I liked Death by Living a few years back and knew this book existed, but I found it hard to get hold of it. But I was glad I did get to read this. This book is a little like a philosophy book, written by a Christian from Western Sydney. They don't care about the status of the ancient thinkers, but instead, they look at what the classic thinkers said and poke holes in them. A summary of this from the intro is a little like this:
Plato, the first true pope of philosophy (sorry, Socrates), argued for a World of Forms above this reality—a transcendent plane of perfect essences, pure and lovely, where nothing ever gets muddy (including the essence of mud). No football.
Skipping centuries to the modern Enlightenment, Descartes, the Frenchman, had a little trouble knowing that he existed. But then he looked to the Little Engine That Could and learned that all he needed to do was think that he was, and he would be. Cogito, ergo sum. I think, therefore I am. Say it often enough, be willing to help out other trains in trouble, and you’ll be fine. I think I am. I think I am. Descartes cogitoed himself (and the rest of the world) into being. Because of the mental ace he found in his mental sleeve, the modern world was built. Its foundation? Reason can get you anywhere.
Leibniz, a bit of a Boy Scout, thought this world had to be the best of all possible worlds (since a perfect God could create no less). Easy enough.
Voltaire made good fun of him. Even easier.
Immanuel Kant wrote books with words like prolegomena in the title and thought morality was dependent upon (and monitored by) the ethereal laws of logic.
Aztecs thought they had to rip the hearts out of living victims on top of ziggurats if they wanted the sun to keep coming up.
Heidegger was a Nazi. Can you think of a better reason to pay him no mind?
Wittgenstein was a beery swine (according to the authorities in the Monty Python brain trust). I can’t believe it. Beeriness would have made him more readable.
Nietzsche—a weak, but strongly mustachioed, Lutheran pastor’s son—defined evil (in The Antichrist) as “whatever springs from weakness.”
David Hume, the Scot, (knowingly) declared God and knowledge impossible without any apparent sense of irony.
French existentialists, wise men all and examples to philosophers everywhere, killed themselves.
Marx called religion an opiate, and all too often it is. But philosophy is an anesthetic, a shot to keep the wonder away.
While this may seem a bit oversimplistic, it doesn't mean it's wrong. So if you appreciate this sort of cheeky take, calling out the lack of clothes on the emperors of philosophy, then this is the book for you.
Throughout, Wilson gives his take on the problem of existence and meaning. The book flows through the seasons, with each section dealing with some existential issue and capturing a simple moment from the season. It could be watching a snowstorm, fixing the roof before the wind comes, people watching at the traffic lights, the life cycle of bugs, or dealing with an ant's nest in the way of the lawn mower. Just everyday things to help explain everything.
There is a fiercely Christian worldview presented throughout, pushing hard against the idea that life is a meat grinder with bad things happening for no reason. It takes on the thinkers who suggest we came from nothing, are (perhaps) moral, but meaning is only true by consensus. Just really, the everyday assumptions culture has about everything.
You see, for me, llamas are entirely consistent with the personality of an easily amused God. A prank on the Andes and everyone who ever needed to use the long-necked, pack-sweaters. Surly, pompous, comically unaware of their own looks, spitters. Perfect. Tell me a story about the great god Boom. Tell me how he accidentally made llamas from hydrogen.
As a writer, Wilson sees this world through the lens of words, story and characters. We are all spoken by an over-the-top generous God who makes snowflakes, millions of different ones, in one night, only for them to melt away in the morning. We are all characters in a story. But what type of character are we? Are we listening to the warnings around us? Are we being heroic and overcoming evil? What is our story arc? What do we do with the tragedies we face? If God is the author of this big story, what do we make of Him?
Aeschylus was a Greek tragic storyteller. He (perhaps) came up with Prometheus, whose punishment was to have an eagle eat his liver every day, and it would grow back every night. Aeschylus's own life came to an end when a vulture dropped a turtle on his head. "Eagles are involved in both stories, but who was kinder to their character?"
What do we do with the bad in our lives? How can we do serious art without dark paint? Characters develop through tragedy and suffering, and this by no means points to there being no God.
The existence of evil in Hamlet in no way implies that Shakespeare lacked control of his art, or that he was evil. The implication that Shakespeare didn’t exist is even more outlandish.
It has been a few months since I read this book, but the main thing I remember is how Wilson tackled the problem of evil through a story of him removing a rock from his lawn so that he could mow it. There were ants under it, but he had bigger plans. The ants must have thought something terrible had come to their ant city, and maybe the earwigs were behind it, so they attacked them. But something bigger was going on.
The problem of evil is a genuine problem, an enemy with sharp pointy teeth. But it is not a logical problem. It is an emotional one, an argument from Hamlet’s heartache and from ours. It appeals to our pride and our nerve endings. We do not want to hear an answer that puts us so low. But the answer is this: we are very small.
While we are like small ants, it doesn't mean God doesn't care about us. God became one of us because He cares about the suffering we face. When thinking about this, the question Wilson presents:
But would you be willing to die for the ants: "Hell no. Never. I have more self-regard than God does. I have less love for the characters beneath me."
God has spoken this universe into existence. We are spoken in this world too, and are characters in this big story. There are developments to be had, and evil to overcome, and hope for the future because the Word also took on flesh. He walked through the filth and insults and sacrificed Himself for us. He is the good King, who rescues His citizens from the enemy of death. This can give us hope, even in this real world of troubles and pain.
We are dying. We must die. The road is well traveled. We need not fear the dark, for the way is lit with Christmas lights.
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