Good thing the theme of this blog series is "Marginalia, Ephemera, and Commentary." Otherwise, I might feel bad concentrating on such a small part of the majestic Isaiah 53, quoted in this chapter by Abinadi.
I've recently been contemplating my career and life goals. As I apply to numerous prestigious programs in the hopes of once again immersing myself in the study of literature, I've had to think long and hard about the real purpose behind its study (and the study of all humanities, really).
One common thread of thought concerning the study of the humanities and the arts is that we study them to learn more about beauty so that we can increase beauty's presence in the world. While that may be a good reason for some folks, part of verse 2 from this chapter underscores why it's not a good reason for me.
Describing Christ: "...he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him there is no beauty that we should desire him."
My interpretation of this scripture has always been that Christ was not visibly recognizable as the Only Begotten Son of God. You couldn't see "Messiah" in his biceps or "prophet" in his chiseled visage. And since we're talking about Isaiah here, my interpretation is as good as most folks, so we'll keep moving in that direction. :)
If I focus my life on seeking after the outwardly beautiful, I will waste my years without getting any close to Christ (and notice the "I"s in those statement--they're not meant to be categorical).
Dave, how do you figure that? Christ is in the beautiful, too!
That's absolutely true. But here's my reasoning. While beauty may please my senses and my spirit, ugliness, pain, and sin are the wages the world must overcome to return to our Father in heaven.
In this chapter, Christ receives "a portion with the great...because he hath poured out his soul unto death; and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bore the sins of many, and made intercession for the transgressors" (v. 12).
Christ was great because the "knowledge" he gained through his great and unique sacrifice did "justify many" before the judgment seat (v. 11). He gained that knowledge by descending below all, incurring the griefs, bruises, and stripes alluded to in this chapter.
And so, while this post may haunt me in the aftermath of 7 potential rejection letters, I can't help but pour out my own soul in the study of the ugly, the painful, and the sinful. In studying the painful words of the downtrodden and the ugly words of the haughty, I can better understand the sin that results from both, and therefore better succor the sinner (and better chart my own path to salvation with fear and trembling).
Studying these things is one small way I attempt to follow in Christ's footsteps and catch a glimmer of his supreme sympathy. One small method of discipleship peculiar to my own disposition.
Rather than beauty, I seek the transcendent. Transcendence comes only in the midst of trial and tribulation. And so I bid beauty adieu, wishing her well, and jump earnestly into the midst of the world's despair.
I've recently been contemplating my career and life goals. As I apply to numerous prestigious programs in the hopes of once again immersing myself in the study of literature, I've had to think long and hard about the real purpose behind its study (and the study of all humanities, really).
One common thread of thought concerning the study of the humanities and the arts is that we study them to learn more about beauty so that we can increase beauty's presence in the world. While that may be a good reason for some folks, part of verse 2 from this chapter underscores why it's not a good reason for me.
Describing Christ: "...he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him there is no beauty that we should desire him."
My interpretation of this scripture has always been that Christ was not visibly recognizable as the Only Begotten Son of God. You couldn't see "Messiah" in his biceps or "prophet" in his chiseled visage. And since we're talking about Isaiah here, my interpretation is as good as most folks, so we'll keep moving in that direction. :)
If I focus my life on seeking after the outwardly beautiful, I will waste my years without getting any close to Christ (and notice the "I"s in those statement--they're not meant to be categorical).
Dave, how do you figure that? Christ is in the beautiful, too!
That's absolutely true. But here's my reasoning. While beauty may please my senses and my spirit, ugliness, pain, and sin are the wages the world must overcome to return to our Father in heaven.
In this chapter, Christ receives "a portion with the great...because he hath poured out his soul unto death; and he was numbered with the transgressors; and he bore the sins of many, and made intercession for the transgressors" (v. 12).
Christ was great because the "knowledge" he gained through his great and unique sacrifice did "justify many" before the judgment seat (v. 11). He gained that knowledge by descending below all, incurring the griefs, bruises, and stripes alluded to in this chapter.
And so, while this post may haunt me in the aftermath of 7 potential rejection letters, I can't help but pour out my own soul in the study of the ugly, the painful, and the sinful. In studying the painful words of the downtrodden and the ugly words of the haughty, I can better understand the sin that results from both, and therefore better succor the sinner (and better chart my own path to salvation with fear and trembling).
Studying these things is one small way I attempt to follow in Christ's footsteps and catch a glimmer of his supreme sympathy. One small method of discipleship peculiar to my own disposition.
Rather than beauty, I seek the transcendent. Transcendence comes only in the midst of trial and tribulation. And so I bid beauty adieu, wishing her well, and jump earnestly into the midst of the world's despair.
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