Kim Gentes

It's true. There is a long history of a small segment of Christianity that has held to the belief that God will save all people, even those that reject him on this earth. Rob Bell's recent book "Love Wins" takes a look at another spin of this age-old concept of universalism.  Bell writes and thinks well. There is no denying it. But ultimately he stays well within the context of the best argument for universalism- human reason and human attribution of the qualities of "love" on to the Divine Person.  As long as you use logic that does not look at all the scriptural record, and rely heavily on personal anecdotes to frame the "kind of God" that you are willing to believe in (and that He is a good God), then you can arrive at the doctrine of universalism and feel pretty good about it. And this is primarily what Bell does.

I was surprised at how anecdotal the entire book was. I love much of Bell's writing, but his treatment of this topic relies initially on a logical progression of human reasoning (not based primarily on Scripture) and ignores investigation, explanation and support of key texts that seem to contradict Bell's thesis. I wanted to emotionally agree with Rob Bell. But neither the specific texts of the Bible that might seem to support universalism (but on deeper look, do not), the historical context of Jesus timeframe or a comprehensive review of all Scripture (including texts which clearly contradict universalism, and overtly declare literal judgment in a literal hell) line up to do anything but refute the premise and content of "Love Wins". I am not a Bell basher, and I appreciate and like some of his other works. Throughout, there are a number of concepts based on specific redefinitions of words (such as forever not actually meaning "eternal", hell not meaning a non-earthly place of punishment but instead meaning "Hell is our refusal to trust God’s retelling of our story"[1] according to Bell). And you see the conflict here- yes Hell could include our refusal to trust God's retelling, but it is a definition that removes the imagery Jesus used of suffering and eternity.

 Bell begins with exploring some thoughts about what kind of God we might be talking about, who is ultimatley in control, some thoughts about hell as a concept (placing it on earth mostly, and certainly not as a reality in the ethereal world), understanding more about what God's desires are and how they might work and ultimately towards a conclusion that just assumes that a good God would not send a person intentionally to a painful punishment for all eternity. But Bell uses conjecture as his backbone to the book, not scripture. He proof texts some support when possible, but does not draw his primary thoughts from the bible.

I love that Bell asks so many profound questions. For this, his voice is refreshing. But "Love Wins" ultimately answers none of its questions except to give universalism a "pass" because ultimately Bell's anecdotal view of life leads him to that conclusion.

Amazon Product Link: http://amzn.to/sHSMrk

Review by Kim Gentes

[1]Bell, Rob. "Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived". (New York, NY: HarperCollins, 2011) Kindle Edition.  Pg. 170

Reading and reviewing NT Wright's "Jesus and the Victory of God" is a monolithic task, as the book is both lengthy and highly academic. Its success is not in its volume of pages, however, but in its thorough treatment of Jesus and his work as historical fact leading to theological reality.

The portrait of Jesus of Galilee as the first century Jew who is both prophet/messiah is so profoundly unlike our 20th/21st Century thinking, that it is a shock treatment into the historical Jesus. It re-levels our Christian beliefs and theology from our arrogant "looking back on history" to a profound looking from the 1rst century forward, through the eyes of Judaism and its traditions and worldview. When we wake up from the shock, we find we are in a world that is thoroughly Jewish, thoroughly 1rst century, living as a conquered nation of Israel with its neck under the heel of the tyrannical Roman Empire.

Amongst a brood of  1st century revolutionary Zionists, Pharisees and "Jews-still-in-exile" within their own country, Jesus appears and draws on this climactic time, announcing in himself the arrival the kingdom-of-god message in which he comes to reconstitute the Temple, the Torah, and the Wisdom into his very person, reissuing their true essence into himself.  At the same time, he redefines the true people of God not as a swipe against Israel but as a reinstatement of the core of its vocation and character- to be the light of the world.

Once the core of who Jesus is, what he intended, and what he actually did is redefined, the entire synoptic readings need complete reinterpreting, and Wright provides that as well, exploring the parables, symbols, actions and praxis of Jesus as both a means and expression to his brilliant thesis.

Product Link on Amazon: Jesus and the Victory of God

Review by Kim Gentes

Saint Teresa of Avila is another of the Catholic mystics who has profoundly impacted Christian formation/spirituality in the last 500 years. Like Therese of Lisieux, St. John of the Cross and others in the mystic tradition, Teresa of Avila takes a route of growth that focuses profoundly on the topic of love and uses the lens of introspection to probe the depths of the soul to find and purge inconsistencies for the person to find ultimate union with God.

To begin down this path Teresa defines an expanded understanding of the soul as a philosophically different and complete component to a human being, much in the Platonic/Geek dualistic model of separated body/spirit. Her exploration of this soul description begins with its magnitude.

In speaking of the soul we must always think of it as spacious, ample and lofty; and this can be done without the least exaggeration, for the soul's capacity is much greater than we can realize, and this Sun, Which is in the palace, reaches every part of it.[1]

But within this Platonic construct, the imagery and understanding of the soul is quite articulate and helpful. Teresa jumps immediately into the examination of the inner self.  She finds in this inward journey, a more careful examination of the human condition, both as broken and beautiful agencies to the purpose of God. Again of this inward reflection, she says:

self-knowledge is so important that, even if you were raised right up to the heavens, I should like you never to relax your cultivation of it; so long as we are on this earth, nothing matters more to us than humility. And so I repeat that it is a very good thing -- excellent, indeed -- to begin by entering the room where humility is acquired rather than by flying off to the other rooms. For that is the way to make progress, and, if we have a safe, level road to walk along, why should we desire wings to fly? Let us rather try to get the greatest possible profit out of walking. As I see it, we shall never succeed in knowing ourselves unless we seek to know God: let us think of His greatness and then come back to our own baseness; by looking at His purity we shall see our foulness; by meditating upon His humility, we shall see how far we are from being humble.[2]

Teresa begins with the assumption that self-investigation is actually a way of expressing humility, since we are changed when we see the contrast between ourselves and God, our nature and God’s nature.  In fact, for Teresa of Avila, humility is acquired by self-knowledge. For most individuals in modern culture, this type of approach would seem more selfish and less apt for personal change. But this is the gift of the mystic writers - they actually become the true inquisitors of their own hearts, who deal in honestly and expect you will as well. 

What develops in this book particularly is a description of the soul as a series of unique mansions within mansions (something like a Russian doll configuration). The initial exterior mansions are representative of lesser levels of union with God, fraught with sin and seemingly regularly pulling people back to a starting of spiritual development largely due to a lack of freedom from sin and a continued unhealthy self-absorption. The interior mansions also correlate with levels of prayer progress that the adherent makes as they manage through these levels of mansions.

What anchors the mystics insistence on self-knowledge as a path to purity is their equally consistent trajectory of faith founded deeply in love. Love is the lynch-pin, the catalyst and end game for every point and sub-point of The Interior Castle, and the Avila saint says as much: 

As I have written about this at great length elsewhere,I will not repeat it here. I only want you to be warned that, if you would progress a long way on this road and ascend to the Mansions of your desire, the important thing is not to think much, but to love much; do, then, whatever most arouses you to love. Perhaps we do not know what love is: it would not surprise me a great deal to learn this, for love consists, not in the extent of our happiness, but in the firmness of our determination to try to please God in everything, and to endeavour, in all possible ways, not to offend Him, and to pray Him ever to advance the honour and glory of His Son and the growth of the Catholic Church. Those are the signs of love; do not imagine that the important thing is never to be thinking of anything else and that if your mind becomes slightly distracted all is lost.[3]

If there is any problem with the approach of the saint of Avila, it is not in the sincerity of her heart or the assumption that she puts forth that we should have likewise. Instead, it may be simply in the belief that such great wisdom can be birthed from a person living a life in the convents and taken for use among people who live daily in the strain and grime of broken humanity as it exists outside of the cloistered communities of the monastic traditions.

Product Link on Amazon: The Interior Castle

Review by Kim Gentes

[1]Therese of Avila,  “The Interior Castle”, translated E. Allison Peers (Radford, VA: Wilder Publications, 2008),Kindle Edition, Location 495

[2]Ibid., Location 509

[3]Ibid., Location 988

Thérèse de Lisieux - Mystic, Suffering or Neurotic Saint?

Through her own autobiography Thérèse de Lisieux appears to us as a childish and effusing figure, bent on achieving the goal of grand spiritualism and union with God. Her story is uniquely fit within the tradition of Catholic mystics, and was venerated to even higher status by the declaration of the title of Doctor which was given to her about a century after her death.

Therese wrote in a way which was predominantly introspective, especially with her early life. In fact, the maturity of her character is evidently one of the lessons she is trying to carry forward in the narrative- that her own writing and personal growth correspond to the readers journey into understanding the mystical truths she was conveying. However, since the entire autobiography was not written as a single volume, it would be too much to say that she envisioned this entire book as a single entity in the same way we now read it.

The reason that the content is important to this discussion is that it is so emotive and effusive that one can hardly read it without wondering whether it is real revelation or simply childish ranting. After reviewing the book, however, I have come to believe that  Thérèse de Lisieux was both a physically and mentally pained person who overcame her suffering and eventually expressed her maturity in the writings of her autobiography.  I believe that much of her early life and writing was, in fact, the strained emotional expressions of a suffering young woman. That said, she arrives eventually (in both age and wisdom) at such profound depth and fruitfulness of character that one must conclude that she did not retain her immature core.

The first several pages of the autobiography explain how Therese was compelled to write about her life from a request by her “mother” (who was actually her sister, a spiritual leader at her convent). The text explores her early years and recites what is little more than childish thoughts and actions. Crying, fits, dressing,playing with dolls and other childish musings. Her focus on God is clear from a young age, but frivolous and fanciful, as one would expect. Arduous as the first chapter is, the writing thereafter takes on a much more serious tone. This is primarily due to the constant trials, death and struggles that begin to broach the text. The death of Therese’s mother, difficulties with living with relatives, her fathers absence, physical illness and pain, the induction of all of her living sisters into a life of service in convents and the eventual death of her father are highlights of the seriousness of not only Therese’s life but the condition of the times in which her family lived.  These difficulties galvanized the giddy school-girl into an intense (and perhaps morose) pre-teen/teen.

Physical Suffering

One difficulty that seems to almost be missed in the discussions of Therese is the gravity of her physical illnesses, which eventually take her life. While a completely different condition eventually kills her (tuberculosis), her earlier life has hints of possibility serious physical/emotional/neurological conditions which may have much to do with her formation, possibly her earliest visions and perhaps her ascent to the mystical life she was later venerated for. It is my belief that Therese’s early life was riddled with physical ailments that caused not only pain, but perhaps illusory understandings of God, even taking some of these experiences as the mystical revelations of the Holy Spirit.

The first evidence of this is directly found in Therese’s writing about herself:

Nobody could even say about me that “I was good when I was asleep,” because at night I was even more wiggly than during the day. I would send the covers flying, and then (asleep all the while) I would crash against the wood of my little bed. The pain would wake me up, and I would say, “Mama, I’ve been bumped.” My poor dear mother had to get up and establish that I did in fact have knots on my forehead, and that I had been bumped. She would cover me up securely and go back to bed. But after a short time I started being bumped again, so that they had to tie me in my bed. Every night, little Céline would come and tie the several cords that were intended to keep the little imp from getting bumped and waking up her mama. This method finally worked, so from then on I was good while I was asleep….[1]

This type of description is very consistent with a seizure, possibly an epileptic episode. The fact that she allowed herself to be tied down, tells us that she knew something was happening but she was unable or aware enough at the time to stop it. Having close relatives that suffer from epilepsy, this immediately came to mind when I read this account.

Other examples of pain that would at least effect mental faculties for Thérèse de Lisieux’s seem plentiful enough in the first section of the book--

Toward the end of the year I was taken with a headache that, though continual, almost didn’t make me suffer.[2]

and

As I was getting undressed I was taken with a strange trembling.[3]

as well as:

The next day he went to find Dr. Notta, who concluded, like my uncle, that I had a very serious illness that had never struck such a young child.[4]

and

And in fact He was, through the admirable resignation of my poor dear father, who thought “his little girl was going to go mad or that she was going to die.”[5]

and finally

It isn’t surprising that I was afraid that I looked sick without in fact being sick, because I would say and do things that I wasn’t thinking. I almost always seemed to be delirious, saying words that had no meaning, and nevertheless I’m sure that I wasn’t deprived for a single instant of the use of my reason…. Often I appeared to have fainted, not making the slightest movement. At that time I would have let be done to me anything anyone might have wanted, even kill me. Nonetheless I was hearing everything that was being said around me, and I still remember everything. It happened to me once that I stayed for a long time without being able to open my eyes, and yet I opened them for an instant while I was alone.[6]

Headaches, seizures, madness, fainting, unable to open/close eyes, being in your body but not in control of it- many of these symptoms are compatible with possible neurological/physical conditions that could certainly have induced the hysteria like symptoms that produce visions or other phenomena. I am not saying that none of her early experiences where genuine, but that this predominance of this kind of suffering can produce delusional episodes. Her familiarity with engaging in these could very well have been a “primer” of sorts to her later experiences and revelations.

But while Therese may have indeed suffered some illness the predisposed here neurological system to sensational experiences, her maturity as a thoughtful and dedicated follower of Christ becomes the long term proof of her character and her legacy.

Maturity through Suffering and Perseverance

Beginning with her desire to enter the convent, family confession, her first communion, her journey to enter the convent, and even her encounter with the Pope, Therese begins to expound on the internal condition of her heart as she moves through challenge after challenge.  She reveals a ruthless tenacity to unearth any wrong motive, conjecture or misunderstanding about the nature of God, the humility of the servant or the nature of the work intended for her. For example:

One day during prayers I understood that my keen desire to make my profession was tinged with great self-love.[7]

Therese finds a mode where she is often stripping back what seems like a good desire and revealing an errant inner motive, such as above.  Unlike what may be expected, she never stops her introspection with self loathing- it always leads to clear revelation of the reality of the situation and a certain action to be taken for its correction.  She begins to put more and more importance on serving others, and even explains instances of her learning humility by serving older, cranky nuns.  This kind of pure obedience to the process of maturity eventually turns Therese into a deeply pragmatic counselor, who eventually discounts the importance of dreams to a large degree:

I don’t attach any importance to my dreams, and besides, I rarely have any symbolic ones. And I even wonder how it is that, thinking all day long about God, I’m not more concerned with Him during my sleep…. Usually I dream about the woods, flowers, streams, and the sea, and almost always, I see pretty little children, and I catch butterflies and birds like ones I’ve never seen. You see, Mother, that if my dreams have a poetic appearance, they are far from being mystical….[8]

Therese evolves into a beautiful expositor of mystical and practical understanding, not coupling them together simply by Solomon-like wisdom, but by connecting them through the primary chord of her pursuit- the understanding of love as her primary vocation.  This is what proves to me that Therese was not a romantic/dramatic narcissist- the truth and fruit of her ideas lead her to two things: a life of action that served others in humility; and a foundational belief in love as the primacy of the entire mystical and practical agenda of God and his encounters with all people.

This is seen in brilliant color in one of her most poignant quotes:

Just as Solomon, surveying all that his hands had done and what he had toiled to achieve, saw that everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind [Eccl. 2:11], in the same way I recognized through EXPERIENCE that happiness consists only in staying hidden, in remaining in ignorance of created things. I understood that without love, all works are only nothingness, even the most dazzling, such as raising the dead or converting entire peoples [1 Cor. 13:1–3]…. Instead of doing me harm, leading me to meaninglessness, the gifts that God poured out on me (without my asking Him for them) led me to Him. I see that He alone is unchanging, that He alone can fulfill my immense desires….[9]

Jesus said that good trees bear good fruit, and that a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Therese’s life produced an example of character and action that is a beautiful testimony to her centered understanding of the love of God. The further impact of her life and writings as an example and inspiration to millions are additional testimony to her integrity. I believe that Therese’s impact can be validated by the good tree / good fruit indicators that Jesus warned us to consider. 

Jesus also told us that the central two commandments of the Christian life are hinged upon love (love God, and love your neighbor). As a follower of Jesus, it is no coincidence that Therese comes to this same conclusion about love.

Thérèse may indeed have been a romantic and dramatic neurotic in her earlier years, perhaps even a neurologically effected young girl. But her ultimate spirituality, though definitely introspective, proved to be anything but narcissistic. Her focused self-abasement and intractable desire to see Christ’s answer to every situation, drove her to understand and practice a life of sincerity and simplicity. Those qualities were left in her writing and her story and have definitely made a genuine spiritual advance for those who would avail themselves of her example.

Product Link on Amazon: The Complete Therese of Lisieux

Review by Kim Gentes

[1]Therese of Lisieux,  “The Complete Therese of Lisieux”,translated Robert Edmonson (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2009),Kindle Edition, Location 615

[2]Ibid., Location 1160

[3]Ibid., Location 1165

[4]Ibid., Location 1169

[5]Ibid., Location 1173

[6]Ibid., Location 1194

[7]Ibid., Location 2646

[8]Ibid., Location 2810

[9]Ibid., Location 2887

At the heart of Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code is a distrust of organized religion rooted in the historical legacy of violence and pain propagated by the church. Brown uses this truth to validate the fabrication of fictional theories that condemn Christianity as a vast conspiracy developed by centuries of plots and schemes from leaders within the religious organization. At the core of Brown’s novel is brilliant retelling of the heresy of Gnosticism. Quite simply, the DaVinci Code seeks to convince the reader that Jesus is not God and that the Christian church has tried to propagate the Deity of Christ as a myth to hold its power over the people for centuries. Brown’s compendium put forth in DaVinci Code is done so with the hopes to abolish violence and persecution in the name of God. Though a worthy intent in its abolition of violence, its modus operandi actually abolishes God Himself by making Christ a man and God an optional fiction.

To examine the DaVinci Code we must look at its honest statements and articulate them, or we will miss how cleverly Brown conceals his fiction within historical (and painful) truth. Since Brown uses 450 pages to weave his yarn, a thorough response would require at least a quarter of that to flesh out fully. Without that luxury, we will focus on narrowly showing his two positive contributions in the book and a few prime errors, keeping this to a very short review. Let’s begin with what DaVinci Code contributes positively in its pages.

Brown’s disdain of the legacy of violence done in the name of Christianity is not without sympathy, either by myself or thoughtful leaders in Christianity over the years. For this, many would agree with DaVinci Code’s attention to the blight of sin that the Christian church is guilty of in its centuries of existence.  In various times and through various leaders, Christianity has been at the center of a number of deaths and tortures, inquisitions and crusades, all of which should be considered a travesty of the Christian church.  Evidence does not need to be cited for this, as the inquisitions, crusades and deaths of “heretics” (pre and post reformation- John Calvin did this too) are evidence enough of Christian dogma and organizational structure and power gone horribly wrong. DaVinci Code returns to this touchstone a number of times to repeatedly anchor its story to the terrible and vulnerable wound that is the tragedy of Church history.  By doing so, Brown reinforces an emotional receptivity to his layering fiction, which rarely returns to historical or biblical fact.

Further, the Da Vinci Code also points out a mixture of Christian artifact and symbology with pagan and other non-Christian cultural influence. Many of the traditions (Christmas, etc), symbols and some (Platonic) thought were borrowed from pagan foundations. This is true in part, and Brown should not be dismissed when he brings up this point. Brown stretches this truth beyond reality however, and begins to make up his own facts about the Holy Grail, Mary Magdalene and other major characters in the Christ story. That said, Brown is correct that traditions and symbols in Christian history have been mixed with pagan roots. In fact, at times, this was purposeful- such as the intentional assignment of Christmas to replace a current pagan holiday at the same time. This was Christianity expanding throughout the world quickly, and amalgamating somewhat with other cultures in its wake. Brown clearly takes the tact that because this happened in some cases, that it was diabolical and part of his vast conspiracy.  But, in fact, this was a rather random and spurious effort, a simple method in which Christianity tried to reach into current culture to find a point of entry and connection.  I don’t disagree this happened, but I do disagree that it was an effort at a cover up or conspiracy to hide some greater truth. 

After you recognize that both the sin of Church sanctioned violence (and persecution) and the mixture of pagan and Christian influence do appear in some Christian tradition, you have encapsulated nearly all of the redeemable qualities of Brown’s book.  From there, the DaVinci Code leaves a trail of fiction that layers brilliantly into the final lie of Gnosticism.

The prime error presented in Da Vinci Code is done so on page 233, where fictional historian Teabing says about the Council of Nicaea, 

“My dear...until that moment in history, Jesus was viewed by His followers as a mortal prophet...a great and powerful man, but a man nonetheless, A mortal.”[1]

 And he climaxes his glaringly clear premise with “It was all about power”, after giving a mini-treatise stating that the deity of Christ ensured that the Christian church was the singular vessel of salvation to all mankind.

What the DaVinci Code attempts to do is re-introduce the centuries old heresy of Gnosticism. But historical reality tells us that Brown is far too late for this now. Claiming that the Council of Nicea was the first time in which Christ was considered God simply is not historically correct. The divinity of Christ was clearly believed by Christians for literally hundreds of years before the Council. In fact, a strong point of it is made by a opponent of Christianity, Celsus, in his paper “The True Doctrine: A Discourse against the Christians” which was written in approx. 175AD, fully 150 years before Constantine called together the Council of Nicea.

...Celsus made it absolutely clear that Christians of his time believed in and worshiped Jesus Christ- a man- as God.[2]

In this document Celsus (who was fighting in opposition to Christianity) clearly articulates the Christian belief in Jesus as God, and also in a monotheistic view of God- two seemingly in-congruent facts that led to later clarification in the formalization of the doctrine of the Trinity.

More importantly, early Christians would have been shocked to have heard stories that they believed that Jesus was anything less than God come in the flesh, since the vast amount of first century persecution came about from the Jews, whose chief complaint about Jesus was that He and his followers claimed he was God. This is clear in John’s gospel in chapter ten, where he records the Jews speaking with Jesus:

but Jesus said to them, "I have shown you many great miracles from the Father. For which of these do you stone me?"

"We are not stoning you for any of these," replied the Jews, "but for blasphemy, because you, a mere man, claim to be God."[3]

The central reason Jesus was killed, according to the Jews who killed him, was his claim to divinity. Ironically, this claim is what ultimately made his resurrection possible.  Jesus could certainly die due to his humanity, but would not stay dead, due to his divinity.  People then, as now (in Dan Brown’s case), could not bring together the dichotomous thoughts of God and man in one person.  Though clearly expressed in Christ and the disciples teachings (visa vi the New Testament), they would require later explanation from many great leaders up to, and including the Council of Nicea, which was the last major discussion of this point, and that only in the face of arguments from the dissenting Arius. 

The DaVinci Code also follows the path of the Gnostics in his clear articulation of the “Priory of Scion” and the Knights Templar.  While using actual historical organizations, his rendering of them is on Hollywood scale creating fictitious constructs by giving fresh life to the age old claims of gnosticism which revolve around “secret knowledge” that supposedly can enable the “true believer” to finally ascend beyond the confines of material, earthly understanding and have understanding and communion with the divine.  The secret society in Brown’s book also holds amazing knowledge (in the form of dozens of cryptic secrets, again supposedly kept hidden by conspiring church leaders) that will “unlock” truth to all people, including knowledge of Mary Magdalene as Jesus secret wife, Jesus as only a man, a secret lineage of Jesus children, and even the ability to commune with God through the sexual act at the point of climax (a time at which the “gnosis” becomes clear).

Each of these points are clearly references back to ancient gnosticism, though reclaimed in Brown’s fiction writing as “hidden facts” that humanity has been kept from. On page 244 characters Teabing and Sophie discuss the character of Mary Magdalene:

“Unfortunately for the early editors, one of particularly troubling earthly theme kept recurring in the gospels. Mary Magdalene... More specifically, her marriage to Jesus Christ.... It’s a matter of historical record.”[4]

Since the gospels clearly detail Mary Magdalene and her role in the time of Jesus, and the veracity of the gospel records are as historically verified as any documents of that age, this claim is blatantly untrue.  No such fact about Mary Magdalene being Jesus wife is ever brought up in the New Testament, in the early church documents or even by those who were heretical challengers then or later in history (of whom it would have advantaged them to believe). For example, Arius and others would have well been eager to agree with such information to prove that Jesus was not God, yet this is never mentioned by any of the Gnostic heretics.

Another incredulous discussion in the book is Teabing again railing against fact when he talks about the canonization of the Scriptures and how the gospels were chosen:

“The fundamental irony of Christianity! The Bible, as we know it today, was collated by the pagan Roman emperor Constantine the Great...”

“He was a lifelong pagan who was baptized on his deathbed, too weak to protest.”[5]

While Constantine was not baptized until nearly dead, he certainly did hold to many Christian practices during his life.  His conversion to Christianity, according to the historian Eusebius, dramatically altered his life and moved him to all but make Christianity the new religion of the empire. Not arguing that he was without mixed motives in his reign, Constantine did preside over the Council of Nicea, which was the final meeting in which the books of the Bible were canonized. However, the books had largely been determined by three hundred years of use and scrutiny in which the gospel list, and the New Testament candidates were all but sure. Only a few books (not the gospels) were still regarded as being in some conjecture: the John’s book of “Revelation of Jesus Christ”, the book of James (both of which were determined to be added in), a book called the Shepherd of Hermas, the Epistle of Clement and others (which did not make it in).  The influence of Constantine on the finalized list of canonized books at the council is debatable, but his influence on the options considered by the council is clear- he did not predetermine those, they were brought to the council in a relatively unchanged state since nearly 150AD.  No other major gospel records (complete stories of Jesus life) were even considered by the time of the Council of Nicea. Constantine did not choose the books of the gospels as the DaVinci code story claims.

In short, the Da Vinci Code is a clever fiction that revives the heresy of Gnosticism on two major fronts. It reclaims that Jesus was not the one and only God come in the flesh and that true ascension to God is only possible via secret information.  Brown’s book is a sad testament in a way, for while an exhaustive and deep research of the feminine deity in history, iconic symbology and gnostic writings were put into play to help him populate the details that fill his story, he plays fast and loose with proper application of those details by ignoring the context and meaning of many and thus attempting to rewrite history in this fictional yarn.  The normal purpose of using history at all is to build clarity to a truthful overarching story.  In Brown’s case, he abuses the power of history and historical fact by purposefully misinterpreting them to create a new narrative that is in every way the category in which his book is found: fiction.

Product Link on Amazon: Da Vinci Code

Review by Kim Gentes

[1]Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code (New York, NY:Random House Inc, 2003), Pg 233

[2]Roger E. Olson, The Story of Christian Theology (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1999), Pg 34

[3]John the Apostle, Gospel of John, Holy Bible/NIV , John 10:32-33

[4]Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code (New York, NY:Random House Inc, 2003), Pg 244

[5]Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code (New York, NY:Random House Inc, 2003), Pg 231 & 232