Doubt

In today’s Christian culture, doubt is often repressed because it is considered to be denying your faith rather than working it out for a better understanding of Christian beliefs. In their writings, Elie Wiesel, Thomas Hardy, and Dorothy Sayers, address this issue of doubt; but perhaps Alfred Lord Tennyson best sums up the proper view of doubt with his words, “There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds” (340).

In Elie Wiesel’s book “Night,” he relays how doubting led to his loss of faith in God. Yet, inexplicably, he holds a subconscious belief in God, as he later prays “a prayer to the God in Whom [he] no longer believed” (91). Wiesel also describes the loss of faith on the part of a couple of rabbis when their doubts finally overwhelm them. One man, Akiba Drumer, shown throughout the first part of the book to be one of the more faithful Jews, finally has “no more strength, no more faith” and is lost to the Nazi selection process (76). Wiesel speculates that “if only he could have kept his faith in God, if he could have considered this suffering a divine test” he would not have died. By losing his faith “he lost all incentive to fight and opened the door to death” (77). Ironically, Wiesel speaks about his own loss of faith, yet he never dies, causing one to wonder at his words about Drumer. Perhaps Wiesel’s doubts kept his faith alive while Drumer’s ardent grasp on a doubt-free faith in God ultimately caused his downfall when he realized he could no longer believe without exploring the why questions about God. An unnamed rabbi also lost his faith around the same time as Drumer. “He recited entire pages from the Talmud,” Wiesel records, “arguing with himself, asking and answering endless questions” (76). Sadly, one day, he gave up that faith as he told Wiesel “It’s over. God is no longer with us…Man is too insignificant, too limited, to even try to comprehend God’s mysterious ways…I suffer hell in my soul and my flesh. I also have eyes to see what is being done here. Where is God’s mercy? Where’s God? How can I believe, how can anyone believe in this God of Mercy?” (76-77). As he recited Scriptures, daily forcing himself to believe without question in the God of his ancestors, the poor rabbi finally reached the point in which he no longer had the capacity to believe, doubting too late to work through his faith by questioning it thoroughly. Unwittingly, Wiesel presents doubt as a key to survival in a world of evil and suffering. Furthermore, he proposes an idea that faith can become dormant only to later be revived. When his mind could no longer fathom the works of God, he quit trying to understand His ways, instead allowing his faith to reach a comatose state of denial until he could properly reach conclusion about the works of God in the lives of men.

Next, Hardy presents doubt through several of his characters in “Tess of the D’Urbervilles.” Angel Clare, while still believing that one should live out the principles of Christianity, struggles with its doctrines, doubting many of the integral building blocks of his parents’ and brother’s faith. Unfortunately, in his case, reason undermines faith, portraying doubt in a negative light. In Clare’s day, unbelief had fast become socially acceptable among Christians, causing him to continue in his doubt rather than resolving his questions and moving into a deeper faith in God. On the other hand, Alec D’Urbervilles’ questioning led to his conversion to faith in God (301-309). Undoubtedly Tess doubted God, especially when the dashing son of a minister, Angel Clare, forsook her shortly after their marriage when he discovered that she had been raped in former years. Eventually, her doubts lead her to such a loss of faith that she returns to her former abuser Alec D’Urbervilles and later becomes so desperate that she takes his life so that she can escape him.
Dorothy Sayers, in her work “The Mind of the Maker,” addresses the need of nominal Christians to think through their beliefs. Although many feel a need to try to resolve seeming biblical “contradictions,” there is a clear difference between knowing God and exhausting all knowledge of God. Likewise, doubting can lead “man [to make] God in his own image” instead of acknowledging that he is made in His image. She uses the example that just as one cannot correlate a dog’s nature or behavior to that of a human, one cannot compare God’s actions to those of human beings on the same basis that the two are completely separate and utterly different entities. Sayers, in her writings, presents the idea that doctrine led to faith while doubt may improperly lead to unequal and inappropriate comparisons of the morality and actions of God to that of human beings.

Tennyson, on the other hand, depicts doubt as a healthy and necessary aspect of faith. In the prologue of “In Memoriam”, he portrays knowledge and faith as inseparable, introducing the concept of doubt as a means of obtaining knowledge by working out faith (285). Tennyson’s work follows the form of a typical elegy, causing doubt and inquisition to be an acceptable form of dealing with grief. He seems to juxtapose doubt and unbelief, defining the former as questioning while the latter as outright rejection of beliefs. In section XCVI of “In Memoriam” he characterizes “honest doubt” as an attempt to understand or work out faith through questioning rather than just solely for the sake of sowing seeds of unbelief (341). By doubting and wrestling with one’s beliefs, one begins to internalize the values of the creeds. Although Tennyson seems to suggest that doubt is essential to faith, he does not deny the importance of creeds. Tennyson, rather, considers questioning necessary in order for believers to thoroughly understand the reasons behind these foundational values. Wisely, Tennyson concludes that at some point doubt can lead to unanswerable questions, in which case, faith must overarch these questions rather than letting unbelief encroach, as he penned the words, “I cannot understand: I love” (341). Eventually, a decision to simply accept God must occur or else unbelief will ensue.

In conclusion, when honestly pursue, doubt can be an important aspect of the Christian faith. However, care must be taken not to doubt merely for the sake of doubting, nor to let unbelief infiltrate doubt to the point of loss of faith. Likewise, the importance of Christian doctrine and creeds should not be dismissed, but rather, sincere questioning should lead to confirm their answers.

Works Cited
Dillard, Annie. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Annie Dillard Reader, An. New York: Harper Perennial, 1995. 279-414. Print.
Hardy, Thomas. Tess of the D'Urbevilles. Bantam Classic ed. New York: Bantam Books, 1981. Print.
Sayers, Dorothy L. "Dorothy L. Sayers:The Mind of the Maker." World Invisible, The Real Invisible World behind the material world. Web. 25 Oct. 2009. .
Tennyson, Alfred. In Memoriam. Poetical Works Tennyson (Wordsworth Poetry Library). Boston: NTC/Contemporary Company, 1998. 285-365. Print.
Wiesel, Elie. Night. New York: Hill and Wang, 2006. Print.

The Problem of Evil

Throughout the history of mankind, the problem of evil is a universal theme expressed in ethical, moral, and social problems, creating personal and corporate suffering. Under this expansive theme, Annie Dillard, Thomas Hardy, Alfred Lord Tennyson and Elie Wiesel address different instances and forms of evil based on unique experiences in their own lives or imaginations.

Annie Dillard, in her work “The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek” approaches the problem of evil in terms of the natural world. Despite its apparent beauty, the natural world is harsh and full of violence. Dillard begins by imparting a story about an old tomcat that she used to have at the creek that would come in and out of her window as he pleased. At times, in the middle of the night, he would come with blood-covered paws to awaken her with his purring caresses so that she “looked as though [she]’d been painted with roses” (281). As she cleaned the stains in the morning, she would wonder, “What blood was this, and what roses? It could have been the rose of union, the blood of murder, or the rose of beauty bare and the blood of some unspeakable sacrifice or birth” (Ibid). Although the cat seemed so friendly and gentle toward her, in the night he prowled as a murderer. As another example, Dillard relates an anecdote of her life as a young school girl, when she discovered that, if left together unreleased after hatching, young preying mantises will devour one another until only the strongest is left. “They ate each other until only two were left,” she records. “Tiny legs were still kicking from the mouths of both. The two survivors grappled and sawed in the Mason jar; both died of injuries” (310). Regardless of their incredible complexity, these creatures are quite amoral.

Based on these and other encounters with the vicious essence of nature, Dillard raises several thought-provoking questions as she investigates the cause or reason for this evil and suffering in the world. She conjectures as to where humans fit in the universe, wondering why “we are moral creatures, then, in an amoral world” (382). “We have not yet encountered any god who is as merciful as a man who flicks a beetle over on its feet”, she states, questioning where human beings have obtained their sense of morality if not from a deity (Ibid). Animals have no emotions, for “What creator could be so cruel, not to kill otters, but to let them care” (Ibid)? Debating whether humans are the freaks of nature, she points out that humans have emotions that set them apart from the rest of the natural world. “It is our emotions that are amiss,” she writes. “We are the freaks, the world is fine” (383). The problem of evil for Dillard essentially encompasses the question of why God allows humans to have awareness and to care while the rest of the world submits to violence as part of nature without cognizance or emotional pain.

Hardy’s exploration of the problem of evil is much more on a sociological level, raising many societal issues related to evil and suffering. While Dillard feeds off of a basic assumption that there is a God, in Hardy’s novel “Tess of the D’Urbervilles”, if there is a God, He is absent or at least uncaring and interested in the fate that befalls the characters. Near the beginning of the story, Tess and her younger brother Abraham talk about the world as a star while they travel to the market. Perhaps unwittingly, and before anything terrible befalls her, Tess already realizes the evil nature of the fallen world in which she lives, as she responds to his question “Which one do we live on—a splendid one or a blighted one?” by saying, “A blighted one” (25-26). Not long thereafter, Alec D’Urberville rapes Tess, raising many questions about how such bad things can happen to good, innocent people and go unpunished, as Alec escapes chastisement for his felonious deed while Tess receives harsh censure from all sides. The culture and society that surround her create a double standard, even disallowing her to baptize her infant daughter in the church. The child later dies, and the church minister tells her that, without proper baptism, the innocent child will spend eternity in hell (94-96). Again, questions arise about the evil done to innocents, in this case the undue damnation of infants. Unfortunately, in the world, Tess repeatedly encounters evil that encroaches upon her despite her innocence, without relenting, in keeping with Hardy’s anti-providential theme that events happen, not because of a benevolent order or design, but rather due to something more deterministic. Fundamentally, Hardy raises an ethical question about the problem of evil, wondering how a loving and just God can allow such misfortunes to befall innocent people.

Tennyson deals with the problem of evil on a personal level as he grieves the loss of his best friend Hallam, who died at an early age while traveling abroad. Tennyson questions why good, intelligent people die without cause, and why those left behind must so suffer because of their loss. For Tennyson, grief, encompassing also the act of doubting, is a means of working out ones faith in the face of hard times. In addition to expressing his bitterness toward nature directly, he also indirectly expresses it toward God for prematurely taking Hallam. “Man thinks he was not made to die”(285). He has “The wish, that- of the living whole/No life may fail beyond the grave,/derives it not from what we have/The likest God within the soul?” (314). Despite the inevitability of death, all men long for immortality, evidencing that they are made in the very image and likeness of God; yet, Tennyson wonders why all men must have such desire, as they cause such deep grief and anguish over loss. In contradiction to Hardy’s deterministic view of life, Tennyson trusts that nothing will happen without a purpose, saying, “We trust that somehow good/Will be the final goal of ill…That not one life shall be destroy’d,/Or cast as rubbish to the void,/When God hath made the pile complete” (313). Tennyson concludes that “no man understands” the evil in the world, but must trust Divine Providence regardless, working out ones faith through doubt and suffering.

In his autobiography “Night”, Wiesel portrays a silent God who has absented Himself from the suffering of His people. The questions he raises are more accusatory of God than an attempt to work out his faith through doubt. Witnessing and experiencing the worst atrocities in the history of mankind, Wiesel wonders how a just, merciful and loving God, such as the One in the history of the Jews, could allow such evil and inhumanity to occur to relatively innocent, good people. In a moving scene in which an innocent child is brutally hanged, a man sums up one of Wiesel’s essential questions when he asks, “Where is merciful God, where is He? For God’s sake, where is God?” (64-65). Wiesel relates his view of God based on his loss of innocence and his sufferings in the Nazi concentration camps when he replies, “Where He is? This is where—hanging here from this gallows…” (65). Despite his apparent loss of faith, later, “a prayer formed inside [him], a prayer to this God in whom [he] no longer believed”, projecting a question about the nature of faith: can it go into a comatose state and them be later revived? (91). Although Wiesel later renews his faith in God, he voices very troubling questions about the silence and absence of God in the face of untold evil in the world, conjecturing about what he views as the death of God.

Although each version of the problem of evil is singularly difficult to come to terms with in individual lives and circumstances, universally, the type as discussed by Wiesel is the most difficult challenge to faith and practice, as it questions the very omnipotence of God. It is difficult to imagine how anyone could become so godless, cruel, and immoral that they would stoop to commit such horrible, dehumanizing acts towards other people as the Nazis did to the Jews. Although God allowed bad things to happen to His chosen people in the past, such as the Babylonian exile, it is hard to understand how a God, Who continually claims to be merciful, loving and just, could choose to stand silently by while such atrocious deeds were performed. Since He chose to forsake His chosen people during the Holocaust, Christians must conjecture whether their God, Who has claimed to be faithful throughout the ages, is a liar. They must ask whether He cares what happens in the lives of His creation or if, in fact, He “has the same affectionate disregard for us as we have for barnacles” (Dillard 373). As he contemplates how he will spend Yom Kippur in the concentration camp, Wiesel accuses God of allowing such evil to happen. One must wonder how God can be considered the just and righteous judge when it seems that He, Himself, is in need of a trial. Wiesel shares his frustrations with God when His people gather to praise Him in the midst of their sufferings, yet God still remains utterly silent. A difficult question arises as to whether or not this God that believers serve is worthy of praise, love or trust at all. God’s silence in the events of the Holocaust arguably undermines His omnipotence and, until one resolves the problem in one’s mind, places in question the entire foundation of Christianity.

Works Cited
Dillard, Annie. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Annie Dillard Reader, An. New York: Harper Perennial, 1995. 279-414. Print.
Hardy, Thomas. Tess of the D'Urbevilles. Bantam Classic ed. New York: Bantam Books, 1981. Print.
Sayers, Dorothy L. "Dorothy L. Sayers:The Mind of the Maker." World Invisible, The Real Invisible World behind the material world. Web. 25 Oct. 2009. .
Tennyson, Alfred. In Memoriam. Poetical Works Tennyson (Wordsworth Poetry Library). Boston: NTC/Contemporary Company, 1998. 285-365. Print.
Wiesel, Elie. Night. New York: Hill and Wang, 2006. Print.

My Paso Fino (A Memoir)

Clicking with my tongue and raising the whip ever so slightly with my right hand, I sent Rio to the left around the red metal ring. His feet seemed to never leave the ground as he moved from the paso fino walk to the intricate paso corto gait of his breed. With its icy blasts, the wind whispering through the trees lifted his silky mane that never tangles, giving him a wild and untamed looked. Glancing at the skies, I wondered if it would snow, covering the ground with powder the color of Rio’s fur. I shivered in apprehension, and turned my full attention to the task at hand.

After a few turns around the edge of the ring, I moved the whip to my left hand to see how well Rio was paying attention to me. Snorting at the loud sound of the dual-mufflers of the early 90’s Pontiac Grand Am that sped by on the country road bordering the field, Rio ignored my subtle command to change directions. Okay. The time had come to pay attention, to get down to business. It was time to whip Rio into shape. Establish control. Demand respect. Show the beautiful but young and green-broke Paso Fino who was boss and bridge the gap that hindered him from being a good partner.

Pushing him to his fast, four-beat gait, the paso largo, my vision narrowed, focusing in on the muscle tone that covered his massive, powerful shoulders and hind quarters, which carried him careening around the ring almost as quickly as the Grand Am that had sped by moments earlier. Within seconds, all I could see were flaring nostrils, gliding muscles, glossy mane and tail floating through the still, cold air, and the glistening of sweat on the sleek white coat that sported tiny flecks of barely perceptible brown interspersed at regular intervals throughout the graceful hide of my Paso Fino, Rio. Colors whirred by and blended into one at the edges of his white coat as we turned about the ring, around and around and around. I was at the center, barely moving in a circle as he floated rapidly around me, yet he was the focal point, the true the center, the object of all my attentions and the concentration of all my senses. The affect was almost dizzying as the horse and I became like one.

Rio tested the limits by periodically trying to come into the center of the ring to stop and change directions before I have the command, but I scolded Rio and moved my body according to the language of his species, the language he knows, to send him loping on as I instructed. Despite the tunnel vision and incredible focus I had on him, my thoughts drifted to memories of the times I’d almost hated this infernal horse, and I wondered how we were now so much alike, so one, so in complete and perfect understanding of one another. I remembered the time he’d knocked me flat on the ground in an attempt to steal the bucket of food from my hands before I was ready to give it to him. Oh, I had been furious, ready to sell the little fiend and have him off my hands! Growing up with horses, I had always been unquestioningly in control and never afraid of these large beasts that weighed endless hundreds of pounds more than I. At that moment though, when the fierce and hungry aggression of my little but feisty Paso Fino took me off my feet, I felt a moment of fear. It angered me because I had never been one to feel fear. Today I would win back my confidence, gain my control, and demand the respect of this spirited gelding.

Duh-duh-dah-dum, duh-duh-dah-dum, duh-duh-dah-dum… as I heard the rapid, four-beat cadence of Rio’s hooves on the ground, I couldn’t wait for the moment when I could feel that smooth and even rhythm beneath my knees, and I relished the thought of how wonderful that wild and untamed speed would be when it was a controlled power under my direction. This time, as I switched the whip to my left hand, Rio immediately whirled around, changing directions to canter to the right around the ring as naturally if there were a fork in the river that he was navigating. We were getting there. He was listening. He was paying attention to my every move. He was giving me the respect I demanded.

I recalled the anger I felt towards him not many weeks before when he had been so defiant and difficult to saddle and bridle, and nearly impossible to ride. I felt a twinge of remorse as I remembered how infuriated I had become with the noble beast, only to later find out that he had been bitten on the underside of his jaw by the baby Copperhead snake I had killed right outside of his stall not long after. I had completely mistaken his behavior as defiance and rude impulse, when, in reality, he was hurting and didn’t understand what had happened to him or how to convey his pain to me.

It wasn’t like that now. Now we understood each other perfectly. I breathed to the tempo of his flaming nostrils. My heart beat to the wild yet peaceful sound of his hooves moving in their unique way around the ring. We were one now. As I dropped my whip, stopped moving, and yelled “Whoa! Whoa there Rio!” The beautiful, graceful horse stopped immediately, lowering his head in a sign of submission and obedience as he walked to stand behind me in the ring. As I walked in tight circles or drunkard-like zig-zags around the pen, Rio followed me and emulated my every turn. This was it. This was what it was all about. I demanded respect, and now he gave in full. I knew that with a flick of my whip and the click of my tongue he would go instantly careening around the ring again as I instructed, and remain at whatever speed I commanded without stopping until I said so- even if it were for days on end.

As I mounted onto his bare back, it felt as if the horse and I were molded into one creature, never to be separated again. Leaning down to open the gate, I directed him through it with my knees. Then, away we galloped into the fields that surrounded the barn, moving rapidly towards the horizon where the sun was setting in a vibrant array of colors that made the wintry clouds look like cotton balls dipped in paint. My hair whipped in the wind in just the way I had watched Rio’s mane earlier. When finally I slowed him down and we halted near the pond to look at the gentle ripples from the wind and the reflection of the sunset in the water, I was breathless with the exhilaration of the oneness and control that two wild and untamed sprits could experience through simple understanding. We meandered back to the barn, and when I slid gently off his back to the ground, Rio lowered his head for me to rub his face in encouragement. I knew at that moment that I had a companion and a confidante that would remain loyal to me until the day he dies. No more anger, frustration and misunderstanding. Now I knew his language and he knew mine. Now we understood each other utterly and completely. He knew what I expected and wanted to give that in return. Now he would listen to me, and serve me, and follow me forever. I had a friend for life

Hell: A Gateway for Change

There has been an ongoing debate over exactly who and what sparked the Renaissance and the Reformation. In his work The Divine Comedy, Dante’s Inferno significantly influenced the appearance of these great reforms and modernizations, depicting many of the social and religious issues of the day during his journey through the seven layers of Hell.

The Renaissance, meaning rebirth, was a time of intense social, political and moral change (Estep 22). Generally, the era is defined between the dates of 1300 and 1517, with Dante and Luther acting as bookends on each side (20). According to “The Magazine of Christian Literature”, Dante inaugurated the Renaissance in his hometown, Florence, Italy (96). Known as “the antipapal polemicist” the Catholic church disliked Dante’s works because they seemed to favor Protestantism as a lead into Luther, even greater evidence that he influenced this period of prodigious reform (Friedrich 44, 48). One renowned Jesuit, the Cardinal Bellarmine argued that the Inferno was very similar to the works of Luther, escorting literature in to the Reformation and Renaissance that Luther so greatly expanded (49).
Interestingly enough, while Dante may have influenced Martin Luther in the writings of his Reformation theologies, in turn, Virgil “is above all Dante’s master in style” (Clarke 13). Despite Dante’s role in the Renaissance and Reformation, he was influenced tremendously by the classics of the Middle Ages, yet he raised their art to a new level. However, this preoccupation with classical writers, such as Virgil, displays the renaissance of humanism under which the idea of a Renaissance man evolved with the belief that “people should be proficient at a wide variety of things” (Malone). Dante fabricated a never-before used verse called ‘terza rima’ “which rhymes in the Italian original according to the scheme aba cbc cdc and so on. The lines thus form groups of three interlocked by a repeated rhyme word- a verbal equivalent to the three-in-one of the Trinity” (Norton Anthology 1827).” This creativity exhibits the return to studia humanitatis under which “grammar, rhetoric, poetry, history and moral philosophy” were emphasized (Malone).

Commonly mentioned in discussions about the Renaissance is the idea of the ‘modern man,’ yet many question, “Who was ‘the first modern man’? Was he the anonymous burgher who in his obsession with wealth disregarded the traditions and structures of the church, Dante of the Divine Comedy” (Estep 21)? Dante serves in many ways as a symbolic picture of this first modern man. Although some would argue that he falls under the less revolutionary category of the Middle Ages, throughout Inferno, Dante’s “concern with the secular problems of his day is not that of a medievalist. And in religion he held that virtue and inner peace are attained by ethical rather than by supernatural means” in contradiction to the vast majority of beliefs that prevailed in that day (22). According to The Magazine of Christian Literature,
Dante was and still is a prophet rebuking tyranny and injustice, avarice and pride, in high and low places of Church and State, without fear or favor, and pointing to the eternal issues of man’s actions. He stands on the transition from the Middle Ages to modern times…He proved that one may be a good Catholic and yet call for a thorough Reformation (96-97).
Several political figures of Dante’s day appear in his work Inferno, displaying the corrupt nature of both the government and many of its citizens leading towards the Renaissance. In the Seventh Circle of Hell reside Dionysius of Syracuse in Sicily and Alexander the Great, both of which were “the tyrants who plunged their hand in blood and plundering” (Dante 1871).

While the Renaissance meant the rebirth of the modern man along with all the political and social changes which that entailed, the Reformation acted as the religious counterpart to this movement. To many of the first Protestants, Reformation meant returning to the earliest forms of Christianity in an attempt to reverse the thorough morphing and corrupting of original Christianity that had taken place in the Church through the centuries since the death of Christ (Smith 20). Many of the clerical figures that appear in Dante’s Inferno are in hell because of their role in the corrupt and evil practices of the Church that sparked the Reformation. Dante “condemned the interference of the Church, and especially the pope, in political affairs” (Norton Anthology 1827). Furthermore, as the frontrunner of the Reformation, chiefly “he is concerned with restoring the conditions in which Christ first came” (Ibid).

Corruption took many roles in the Church leading up to the Reformation. For example, the selling of church offices as well as justice was a common misuse of clerical authority (Smith 20). In the Inferno, Dante met an individual who, out of cowardice, made the ‘great refusal,’ choosing not to do the good he had the opportunity to do, which served as another form of extortion of Christianity. Pope Celestine V, resided with others of his sort in the Ante-Inferno, naked and continually bitten by flies and stung by bees, shedding tears and dripping blood to his feet, which disgusting worms consumed (Dante 1843-1844). Another prevalent practice exercised among priests was charging exorbitant remunerations for their services, which Luther, among others in the Reformation, later decried as useless and erroneous assistance. Others followed heresies rather than standing on the doctrine if the Holy Scriptures, such as Pope Anastasius whose tomb Dante and Virgil visited in the Sixth Circle of Hell (1866-1867). He “was thought, wrongly, to have accepted a heresy promoted by the fifth-century theologian Photinus that Christ was not divine but only human,” a blasphemy that resulted in his entombment in Hell.
Basically, the Church in Dante’s time at the beginning of the Reformation amounted to a massive money-making venue. An advantageously common belief which greatly empowered the Church was the claim to possess the ability to free souls from Purgatory even after they were deceased. (Smith 23-24). According to Smith in his work The Age of Reformation,
One of the richest sources of ecclesiastical revenue was the sale of indulgences, or the remission by the pope of the temporal penalties of sin, both penance in this life and the pains of purgatory…In the 14th century the pardons were extended to all who contributed a sum of money to a pious purpose, whether they came to Rome or not, and, as the agents who were sent out to distribute these pardons were also given power to confess and absolve, the papal letters were naturally regarded as no less than tickets of admission to heaven (23).
Ironically, many of these emissaries for the pope found their way into the corridors of Hell rather than the paradise that they promised so many. One Reformation writer Hutten “mocked at Pope Julius II for selling to others the heaven he could not win himself” (24).

Another corrupt and unethical practice in the church that Reformation theologians attempted to terminate was the selling of church offices for extortionate prices. “Though the normal method of appointment to civil office was sale, it was felt as a special abuse in the church [when such methods were carried out] and was branded by the name of simony” (Smith 22). Simony won its name from Simon Magnus, who attempted to purchase the spiritual power of the Apostles for his own temporal gain (Dante 1891). In Canto XIX of Dante’s Inferno, Virgil carries Dante into the Third Pouch of the Eighth Circle of Hell. In this division of Hell, the Simonists are held, their heads embedded in the orifices of rocks with their feet sticking out, constantly writhing from the pain caused by fire burning their soles “as a flame on oily things will only stir along the outer surface” (1891). Dante commends this punishment as fit justice for their sin as, just as they were most attentive in life to the contents of their purses, now in the afterlife the Simonists are rewarded by having their heads stuck into a sort of purse, the thing which they loved most in the world (Ibid). Dante is able to talk to one of these sinners: Pope Nicholas III, who mistakes him for his successor, Pope Boniface VIII (1892). He also sees other famous Simonists, such as Pope Clement V who arranged with the king of France to have the papacy moved, and Jason of the Jews who bribed the king in Maccabees to appoint him high priest (1893).

Although Dante’s work spoke to effect a change in the Church doctrine and practice, many tenets of the Catholic faith of the day are visibly evident in the Inferno. Catholicism held that “grace is imparted to the believer [only] by means of certain holy rites: baptism, confirmation, the Eucharist, penance, extreme unction, holy orders and matrimony” (Smith 27). In Canto IV of the Inferno, Virgil leads Dante through the First Circle of Hell, which is also called Limbo, and is “inhabited by those who were worthy but lived before Christianity and/or without baptism” (Dante 1845). Among others, there were many infants in this circle of Hell as well as the righteous that never received salvation, in accordance with Catholic doctrine. Virgil explains that this is because “they did not sin; and yet, though they have merits, that’s not enough, because they lacked baptism, the portal of the faith that you embrace. And if they lived before Christianity, they did not worship God in fitting ways” (1846). Sadly, this shows the way in which the leaders in the Catholic church “were made the arbiters of each man’s eternal destiny, and their moral character had no more to do with their binding and loosing sentence than does the moral character of a secular officer affect his official acts” (Smith 27-28).

In conclusion, Dante performed an important role in the advancement of European culture and religion, acting as the first modern man to stand in the gap between the Renaissance and the Middle Ages through his political involvements and religious dissensions. Lifting his pen to write a beautiful work and craft an ingenious new style of verse, Dante renewed an emphasis on reason and the humanities. His efforts finally culminated to spark the flame that led to the Renaissance and Reformation, influencing many of the key leaders of the time through his writings.



Works Cited
Alighieri, Dante. Dante Alighieri. The Norton Anthology of World Literature, Vol. B 100-1500 with Inserts, 2nd Edition. Ed. Sarah N. Lawall and Maynard Mack. Boston: W. W. Norton & Company, 2003. 1826-942.
Clarke, A. K. "The Scope of Virgil's Influence." Greece & Rome 16 (1947): 8-16.
Estep, Willieam R. Renaissance and Reformation. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdman's Company, 1986.
Friedrich, W. P. "Dante Through The Centuries." Comparative Literature 1 (1949): 44-54.
"Renaissance." Interview with David Malone. Renaissance Notes. ENG-201 World Literature Class. Jackson, TN. 27 Apr. 2009.
Schaff, Philip. "The Renaissance and the Reformation." Magazine of Christian Literature Apr. 1891: 96-97.
Smith, Preserved. The Age of the Reformation. New York: Henry Holt and Company,
1920.

"The Mind of the Maker"~ Dorothy Sayers

Everyone needs to read this excerpted chapter entitled "The Image of God" from Dorothy Sayers book The Mind of the Maker! This is great stuff!
For background information on Dorothy Sayers: Among Sayers' peers were C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton. She had a child out of wed-lock, but later adopted the child after marrying another man, giving her credence in the world of sinners. This is just so incredible to read- please take the time!
http://www.worldinvisible.com/library/dlsayers/mindofmaker/mind.02.htm

I Surrender All

I surrender all. A simple statement- three words- but what does it mean? Do we ever really think about what we are saying when we pronounce these words? I grew up saying them, but I never really sat down and thought through all that they entailed. Different influences in my life growing up attempted to define this phrase for me, but I subconsciously pushed such definitions aside and shoved them into the back of my brain.
Total surrender. If anyone is truly honest with them self, this is not a very appealing idea. We sing happy tunes in church on Sunday about surrendering our entire lives to Christ, but surrender, for the humans self, is not a happy or joyous event. It means death. Death to desires, to hopes, dreams, wishes, cravings, It means putting ourselves in prison- forgoing all of our rights. It means becoming a slave to Someone who is completely opposite of what we are in every way.
I don’t know about most people, but I certainly have never longed to be put into jail. I have never yearned to subjugate myself to a lifetime of hard work that does not pay or benefit myself. If you don’t relish these ideas, surrender is not your deck of cards, for surrender is so much more than imprisonment and enslavement and death.
Surrender is a total submission to the will and desires of another. A slave can still defy his master, but one who is completely surrendered lives to serve and please and obey his master. Death may still overcome you so that you must give in to it in the end, but you may still fight till the last. Likewise, a prisoner may try to escape rather than accepting his due punishment, but one who truly surrenders will submit meekly, knowing that he deserves to pay the penalty.
Naturally, no one is going to humbly submit to imprisonment for sin. Everyone accused of doing wrong, even if they know they are guilty, will take their case to court and try to get off with a lighter punishment. Hardly anyone hates life so much that, put in a desperate situation, they will quickly give up all hope and take their own lines away, submitting to the rule of death. No slave, given the opportunity, would remain in servitude when offered a chance at freedom and escape from bondage. All of these things are exactly what we are saying we will do when we proclaim loudly for all to hear: “I surrender all.”
We are placing ourselves in prison and humbly, quietly, brokenly taking on the just penalty for our sins. We are willing taking on a lifelong enslavement to the strictest, most exacting of Masters, but a Master who carries our burden for us, whose “yoke is easy and burden is light.” We are embracing death daily, killing ourselves and our desires to make room for our Master.
Are you so eager now to sing for all to hear “Jesus, I surrender all”? I think that it is important to take a moment to stop and really think through what those seemingly simple words really mean. For too long I pushed this reality “out of sight, out of mind,” but when it all boils down, you cannot escape the reality that one day all must face: Either you surrender you entire life to Christ, OR you surrender it to yourself and thereby to sin and wickedness. There is no straddling the fence- either you fully belong to Christ or totally to the power of sin. I have lived a large part of my own life trying to please both God and my own desires, but in the end these endeavors lead only to one or to the other- never do these two paths cross. Next time you begin to sing or pray “I surrender all,” decided to get off the fence and pick a side- choose death, choose imprisonment, choose servitude, and in the end you choose life.

I Want to be the Rain

I want to be free. I feel like a raindrop kept captive in a cloud. All I want is to be released from my bondage and allowed to free-fall to the earth to water the ground and be used for something useful- something that actually holds meaning. Each sunny day lengthens my enslavement. Each cloudy and overcast day torments and tortures me with futile hopes of freedom. I long for a rainy day. I long for it not merely to rain, but to pour. I want to be the pitter-patter on someone's roof, the steady drip-dripping of their gutter. I desire to be a part of the power of a mighty rushing river, pushing boars full of precious cargo upstream, or helping fish migrate, or even begin the energy harnessed to turn a waterwheel. I want to be the answer to prayer that ends the drought and allows the crops to grow again. I want to be that drop of water on parched lips that quenches the longings of a thirsty soul. I want to be the dewdrops on the grass in the early morning. I want to wash the air clean and leave it smelling fresh and new again. I want to help that rose to grow that he will give to his beloved that will adorn her wrist at her senior prom, that he will wear in honor of his mother each May. I want to water the wildflowers that line the fields, creating a radiant magnificence with their simple beauty and grace. I want to whiten the cotton crop and paint with gold the wheat fields. I want to lift the surfer to the top of the wave and give him a glorious ride. I want to be the salty sea-spray that caresses faces walking on the shores. I want to carry a great ship from one harbor to the next. I want to be a habitat for amazing creatures. I want to be the lake families enjoy each summer; the pond the children grow up playing in. I want to be the bubbling brook and the silent creek. I want to fill the water troughs of countless livestock. I want to be added to the tastiest dishes. I want to sustain life. I want to give a new definition of fun to winter extreme sports. I want to redefine beauty on an untouched white mountain slope. I want to be the icicle garnishing overhangs. I want to be the drop tat keeps the family Christmas tree alive through the season. I want to be the cleansing flow for dirty hands, the soouthing stream for tired bodies. I want to be the parted Red Sea, the stopped River Jordan. I want to be part of the beauty and awesome power of the thunderstorm. I want to be a wave of the sea. I want to be a part of the experiment that discovers the cure for many diseases. I want to hydrate dehydrated bodies. I want to be in the rush of a waterfall- even Niagara Falls. I want to be free to fall. But most of all, I want to be the rain that falls while the sun shines...