The news is rife with stories about the battle over history. Recently, the Loudoun County Board of Supervisors–in response to criticism about alleged inaction after the violence of Charlottesville–commissioned an investigation into the history of slavery and the local Civil Rights movement. Among many suggestions, the inquiry board has proposed renaming at least part of the Leesburg courthouse, and there lingers the possibility (some would say threat) of moving the Confederate soldier statue, or perhaps giving him a kind of “counterweight” statue to reflect the experiences of African Americans in Loudoun. These are difficult historical questions, to a great extent because they hang so much on the question of identity, which really implies value or worth, and it is in that space that tempers really flare.
One silver lining is that people are once again actually paying attention to history (scholars have never stopped doing this, but the impact of the historian on society has, it would seem, decreased in the past few decades with the rise of post-modernism, which implicitly assumes that one can construct identity apart from history). The assumption is, indeed, that history matters (again).
But if there is an even more common assumption–I would say axiomatic, universally accepted–it is in regards to the purpose, the telos, of history. Ask just about anybody, “Why study history?” and you will almost certainly get roughly the same answer: “To avoid the mistakes of the past.” Perhaps the interviewee will reply with some variation of the phrase, “Because those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it” [assumption: since history is pretty much all bad, we don’t want to do that].
What is striking is that this same thinking is rife within the Christian community, too. Even more odd, though, is that the most popular formulation of this answer comes from a rather un-Christian source: the skeptic and naturalist George Santayana, no friend to Christianity. Shouldn’t that give us pause? Is this downcast, low view of history really biblical?
Christians have rightfully criticized low art (think of the outcries against Mapelthorpe’s pornography-passed-as-art, or against statues of the Virgin Mary made of elephant dung). They have condemned low music (Schoenberg’s cacophonies of randomness, or even the so-called music that is John Cage’s 4’33”). And they are particularly virulent against every bad book, from 50 Shades of Gray to The Descent of Man (but what constitutes a bad book… now there’s a topic for debate among conservatives).
But, thankfully, we never conclude with just teaching about these antitheses of good art, music, and literature. We strive in our learning to embrace excellence–if you will, to find and inhabit goodness, truth, and beauty. Thus, we are not content with discovering what is not excellent and avoiding it; we spend the lion’s share of our time and resources in imitating and absorbing what is the very best.
Sadly, we have not demanded the same for our study of history. We have settled for half of the answer, half of the purpose of history–perhaps we might call this a low telos. The Bible is full of history; it was almost impossible to separate from Jewish identity. And undoubtedly the Bible is full of historical admonitions: remember Pharaoh, Og, Sihon, Sodom, Saul, the unfaithful forefathers… the list goes on and on.
But there are so many historical heroes, positive types, besides all those antitypes. With all of their “warts and all,” as Christian historian Butterfield said, men and women like David and Ruth come before our mind’s eyes as examples of how we should live. The Bible never leaves us just pictures of sinners with an admonition, “Don’t be like that.” Thankfully, providentially, God has raised up historical beacons of faithfulness whom we may emulate. On a larger scale, history, with all its brokenness, is purposely going somewhere: straight before the throne of Jesus Christ. Our histories–and our attitudes toward history–should reflect that. We want to know the historical truth–not only the errors of the past, but also, especially also, of faithfulness, so we might glorify God better. The Golden Rule is a calling so much higher than just “Don’t be bad”… but we need guides. Interestingly, among pagan Greek and Roman historians, this is standard fare: their histories and biographies spend far less time on the base, and so much time on the best, even if their idea of the best is sometimes distorted. They had a very high view of history, and we should too; Christians should embrace a high telos view of history.
The Bible’s most famous, historian, Dr. Luke (a Greek), operated so:
Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile an account of the things accomplished among us, just as they were handed down to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, it seemed fitting for me as well, having investigated everything carefully from the beginning, to write it out for you in consecutive order, most excellent Theophilus; so that you may know the exact truth about the things you have been taught (Luke 1:1-4 NASB).
Many of the words here (account, things accomplished, investigated) are buzzwords common among Greek historians. At the end he explains why he did all these things (not just his gospel… Acts, too!): so his reader (and, by extension we) may know the exact truth… and we know Who that is. And that is not just some kind of gnostic head knowledge; it is so we may participate with Christ in all His glory. It is essential that we return to a properly balanced philosophy of history, with our eyes looking upward at His purpose, His beacons of faith, and, ultimately, Christ Himself.
Dr. Doug Favelo is a board member at Loudoun Classical School and Department Chair of Classical Liberal Arts and professor of History at Patrick Henry College. Read his full bio here.