Have you ever wondered what makes some literature “classic”?
Aside from purely literary criteria, I’d venture to guess that one quality of
classic literature is its enduring message, i.e. its ability to transcend time
and place with its treatment of human nature and its illumination of realities
in the world around us.
If you’ve ever read a classic, then you likely know the
moment of “Ah! Yes!” that comes from reading a sentence written hundreds of
years ago yet delivering a message so relevant it could’ve been written
yesterday. In short, there are loads of lessons to be learned from literature,
and this post serves as the inaugural “Lessons from Literature” vignette. And
who better to begin with than Jane Austen?
Unfortunately, Austen’s works are often pigeon-holed into
the “chick-flick” category due to the romantic plot lines, but her novels are
so incredibly deeper than boy-and-girl-meet-and-fall-in-love. Her understanding
of humanity, of both the self and society, is so perceptive as to leave me
shaking my head in amazement. In fact, when it comes to an Austen novel, I will
actually mark in it as if it were a non-fiction book. Her insight is just that
profound.
Perhaps this is why Dr. Richard Land, former president of
the Southern Baptist Convention’s Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission, once
told a young man who asked him for book recommendations to read all of Jane
Austen’s novels. Dr. Land shared that he himself reads one a year until he
reads them all then cycles through them again.
This year, as I’m participating in The Light Theater’s
production of Pride and Prejudice (which
you can learn about here), I’m on my second read-through of the 1813 novel
and am enjoying it just as much as the first. One particular “light-bulb”
moment came in Chapter 36 where Elizabeth Bennet is reading Mr. Darcy’s letter.
. .
**SPOILER
ALERT—although if you haven’t read the novel, the following might whet your
appetite!**
She grew absolutely
ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without
feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd.
“How despicably have I
acted!” she cried; “I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have
valued myself on my abilities! Who have often disdained the generous candour of
my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or [blameable] distrust. How
humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love,
I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my
folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the
other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession
and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this
moment I never knew myself” (Austen, 162).
The context here is that Mr. Darcy has just enlightened
Elizabeth to a series of circumstances of which she was completely unaware and
which now have revealed that she has been harboring unjust opinions of not one
but two men. Simply put, she was in the wrong, and she has just been awakened
to the fact. Yet her response is striking.
Instead of shooting back arrows of defensiveness, she humbly
allows the letter’s information to sink in and honestly assesses the influence
it must now have on her perspective moving forward. Recognizing that the very
attitude she thought was a virtue is instead a terrible vice, she becomes
ashamed of her actions and confesses her error.
What a wonderful example! How often, when we are confronted
with our own failings, do we bristle up and throw out a stream of excuses
instead of responding with humble reflection and change? When others offer
constructive criticism or when circumstances make apparent our weaknesses, what
is our response? Hopefully, it is like that of Elizabeth’s.
I can’t help but see the parallels especially between the
mode of revelation for Elizabeth and the one for greater humanity. Just as Mr.
Darcy’s letter exposed Elizabeth’s misjudgment, so another letter exposes our
depravity, i.e. the Bible, written to us from God to reveal Himself to us and
show us our sinful nature and need for Him.
The Word of God is like a sweeping spotlight and laser beam
all in one, illuminating our lives and pinpointing where we fall short of
holiness. It never fails to accomplish its work (see Isaiah 55:11), and we
would be remiss to balk at the instruction it gives. Yes, the process will be
painful, as confessing our own error often is; we will be able to say with
Elizabeth, “How humiliating is this
discovery!”
But if we follow her example and avoid defensiveness, we
will also be able to utter with her, “Yet,
how just a humiliation!” We will be able to allow the change to happen that
needs to take place, and our lives will be the sweeter for it.
So when we read God’s Letter to us and are convicted, let us
follow in Elizabeth Bennet’s footsteps and resist the urge to be defensive. Let
us respond with humility, remembering the admonition, “My son, do not despise the LORD’s discipline or be weary of his
reproof, for the LORD reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom
he delights” (Proverbs 3:11-12, ESV). And when we are confronted from any
source with our own failings, let us heed the call, “Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD, and turn away from evil”
(Proverbs 3:7).
Citation: Austen, Jane. Pride and Prejudice. London: Penguin, 1994.
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