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In attempting to find the middle road between the optimist and the pessimist, what can get lost is the more pressing matter of what either of the two are looking for or working toward. No matter how positive one might judge current conditions, there is always the drive to make things continually better. The question, of course, is what better actually means. Many attempts have been made to discover what ideals should be sought after. For instance, though many things can be drawn from nature, nature itself doesn’t explicitly demand an ideal: “There is no principle in nature” (153). Values are not derived directly from nature; rather, human ideals are imposed onto nature and demand human rationality to discern.
Another error in this regard is to view mere progress through time as actual and desirable progress, socially speaking. Further, there is an ideal that is set up that is never really concretely settled: Everything is spoken of in images and metaphors, and no tangible definitions are ever offered. People work toward an idealized future that has no basis in reality. Finally, there is the error that progress is simply whatever the one with the power to bring about change wants. This final category gets closest to the truth since an ideal requires a person (or group of people) to have a genuine sense of what they want and a plan to put it into action. This is the manner in which revolutions come about, though Chesterton states that he is fonder of the word “reform,” which “implies that we are trying to shape the world in a particular image; to make it something that we see already in our minds” (156).
This progress, however, is cast in two different modes, only one of which is correct. The first mode, which he sees as the false mode, is that in which progress means constantly changing the ideal. This perspective looks out at the world and constantly tries to change their goals to fit what they see. The second mode, the “correct” mode, looks out at the world and tries to change it to fit the fixed ideal. Love for the world is bound up with the idea that the world is in need of reform, and only the one who truly loves can bring about a necessary change.
Chesterton believes that the position that attempts to move away from and suppress orthodoxy is one that is destined to be boring and closed in on itself. Orthodoxy, by contrast, is a romantic view of the world. While discussing the concept of miracles, he writes, “For some extraordinary reason, there is a fixed notion that it is more liberal to disbelieve in miracles than to believe in them” (187). Materialism convinces one not only that miracles do not occur but also that they cannot occur. This itself requires an enormous amount of faith, for it is something that cannot be proven, and it discourages human imagination by making the cosmos a dull, rote machine. He thinks that if the ultimate goal is for human beings to gain total power over nature, it is a curious thing that the miracle—just such a power—should be so denigrated.
The question of humanity’s liberation, raised by asking questions about materialism and revolution, are made prominent when the conversation moves specifically to a comparison between the religions of Buddhism and Christianity. Buddhism is the best example because it is a prevalent exemplar of a pantheistic or immanentist philosophy of the world. Many look at religion and see different forms of practice and similar claims of truth. Chesterton proclaims that this is backward: “Religions of the earth do not greatly differ in rites and forms; they do greatly differ in what they teach” (190). When it comes to Buddhism and Christianity, they are in some agreement about the predicament that humanity is currently suffering under, but they have wholly opposite ways of answering the questions that this problem raises.
For Buddhism, the answers lie within, but for Christianity the answers lie without. This itself raises the distinction between a pantheistic, universal personality and identity and the notion that creation is distinct from the creator. This is the difference between the immanent and the transcendent. Chesterton explains that by “insisting that God is inside man, man is always inside himself. By insisting that God transcends man, man has transcended himself” (197). Christianity has always insisted on the reality of human community, even among those who would cut themselves off from the world, such as in the life of the monk.
This communal insistence and the conviction that love of others is central is also related to the Christian belief that human existence is a story and has a narrative. Rather than viewing history in a fatalistic mode, history is viewed as the working out of divine providence through the agency of human free will. It is an idealized perspective that unites conceptions of a divine ruler and the desire to exert free will in one’s own life. This conviction allows others true agency, contributing to Chesterton’s insistence that human history is romantic.
Drawing the narrative to a close, Chesterton grapples with strong objections. The greatest objection is that it should be quite easy, and perhaps desirable, to take all that Christianity has to say about truth and human living and leave behind the religious teachings that center ideas about sin, grace, and atonement.
Three answers arise in answer to this objection, and Chesterton thinks that there are rational and intellectually satisfying answers if one is willing to look. The first objection to Christianity is that human beings really are just complex animals, and so they have no need of religion at their core. The second is that religion only begins thanks to fear, ignorance, and superstition. The third is that the presence of religious fanatics and priests makes the world a worse place and continually prove to be the source of pain, sadness, and scrupulosity. Chesterton dismantles these arguments and shows how each one, in his mind, is simply not true.
Thinking the reader may not yet be content, Chesterton offers more objections. First, the figure of Jesus seems to be quite unappealing to the modern man. Second, Christianity has only lasted as long as it has because it flourished in the dark ages of European history. Finally, all those who practice religion are weak and impractical. Again, Chesterton resists and summarizes by stating that “the sceptic was quite right to go by the facts, only he had not looked at the facts” (217). The truth to him is that Christianity has acted as a safeguard and teacher, and this has been a good thing societally and historically.
Even more, the Church has—in Chesterton’s estimation—been proven to be the kind of thing that tells the truth, and so for this fact alone, it should be given serious consideration. Finally, he gives credit to the feeling that Christianity is the source of so much joy. Anything else, he thinks, leaves humanity cold and desperate: “When the pagan looks at the very core of the cosmos he is struck cold. Behind the gods, who are merely despotic, sit the fates, who are deadly. Nay, the fates are worse than deadly; they are dead” (231). Christians, by contrast, are able to view the chaos, paradox, and mystery of the world and still find great joy in it all.
In the final chapters of the text, Chesterton starts to tie the various threads together in a coherent and persuasive way. First, he returns to the necessity of an ideal that he had mentioned in the fifth chapter when describing the issues with eternal progress. Now he lays out the final necessity of the ideal in relation to progress: An ideal needs to be fixed and eternal. It does no good, he says, to have an ideal that is itself changing. If an ideal is changing, then there can’t be any detectible change or progress in the world because there won’t be a fixed goal toward which progress can be made.
In this sense, it would be like constantly changing the location of the finish line for a race—no matter how far the runners advance, they wouldn’t get any nearer to the finish. Christianity is this fixed and eternal ideal for Chesterton, and so is the measure by which all other things are judged. Thanks to its unchanging existence, the world and the human heart can be changed to more accurately reflect this ideal back. Progress can be made, and human beings can then begin to act in imitation of God, who is the grand artist, author, and architect of the cosmos. The constancy of this divine ideal is one of the reasons why orthodoxy can be said to be romantic—and why one can view Christian Orthodoxy as Exciting in Comparison to Heterodoxy—which Chesterton proposes in Chapter 8.
As in marriage—the image with which he concludes the seventh chapter—love is designed to be permanent and fixed, unable to be moved. The ideal of romantic love is that it lasts and continues through all the obstacles and transformations of life. Orthodoxy, as something to be loved, has this in common. It is the perspective from which permanent ideals can be appreciated and lived out for each person in their own life, and it is at the same time the power by which the person opens themselves up to surprises, even miracles. Chesterton asserts that the narrow rigidity of materialism, for instance, destroys the mystery of life. It holds that only the physical or the natural can exist, but Christianity denies this on account of being much broader and more open-minded.
Orthodoxy allows the universe to be vast and mysterious. It also has the benefit of making people look beyond themselves to the higher and transcendent things. Other religions and philosophies propose that the answers to life will be found within the self. Christianity does not deny the importance of the self, says Chesterton, but it does deny that the ultimate answers can be found there. Even the Christian teaching about the nature of God as triune—composed of three persons, father, son, and holy spirit—points to the fact that the fabric of reality is composed with community in mind. People are not meant to close themselves in on themselves or their individual ideas, as reviewed in Chapter 2, but are meant to direct themselves outward to others and, ultimately, to God.
Finally, Chesterton concludes the work with the ninth chapter, in which he attempts to answer objections to Christianity, especially the objection that all the good that Christianity possesses and proposes can be had without any recourse to the various faithful claims or dogmas. For Chesterton, the question is one of rationality: He does not believe in Christianity because it is convenient or because it is something that he intentionally wants to do. He believes all that Christianity is and all that the Catholic Church teaches because he has come to believe that it is actually true.
He states in the final pages of the book that the Christian Church is a thing that tells the truth and allows human beings to be truly free. The image of the children playing on top of a pillar illustrates this point by showing that it is only with the proper restrictions that human beings can feel truly at home in the world. A home has walls for a reason, and a garden has a fence for a reason. The Church, which tells the truth, allows human beings to be aware of their limitations; in being aware of these limitations, people can come to appreciate reality and be at peace with what they are actually capable of.



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