My Classical Education
When I was in 8th grade, I read Athanasius’ On the Incarnation for school. Before starting the short, little treatise, I was assigned C.S. Lewis’ preface to the book. I remember thinking it was a little strange — who actually reads the preface? But the reason soon became clear. In the preface, Lewis essentially provided an argument for reading “old books.” I was really just beginning my tour of some of the greatest books ever written, but given the author’s reputation, I decided to take his word for it.
Thus I embarked upon what has slowly become a lifelong journey across time and ideas with history’s greatest thinkers and writers as my guide. I’ve spent the last four years reading, studying, discussing, and wrestling with many great works.
I’ve studied origin stories like the Epic of Gilgamesh and Genesis. I’ve been enraptured by the sweeping epics of Homer and Virgil. I’ve engaged with the arguments of Plato and his gadfly of a teacher. I’ve trudged my way through histories by ancient historians like Heroditus and Livy. I’ve lamented and rejoiced with Augustine. I’ve tagged along on the merry adventures of Robin Hood and the exploits of King Arthur. I followed Dante down into the circles of hell. I’ve marveled at the Bard’s plays. I’ve considered the ideas within Marx’s manifesto. I’ve read America’s founding documents and followed the debates of the Founding Fathers in the Federalist and Anti-Federalist Papers.
In my time at a classical Christian school, I’ve spent countless hours pouring over these books, and the effect has been profound. On the one hand, as I’ve immersed myself in these works of the past, I’ve sunk deep roots and found solid footing. The great works of the past provide a constant stream of ideas, and I’ve drunk deeply. I’ve surveyed the ideological history of mankind. I’ve brushed aside that which comes and goes, and I’ve clung to that which endures. In the words of the apostle Paul, I’m no longer tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine. I have found sure footing in that which matters most. I’ve fixed my eyes on that which is worthy of pursuit — namely, that which is true, and good, and beautiful.
On the other hand, even as I sought and found a sure foundation, I feel as though I’ve climbed a great peak that offers a sweeping view. Lewis was right. By studying at the feet of some of the most influential thinkers of the past, I’ve “now got on to the great level viaduct which crosses the ages and which looks so high from the valleys, so low from the mountains, so narrow compared with the swamps, and so broad compared with the sheep-tracks.” I can see beyond the present. I know where we’ve been. I have a sense of where we’re going. And I understand my place in the midst of it all.
So I think I’ll take Lewis’ advice:
It is a good rule, after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one till you have read an old one in between.”
As I enter my adult life, I’ll do so with a steady diet of old books. I’ll do so with a perspective that is continually informed by the greatest thinkers of the past. I’ll do so rooted and grounded in that which has stood the test of time. I’ll do so in light of and in pursuit of the eternal.