The Bishop's Power - an Editing Issue

Originally, in my book on Athanasius, I had mentioned that bishops had more power than they do today. Since most of my young readers are probably not very familiar with the role of bishops, I had described them as "in charge of many churches." That created a problem. A Protestant child may think of a pastor, and what kind of "power" does a pastor hold? My editor, Annette Gysen, and I went back and forth with emails for a while discussing what power bishops held in those days (fourth century AD) and how to explain it to children.

I decided to ask Dr. Giorgio Corti, expert in patristic studies and author of the book Lucifero di Cagliari – una voce nel conflitto tra chiesa e impero alla metà del IV secolo, and he replied by giving the following examples.

1. The bishops' authority depended much on their strength as opposed to the emperor's strength. It was difficult for a bishop to oppose a strong emperor. Bishops like Athanasius, Ambrose, Augustine, and Cyril were strong personalities.

2. Bishops had a strong impact on their people because they lasted longer than emperors, who often died in battle, at the hand of traitors, etc.

3. Bishops had a better knowledge of their cities than emperors, who lived far away.

4. Bishops lent material help to their people. In Alexandria, bishops granted food to about 1500 people. In Milan, Ambrose rescued the prisoners after the battle of Adrianopolis with the church's money - for this reason, they were very popular, and emperors could not ignore them.

5. For emperors, the problems posed by bishops were some among many others, and could quickly lose importance in the event of more urgent matters. Bishops, on the contrary, were very tenacious in defending their title, because for them this was an essential matter. The bishops had their moments of greatest power when the emperors were busy with political or military problems.

6. Bishops were depending on the church's considerable riches, while the emperors depended on taxes, and were very unpopular for this reason, even with their own officers.

Annette and I realized then that the word "power" was not correct. The bishops didn't have temporal powers as they held instead in medieval times. The correct word was "influence." But how do you explain that to children?

Finally, after reading and re-reading my paragraph several times, the answer became evident. Instead of writing that the bishops were in charge of many churches, I should write that they were in charge of all the churches in a large area or a country. That was enough! If they were in charge of all the churches in a country, of course they had influence on the people, and I didn't need to add explanations.

I decided to post this little editing story here because Dr. Corti's explanation of the power (or influence) exercised by bishops at that time was very interesting.

More on the Black Dwarf

Yesterday, someone posted a comment to my blog post on Athanasius - the Black Dwarf. This person (who remained anonymous) seemed to suggest that I had some revisionist agenda in portraying Athanasius as an Egyptian rather than a black African. As I mentioned in my previous post, I have found no evidence to prove that Athanasius was in fact black, and since he was born in Egypt I simply portrayed him as an Egyptian. Or rather, I told my illustrator how to portray him and left the matter in his hands.

I also mentioned in my earlier post that the expression "black dwarf" in reference to Athanasius became first known in 1984, in The History of Christianity by Justo L. Gonzales. I also enclosed there a link to an article explaining the situation (BTW, I don't endorse the tone used by the author of this article in regards to Dr. Gonzales).

This recent comment, however, prompted me to write Dr. Gonzales directly, and he kindly replied. I am posting his reply here:

"Thanks for your e-mail. Actually, after that book was published I looked for the reference, and found several of his enemies mocking his stature and calling him 'black'. But the actual phrase 'black dwarf' does not appear in any of the early texts. (There are some later historians who do use the phrase, and I took if from them. But the actual quote in a reliable ancient text I cannot find. I'll have to correct it in the next edition!)

"At any rate, at that time, and among the people involved in the debates, 'black' did not mean what the same word now means in the US. In Egypt, it was used as a derogatory term by some among the Greeks (who had conquered Egypt some seven centuries earlier) and the Romans (who had come three centuries after the Greeks) as a pejorative way to refer to the original Coptic population. These were not 'black' in the sense in which it is applied to people South of the Saharan. They were fairly dark-skinned, and their hair was wavy. But they were neither as dark nor their hair as wavy as the Sudanese and other people to the south. There are many indications that Athanasius was a Copt and that he was very short."

Dr. Gonzales approved of the illustrations in my book and the way Athanasius is portrayed.

Illustrations and Text

Yesterday, my publisher asked if I wanted more illustrations in my books, and my first reaction was to say YES, of course! He then sent me another email, refocusing and redimensioning my thoughts.

First, he pointed out the importance of photos. "I think that the photos add an interesting effect to the book," he said. "It adds artifacts and such to a beautifully illustrated books, and such artifacts are fascinating to many children. It makes it more than just beautiful by connecting it to reality; not just a story but our history." This is something I have always believed too, from the start.

Next, he emphasized the text. "Another thing I do not want to diminish is the text of the book. While we have tried to make an attractive picture book, it is the story that you tell that is the driving force behind it."

This was a very important reminder. I don't know if I am the only author to feel this way, but it's easy for me to focus on the imperfections of my writing. Besides, I have been getting many great comments about the artwork in my books that I have started to see it as the priority. In other words, I thought, "The text might be imperfect but the illustrations are great, so that's what's counts." It's funny how easily and even subtly priorities can shift in our minds if we don't continue to review our goals and refocus our intentions.

My publisher's words reminded me immediately of the dramatic shift provided by the historical

Reformation - a shift from sight to hearing, from images to words.

I have already written a rough manuscript for my next book, Lady Jane, and I can see now that the quotes from Jane's letters as well as the explanation of important concepts such as justification by faith and the sufficiency of Christ's sacrifice are really the focus of the message, and these concepts cannot be put expressed visually, just as the Gospel cannot be understood in creation.

I want the children to understand why so many tumultuous events were happening in England at that time and what was the motivating force of the English Reformation. In fact, I want them to understand the Reformation in general, to see why it compelled people to do what they did, and then see Jane as one of its strong representatives (as she really was), rather than just an oblivious and naive girl as it is often portrayed.

So far, I have been trying to write in a very factual manner, describing only the emotions that are documented rather than assuming things, but illustrations (as novels) are by nature imaginative and require assumptions. There is definitely a place for them, as they complement the text and keep the children's attention alive. Still, they cannot take priority over the text.

Character Arc

The character arc is not one of my main priorities in short 64-pages biographies for children, focusing mainly on God's doctrines and His hand on His church. It's however important for the narrative and makes the characters more real and closer to us.

Athanasius starts out in the main story as a fiery, impulsive young bishop, ready to communicate, innovate, and most of all to uphold fiercely the doctrines he has been taught by his teacher, Alexander, as they have been confirmed by the Council of Nicea. He might have made mistakes at that point, certainly not as serious as his enemies said. After trying to defend himself at Tyre, he flees by night to talk to Emperor Constantine. He braves the seas in an unfavorable season, arrives in Constantinople ragged and tired and surprises the emperor by meeting him on the road without notice and in unseemly conditions. At first the emperor listens and agrees on his innocence, but when Athanasius' enemies come up with new accusations, Athanasius snaps and tells Constantine that God will be the judge between them. Not the most diplomatic reply. So he is sent off to Trier on his first exile. That's where the story really begins, with a young, impulsive, and worried man.

The story ends with a mature Athanasius, ready to blow off the worries over a pagan emperor by describing him as a little cloud which will soon pass. The sound of the ominous crows over the temple of Serapis is to him just a repetition of the Latin word "cras". "Cras, cras", meaning "tomorrow, tomorrow." Tomorrow the cloud will be gone and the pagan temple too. Cras, cras.

In a meeting of bishops, a mature Athanasius is able to distinguish between what is really important and what can be put aside for the sake of unity. The three persons of the Trinity all share the same essence, yes. That's important. They are not just similar to each other, they are really one God. But about the words we use to define that essence, he said that they didn't really matter as long as everyone meant the same thing. That statement put an end to a long period of philosophical discussions, opening the doors to a resolution to the trinitarian crisis (mainly through the Cappadocian brothers).

In view of that, I revised my idea of what the last illustration in the book should be. The setting is the last time when Athanasius hid from his enemies, probably (according to some sources) in a family tomb. The original sketch (see pencil drawing above) showed him in a tomb with the light seeping in. Suddenly, however, I realized that it was not a good ending of his arc. Starting out as an impetuous young man, he concludes his life in the darkness of a tomb? The text emphasizes the happy ending, but I wanted the illustrations to do the same. So we got the idea of an open door. Open the door of the tomb and look outside! Yes, the enemies are still there. Arianism is spreading so much that Jerome has to cry, "We woke up to find the whole world turned Arian!" And while Athanasius was granted a few peaceful years at the end of his life, he was succeeded by an Arian bishop. Still, look at us today! We are confessing the Nicene Creed. We believe firmly that Christ is very God of very God, being of one substance with the Father. God has preserved his doctrine and his church, and will continue to do so until the end. We can open the door and look outside.

Human Yearning in Picture Books

Biographies for children today have for the most part deviated from fictionalized accounts to emphasize facts. There has also been a shift in purpose, from the raising of heroes to an attempt to help children to understand the development of history, personal choices, social concerns, and human experiences. There is an emphasis on accuracy, avoiding suppositions.

At the same time, as I wrote in a previous post, it's the element of human yearning that makes any story captivating. We want to know what moved the characters to do what they did. Since choices and human experiences are understood best through feelings, the author can give some hints, like "he probably felt..."

Of course, the best way to portray feelings in the context of a factual biography is by using actual quotes. For example, it was refreshing to read how young Athanasius, in the midst of all his problems during his first years as a bishop, started his Easter Letter to the churches in Egypt with a song of joy, "Come, my beloved, the season calls us to keep the feast … so that, when time has passed away, gladness may not leave us."

In pictorial biographies, however, there is another way to portray emotions and move the imagination without drifting too far from reality - illustrations! The masterful painting above is Matt's illustration of the dreadful time when Emperor Constans ordered all bishops to sign a paper denying the conclusions of the Council of Nicea regarding Christ's divinity and especially denouncing Athanasius. It's definitely hard for us to understand the feelings of the bishops who signed. It has been suggested that there was a general atmosphere of theological unclarity (after all, our "orthodox" theology was just in the process of being formulated at that time) rather than fear of the emperor, since martyrdom was still seen as a desirable death for a Christian. After that, we really don't know.

In the illustration, we find ourselves face to face with three pondering men - a bishop and two Roman soldiers, with the looming statue of Emperor Constans behind. We still don't know their thoughts, but they are in front of us and we find that all our prejudgments and rash conclusions are halted in our minds. This is, in my view, one of the main purposes of accurate biographies. They help us to understand or at least empathize. They draw us closer to someone else's life and thoughts and widen our own. They take us to another time as we would travel to another country and help us to sample it through another person's experience. And it's something our children need as well.

Yearning

Most books on writing fiction advise the author to find their character's yearning. There is a perceived need and a hidden need. The hidden need is normally the motivating force, the yearning that carries the character through the story, even if at first it's not clear.

I had to determine that with Olympia (the main character in Weight of a Flame, the Passion of Olympia Morata). Being historical fiction, I could not make it up. I had to study her letters.

Her perceived needs and wants were obvious. She wanted to use her talents. She wanted to please her father, and others in general. She wanted to find a husband who appreciated her skills.

Her hidden need was not as clear. I had to go to the end of her life to find it, tracing it back to the start.

I remember sitting on a train in Italy, travelling back from Ferrara, her hometown, reading her last letters. Suddenly I saw something I had never noticed before - a repeated, almost unexpected emphasis on God's strength. She talked about it in almost every letter, with insistence, as if she were trying to convey a newly found treasure.

When did it start? Soon after she arrived in Heidelberg, giving signs of a mortal and incurable illness. What had happened? Just before this, she was a guest at the house of the Counts of Erbach, and was struck by their devotion to God. She had especially befriendedf the countess, Elizabeth, who apparently had been plagued by many ailments ever since she got married. That's when all seemed to make sense - maybe, Elizabeth said something to encourage her to rely on God's strength.

Being a work of historical "fiction," I was free to follow my instincts as much as the actual documentation. I began to see Olympia's character arc right in her letters. She started out as a young, talented woman, eager to please others, fearful of their opinions, and not very convinced of her faith in God. She ended with a deep faith and a total reliance on God's strength. The end result was the fulfillment of her hidden need, even if she didn't know she had it.

I then made that yearning the motivating force of her life from the beginning - a yearning for God, a God she came to know slowly through her life, first as Truth, in a letter by her father (this is a bit of fiction - the letter is true and so is her realization, but I put them together to give it a context); then as Truth worth dying for, in the prison with Fanini; then as Comfort, in her travels to Germany and throughout the war; as Fulfillment, in her meeting with the Fuggers (another bit of fiction - the meeting happened and the lesson was learned, but maybe not simultaneously); and finally as Strength.

Writing historical fiction is interesting, because even when we recognize a character arc, our hero or heroine doesn't usually follow it in a systematic manner. There are ups and downs, few steps forward and some back. Even after finding true faith in God, Olympia kept harboring a resentment for the people who had offended her, until the very end, which is what makes the story much better than a prefabricated account that goes from weak to strong, unbelieving to believing, bad to good.

Working with Illustrators

Years ago, when I was looking for an illustrator for my series, someone told me, "If you find a good one, hold him fast!" Someone else said that working with an illustrator is like a marriage. I think they meant the same - think well before you choose one, and then stick with him or her.

Many publishers don't allow authors to choose their illustrators nor to communicate with them.

Someone explained to me that authors and illustrators don't always see eye to eye and publishers try to ease that relationship by mediating between the two. In my view, however, this causes other problems. For example, it can be disheartening for an author to see illustrations that don't match what he or she had in mind. I imagine it's even worse to find this out once the book is printed. I have seen some picture books for children where the illustrations didn't exactly match the captions.

On the other hand, some of the illustrators I contacted had such horrible experiences working directly with authors that they refused to do so. Mostly, they said that authors are too close to their work and too demanding. I remember one illustrator giving me an unsolicited psychological evaluation from my emails. He had me figured out as a client and knew exactly what to expect if he had to work with me.

There is always a balance. Sometimes authors "see" the picture a certain way and want illustrations that match their view but, unless they can actually draw a sketch or take a photo of someone posing, they can't expect the artist to have the same mental image. I have often been pleasantly surprised at how different my artist's view of a scene can be from mine. The only time I correct him is when there is anachronism or when the illustration deviates from the actual story.

In this respect, I have found it useful to write a very detailed list of illustrations needed - stating the time of day, the place, the age of the characters, and describing the event in the most accurate way possible. In spite of this, there have been times when my explanations were insufficient and gave the artist the wrong impression about the event or the feelings of the characters to be portrayed. That's why it's good to always see and approve pencil sketches before the illustrations are finalized. My present artist is using oil paints, which is God's mercy for faulty authors like me, since some things can be changed even after the painting is completed.

Also, some authors are not too good at communication skills, while a graphic director in a publishing company is trained to do just that. Personally, I like to be totally involved. I would rather work very hard to sharpen my communication skills than relinquish this level of participation. I am very grateful for the editorial staff at Reformation Heritage Books, who has allowed me to do so from the start, even when it didn't seem like the right decision.

For my novel on Olympia Morata, which will be published by P&R this year, I was not given the choice of an illustrator and could not communicate directly with him. When P&R showed me some ideas for the cover of my book, I had to express my concerns to them, expecting them to talk to the illustrator. I was not used to this and I admit it was not easy. In this case, I have learned to yield, which I guess is a healthy thing to do.

As a bonus, my year-long search for the right illustrator for my series of children's books has left me with a group of new friends - wonderful artists who have decided not to work with me for several reasons (mostly because I cannot pay what they rightly expect and deserve), but who are gracious enough to answer my questions if I ever feel the need to contact them on any issue.

I am very grateful for Matt Abraxas, my present artist. Working with him has been a pleasure and I hope I am not too difficult a client.