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Catholic News Herald

Serving Christ and Connecting Catholics in Western North Carolina
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newsomeThere’s something about an old bookstore. It’s a completely different experience from visiting a new bookseller with bright lighting and clean, colorful shelves hocking titles from the bestsellers list. That’s a commercial enterprise. Entering an old book shop, by contrast, is like embarking on a treasure hunt or an archaeological dig. You never know what you’ll discover hidden away on those dim, dusty shelves.

Our small town has one used book store in particular I have to be careful entering because I always exit poorer (at least by financial reckoning). The owner is straight out of central casting, a thin man with a mop of tangled hair, scruffy two-week beard, and wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose as he sits behind his desk thumbing through a leather-bound tome while you shop. He writes out paper receipts and keeps well-stocked history and religion sections.

Last December I was exploring the shelves looking for potential Christmas presents when among the old church hymnals and commentaries on scripture I discovered a small volume bearing the names of two of my favorite Christian writers: St. Athanasius and C.S. Lewis. It was St. Athanasius’ fourth century treatise “On the Incarnation,” with an introduction by the famous 20th century Christian apologist of Narnia fame. A beloved Church Father and one of my favorite modern Christian authors writing about the incarnation of Christ to inspire me as we entered the season of the Nativity… let’s just say I exited the shop poorer (but only by financial reckoning).

When I arrived home I opened to the first page to read the introduction by C.S. Lewis, which turned out not to be about the Incarnation at all (Lewis yielded the pulpit to his theological better on that subject). Rather, Lewis begins his introduction by observing, “There is a strange idea abroad that in every subject the ancient books should be read only by the professionals, and that the amateur should content himself with the modern books.” He explains that if someone wants to learn Plato, the very last thing he’s likely to do today is to read Plato. Instead, he’ll read “some dreary modern book ten times as a long, all about isms and influences and only once in twelve pages telling him what Plato actually said.”

This impulse, he recognizes, springs from humility because the novice doesn’t feel worthy or equipped to meet the mind of a master, and so he thinks he needs an interpreter.

While this attitude is understandable, it is often misguided. As Lewis points out, “the great man… because of his greatness, is much more intelligible than his modern commentator. The simplest student will be able to understand… a very great deal of what Plato said; but hardly anyone can understand some modern books on Platonism.”

As a writer himself, Lewis is certainly not advocating against reading modern books. But he suggests that we should, on the whole, have a preference for the old. “A new book,” he explains, “is still on trial.” Older books have passed the test of time. If an older book is still being read centuries later, it must have lasting value. “It is a good rule,” he therefore states, “after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one until you have read an old one in between.”

Old books function like time machines, allowing us to hear voices from the past. This is important not just to the study of history, but for human culture in general. “Every age has its own outlook,” Lewis observes, meaning that every age (including our own) is good at seeing certain truths, but also liable to certain mistakes. Becoming acquainted with the outlooks of other ages can inoculate us, to a degree, from the errors of our own. That means reading old books.

This does not make old books necessarily better than new ones. “People were no cleverer then than they are now,” Lewis admits, “they made as many mistakes as we. But they were not the same mistakes… Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction.”

Regarding Christian books in particular, Lewis observes that spiritual classics, while often more challenging, can foster devotion better than most modern devotional books written for that purpose. I have also found this to be true. “I believe,” he writes, “that many who find that ‘nothing happens’ when they sit down… to a book of devotion, would find that the heart sings unbidden while they are working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hand.” This is one reason, I believe, why St. Francis de Sales encouraged everyone to read every day not only from the scriptures, but also from a spiritual classic.

A great writer can explain a complex subject in simple terms. A mediocre writer, by contrast, often succeeds only in making the simple unintelligible. This is of special relevance when it comes to Christian literature, as the purpose of Divine Revelation is that God communicates Himself to us. Despite their best efforts and good intentions, mediocre writers can obscure the message with static, while great writers amplify the signal by filtering out the noise.

When Lewis first read St. Athanasius’ “On the Incarnation” in the original Greek, he expected to have difficulty due to his very basic knowledge of Greek. But a basic understanding was all he needed to appreciate the saint’s very simple, very profound prose. Athanasius, after all, was writing to share the gospel, not to impress future scholars of ancient literature.

This profound simplicity is a common characteristic of patristic writings and spiritual classics, which is why they are to be much preferred to most modern books of theology and why we should develop the habit of reading and re-reading them as an effective means of spiritual nourishment. If you’ve ever felt that the wisdom of the great saints was beyond your reach, I encourage you to try something new – and read an old book.

Deacon Matthew Newsome is the Catholic campus minister at Western Carolina University and the regional faith formation coordinator for the Smoky Mountain Vicariate.