Righteous Indignation

I never thought of it quite this way before:

" . . . the wrath of God is a symbol of holy mystery that we can ill afford to lose. For the wrath of God in the sense of righteous anger against injustice is not an opposite of mercy but its correlative. It is a mode of caring response in the face of evil, aroused by what is mean or shameful or injurious to beloved human beings and the created world itself. Precisely because Holy Wisdom cares with a love that goes beyond our imagining, the depths of divine anger are likewise immeasurable. . . . [Divine anger] stands as an antidote to sentimentality in our view of God's holy mystery as love . . ." Elizabeth A. Johnson

Neither Extreme

Today, I'm speaking to a group of Christian librarians who are attending a conference here at HU. I was asked to discuss two things:

1. the Twilight series, and

2. blogging about books

Sounds easy enough, right? Those of you who've read my earlier posts on Twilight know what I think about the series, at least from a literary standpoint. And you also know I love blogging about books. All in all, I'm expecting this to be an enjoyable speaking engagement for me.

As I started thinking about what I would say today, I realized that we, as Christian teachers of literature and Christian librarians, are in a really interesting position. We actually embody the best of two worlds. Like all teachers of English and all librarians, we love the idea of books opening up new worlds for us and our students. We encourage exposure to challenging ideas, and we promote critical thinking. We celebrate free access to the books of our choice.

Yet, as Christians, we also recognize that discernment is necessary. We love to read, but we want to protect our minds and to "guard our hearts with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life" (Prov. 4:23).

Luckily for us, it's possible to reconcile both positions--and we don't have to ban any books to do so. Discerning readers can indulge their love of reading, expand their horizons, and strengthen their Christian worldview, while also developing compassion for those who don't see the world exactly as we do. And we can help our students learn to do the same.

Countdown

One week and counting til the defense . . .

I had a stressful week last week. I went down to Oxford the week before and filled out my application to graduate and took care of all the paperwork across campus. I came home feeling on top of things and thinking only of preparing for my defense. Then, last week, late Thursday afternoon, I get an e-mail from the graduate school telling me that I don't have enough hours to graduate. And I'm not lacking just a few hours. It's a huge chunk.

Well, of course, panic sets in, even though I'm one of those students who micro-manages her schedule. I read the catalog; I keep a checklist; I visit with my advisor regularly. I knew I'd dotted every i and crossed every t. I also knew that I'd been evaluated every year by the whole English Department faculty and given a "Satisfactory Progress" rating. And how could I have been allowed to take Comps and enter dissertation phase if I hadn't finished my course work? I called my advisor. He said he'd check on it. He sounded a lot calmer than I felt.

Then the University shuts down for the 4th. Of course. A long weekend with no information.

I heard nothing Monday.

By Tuesday I thought, "Enough." And I called. "Oh, yes," she said calmly. "We forgot that you entered the program already having earned a Masters Degree. That was the difference in hours. I'm approving you for graduation today. Sorry."

Well. I feel better now.

Small Rituals

Rituals are actions that have symbolic value. They are a way of acting out in the physical world what we believe to be true in the spiritual world. They can focus our minds and direct our thoughts towards God. They can add beauty to our lives and comfort us. I wrote in an earlier post, Coveting the Metaphor, about how Sue Monk Kidd's conscious use of symbol and metaphor enhanced her spirituality and her life. I believe that the addition of small rituals can do the same.

To enhance my pursuit of intentional spirituality, I have added a few small rituals to my devotional time. First of all, I have set aside a certain place for my morning devotions. It's upstairs, just a comfortable chair in the corner of a bedroom, but it's a quiet place away from chores and TVs and the normal bustle of life. On one side of the chair is my Bible, the devotional/theological book I'm currently reading, and my journal; and on the other side is a table where I've placed a small candle. Before I begin, I light the candle. Next, I open my journal, date the entry, and then write down one thing for which I'm grateful. I don't make a huge list, although I could. I just wanted to establish a ritual that will encourage me to have a grateful heart. Next, I read a passage of scripture and choose one or two verses to copy into my journal, and make a few comments on these--why I chose what I did, the connection to my life, a realization I've just made, a prayer, anything I feel at the moment. Next, I read a chapter or so of the devotional book, copying any great lines or paraphrasing intriguing discoveries into my journal and commenting on them. Then, I pray. When I finish, I blow out the candle. Extinguishing the flame does not signal the end of my pursuit of God, but it is a ceremonial closing to a time of dedicated devotion.

The candle ritual works for me on several levels. It's beautiful and comforting. Because it signals a beginning and an end, it focuses my mind on the present and my purpose. The light of the candle has a metaphorical connection to God. The scent of the candle is reminiscent of the incense burned in the Old Testament, which symbolized the prayers of the saints. It is an intentional act performed for spiritual purposes.

If you have any rituals that you find beauty and joy in, I'd love for you to share them.

1 John 1:5 This then is the message which we have heard of him, and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all.

Psalm 141:2 Let my prayer be set forth before thee as incense; and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice.

From Marilynne Robinson's Gilead:

--I was struck by the way the light felt that afternoon. I have paid a good deal of attention to light, but no one could begin to do it justice . . .

--The moon looks wonderful in this warm evening light, just as a candle flame looks beautiful in the light of morning. Light within light. It seems like a metaphor for something. So much does. Ralph Waldo Emerson is excellent on this point. It seems to me to be a metaphor for the human soul, the singular light within the great general light of existence. Or it seems like the poetry within language. Perhaps wisdom within experience. Or marriage within friendship and love . . .

--I think sometimes of going into the ground here as a last wild gesture of love--I too will smolder away the time until the great and general incandescence . . .

Booking It-Celebrities?

Do you read celebrity memoirs? Which ones have you read or do you want to read? Which nonexistent celebrity memoirs would you like to see?

I do like to read memoirs, but only of people I really admire or whose lives intrigue me. Fortunately for me, celebrities (if you mean the kind that grace the tabloid covers) rarely make my list. One memoir that's on my nightstand right now is Valdimir Nobokov's Speak, Memory. I bought it after reading Lolita a couple of years ago, but I just haven't found (made?) the time yet to read it. I will, though. One of the books I just bought at the CSC is a memoir, Barbara Brown Taylor's Leaving Church. I'll probably get to it before Speak, Memory--no offense intended, Mr. Nobokov.

I think that the last two memoirs I've read were Ayan Hirsi Ali's Infidel and Larry McMurtry's Books: A Memoir. I'd highly recommend Ali's. It's a very intriguing memoir that I've thought about a lot. McMurtry's, however, was only occasionally interesting. I had to make myself finish it. There were just too many boring sections about when, where, and how he acquired certain books and not nearly enough of his thoughts about reading and writing them.

A memoir I really want to read is former Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto's Reconciliation: Islam, Democracy, and the West, finished shortly before her tragic assassination.

Come to think of it, there is maybe one celebrity memoir I'd like to read--Meryl Streep's--but only if she analyzes some of her great roles.

A Merry Heart

Proverbs 17:22 "A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones."

Inquiring Minds Want to Know

OK. So what were the other two books I bought?

After nine years serving on the staff of a big urban church in Atlanta, Barbara Brown Taylor arrives in rural Clarkesville, Georgia (population 1,500), following her dream to become the pastor of her own small congregation. The adjustment from city life to country dweller is something of a shock -- Taylor is one of the only professional women in the community -- but small-town life offers many of its own unique joys. Taylor has five successful years that see significant growth in the church she serves, but ultimately she finds herself experiencing "compassion fatigue" and wonders what exactly God has called her to do. She realizes that in order to keep her faith she may have to leave.

Taylor describes a rich spiritual journey in which God has given her more questions than answers. As she becomes part of the flock instead of the shepherd, she describes her poignant and sincere struggle to regain her footing in the world without her defining collar. Taylor's realization that this may in fact be God's surprising path for her leads her to a refreshing search to find Him in new places.Leaving Church will remind even the most skeptical among us that life is about both disappointment and hope -- and ultimately, renewal.

From Booklist
Collins is a jester and a double agent. A poet readers flock to, he gets the laughs and the applause, he paces and bows, concealing his weapons and serious mien. His self-portraiture is mordant, his drollery preemptive, his insouciance camouflage, his intelligence of the stealth kind, and his intricately constructed poems detonate as they blossom in the reader’s mind. Collins is fanciful and mindful, cocky and prayerful, blissful over ordinary things and intimate with dread and loneliness. Here he is morose in Paris, staring down a fish staring back on a plate in Pittsburgh, rain-harried in Dublin, awake and repentant at the fringe of night in a bright bathroom, loitering with intent in the kitchen. Collins’ seductive poems are decoys drawing us into deep waters where memories waft like tangled weeds and death lurks in the cold spots. Wryly philosophical, caustically whimsical, disarmingly beautiful, Collins’ covertly powerful lyrics deftly snare all that is fine and ludicrous about us, from the old habit of poetry itself to the spell of love and the long, rolling song of the self. --Donna Seaman

Functional Spirituality

Every time I go to a conference, I'm tempted by all the books there for sale, especially the ones I can have autographed by the authors who are plenary speakers. I restrained myself to three books at the CSC, and this is one of them--Barbara Brown Taylor's An Altar in the World.

Here's what the publishers have to say about this book:

From simple practices such as walking, working, and getting lost to deep meditations on topics like prayer and pronouncing blessings, Taylor reveals concrete ways to discover the sacred in the small things we do and see. Something as ordinary as hanging clothes on a clothesline becomes an act of devotion if we pay attention to what we are doing and take time to attend to the sights, smells, and sounds around us. Making eye contact with the cashier at the grocery store becomes a moment of true human connection. Allowing yourself to get lost leads to new discoveries. Under Taylor's expert guidance, we come to question conventional distinctions between the sacred and the secular, learning that no physical act is too earthbound or too humble to become a path to the divine. As we incorporate these practices into our daily lives, we begin to discover altars everywhere we go, in nearly everything we do.

In the Introduction, Taylor herself says this:

I have no idea what you'll see when you look at your life--but if you are tired of arguing about religion, tired of reading about spirituality, tired of talk-talk-talking about things that matter without doing a single thing that matters yourself, then the pages that follow are dedicated to you. My hope is that reading them will help you recognize . . . some of the altars in this world.

This is definitely my next read. See what I meant about synchronicity?

P.S. Happy Anniversary, Mom & Dad!

Yes, but How?

It's very easy to get caught up in the idea of being more spiritual, but if I am not intentional (there's that word again!), that's all it will be: an idea, not a reality. And that is not what I want. I know that I am an "idea person." I can easily live in the world of books and ideas and feel like I'm doing something or changing my life, but all I'm actually doing is reading about doing it, thinking about changing it.

I guess I should define my terms here. We've all heard the old saying "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." But I'm not talking about having good intentions. I'm talking about living with Intentionality. The dictionary defines "Intentionality" as "the quality or state of being intentional; having, or being formed, by an intention; doing by intention or by design, on purpose." So you see that Living Intentionally carries me past the state of forming good intentions into the realm of actually living them.

This, of course, is not a new idea. I'm always amazed at my own slowness to grasp concepts, to fully comprehend things I already know and sometimes even practice in certain areas of my life. When my youngest child started school, I decided that that was the perfect time to begin a regular exercise program. Knowing my own body clock and personal propensities, I realized that I must work out first thing in the morning or it wouldn't get done. I intended to exercise; I chose a time; and I carried through with my plan. I didn't allow myself to decide every morning if I wanted to do it because the decision had already been made. I didn't just intend to exercise--I wanted to be the kind of person who exercises regularly. Years later, I still am. And I know it's because I have a plan, a schedule, and I follow it. It's not because I have some vague idea of needing to exercise. It's a part of my life now, a component of who I am.

This, then, will be the model for my intentional spirituality. There are some really interesting parallels. First of all, I realize that my main time for Scripture reading, devotional/theological reading, prayer, and meditation must be in the morning. For one reason, this symbolically puts God first in my life. It sets the tone of my day. Additionally, just like exercise, if done early in the morning it can't as easily become crowded out by the normal busyness of the day. But there are other similarities. I haven't done exactly the same workout for all these years. I've changed and adapted my workouts as I've encountered new information and as my needs have changed. I fully expect to do this in my spiritual pursuits. I'll read different scriptures, and from different versions. I'll pursue different ideas in the devotional and theological texts I read. I'll investigate contemplative prayer and different forms of meditating on God and scripture. And, just as I've incorporated functional fitness (taking the stairs instead of the elevator, parking farther away and walking, etc.) into my life, I plan to incorporate "functional" spirituality, for lack of a better term, into my life. I don't want to put my pursuit of God in a box, relegating it only to corporate worship or morning devotional times.

But we'll talk about that tomorrow . . .

Intentional Spirituality

It's hard to pursue a graduate degree in English without questioning your faith. We are trained to parse words, to analyze texts for multiple meanings, and to recognize the inadequacies of interpretations and translations. Throw into the mix extremely intelligent, well-spoken fellow graduate students who either regard the Christian faith as outdated and irrelevant or who are openly antagonistic towards it, and your uncertainty is intensified. And if, as I do, you have the type of personality that always searches for the answer, that must be certain, that has to know, well, you may be headed for a dark night of the soul even as you search for some small ray of light.

I was groping through that darkness. I think the physical and mental exhaustion of completing a PhD in three years (teaching full time one of those years and Honors Symposium all of the summers, driving so far back and forth the first year, living away from home and family the second) contributed to my spiritual dryness. I poured all my energy into completing the degree, slowly crowding out time for Scripture, prayer, meditation.

Life is funny, though. Right in the midst of my barren times came synchronicity. I guess you could also call it providence. First, I read a book called Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd. This is a beautifully written book by a woman who left Christianity to pursue the Sacred Feminine, and while I did not agree with her journey into paganism, I did admire her intentional spirituality and was intrigued by her research into the nature and being of God. This led me to books on theology, where I encountered this appellation for God: The Divine Mystery.

Everything in me reacted to this name. How beautiful! And how freeing! Augustine said that if you have understood, then that which you have understood is not God. Elizabeth A. Johnson says that the "incomprehensibility of God [is] a mystery of free and liberating love, love that draws near, chooses us without our deserving it, accompanies and bears us, walks the path of struggle, promises victory, dwells among us to gather us in." This name for God, The Divine Mystery, allows us to not understand, to not comprehend completely, and to know that we never will. Yet, at the same time, it validates our pursuit towards understanding. It's almost as if this name gave me permission to believe and cling even through all my questions and doubts. It gave me permission to not have all the answers.

Then at the same time, because Marilynne Robinson was going to be speaking at the Christian Scholars Conference, I began reading her book Gilead. I have never read a more beautiful novel in all my life, and maybe I never shall. When I read the Twilight series, I said that I'd read almost two thousand pages without wanting to underline one sentence. This novel was the exact opposite. I wanted to underline every sentence of Gilead, and double underline some parts. I have never read a novel with so much Scripture and so little dogma, such holiness coupled with such humanity. It is a celebration of mystery and love, of the spiritual as well as the physical. Nothing I can say about this novel could do it justice. It is the story of a life lived in honor of The Divine Mystery.

Then, as I said yesterday, while at this conference I met some wonderful people who have chosen to live with such spiritual intentionality, searching for and worshipping God even as they realize that The Divine Mystery can never be fully comprehended in this life. I guess maybe all my life I've been drawn to this idea of God because I've always loved I Corinthians 13:12, especially in the King James Version: "For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face: now I know in part, but then I shall know even as also I am known."

I want, though, for my pursuit of God to be characterized by love instead of fear, by the desire for relationship rather than oughts or shoulds or guilt.

Suddenly, my cup seems full.