okay, so my phone died and I have an appointment with traffic court to explain why I haven't fixed the muffler on my truck which is currently immobile due to a faulty alternator, so this will be very short:
1. and most important. I am going to have a lot of empty time in my life soon and reading will be very important. I'm putting in an order to Amazon by the end of the week. What should I buy/borrow/read? Stipulations: absolutely nothing involving analyses of postmodernism and/or Evangelical Christianity.
2. no, it's not a sin to not feel as I feel; but it is a sin not to feel at all, or to feel only what it is safe or accepted to feel. Remember the ringing condemnation of Christ: We played a dance for you, but you did not dance. We played a dirge for you, and you would not mourn. Mindless obedience or the heartless participation of a safely detached observer, both are missing something vital. If you can witness something beautiful or sorrowful without being moved, isn't there something disturbingly wrong with you? Something problematic with your soul?
Furthermore, there are sins that are not individual: corporate sins of a church that emphasizes dogmatic intellectual conformity over freedom in Christ--freedom to explore, learn, grow, experience, and express in the guidance of the Holy Spirit the fullness of a unique and awe-inspiring human life. A fullness that goes far beyond attaining correct theology or learning how to go through the motions of some particular Christian community.
A church where people are incapable of independent response to something beautiful and human because they have been trained into passively waiting for someone in authority to tell them how to act appropriately is a broken, dysfunctional, lifeless church. If you have to curtail or conform your actions because of the sanctions or standards of a church, isn't there a problem with that church?
Conformity to Christian social structures is not holiness; in the words of Flannery O'COnnor, to be holy is "to be specially, super-alive:" full of the grace of God, and participating fully in the image of God--the creative and oft-surprising image of God that is reflected with special treasure differently and uniquely in each and every human being.
There were at least five people at that concert who, well schooled in the consequences of being nonconformist in Christian communities, disappointedly sat down because they were the only ones standing in a crowd who stood and sat as if someone was holding up signs: "applause," "stand," "clap," "sit," "heel," "stay," "good boy, have a biscuit."
I'm not saying that everyone there should have participated or involved themselves in that particular moment. But they came and provided an environment where they remained disinterested observers while musicians laid their souls bare with incredible grace, beauty and energy; and I find their response tremendously callous and fearful.
Callous hearts worry me, and strong social structures that encourage and discipline (to use Foucoult's words) hearts in conformity or quick obedience to the status quo terrify me. The church should have noting to do with these things. The church is where people come alive in Christ. If music and poetry cannot move you--either to mourn or to dance or even to lift your eyes to heaven and not see whether the people next to you are standing or sitting or leaving--what can?
I don't think it's just a matter of taste--that the polite, detatched spectators in this moment would be fully awake and alive in another context. I think there's some genuine soul pathology at work here. And God wants souls to be alive and involved, sensitive and able to percieve and respond to people in a myriad of ways and expressions.
Well, I could go on. But the pathos of my daily life is calling. Actually, not calling, since my phone won't work. Alas. I'll be in Buffalo next week, working overtime for the holidays, and if I don't call--sorry. no phone...
16 November 2006
etchings on old elephant bones by
the reified bean
in the year of the sojourn
Thursday, November 16, 2006
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7 comments:
(1) You might be interested in one of these books. (Self-published, so you won't find them on Amazon):
Vienna Days
Family Fortunes
Or you could try Night Train to Rigel by Timothy Zahn.
You could also go for literature that is more focused on both the beautiful and the tragic. If you have the patience, try out Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy. Terrible joys, beautiful sorrows, duplicitous social attitudes, adultery, betrayal, madness...
All told in painstakingly slow detail. [begin thick accent]. By a Russian. [end thick accent]
Of course, there are other pieces of classic literature that might be more...exciting. If you're looking for action and adventure, I might suggest Beowulf or The Iliad.
Not only are these stories exciting, but they contain beautiful poetry and spark deep ruminations about a man's struggle with implacable evil and the certainty of death (Beowulf) and the response of a mighty warrior to fates and powers that are beyond his control.
(2) no, it's not a sin to not feel as I feel...
You could have fooled me at the time.
I suspect that what is happening is that I do not share your zeal over this issue, probably because I also am not so quick to label another person as having this kind of "soul pathology."
It is my experience that nearly everyone responds to some beauty in this way. (As me sometime about Maxwell's four equations, and the elegant beauty that is hidden in every ray of light in the Universe...)
Perhaps I'm just not eager to assign blame to others because they do not measure up to my standards of outward action. Heavens, not even I measure up to my own standards--and not for lack of trying.
I could say that I am less inclined to be judgemental. Or I could say that I care less about such things, because my pursuit of beauty has long since placed me on the path towards the Savior I had been told to pursue.
To paraphrase C.S. Lewis, a signpost is a momentous thing to a man lost in a trackless waste. A signpost is equally important, but less celebrated, when it is one of many sighted along the Path to the Great Destination.
Which reminds me: Have you ever read Pilgrim's Regress? It is an intimately close look at Lewis' own path from boyhood religious training to youthful rebellion to adult belief.
Marina Lewycka—A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian
Ukrainian immigrant widower falls in love with gold-digging, green-card(what do they call it in the UK?) seeking younger woman (replete with green satin lingerie and a big chest) despite the protests of his squabbling daughters. War ensues. In the meantime, he gives, yes, a short history of tractors in Ukrainian (translated to English). Thought-provoking and clever, and yet a very easy read—what more could you ask for?
Haruki Murakami—Norwegian Wood
You’ve already humored me by reading Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore. I should’ve had you read Norwegian Wood first. Norwegian Wood is vintage Murakami, analogous to Catcher in the Rye in that it has become required reading for soulful Japanese youth. A dark coming-of-age story with more innocence and less surrealist imagery than the trippy, Oedipal Kafka, Norwegian Wood is first and foremost about lost love. Read it. It’s good. (And if you fly through Heathrow, you can buy a special edition version for five pounds.)
Geraldine Brooks – A Year of Wonders
Found this gem on a friend’s bookshelf, hidden amongst Rosamund Pilchers and John Grishams. Brooks is now famous for her Pulitzer Prize-winning March (in which she tells the story of Mr. March, the mostly absent father in Little Women), but I actually preferred A Year of Wonders. Here, Brooks weaves the tale of a real-life village in which the charismatic resident minister convinces the inhabitants to quarantine themselves after the village is struck with the plague. Through the eyes of the minister’s servant, this book explores the horrors and redemption that blossom in a village in which two-thirds of the population is wiped out in a single year.
Holy cow, I think I shifted into book review mode without even thinking about it. And wait, I own all of these books. You can read them when you visit as long as you don't take them with you--my library here is pathetic, as it is!
Hey Dan--
Waiting For the Barbarians
J.M. Coetzee
I am glad to read that you are well and alive! Please always keep writing, I am blessed by your thoughts.
Dan
Okay, so you've already got a mountain of suggestions. But I must tell you, I'm going to read Les Miserables. So if you want to read it with me . . .that would be cool!
David
AS a polite detatched bystander, I would suggest Margaret Atwood if you haven't anything by her. Actually I only suggest two of her many books: Handmaid's Tale and Blind Assassin.
I also recommend Black Like Me if you've never read that.
And um...I liked White Teeth. Very weird...but good.
(1) revisited: try The Man Who Was Thursday by G.K. Chesterton.
You can download it from here if you don't want to buy it.
Chesterton's wit is superb, and his creative storytelling is amazing.
Will Duquette blogs about books almost non-stop. (Well, he's a professional geek for NASA...so occasionally he blogs about programming.) I've enjoyed some of the books he's recommended, but I haven't sampled half of his list of authors.
So many books, so little time...
I feel like i'm too narrow minded. All I can think to suggest to you involve the Church Fathers.
Is it sad that I don't jump at the chance to suggest Tozer anymore?
When I'm in doubt I read St. Chyrsostom or St. Athanasius. They are actually amazing writers contrary to most christian writers now and I think the content is amazing.
But then again i'm a super nerd so take it for what it's worth.
Ben
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