Poetry

The City, a podcast of Houston Baptist University: Smart. Sane. Spiritual.

Featuring: Dr. Micah Mattix, Dr. Holly Ordway, Cate MacDonald, and Dr. John Mark Reynolds

Our discussion with Dr. Micah Mattix last week did not feel complete. So we had him back for a second round of looking at beauty in literature.

Many evolutionists try to argue that poetry, love, and our sense of beauty are the remnants of something that once had survival value.

Dr. Mattix strongly disagrees, for if you explain love, haven’t you explained away the very phenomenon of love?

Are we the first generation in the history of humanity that does not do poetry for enjoyment?

Also in this podcast we attempt a reading and instant critical analysis of a contemporary poem. If you enjoy this kind of poetic project, let us know by emailing podcast@hbu.edu.

Play

Look for Dr. Mattix’s article “Portrait of the Artist as a Caveman” in The New Atlantis.

The City Podcast: The Public Intellectual Christian

by Timothy Motte on April 9, 2013

The City, a podcast of Houston Baptist University: Smart. Sane. Spiritual.

Featuring: Dr. Micah Mattix, Dr. Holly Ordway, Cate MacDonald, and Dr. John Mark Reynolds

Dr. Reynolds says that Dr. Micah Mattix has earned the right to be called a public intellectual. Which is only one of the reasons we brought him as a guest to The City Podcast.

How should a Christian Academic engage with the public? How does one balance being accessible with being academically rigorous? Being properly evangelistic with being properly topical?

Dr. Mattix is also a poet and a critic.

This podcast includes a debate between Dr. Holly Ordway, who is a proponent of traditional poetic forms, and Dr. Mattix, who favors more modern poetic forms. You’ll also hear his answer to who the greatest living poet is.

Dr. Mattix is also the book editor for The City. You can read his review of A.E. Stallings’ latest collection of poetry in the Winter 2013 issue of The City.

Play

To give feedback or suggest topics, email podcast@hbu.edu.

In Fall 2012 I start work at Houston Baptist University. My job description? Change the world.

Houston is the right place at the right time to do this work. Read John Mark Reynolds’ take on it. You may want to come to Houston too, and if you think that, take it seriously. It is a city that not only has great apologists, but also people who love literature and the arts. My fellow Hieropraxis contributor Andrew Lazo has already laid claim to the endeavor of starting the CS Lewis Society of Houston…he will not have any trouble getting that membership list filled!

In part 1 and part 2 of this piece, I talked about the first six of the Ten Pillars, the vision statement that guides Houston Baptist University. Here are the final four piece of the vision.

7. Bring Athens and Jerusalem together.

“A university is a cultural center and a place for invitation and engagement. Athens and Jerusalem can meet on a campus in the city of Houston.” Yes indeed!

Houston Baptist University is a place where the intellectual and cultural life, nourished and cultivated on campus, intersects with the life of the community. The campus is a space for engagement – and that is perfect for apologetics. St Paul preached on Mars Hill and quoted from the Greek literature of the day to help present the Gospel to the Athenians. Athens met Jerusalem, and the world was changed.

HBU has three museums: the Durham Bible Museum, the Museum of American Architecture and Domestic Arts, and the Museum of Southern History. The Morris Cultural Arts Center includes a recital hall and a theatre. HBU has made the space for engagement to happen.

 

8. Expand our commitment to the creative arts: visual, musical, and literary.

This is part of the vision of HBU:

“It has been said that the writer of songs influences a culture more than the politician exercising power. What is surely true is that our God is a creative God who brought a beautiful world into existence and filled it with people capable of appreciating beauty. Similarly, just as we believe human beings are made in God’s image, we believe He provided the ability to create artistically as a reflection of his creative glory. The Christian university, committed to the worship of the Creator God, and thus to both aesthetic appreciation and creation, must be involved in the arts.”

I am an academic and a Christian apologist… and by the grace and gift of God, also a poet. Could there be a better place for me than HBU? I think not.

9. Cultivate a strong global focus.

The Gospel is for all people, everywhere. One of the challenges of cultural apologetics is to find ways to share the good news of God in Christ, and remove obstacles to faith, in ways that make sense for people in their particular cultural contexts.

Study abroad and language learning are important parts of learning how to be a gracious, informed, productive citizen in the 21st century. I am excited to be part of an educational program that recognizes the necessity of both local community (in residential learning and community involvement) and global outreach.

10. Move to the next level as an institution.

And finally, I am excited about HBU because the university recognizes the importance of its role in our culture — and is stepping forward boldly to fill the need.

HBU has a brilliant vision that means educating with a ‘mere Christian’ vision to change the world for the cause of Christ:

“Christians of all stripes – evangelicals, other Protestants, and Catholics – must re-engage their historic commitments to the foundational importance of a university education that is marked by the distinctive convictions and values of historic Christianity. The church must again consider the university as part of its mission because the university is so closely tied to the future of the society.”

HBU is growing as an undergraduate university — moving steadily forward in increasing the size of incoming classes. It is also growing, very intentionally, as a graduate university, with new MA degrees such as the MA in Philosophy. More degrees are in development, including an MA in Apologetics.

The vision is clear:

“The foundation of all the efforts detailed here will be to produce graduates who have been challenged to think carefully and critically, to write and speak clearly and effectively, to demonstrate integrity in their daily lives, and to see their faith as being important both to their behavior and to their way of thinking.”

Great things are ahead… and I am astonished at the goodness of God that I get a chance to participate in them.

We are going to change the world.

And that is why I am going to Houston Baptist University.

Wendell Berry’s God

by Micah Mattix on April 30, 2012

In the latest issue of The City, Aaron Belz reviews The Humane Vision of Wendell Berry. It’s a mostly favorable review, but Belz expresses disappointment that there isn’t more critical engagement with Berry in the volume. Belz only hints at what such a critical engagement might be, noting Berry’s debt to an earlier naturalism. I am not a Berry scholar, but some of Berry’s Sabbath poems have always raised a few questions in my mind about the relationship between God and nature in Berry’s work–poems with lines like these:

Another Sunday morning comes
And I resume the standing Sabbath
Of the woods, where the finest blooms
Of time return, and where not path
Is worn but wears its makers out
At last, and disappears in leaves
Of fallen seasons. The tracked rut
Fills and levels; here nothing grieves
In the risen season. Past life
Lives in the living. Resurrection
Is in the way each maple leaf
Commemorates its kind, by connection

Berry writes within a generally Christian tradition, and he is all the rage these days with all sorts of Christians, hipsters and non-hipsters alike, but I for one would like to learn more about what he means by “Past life / Lives in the living,” or in another poem when he writes that “Sometimes here [earth] / we are there [heaven], and there is no death.”

That “sometimes” is very coy. At the moment, it seems this is the best bet for further study.

The Tantrum

by Benjamin Domenech on January 31, 2009

Struck with grief you were, though only four,
The day your mother cut her mermaid hair
And stood, a stranger, smiling at the door.
They frowned, tsk-tsked your willful, cruel despair,
When you slunk beneath the long piano strings
And sobbed until your lungs hiccupped for air,
Unbribable with curses, cake, playthings.
You mourned a mother now herself no more,
But brave and fashionable. The golden rings
That fringed her naked neck, whom were they for?
Not you, but for the world, now in your place,
A full eclipse. You wept down on the floor;
She wept up in her room. They told you this:
That she could grow it back, and just as long,
They told you, lying always about loss,
For you know she never did. And they were wrong.

© A. E. Stallings. From Archaic Smile, University of Evansville Press; originally printed in the Formalist; reprinted by permission of the author.

Items of Interest: To Exist All That Is

by Benjamin Domenech on January 14, 2009

Good morning friends. A few items of interest today, and a poem by Csezlaw Milosz.

  • BARNA, the research group providing the best statistical insights into faith in America today, has a new report detailing how Christianity is no longer America’s “default religion.”
  • Over at The Public Discourse, the Acton Institute’s Samuel Gregg writes on Keynes, Moral Hazard, and the current economic crisis.
  • Northwestern University’s Sara Anson Vaux has an interesting piece at The Common Review on Clint Eastwood’s theology.
  • And just as a word to those around the blog world who’ve been clamoring for the full text of Matthew Lee Anderson’s article in the Winter issue on “The New Evangelical Scandal,” we plan to post it tomorrow for you to read and discuss.

A Poem for the End of the Century

When everything was fine
And the notion of sin had vanished
And the earth was ready
In universal peace
To consume and rejoice
Without creeds and utopias,

I, for unknown reasons,
Surrounded by the books
Of prophets and theologians,
Of philosophers, poets,
Searched for an answer,
Scowling, grimacing,
Waking up at night, muttering at dawn.

What oppressed me so much
Was a bit shameful.
Talking of it aloud
Would show neither tact nor prudence.
It might even seem an outrage
Against the health of mankind.

Alas, my memory
Does not want to leave me
And in it, live beings
Each with its own pain,
Each with its own dying,
Its own trepidation.

Why then innocence
On paradisal beaches,
An impeccable sky
Over the church of hygiene?
Is it because that
Was long ago?

To a saintly man
- So goes an Arab tale-
God said somewhat maliciously:
“Had I revealed to people
How great a sinner you are,
They could not praise you.”

“And I,” answered the pious one,
“Had I unveiled to them
How merciful you are,
They would not care for you.”

To whom should I turn
With that affair so dark
Of pain and also guilt
In the structure of the world,
If either here below
Or over there on high
No power can abolish
The cause and the effect?

Don’t think, don’t remember
The death on the cross,
Though everyday He dies,
The only one, all-loving,
Who without any need
Consented and allowed
To exist all that is,
Including nails of torture.

Totally enigmatic.
Impossibly intricate.
Better to stop speech here.
This language is not for people.
Blessed be jubilation.
Vintages and harvests.
Even if not everyone
Is granted serenity.

Czeslaw Milosz