One of the signs that a creative genius has made a lasting impact on culture is when his or her name enters the lexicon itself. This truth was brought home to me recently with the death of celebrated filmmaker David Lynch. In the days following, much ink was spilled on the word “Lynchian.” Whether one loved his work or hated it, what cannot be denied is that it was motivated by a singular point of view and rendered in such a strongly unique aesthetic that really the use of a shorthand is not merely expedient but almost necessary. How to describe that combination of stark, gritty realism with an unrelentingly unmooring and vertigo-inducing surrealism? Lynchian, that’s how. There may be other words for it – but none better.

The irony in this usage, of course, is that while it seems undeniably useful, it is in another sense close to useless. That is because it is definitionally circular. The word was canonized in the Oxford English Dictionary, but one will look in vain to the entry for elucidation. There one finds that it is an adjective meaning, “characteristic, reminiscent, or imitative of the films or television work of David Lynch.” It’s that “characteristic” part that makes the definition something of a catch-22. Catch-22, incidentally, is another neologism similarly fraught with a certain amount of recursive referentiality. It’s turtles all the way down…. Okay, I’ll stop.

Chestertonians can sympathize with this challenge of definition. Indeed, our guy’s name forms the basis not only of one but of two parts of speech. There is the adjectival form, but also the noun. But the challenge for Chestertonians is more than academic; it is extremely practical. Because for us, the problem presents itself at the ethical level. There are multiple layers to that adjectival form, you see. It describes that which is “characteristic, reminiscent, or imitative” of G.K. Chesterton, certainly. But, especially as our movement grows, it also increasingly becomes bound up with our own spirit and conduct. Is a Chestertonian simply an admirer of Chesterton? Or is a Chestertonian (n.) expected to be, well, Chestertonian (adj.)? And how well do we bear up under the onus entailed in the claim of such a patronage

Some may endeavor to short-circuit this discussion by pointing past Chesterton to the model he followed. After all, the same dilemma described here is that of each and every Christian. There, too, we have the noun and the adjective, sentencing each individual either to glory or to perdition with a diagrammatic logic. “He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them; he it is that loveth me.” This is the perfect predicate nominative; or, if you will, the predicate nominative of perfection. Here, too, is the challenge that the exemplary adjectival form, the prime definition, can be demeaned by so many sub-entries underneath. I don’t know whether or not Ghandi actually said that he would be induced to become a Christian if he ever actually met one; but somebody said it, anyhow – and it was well said. For a brief season in my life, I went in for wearing a “WWJD” bracelet. I abandoned the practice, and I am glad it has gone out of fashion. This is not because I disagree with the sentiment, though, but rather with the manner of expression. It’s just a bit too twee if you ask me. It handles too lightly the dire dilemma that confronts a man in his daily examen and his grappling with conscience. A more incisive and decisive question might be, “How will I be nailed to the Cross today in imitation of Christ?” But somehow HWIBNTTCTIIOC doesn’t seem likely to catch on as a mnemonic.

We’ve strayed from our point, though. To be Chestertonian means a particular mode of being Christian. Of course, to some Christians this very idea is offensive, even blasphemous. Chesterton himself, however, was not such a one. He believed in the witness and example of the Saints – that there was no contradiction between emulating them and following Christ. As he wrote of the great Saint whom he chose for his Confirmation patron, “St. Francis is the mirror of Christ rather as the moon is the mirror of the sun. The moon is much smaller than the sun, but it is also much nearer to us; and being less vivid it is more visible.” In this, he was merely recapitulating the logic employed by Saint Paul: “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.”

So, how can a Chestertonian be more Chestertonian? The Society has endeavored to provide a beginning of an answer to this question with our Lenten reflection series this year. Focusing on the four cardinal and the three theological virtues, and Chesterton’s observations thereupon, we aimed to make more practical and tangible the Chestertonian mode of following Christ. Much more can be said on the subject, of course; and we will be saying, here in this magazine and elsewhere, as our apostolate continues to try to assist people in living happier and holier lives in a Chestertonian idiom.

I offer here only one small addition for immediate consideration: joy. Joy, in my opinion, is that fruit of the Holy Spirit most “characteristic, reminiscent, or imitative” of G.K. Chesterton. It is also that fruit of the Spirit which, sadly, is often most lacking in the witness of many Christians. Spend some time scrolling through what used to be called “Catholic Twitter” and must now, I suppose, be called “Catholic X.” You’ll find no shortage of hard truths being boldly proclaimed, to be sure, and plenty of admonitions of sinners and invocation of saints. Joy you will probably find much less in evidence.

When the Oxford English Dictionary finally comes to fulfill the duty long overdue of entering “Chestertonian” into the lexicon, let it be that the entry runs thus:

Chestertonian

adjective
– characteristic, reminiscent, or imitative of the works of G.K. Chesterton.
noun
– a Christian known for being peculiarly joyful.