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Answering a resonant call from Tuff Ghost / Thom Morgan, CJ Smith has a nice post on Christianity over at his blog. (Note particularly the close reading of Bible scripture on Smith's part; to me this is the highlight of the entry, which in principle feeds into the points I make in this essay's second half.) This discussion stems from a post at The Daily Goose, where I highlighted a Mario Loyola quote, first posted at The Corner, where he described how he engages Roman Catholicism, even though, as he says, he's not all that religious a person. His words come in the context of a larger discussion thread on that blog, which was questioning the role of religion in conservative thought. Though he makes good points, CJ's argument falters as a response to my (admittedly meager) post because he mischaracterizes what Loyola said, referring to it as an argument for "the aesthetic beauty of the spectacle" that, while "reasonable", is still "essentially no more than dipping your toes in the water". I see that as missing the point.

Neither Loyola, nor Camille Paglia (whose views he is consciously or unconsiously airing), is talking about mere "aesthetic appreciation". Because Smith elaborates on this point as if it were the case, difficulties ensue. No, it is through engagement with Christianity's rituals, symbols (textual and otherwise), contradictions, institutional history, and, yet, continual source of salvation that Loyola finds the power of Catholicism. Of course, those are mere descriptors about what he actually experiences as he does those things, but nonetheless, we can in good faith grant that he is no mere cafeteria religion sort of person, nor one who is merely dipping toes in water. Nothing he says (or Paglia says) ought lead one to think they are saying that people should not investigate the Bible; nor by extension, any religious text of any religion. But you'd get that impression from Smith's entry, and I am concerned that he missed these things, because as it stands his argument has the whiff that it thinks it possesses more depth, and in this case, I do not think that is fair on the merits. That is not to say that CJ is not a deep guy overall (clearly, the opposite is true) and he certainly knows theology, and religious history (for the latter, see his extended, and valuable, comment on this post) but merely to say that, in this instance, his points are unearned vis-a-vis Loyola. And, yes, one guy calling another guy deep is strange and weird; I'm sorry for that, and it will never happen again.

Of course, I'm not trying to start a fight here. Knowing CJ, I'm not sure that there's any real disagreement between the heart of his view and the implied heart of this overall "Paglian" view. Or, at least whatever differences there are likely are of degree and not of type. Besides, he's a theologian guy, I'm an artist/aesthetics guy — the gap should not be warmed over. So before you think the above some sort of unimportant distraction, let me flesh out more of why I posted Loyola's words in the first place. It has to do with my belief that all this has important bearing on the arts, and thus on working artists. I obviously did not make this in any way clear when I quoted Loyola.

What I first wrote about his words was this:

Whether he knows it or not, [Loyola's] description is dripping with a Paglian view of Christianity, which she ultimately holds as a repository of a vast symbol system; precisely why, not as literal truth but rather as allegorical poetry, Christianity is so important, especially for working artists of the West.

Let me further say that I jive with what Loyola is saying because I don't believe there is any literal god sitting somewhere in the external world, up in the clouds, outside the crystal ball that is our universe, or anywhere. I think that the notion of god is, at the root, depersonalized vital force. Of course, that I nor anyone else can't ever know either way for sure is why even atheists (of which I don't consider myself, either) are religious, in that belief. Which leads easily to the correct view that everyone is religious, in so far as everyone's kosmology (or perception of the universe) is an act of faith. (And also why those proclaiming the "end of religion" are, in all cases, naive.)

What saves religion from slouching towards mush is the way we interpret its rituals and its texts. To take rituals and texts literally means that neither are works of art, but rather tools of moral instruction and, even, moral submission. A culture that does so in complete isolation might be able to pull this off workably (I wouldn't want to live there), but a mere glance at the day's newspapers shows that literal application of religious text and ritual, especially towards politics, creates intractable problems between cultures. Thus when Loyola, Paglia, or anyone argue for a mode of interpretation of religion that does not regard ritual and text literally, but rather more metaphorically, I not only take notice but see it as part of a burgeoning momentum that, I think, can actually help quell world tensions.

What remains if we discard the literal approach to interpretation? Since I'm not into splitting hairs when it comes to issues such as this (which benefit from the large view born of history as well as interdiscipinary thinking), my general answer is the principle of allegory, which I hold fundamental to everything artistic. So the main issue in all of this, which I think Smith is sympathetic towards, as are Loyola and Paglia, is that I suggest allegory is a "first principle" for working artists (in other words, a sturdy basis from which other things grow from, including making artwork). Which leads to the question, what does it mean to take an "allegorical attitude" towards The Bible, The Koran, and so on?

The idea is simply stated: Treating The Bible as allegory means we, as a rule, treat it as poetry of the human condition, which means we interpret religion using the same method we use to interpret poetry. If poetry, in general, is that which captures an emotional image of humanity using the best words available, then, I think we can all allow the Bible and other religious texts to take their places in the premier echelon of poetic works created by man. Like really, really up there. The reason can be empirical: so many people have reported that these works are profound. Likewise for various rituals, including those Loyola described. This is why Paglia has said that religions suffer when their rituals are diminished or watered down.

All of which leads to this: the repair/renewal of religion requires that we have better teachers of poetry. People trained to help others have an expanded understanding of Dickinson, Blake, Neruda, Rumi, Wordsworth, Poe, and on and on are potentially in the best position to faciliate a deeper religious understanding of Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, and so on, when it comes to text, certainly, and potentially also for ritual. This can obviously include those trained in seminary (if that happens with a rigorous training in poetry), but seeing as I know nothing about seminary, I'll refrain from saying much. I wonder aloud, though, whether this proposal would face institutional friction (I imagine it would), but others can comment on that. Now, in this argument, I'm leaving some stuff out, which I'd include if this were an article, not a comment on a blog, but the basic gist would be the same. And I'm not saying this would work, as a method, across the board, nor am I suggesting that this, by itself, would save us from WWIV.

But would it help? Sure, maybe, who knows. Can it hurt? Of course not. And would it be a whole lot better stuff to base a poetry currriculum around, or include in one fundamentally, than the mush that passes for poetry classes these days? Hell yes. In order to restore the truths contained in the works of the Humanities to the center of popular imagination, we need to to have teachers trained to make objects more palpable, to better interpret poetry, paintings, music, etc., and know how to do that without getting tangled in the dead-ends of theory-driven "-isms". Poetry needs to come alive! The strategy of allegory should be taken broadly to include all arts, not some narrow version confined to literature, which is the common manner in which aesthetics textbooks sadly confine this approach (cf. The Routledge Companion to Aesthetics). Even Merriam-Webster's simple definition is a good place to start: "the expression by means of symbolic fictional figures and actions of truths or generalizations about human existence". For another example, which suggests the application of the Allegory strategy towards, of all places, the training of military officers, see this very good article.

For where to go, the longer story starts with Paglia's recent book, Break, Blow, Burn. When we hold her conclusions lightly, but rather focus on her method, it's all there -- practical, inclusive, revelatory in her wise expansion of the so-called New Criticism to include psychology, historical context, and other veiled forces at play in the art object, depending on what is relevent, but without pseudo-metaphysical theory ala the Frankfurt School, the Wilberian School, or the French School. She's been doing this since her first book, and it is now coming to fruit in her latest. The cultural mistake, which she has successfully fought in her work from the beginning, is this: It is art, not theory, that ought be metaphysical.

For what to do, besides adopting the approach that Paglia demonstrates (which is quite adaptable), let me suggest something further, given what got this started (namely Loyola's quote): when you read the Bible, try to identify with everyone and everything described; thus in Genesis, try to identify with God, the water, Adam, the animals, nature, Eve, the serpent, the apple — all of it, as aspects of you, your psyche, your being. Same goes fo the experience of ritual at Catholic mass, or any religious service. Can you do it? What would that feel like?

For working artists, because this is getting long, I'll end on this: if we use the principle of allegory with The Bible, The Koran, and everything else, then I suggest this possibility arises. Namely, when we make our own works of art (a process which involves giving each and every aspect or part of the object due consideration, or in other words, identifying with each part, so as to really animate it), we will allow creation to be a spontaneous dynamic whereby our previous and ongoing life experience expands as fullness via metaphors and artistic signs that tangibly make up our art work, and intangibly but unmistakably make up the experience of it by others (i.e., its mimesis). It is the same strategy of allegory in both instances — one, of flowing fully down the river; the other, of fully carving it. If there is one strategy, or method, towards the embodiment of fullness in art, an impulse I believe is at the timeless root of the Humanities as well as "-ism"-free integral, that would be it, even as I've only mildly sketched it here.