Christians hold to a persuasive argument for what living the good life means. We believe that God has created all things through His ordered thought, the Logos (Jn. 1:1-3; Col. 1:16). When we conform ourselves to the image of the Logos, we are most fully alive.
The ancient Greeks also held a belief in a transcendent order embedded in the universe. In an earlier essay, I explained that the early church recognized the truth of this philosophy presented in their Greco-Roman heritage. Some early Christian leaders like Clement of Alexandria specifically argued that the illumination of the Holy Spirit allowed pagans, like the Greeks, to understand the physical universe rightly in some ways.[1]
For these reasons the ancient Greeks can be very helpful for our time. Learning how the Greeks “made their discoveries and how they brought a new world to birth out of the dark confusions of an old world that had crumbled away” is significant for those of us who are standing amidst the embers of Western civilization.[2] Reclaiming our Greek ideological heritage will help us as we attempt to revive the flame of our civilization. Or, at worst, it will assist us to “rake from the ashes the scorched fragments of civilization” that we will need to begin building the good life anew.[3]
What’s the Big Deal?
Since the fifth century B.C., every civilized society has developed their culture in reference to the Greek world, even our modern American culture that is trying so hard to abandon it. Of all ancient civilizations, only Israel and Rome hold as much sway over history, though the Romans ultimately derived much of their culture from the Greeks.
Between the eighth and fifth centuries B.C., the Greeks quietly developed the freest society of the ancient world. During this time, they honed their understanding of the world through craftwork and philosophy such that, between 490 and 479 B.C., they were twice able to fend off invasions from the world’s largest empire in human history to that point, Persia. Greek pride, garnered from these victories, engaged the cultural heritage that had developed over the past three centuries, producing a torrent of plays, sculpture, temples, and philosophic discovery that became the foundation of Western civilization. Understanding these developments helps us to understand ourselves better and gives us good principles for building a healthy society.
Craftwork: Conforming to the Kosmos
The Greeks began developing a refined sense of the order of the universe preceding their ascendance in the early fifth century. Some scholars argue that the Greek understanding of the world was a secularized evolution from myths and, ultimately, from tribal custom. Others, such as Martin Heidegger, take a less narrative tack and focus on describing the mysterious nature of Greek thinking in relation to the rest of the ancient world without regard to its development.[4] However, architectural historian Indra McEwen provides a more compelling explanation, arguing that the Greeks developed their thinking through attention to the kosmos (order) of the universe in craftwork.
Greek craftwork existed long before the first pre-Socratic philosopher, Thales, began positing explanations for the coexistence of regularity and variability in the universe. As they honed their crafts, the Greeks developed a keen sense for a well-ordered (eu kata kosmon) reality. For, as McEwen points out, “The discovery of a pattern . . . [is] an inherent feature of the human experience of making.”[5] Further, that pattern, or kosmos, did not correspond with human desires. Instead, the Greeks found that human flourishing was the result of conforming to the kosmos of reality. Thus, dance, song, textiles, ship construction, warfare, and politics, simultaneously revealed the forms of kosmos while shaping their desires into patterns that limited the effects of the Fall through God’s common grace.
Choros and Chorus
Greek communal celebrations observed throughout the year emphasized the importance of music and order through dance and song. Specific dances and songs were employed at each event, embodying the community’s shared understanding of the world. The underlying cultural import of these activities was also articulated in Greek mythology and drama.
In Greek mythology the master-craftsman and mythical first architect, Daedalus, created the labyrinth to contain the man-eating half-bull/half-human Minotaur. The joint efforts of a young couple, Theseus and Ariadne, eventually overcame the complexity of the maze and ended the Minotaur’s monstrous life. Daedalus then fashioned a dance floor (choros) for Ariadne who limbed out the pattern of the labyrinth as she wove her way around the floor. She also retraced the line of the thread she sent into the Minotaur’s lair with her beloved so that he could find his way out. In the end, McEwen argues, the labyrinth, dance floor, and dance are an inseparable multilayered articulation of a received order that is present in the universe.[6]
While McEwen writes at length about dance, he mentions only in passing its musical accompaniment. Ancient Greek music was melodic rather than harmonic and had a very close, almost synonymous, relationship with poetry and the ordered rhythm of the Greek language.[7] Therefore, at its best, the natural order of the language guided music’s pattern and helped fashion the human soul to conform to the kosmos.[8] On the other hand, raucous orgiastic music degraded the soul and society.
A synchronized chorus often performed Greek song and dance. The chorus represented two key elements of Greek society. First, the chorus’ synchronized character clearly reflected the broader community. Second, the chorus in Greek plays usually serves as the mouthpiece of justice and morality—kosmos. Should the chorus represent the kosmos falsely, the entire community would be in danger. For this reason Plato argued that lawless music “inevitably leads to poor manners and anarchy in society.”[9] On the other hand, well-ordered music strengthens the individual and the community.
Weaving and Shipbuilding
Weaving and shipbuilding were two other early forms of Greek craftwork that derived their strength from conforming to the kosmos. Greek women were the governesses of the home and were “prized for their beauty, constancy, and skill at weaving.”[10] Ancient Greek looms (histon) were usually placed near the family hearth (hestia) and served as the central feature of the Greek home.
A horizontal “warp beam” rested atop two vertical beams that rose out of postholes in the floor. Weighted warp threads were suspended from the warp beam so the Greek woman could weave horizontal threads tightly (harmonia) from the top to the bottom resulting in a strong piece of fabric to be fashioned into garments. As she wove (hyphainein—literally “bring to light”), she revealed the kosmos that lay within her mind and reflected the kosmos of the universe.
In the Odyssey, Odysseus’ wife, Penelope, who desperately longed for his return, protected her virtue and home for three years through her weaving. In her words, “I wind my schemes on my distaff.”[11] A kind spirit (probably Athena, the goddess of craftwork and wisdom) inspired her to put off her unscrupulous suitors by bargaining with them to wait until she had finished weaving a burial shrift for her elderly father-in-law. Day by day, she plied the loom, revealing the world, and night by night, she secretly undid her work, hoping that her husband would wind his way home before she was discovered.
As Penelope wept at her loom, she watched the sea for Odysseus’ ship. Little did she know that the gods had stranded him on the nymph Calypso’s island. Calypso had rescued Odysseus from the sea when he was shipwrecked and eventually helped him skillfully craft a new ship that he used to set sail for home and Penelope.
Odysseus used mortise-and-tenon construction to build his vessel. This construction method used by Greek shipwrights recognized the kosmos of the universe by essentially weaving the wooden pieces of the ship together. Slots were bored in each plank and filled with pegs that connected them tightly (in harmonia) to the surrounding woodwork. Though an arduous and demanding form of construction, the Athenians used it to craft the strongest ships in the ancient world.
Their larger ships, called trireme, were propelled by 170 oarsmen (usually free citizens of the lower class) and a vertical mast (histon—the same word used for the loom). The synchronization of this chorus of oarsmen joined with the strength of Athenian ships gave them the swiftness and might to defeat the massive Persian navy that descended upon them in 480 B.C.
As housewives and shipwrights conformed their craftwork to the kosmos, they brought harmonia and strength to the community. The wife’s tightly woven fabric clothed her family and represented her broader influence in the family and society. The virtuous woman made a strong (tightly woven) home and family worth dying for. The shipwright’s sturdy craft reflected the same kosmos as the wife’s loom. When his ships were filled with the members of the community working in sync, they formed a mighty navy capable of defending their homes from the strongest aggressors.
The Hoplite Phalanx and the Polis
Though the Athenian navy derived much of its strength from the synchronicity of their oarsmen, they were not egalitarians. Rather the Greeks realized that hierarchies in society are important as long as every member fulfills their duty. This important aspect of the kosmos of society was reflected in their military, city planning, and government.
Prior to Greece’s development of the hoplite phalanx, champions and heroes had fought wars (e.g., David and Goliath in the Bible or Achilles in the Iliad). However, during the eighth century B.C., the Spartans began fighting as units. A hoplite is a heavily armed infantryman who usually came from the free lower classes. He carried a large shield and a long spear. Hoplites marched and fought in close order, with just enough space between their shields for a spear to protrude. Eight ranks of soldiers led by a locale aristocrat made up a phalanx. If a soldier on the front line fell, he was immediately replaced by the man behind him.
Such united and synchronized tactics founded on order gave the Greek military the strength to defeat vastly larger Persian armies when they invaded. The more compact form of fighting also shortened wars and lessened incidental destruction to farmland and towns. This encouraged the growth of the polis, or city-state.
The polis was developed simultaneously with the hoplite phalanx in the eighth century. They grew up around defensible rock outcropping where local communities gathered to defend themselves from pirates and raiders. Over time, these citadels also incorporated marketplaces (agora) and temples. The aristocrats who led the phalanxes eventually overthrew the tyrants that ruled the myriad unique city-states scattered across the rocky landscape of Greece. In place of a monarchy, the aristocrats developed a governmental structure in which they served as representatives for their local communities, producing the freest and most just society of the ancient world.
McEwen astutely points out that the polis, like all of Greek culture, was ultimately derived from the transcendent order of the kosmos.[12] The streets were equally spaced and intersected at right angles. Such orderliness arose from their intrinsic belief in the kosmos of all things and that harmonia was essential to the good life. However, their well-ordered streets were also designed in recognition of the unique qualities of a specific location, unlike the rationalist urbanism of the post-Enlightenment city.[13]
McEwen’s point can be applied more broadly. Not only are the men and streets physically woven together in the phalanx and polis respectively, but the inherent interdependence of the various classes is also interwoven in these practices. The wealthy and the poor worked together toward a common goal without arrogance or jealousy. They defended their homes from the invader and their society from injustice. The phalanx and the polis both derived their strength from submission to the kosmos.
Conclusion
As Christians, we understand the kosmos, order of the universe, is derived from the Logos, Who is Christ. The apostles John and Paul both explained that all things were created “through” Christ. The ordered thought of God is embedded in all of creation. By His grace and Spirit even unbelievers, evidenced by the Greeks, can perceive this order.
Whether we are believers or not, conforming ourselves to God’s kosmos brings human flourishing. Therefore, we must pattern every aspect of our life on God’s Word and on the order that He has embedded in reality. Yes, we need to lead moral lives, but we also need to live well-ordered lives. Our music and entertainment should be decorous and serious rather than decadent and banal. We must take care to recognize every individual’s importance for the success of the community and reinforce the natural hierarchies of society. More broadly, we need to think deeply about our private and public practices, seeking to conform all things to the Logos.
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[1]Clement of Alexandria, Miscellanies, XIII in The Writings of Clement of Alexandria trans. William Wilson (London: Edinburgh, 1867) 389.
[2]Edith Hamilton, The Greek Way (1930; New York: Norton, 1943), 14.
[3]Russell Kirk, The Conservative Mind: From Burke to Eliot, 7th revised edition (Washington, DC: Gateway, 2001), 11.
[4]Indra Kagis McEwen, Socrates’ Ancestor: An Essay on Architectural Beginnings (Cambridge, MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 1993), 2-3.
[5]Ibid., 41.
[6]Ibid., 59.
[7]Barbara Russano Hanning, Concise History of Western Music, 2nd edition (New York: Norton, 2002), 6.
[8]Calvin Stapert, A New Song for an Old World: Musical Thought in the Early Church, Calvin Institute of Christian Worship Liturgical Studies (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 52-53. See also Frederick Copleston, A History of Philosophy, Volume I: Greece and Rome, Part I (Garden City, NY: Image, 1962), 48-49.
[9]Hanning, 7.
[10]Donald Kagan, Steven Ozment, Frank M. Turner, and Alison Frank, The Western Heritage, 11 edition combined volume (Boston: Pearson, 2013), 40.
[11]Homer, The Odyssey: The Story of Odysseus, trans. W. H. D. Rouse (New York: Mentor, 1937), 215.
[12]McEwen, 45-46.
[13]Ibid., 83, 88.
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