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From
First Things:
Why Western culture ceased to credit the Bible’s narrative is perhaps
a question only God and his saints can now answer. But it is suggestive
that the first step was a replacement metanarrative: the
Enlightenment’s tale of self-sustaining (and so covertly divine) Western
scientific, political, and economic progress. This preserved the
teleological thrust of biblical narrative and promised similar hope and
security, but it did not include that offensive item, the election of
the Jews.
“Remember not the former things,” said the Lord through
Isaiah, “for, behold, I am doing a new thing.” For a time, Western
modernity could believe that faith in progress seemed to obey the
mandate—and there are some especially sheltered popularizing scientists
who still think that way. But for most of us, history itself has undone
faith in autonomous historical progress.
We can roughly specify
the period of the modern narrative’s collapse. Its epicenter was 1900,
the year Nietzsche, the great prophet of modernity’s decadence, died in
appropriate fashion, and Picasso came to Paris, where it was revealed to
him that one could repudiate the modern bourgeois world and its
illusions by new ways of putting paint on canvas. Perhaps we may locate
the period’s dawn in 1863, when Édouard Manet exhibited Le déjeuner sur l’herbe,
“The Luncheon on the Grass.” In this apparent genre painting, two men
are having a picnic. There is a third figure with them, a woman, who
happens to be naked. She pays no attention to them, and they—entirely
improbably in view of her charms—reciprocate. She is in fact dropped in
from another painting altogether, perhaps a Venus Observed, to
disrupt any attempt by viewers to construe a coherent story about the
picnic. The subsequent history of art is in decisive part the story of
various strategies to achieve a similar disruption of modernity’s faith.
And in 1918, Walter Gropius, future founder of the Bauhaus, formally
proclaimed the end of modernity: “A world has been destroyed; we must
seek a radical solution.”
So what happens when both the biblical
narrative and its Enlightenment replacement are no longer trusted? Of
course, another new narrative might be invented. But now the inventors
would know, at least subliminally, that it was a fiction.
Thus in
crisis-modernity (also known as postmodernity or high modernity in
different areas of culture), the very notion of a comprehensive story
that warrants the truth of our partial claims is suspect—or, indeed,
forbidden. Among the illuminati, “metanarrative” is a bad word. Yet the
West’s history with the Bible has left it with no other way of
understanding itself. (Read more.)
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