especially pertinent here, wisdom. We also recall the famous quote of the church father Tertullian, “What hath Athens to do with Jerusalem?” He was emphasizing the irrelevance of the pagan Academy (which had its origins in Athens) to the Church.
I chose this poem not only because I am a student, but also because it speaks of the virtue of honesty, which is a large issue for any who studies—to set aside one’s bias for the sake of truth. This is especially a crucial issue for the Christian academic, as we must avoid the compartmentalization of truth into separate cubicles of “our faith” and “general truth.”
This poem’s major theme is the student’s constant duty to be honest—with himself and with mystery. This faithfulness to mystery could mean many things. It may refer to the learner’s responsibility to seek knowledge of the unknown. On the other hand, it may refer to the necessity of humility—the student’s duty to recognize the limitations of his human capacity; that there will always be more to know; that we can never stop learning. The reader may also interpret ‘Mystery’ to refer to God, but to me that seems a desperate attempt for the poem to be spiritual, forsaking the immediate context of ‘Athens.’
Here is my reading: Student, be honest with yourself. Earnestly seek to understand that which you do not, while simultaneously realizing that there is no pinnacle to be attained; be humbled by the notion that much will remain unknown to you. Outside of these you lie to yourself. Do not turn a blind eye to truth that hurts, or that you do not understand. Examine everything to receive what is true, but never let your knowledge be frozen, for what is to be known is infinite and you are not.
Part 2
Lately I have been in discussion with friends and professors, and am also considering writing a book on the place of truth in the Christian’s faith. I have come to a realization over the past year that the world is not as black and white as I thought it was, and as for those “moral relativists,” well—I have become one of them (with good scriptural defense; Paul was one, see discussions on eating meat sacrificed to idols in Romans or 1 Corinthians). After my first year of college there remains not so much that is universal.
And so, for the Christian scholar, it can be frightful to study the origins of one’s faith, examining outside influences and inconsistencies, while still trying to remain faithful to what we think to be our religion. For example, my friend Dusty is taking Religions of the World right now, and is very interested in the development of the doctrine of hell. If it was not a part of Jewish thought until after the exile, when it was integrated by the Jews from a foreign religion, then how do we still believe in its legitimacy? These are the kinds of things that make this faith of ours into a frayed rope, Dusty says, and we have many loose ends. It seems that people either hang on to that frayed rope so tightly that it cuts their hands, or they coat it with rubber so that it’s easier to hold onto, ignoring the frayed ends. We have a problem. If we really believe that our faith is true, then we must believe it is so. We cannot divide truth into boxes of “Christian truth” and “secular truth” if the facts found in both boxes happen to be so.
From the wisdom of many professors who have dealt with this very issue, I have gleaned the one thing that I can be sure of even if the Scriptures were proved to be false—the creeds. I can say, if all else fails, that Christ was born, Christ was crucified, dead, buried; Christ is risen, Christ will come again. These are the main tenets of my faith, and to them I can cling no matter what.
So the academic virtue of honesty, and thus avoidance of denial, has become very real to me over the past few months. I may come across things in my studies that do not fit well with all I have been brought up to believe. However, if I deny these things, or even worse ignore them all together and choose not to deal with them at all, I become a liar to those outside my faith; one who is not willing to be honest, one who commits perjury.
