Blog Summary
In Amsterdam during World War II, Anne Frank passed through a small door hidden by a bookcase. Behind that bookcase, she began a life of hiding which allowed her to escape Nazi ideology for a time.
Literature I read as a youth, not least Anne Frank's diary, provided a hiding place for me as well. Against Nazi-like laws of science, morality, and social hierarchy, Literature opened a profound vision of empathy, mercy and love. Yet that early privileging of mercy over truth led me down a well-worn path to a postmodern, pluralistic view of truth.
As a Reformed Christian today, I don't believe literature offers a sufficient hiding place from the Nazi within each of us. I have found only one hiding place, one Architect, who can uphold both mercy and morality, in whom "mercy and truth have kissed each other."
Yet by this faith--not in spite of it--I also see extraordinary value in the "deconstructive" literature of American culture and my own youth. And it is this tension I hope to explore as I retrace my steps through the hiding places of my adolescence--with the hope that readers of any faith or philosophical stripe may find value in such a journey.