Letter #137: The Art of Life

[Valin]

The New Jerusalem Substack

In the Temple of Melancholy
Andrew Klavan
Oct 02, 2024

Inestimably worthy son.

I confess I laughed a little when you quoted Philippians 4: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Or “dwell on” such things, as you say.

can’t tell you how many times this has been quoted to me as a rebuke to my criticism of smiley-face Christian art, an answer to my complaint that Christian culture has lost the tragic vision at the heart of the gospels — the incarnation of all goodness condemned, mocked, tortured, killed — and replaced it with what Schopenhauer derided as “banal optimism.”

You call yourself a Christian, such criticisms often begin. Then they list my own artistic sins: the violence, wickedness, sex, and foul language that sometimes appear in my novels. Then comes Philippians 4.

I sympathize. I do. But I stand my ground. And as this is my last email before our October essay, I will restate my case.

The Christly life is not one of sprightly nonsense, or willed blindness, but of tragic joy, joy in the midst of darkness. If we dwell on the beauty of creation, we must do it with full awareness of what that beauty has become. The forgiveness this requires, the letting go, the love — these are not things you speak into being. They are woven slowly and intentionally into the fabric of the soul by practice, prayer and ritual, until it learns to see the often bitter truth and yet rejoice. If that seems a sorrowful sort of rejoicing, I will paraphrase my favorite poet and remember that veiled melancholy has her sovereign shrine in the very temple of delight.

(Snip)