During the COVID lockdown, I started a book club at church and read through Paradise Lost. My book club consisted of a handful of older ladies, most of whom were skeptical of this selection. Once we started it, however, they all thoroughly appreciated it, though not as much as I did. As I was looking up pricing information for this edition on Amazon I noticed that this book is rated #1 in the category of English Literature, and deservedly so.   

This book is a masterpiece of Western literature. Graduates of NWC or MLC are particularly well-suited to enjoy and appreciate this book. So many strands of our college education meet in Milton’s epic. If you enjoyed Shakespearean grandeur or epic poetry such as The Aeneid or The Iliad, you will find here a seventeenth century English epic on par with either. You will also come to appreciate Milton’s creative retelling of Genesis 2-3. You will probably be surprised by how many of his ideas you have already encountered without knowing they were his.    

You will be intrigued by Milton’s theology. He states that his purpose is to “justify the ways of God to men” (1:26), which might sound arrogant, but it simply means he wants to explain how God’s ways are just. He does this by allowing Satan, God, Adam, and Eve to explain their motivations, which are not explicitly stated in the Biblical texts. He fills in gaps in the Biblical narrative to create one plausible retelling in which everything that happens is reasonable and just even to our fallen minds.    

Milton’s explanations of Satan’s motivations are some of the most fascinating to me, and in some places have an effect similar to The Screwtape Letters. The book opens with the demons waking up in hell, immediately after losing the battle with God and his angels. They are shocked to have been defeated. They consider the possibility or reconciliation, but immediately resolve to wage an eternal war, deeming it “better to reign in hell than serve in heaven” (1:263). They reason that perhaps over time “our torments also may in length of time // Become our elements, these piercing fires // As soft as now severe” (2:274-276). They then ask how they can most harm God, since they cannot defeat him, and eventually decide to get their revenge by corrupting the newly created mankind. None of this is found in scripture, but it seems a reasonable reconstruction of what their thinking may have been. Milton also observes that the devils are not without any virtue: though they are thoroughly evil, at least they are united in their evil aims. Humans, by contrast, are the only rational creatures that live in hatred and enmity with our own kind, destroying each other (2:495-505). This is food for thought.   

The opening of Book Three relates a conversation between the Father and the Son. This is one of many places at which I found myself thinking, “I’ve said that before, and I had no idea it went back to Milton.” Surely, I am not the only one to have imagined a scene like this while preaching, “The Father and the Son were talking in heaven, observing mankind’s sin and figuring out a solution, and asking what could be done to save this rebellious race. Then the Son spoke up and said, ‘I will go and take their place,’ even though he knew how ungrateful we often are and how much it would cost him.” Milton spends about 400 lines at the beginning of Book Three painting just such a scene. Once the Son takes on this great task, the angels erupt in praise of this wonderful plan of salvation. This section mentions key theological themes such as how the Son will need to assume a human nature and how in the man Christ mankind resumes his rightful place over the rest of creation. I do not know how to account for the fact that I have heard and delivered many sermons with a similar heavenly scene. Is it simply a natural occurring phenomenon that preachers spontaneously create this hypothetical heavenly scene in our preaching? Or can this be traced back to Milton? In any case, reading Milton shows that this and similar tropes have a long history.   

Milton’s descriptions of Adam and Eve are hard to forget. He describes Edenic bliss, in which noble Adam and his perfect wife are surrounded by angelic songs as they praise each other before retiring for bed, ending the evening with completely innocent connubial love. Unfortunately, Eve overestimates her abilities. Though warned in a dream of the coming temptation, she thinks she can handle it alone, and leaves Adam’s presence. Book Nine describes the fall, and those pressed for time would be justified in skipping to this book from Book Five (Books Six to Eight relate a long conversation about creation between Adam and Raphael). My favorite example of Milton embellishing the Biblical text is found here. We who read Genesis realize that the serpent could talk because he was possessed, or something similar, by Satan. But would not Eve have seen this speaking ability as a red flag? Eve asks the snake how it is that he has speech. His answer is brilliant. Like the other animals, he was unable to speak, “Till, on a day roving in the field, I chanced // A goodly tree far distant to behold, // Loaded with fruit of fairest colors mixed, // Ruddy and gold” (9:575-578). It was the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil that gave him the powers of speech. Eve believes this lie, and then ends up thinking, to paraphrase, “If this fruit could give speech to a snake, what could it do for me?” Of course, she eats. When Adam finds his fallen wife, we have a less brilliant, but entertaining embellishment. Adam cannot bear to be without her, and so he also eats. This seems unlikely given the Biblical statement that Adam was with his wife, but it adds a little romance to the epic.      

I have seen some criticism of Milton online. Some claim Milton is an Arian or quasi-Arian. I did not notice this, though I was not looking for it. Others claim that his description of Satan makes Satan out to be a hero. I did not notice anything like this. He does assign to Satan some “noble” qualities such as ingenuity and determination. But we would not deny that Satan is determined and cunning. Anything I found questionable I considered literary license. One does not expect an epic poem to read with the precision of a dogmatics text.    

It’s also worth stating that the language is absolutely beautiful. It is elevated and educated. There are many references to Classical literature, and for that reason I recommend a well-annotated edition. If you, like me, would like to step away from the practical and the immediate, and immerse yourself in literature that is beneficial and enjoyable, elevating your soul while perhaps taking you back to your college years, this is a good choice. I think any pastor could read this epic while on the clock, so to speak, in good conscience. 

They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and someone who sees the cover of this book may not even be able to successfully judge what it is about, much less whether it is worthwhile. If nothing else, however, a book whose cover combines the word “Biblical” with the words “Critical Theory” is certainly going to get people’s attention. In the past several years use of the phrase “critical theory” has become widespread in our public dialogue (along with variants such as critical race theory, gender theory, postcolonial theory, and queer theory) . Depending on one’s understanding of what critical theory actually is, one might wonder whether there can be any truly “Biblical” version of it at all. 

The subtitle of Christopher Watkin’s 2022 book certainly helps us begin to know what it is about. Watkin aims to use the Bible’s salvation narrative as a lens through which Christians can make sense of their world. He does so with two assumptions underlying his work. First, human beings are hopelessly prone to lie to themselves. This is the very assumption on which critical theory, broadly speaking, is based: what’s at the surface is never the whole story. There’s always something hidden underneath. The lies we tell ourselves need to be debunked, and the Bible can help us do that. For the reader who may be convinced that the very concept of critical theory is wholly irredeemable, Watkin explains how it works and how it is tied to biblical thought at various places in the book, most notably in chapters 4 and 13. 

The second assumption is that the Bible tells us a story that isn’t just true but is better than the false stories we tell ourselves. The biblical narrative doesn’t simply help us deconstruct modern thought. It also rebuilds. According to Watkin, the way to successfully counter a culture that has thoroughly positioned itself against God is not simply to out-argue it but to “out-narrate” it (21ff). This is what prompts Watkin to organize his book the way he does. Paying homage to Augustine’s City of God, the book is arranged canonically rather than topically. Each chapter is tied to a specific chapter of salvation history as opposed to some specific facet our modern thought. 

As he attempts to execute his aim on the basis of these assumptions, Watkin uses a process he calls diagonalization (14ff). Throughout the book he sets up two seemingly contradictory positions found in our modern world. He then demonstrates how “the Bible frequently settles for neither and presents us with something richer than both, a subtler solution that neither position has the resources to imagine” (15). These diagonals are often accompanied by diagrams. All told, there are upwards of fifty examples of diagonalization throughout the book. As an example, Watkin proposes that the competing ideas of ultimate reality being absolute (e.g. Aristotle’s “Prime Mover”) and ultimate reality being personal (e.g. the Roman pantheon of gods or animist belief systems like Hinduism) is diagonalized by a biblical God who is both absolute and personal (37–38). Watkin traces the biblical narrative all the way from the heavens and the earth of Genesis to the new heavens and the new earth of Revelation, applying this process of diagonalization throughout. 

Conceptually, Watkins’ process for cultural analysis makes sense. He is not the first one to employ such an approach, nor does he claim to be (cf. pages 17-19). In my opinion, the term he uses (diagonalization), while it lends itself to simple diagrams, is not the most helpful. For one, he is quick (along with others) to point out that this form of analysis is not a compromise of two competing options or a mixture of the two into a muddied middle ground (19–21). Nevertheless, his term of choice and its accompanying diagrams almost seem to convey this very thing. A diagonal line is neither vertical nor horizontal but a combination of both. If Christians are looking for a shape that demonstrates the fact that Christian truth is often a paradoxical combination of two seemingly contradictory ideas, we need look no further than the shape at the center of our faith: the cross. Taking Paul’s lead, Watkin himself uses the shape of the cross to demonstrate this very thing in chapter 19 (427ff). 

Regardless of what the analytical tool is called, more readers will likely take issue with how it is employed. With nearly fifty applications throughout this lengthy book, it is no surprise that there is the occasional swing-and-miss. In my opinion, this is not some fatal flaw with Watkin’s book  but a demonstration of the very nature of his task. In fact, Watkin himself provides the explanation for why readers will disagree with some of his conclusions: even if the analytical tools the Bible offers are perfect and objective, the use of those tools happens at a specific time and place and in the hands of limited human beings. As we look at our world through a biblical lens at any given moment, we might be fully convinced we are seeing one thing. As time and/or our perspective changes, however, we might later conclude we are seeing something completely different. Watkin shouldn’t be treated too harshly for analyses that others are convinced miss the mark. The deeper underlying point of the book is that the biblical narrative gives us the ability to carry out those analyses in the first place. 

So what should a pastor do with this book? My hunch is that the most common question a pastor will ask regarding Watkins’ book is not whether he will engage with it but how he will engage with it. At 605 pages in length, it is not the kind of book a busy parish pastor can easily make time for. It is possible to treat it as a reference book. An index allows a pastor to find where specific topics are addressed throughout the book. Because the book is arranged according to the biblical narrative, however, treating it as a reference volume may be of limited value. Each cultural topic is covered in a number of places and each biblical episode focuses on only some of the cultural topics that could be connected to it. 

My recommendation would be that a pastor read at least the first eight chapters continuously. Those eight chapters cover the first four toledoth of Genesis, i.e. the ones that give the account of the whole human race. If Watkins’ book aims to provide a tool for cultural analysis, it’s no surprise the opening 11 chapters of the Bible provide so much fertile ground for him to do so (fully one-third of the book is occupied with these chapters). Reading these first eight chapters would give a pastor a good feel for Watkins’ analytical approach and the results it can yield. If a pastor doesn’t want to read the whole thing, he could read the remaining chapters selectively as time and interest allow. 

One way or another, Watkin’s work is worth engaging with. It helps a pastor see some of the undercurrents at work in our modern world and ideas that are constantly shaping the thoughts and desires of the people we serve. Additionally, it demonstrates what I’m convinced is a superior approach for today’s pastors to engage with modern culture, especially from the pulpit. Rather than picking a topic and then pulling passages from Genesis to Revelation that speak to it, it tells the story from Genesis to Revelation and lets that story speak to various topics. In so doing, it subtly sends the message that we need to remember and that our world needs to hear, namely, that the Bible makes sense of us and our world rather than the other way around. It teaches us to ask ourselves how we fit into the Bible’s story rather than how the Bible fits into ours. What Watkin states in his introduction is the subtext until the very last page. It’s not just that we have better arguments than secular culture (though we do). We have a better story. So let’s get busy telling it.