The Apple

So...this was a paper I just finished for my Critical Reading class on how my religion affects my reading. Enjoy : ) (p.s.: I know that "the fruit" probably isn't an apple. It was a style/cultural relevance based choice.)

The Apple

Many Christian religions view Eve’s acceptance of the fruit and knowledge of good and evil as a cardinal sin. Some of those claim that her sacrifice of innocence for understanding has damned the entire human race to suffer from inherited flaws and desires for wickedness. LDS doctrine suggests an alternative perspective – by allowing knowledge to change the way she viewed herself and the world, Eve unlocked literally vital parts of her own humanity. Today, I gain knowledge by reading: C.S. Lewis wrote, “In reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself.” In selecting which literature to embrace, I, like Eve, must choose between conflicting commandments: my church directs me to grow in knowledge and wisdom, but also to avoid that which is false and could harm my spirit. Following either one of these directives requires me to define truth and the process of gaining knowledge, and then gauge which texts uplift and which degrade.  In response to my modern-day apple paradox, I choose to accept literature that falls both within and without my personal moral code.

            My personal religious background has been shaped not only by LDS doctrine, but the examples of my parents. I was raised in a Latter-day-saint home, and I have received education from the Church for my entire life, from achievement days to Relief Society. These programs have exposed me to and taught me a love of the word of God and spiritual truth. However, my parents have also taught me to look for spiritual truth in many forms. I was twelve years old when my Dad left the church and separated from my Mom, and for years my loss of certainty in both familial structure and religion caused me to cling reflexively to “non-negotiable truth.” I was afraid to embrace literature that suggested truth is relative or disagreed with any of my foundational religious assumptions: God’s existence, people’s fundamental goodness, etc. I was afraid to experience patterns of thought that might change me beyond recognition and (by extension) hurt the people I love. However, despite my deeply rooted fear of ideological uncertainty, I eventually realized I could not solve my apple paradox by ignoring books that I didn’t agree with. I recognized that authors disagree about important questions, but so do Bishops, Professors, and most of the people that I respect and trust, and concluded that although universal truth exists, personal experience limits each individuals’ understanding of it, and the only way to overcome those limits is to learn from each other.

In order to become “perfect” and fulfill my promises to God, I try to expand my understanding through the experiences of other people.  In Doctrine and Covenants 93:36 the Lord states, “the glory of God is intelligence,” and commands his children to “seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom.” These directives suggest that there is value in learning from other people and pursuing vicarious intellectual experience. Although I must indeed seek the “best books,” I cannot expand my intellectual or spiritual horizons by ignoring ideas that do not agree with me: if I conclude that a character is simply inhuman and therefore irrelevant to me, I lose any understanding I might have gained by studying his behavior. Neither can I assume that an author shares my moral sensibilities. I may believe that all humans have some good or redeeming quality, but if I focus my interpretation of a work on a search for a character’s virtue, I preclude the possibility that he has none, and risk missing a text’s central question entirely.

If I cannot limit what I read to what I agree with, then how can I decide what the “best books” are? As a young woman I was continually taught to avoid “degrading media influences” that would damage my spirit and my relationship with God. Moroni 7:16 sheds light on the decision making process:

For behold, the spirit of Christ is given to every man that he may know good from evil; wherefore, I show unto you the way to judge; for every thing which inviteth to do good, and to persuade to believe in Christ, is sent forth by the power and gift of Christ; wherefore ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of God.

For me, the “spirit of Christ” represents a kinship that all men share, regardless of their moral persuasion. Because of this spiritual connection, the societal depiction of literature as “other” (or belonging to people lesser than or separate from the general population) is false: any honest depiction of human life and human interaction is worthy of study and could bring me closer to men and God. The difficulty, then, lies in determining whether literature is “honest.” If the truth of each man’s experience is different, how can one man judge the truth of another’s story? I cannot answer for every situation, but I have found that my ability to absorb a specific text informs its value to me almost as much as the truths inherent to its pages. Ultimately, the surest test for me of literature’s value is whether or not it increases my ability to understand and form connections with other people and other texts.

The belief that one Father created all men in his image and that every member of the human race shares an inherent spiritual kinship allows me to expand my understanding of humanity by embracing texts that might otherwise remain alien. In a 1993 Ensign article, Julie Okazaki wrote, “we are all connected, even if it is in a pattern that only God sees.” Significantly, Sister Okazaki states that we may not be able to see how other people relate to us; our connection is not evidenced through the similarity of our lives.  I believe this connection is apparent in mankind’s ability to conceptualize and react to an experience foreign to them. Although a text may challenge my belief, if I do not concede its possibility I lose the opportunity to reconsider my beliefs and gain new insight into life. In a continuation of his previously quoted statement, C.S. Lewis stated, “[In reading great literature], as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself, and am never more myself than when I do.” Like Eve, in order to unlock the potential of my own humanity, I must make a conscious decision to learn from others. In doing so, I must cautiously attempt to judge a text’s potential influence on me for good or evil, and recognize that in understanding one you must appreciate the other. My judgments will be imperfect and temporary and nonetheless vital. If do not learn to understand and incorporate into my life new beliefs and insights, my education has failed to change me, and I have failed my primary purpose. 

Works Cited

Lewis, C.S. An Experiment in Criticism. London:  Cambridge University, 1961. Print.

Okazaki, Chieko N., “Cat’s Cradle of Kindness.” Ensign, May 1993, 84. Web. 13 October 2010.