American Reformed folks are aesthetic relativists. Although I don't know enough about the philosophy of aesthetics to share my thoughts on this clearly or authoritatively, this has been one of my main contentions over the years. I think we can see this in several places. Look at our buildings. Perhaps one might suggest that plainness is a theological ideal. But plainness is not what I'm talking about. The most traditional, conservative presbyterian churches in Scotland, with their theology of plainness, far surpass our buildings in beauty. Listen to our music. Sure, there are exceptions. But in sophistication and sound, we fall short of the beauty of the past. However, falling short is not what I'm talking about. Rather, I'm talking about our philosophical and theological posturing with which we excuse and, even worse, promote ugliness or, at least, aesthetic minimalism.
Maybe this will make my point. Consider the visceral reaction against any suggestion that some music is "better" than other. I distinctly recall a conversation I had with a group of "Reformed" believers up in Minnesota during one of John Piper's conferences. I was trying to argue that some music used in public
worship is qualitatively superior to other "Christian" music. I made it very clear that I was not laying the foundation for the moral argument that we "ought, therefore" use the aesthetically superior music in our worship. I was simply saying some music is better than other. They, however, thought I was making an attack on their piety. Interestingly enough, the only one of that group who agreed with me was a man who was trained musically and had had many more years and a broader range of experience with music than the rest of us. And his agreement on this simple point was despite the conclusions we drew about the "ought" question.
Another experience I had was at a supposedly Reformed high school. I was teaching a Bible class and the question of aesthetic objectivity came up. I thought I'd illustrate my point with a simple example: Bach is "better than" Hendrix. I was amazed at the reaction and adamant denials. So, I put it up for a challenge. The boys in favor of Hendrix brought a sample of his best. I brought something of Bach's. In class the next day, we listened to both. When Hendrix played, everyone who'd never heard him (which was most) sneered and
guffawed at the suggestion that there was anything of quality there at all. It was like the emperor's new clothes. Now, that was their reaction. I had never denied Hendrix's "genius." I only said Bach was better. Then, I played Bach. A river of beauty flooded the room. Everyone's spirit melted. The Hendrix promoters were chagrined. I needed no further argument. Part of it was the stark contrast of hearing the beauty of one of Bach's cello concertos next to the raw chaos of Hendrix. Part of it may have been hearing something
so beautiful, to "out of place" there in an institutionalized setting, where beauty is rare. But certainly the heart of it was this - Bach's music was beautiful and that beauty had its own potency that convinced the ears of anyone who hasn't been brainwashed with the philosophy of aesthetic relativism.
So, although I think the best solution to our problem is simple - exposure to the truly beautiful. My solution to our thinking problem (and my blogging agenda on this subject) is a threefold thesis: 1) Beauty has its own value. 2) Beauty has no truth content. 3) Beauty is objective (and not merely "in the eye of the beholder"). Maybe we'll draw some helpful conclusions if these are established.
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