Advent Season-Looking for A Great Light

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; 

those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone. 

Isaiah 9:2*

It's time to prepare for Advent. I've gathered a few resources to share with you, which I hope and pray (really, I pray) will prepare you to rejoice at Christmas that a great Light has come into our world. 

Read more =>

The Goodness, Beauty, and Truth from October 30-November 5, 2022

So much goodness to share this week. Books, spiderwebs (not the Halloween kind), kind and challenging words.

First up, Ann Voskamp's generous post describing time with her mother. "The ways a parent falls short can completely fade in comparison to the ways they’ve loved long. What a parent wasn’t able to give you, can be dwarfed in this present moment, by what they did give."  You can read more here Honoring Your Parents

Tim Keller has a new book: Forgive: Why Should I and How Can I?. I've only browsed through it, but as with his other books of this nature, you will find thorough notes and additional material in the back to help you commit forgiveness to practice. I recommend you pair this with his book Walking with God through Pain and Suffering. I hope to post a review on Forgive after the first of the year.

I recently finished listening to All Creatures Great and Small. These have been my bedtime stories. The kind that tells of ordinary people living ordinary lives.  Seems we all could use more ordinary. I've moved on to All Things Bright and Beautiful. But in between these two books, I listened to Claire Keegan's Small Things Like These. And then bought the book. It was highly recommended by Karen Swallow Prior. This too is a story of ordinary people living ordinary lives who also know of those whose lives are cruel. Set in Ireland at Christmas it is short but poignant. I've struggled with other books to compare it to but it has elements of Dicken's Christmas Carol and perhaps a few more, but I need to re-read it again before I say. I hope to re-read this with a group of friends during Advent. Speaking of which I'm writing a post with Advent resources.  

The weather has been warmer over the last few weeks. Autumn was beautiful this year. The colors were more varied and vibrant than usual. Click on any of the photos for larger views.

The autumn sun's slanted light at sunset is one of the warmest lights of the year, guilding everything it touches.

We live in a small valley where the early morning light doesn't reach us until a little after sunrise. As the sun crests the hill, it lights the trees from their top to trunk. 

We are a bit past the peak color now, but still, the mornings are fresh and glorious. I was surprised, and not a little delighted, to find spiders were still weaving their intricate webs this late in the season. 

Up next week: Advent resources, more Goodness, Truth, and Beauty which I hope includes photos of frost flowers. Curious? Look here.

Persuasion -- once more

 

Persuasion by Jane Austen
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Listened to the audio version for the first time. I've read this multiple times and know the story well. Re-reading, or in this case listening to, a well-told story is always a pleasure. With the plot firmly in mind, I can focus on the details with more attention. Inevitably this brings greater insight and delight.

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Mr. Collins - not a role model

 I've long enjoyed Joy Clarkson's podcast Speaking with Joy. She consistently gives insightful commentary, book reviews, author interviews, and, my favorite, a series where she considers a topic through art, music, and reading. She has brought much joy and beauty into my life. I am a much happier, wiser, more fully human because she, and her sister, have brought joy and beauty to my life and, more importantly, taught me how and why I must look for and create joy and beauty. When she announced she was writing a book, Aggressively Happy: A Realist Guide's Guide to Believing in the Goodness of Life, I immediately pre-ordered it, knowing I would enjoy it. I've only had time to skim, and she delivers. There is much to gain for those of us with a melancholy nature. At the end of each chapter, she even included the elements I mentioned above of something to read, see, listen to, and ponder for each topic she takes up. I can easily recommend it. 

 One of Joy's gifts is asking us to consider or re-consider some of our long-held beliefs, deepening some, amending others, and discarding a few. For example, she convinced me thoroughly that some of the male characters of Jane Austen's novels needed to be held to a higher standard than some of us allowed, looking at you, Edward Ferrars and Edmund Bertram.

In Pride and Prejudice, she even seeks to rehabilitate our understanding of Mr. Collins, the Anglican priest and heir to Longbourn. You can read an excerpt here https://www.plough.com/en/topics/culture/literature/why-we-should-envy-mr-collins or, better yet, buy the book. 

In her defense of Mr. Collins and call to emulate him, she points out:

 

 ... for all his flaws, there is a simplicity to Mr. Collins that I admire and enjoy. He lives in a small and imperturbable world where all that matters is Fordyce’s sermons, the securement of a wife for the increase of his happiness, and the distinguished patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. And while we’re all laughing at him, Mr. Collins lives in a state of domestic felicity, blessed with a stable life, a meaningful job, and excellent in-laws, satisfied with the choices he has made in life.

 

Mr. Collins, according to Joy, has developed the ability to enjoy his life, "...no joy too small to celebrate," regardless of circumstances. She believes he possesses contentment and contrasts him with Mr. Wickham, whose avarice is on full display . 

She contends that he attempted to do right by the Bennets in choosing Elizabeth to be his wife. Had she said yes, neither her sisters nor her mother would have needed to find another home as we see the Dashwoods do in Sense and Sensibility. Following Elizabeth's refusal, Mr. Collins moves on to Charlotte, Lizzy's best friend, in what Joy calls learning "to privately accept rejection in a way that feeds neither bitterness nor helplessness. " She sees him as someone who does "... not care too much of what other people think [of him]." 

I took time to consider her unique viewpoint. Joy does a wonderful job at describing the practice of contentment and its benefits, the role of personal dignity, and the need to live a quiet life, but I cannot see this illustrated in the life of Mr. Collins. I concluded that while Mr. Collins may be content, his contentment is not grown in the rich soil of humility and gratitude, but in the hubris he shows in his constant comparing of himself and his situation to others. There is simply too much evidence that Collins is a warning to us, not someone we should 'be like.'  While she contrasts Mr. Collins "contentment" and Mr. Wickham's avarice to make her point about Mr. Collins's practice of contentment, I think a study of the differences between Mr. Collins and Mr. Darcy produces a richer understanding of both men, especially of Mr. Collins as a warning, not as an emulation. This approach deepens the theme of contentment by seeing the humility required for genuine contentment. 

Let's start with the title of the book, Pride and Prejudice. Austen gives us an abundance of characters, not just the lead couple, who are stricken with both vices by nature and nurture. She brings up Mr. Darcy's lack of tact as one example of someone whose pride would make him annoying and selfish if we judge him on the same merits as Mr. Collins. I completely agree. 

To follow Joy's lead, let's look at both men's reactions to Elizabeth's rejection of their proposals. Mr. Collins, after his proposal is met with rejection, attributes it to an attempt on Lizzy's part to "increasing [his] love by suspense." He cannot or rather will not accept and see that she does not see the situation as he does. We are told, "He thought too well of himself to comprehend what motive his cousin could have in refusing him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other way. His regard for her was quite imaginary;...' Elizabeth is stunned by his 'perseverance in wilful self-deception.' Only after being assured by her mother that, indeed, Lizzy does not accept his proposal does he believe her. He expresses his displeasure with 'stiffness of manner and resentful silence' and 'angry pride.' This is not Mr. Collins taking it on the chin and carrying on in a way to be praised as Joy describes. He does, however, 'carry on.' His 'dignified public acceptance of defeat,' as Joy calls it, was followed by proposing to and marrying her best friend. As Joy points out, he certainly wasn't helpless, but I'm not convinced there are no other motives (bitterness, revenge?) expressed in his proposal to Charlotte. After all, had he been genuinely concerned about the family's welfare, as Joy and he both contend he is,  he could have just as easily proposed to other Bennett sisters and assuredly been accepted by one. His concern for them was not as 'excessively generous and disinterested in his own part' as he thought himself to be.

We see a similar proposal by Mr. Darcy, not in its obsequience or lack of sincerity, but in its arrogance. He finds her attractive in many ways, but as with Mr. Collins, we get the impression that she and her family are considered beneath him. Both men feel they are doing her a favor in proposing in their own way. Fortunately, Elizabeth had enough sense and dignity to see this and reject it from both men. Darcy, we are told, responded with 'no less resentment, than surprise,' smiled with 'affected incredulity,' was 'astonished' with 'mingled incredulity and mortification.' He obviously heard her. He couldn't understand and was offended, but he heard her words and responded to them, quite fervently at the time, unlike Mr. Collins 'wilful self-deception.' His later response in his letter sought not to persuade her further of his proposal; he had far too much dignity to do so but to set the matter straight about Wickham and his interference with Jane Bennet and Mr. Bingley.

He is honest in his response, with one phrase standing out among others. In referring to his actions regarding Jane and Bingley, he says, " If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done and though the motives which governed me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learnt to condemn them." (italics mine). We see in this one sentence two essential characteristics of Darcy. One, acknowledging that his motives appear naturally insufficient to her. He recognizes she can and does have her own views. It is something he admires in her. Two, by saying he has 'not yet learned,' he is open to his motives being wrong, and, as we read the rest of the novel, we see him examine and correct those motives. Darcy has not just the capacity to learn; he does so willingly. At the end of the novel, he even credits Elizabeth's role, as we see here:

 

“I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

 

The pride we rightly criticize in Darcy, he sees and works to rectify. His esteem of Elizabeth grants him the ability to be humbled. Collins's esteem of others only gives him more hubris. He acts not on innate dignity but only that which he borrows from his associations with people in power and situations. He is a parasite on others for his "contentment." This is the most significant difference between Collins and Darcy. This reveals what is at the heart of this novel; dignified humility allows us to know when we practice 'wilful self-deception.' True contentment and gratitude grow from humility. Not a virtue Collins nurtures. [note to self: essay on the description of both men's upbringing to show deficits of character training, but the ability to overcome those are rooted in humility as well]

Collins has little humility to enable him to recognize his self-deception. He blames others' rejection of him from his perception of their 'faults.' The virtues of contentment and thankfulness she attempts to see in Mr. Collins result from his pride, not humility and gratitude, and therefore are poorly disguised boasts. He compares in order to boast. His speech is full of comparing others and their situations with his association with Lady Catherine de Bourgh and his situation at Rosings to show his is the better. His contentment is based on his prideful image, not on anything of substance. He uses Lady Catherine De Bourg as a means of his identity to bolster himself in his own eyes and in an attempt to impress others. When Joy writes about his delight in the shelves, it seems to me he does so to show Elizabeth what she could have had.

Where he thoroughly shows his vanity is in the letter he sends to the family when news reaches him of Kitty and Wickham's elopement:

 

"MY DEAR SIR,

 

"I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely sympathise with you and all your respectable family, in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove. No arguments shall be wanting on my part that can alleviate so severe a misfortune—or that may comfort you, under a circumstance that must be of all others the most afflicting to a parent's mind. The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison of this. And it is the more to be lamented, because there is reason to suppose as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence; though, at the same time, for the consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an enormity, at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, you are grievously to be pitied; in which opinion I am not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a family? And this consideration leads me moreover to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event of last November; for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me then advise you, dear sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child from your affection for ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offense. [note to self: Charlotte's response here is interesting, look more closely at this later]

 

There is nothing pastoral or humble in his response. His hubris is on display; his comparisons, associations, assumptions, and suggestions are all centered on how this would have affected him had he been a member of the immediate family. Darcy, on the other hand, handles the situation quite differently. 

He readily acknowledges his responsibility in the situation, not letting others know of Wickham's character out of his own pride. He then takes more responsibility than is required of him by finding Lydia and Wickham, paying Wickham's debts (again), and providing them means of support and a wedding. He has no qualms about proposing again to Elizabeth even though this will associate him with the Bennets and tie him to Wickham for the rest of his life. He handles it far more pastorally than our Anglican priest, Mr. Collins.

If my criticism of Collins sounds harsh, it is not meant to be. We are meant to laugh at him at times. The basis of that laughter is viewing him as Austen portrays him, as a satirical character. His pompous, poorly veiled, critical spirit and manner deserve our disdain and laughter. We laugh and say ouch at the same time. We feel awkward at his actions and words, then become aware of our own awkward actions and words, and laugh at ourselves. We see his pomposity, and critical spirit and manner, and we see our own and repent. Being able to do so reveals the humility in our hearts. We are asked to see that surrounding ourselves with those whose company will provide iron to sharpen iron, to know our own vices to condemn them, and know the needed virtues to practice. To practice godliness with our contentment.

 

Rhythms of Change

 

We are in the midst of a season change here in St. Louis, as we all are worldwide. The afternoon sun lights my house in ways that only the transitions to Fall and Spring bring. It's a light that overlays everything it touches with a warm, deep golden color. It lets me know more color is just around the bend.  

I love Spring because I am usually done with winter. Don't get me wrong, there are things that I love about winter, more daytimes fires, a few good snowfalls, and winter meals, to name a few. But I accept the season of winter more with resignation than anticipation. My attitude toward Spring cannot be more different. I particularly notice the change of the temperature with seasons because I most look forward to, warmer days and nights. Increasing daylight, birds returning, and not to mention an abundance of flowers from the bulbs I planted, crocus, daffodils, and bleeding hearts. All of it telling me that winter is over, finally.

Recently, I pulled out Hannah and Nathan Anderson's book Turning of Days: Lessons from Nature, Season, and Spirit to reread. I was able to read an early copy, and the timing of the release could not have been better. We were about one year into Covid restrictions and the new vaccines' early months. At the time, what they shared of their habits of observing nature and how natural revelation can tell us if we pay attention, ask questions, and willingly see what God shows us about Himself and creation, was instructive, reflective, and planted a few seeds in my imagination and practice.

Due to covid restrictions, I slowed down and attempted to practice what I noticed in the book. It brought a heightened awareness, especially of how Spring is arriving at my particular spot of land this year; I feel the rhythm of the season change differently. Except with a slight nod to knowing what will come, I'm not looking any further ahead than what the day brings. I know, from the inside,* the rhythm of changing light, snowdrops appearing, daffodils blooming  Watching it unfold daily is enough. As I accept what the season brings today, the rhythm of nature is working patience and gratitude in me that I've not experienced before. There is a settledness the rhythms bring if I pay attention to them.

While I am deeply aware of the seasonal rhythms this year, I see the rhythms of humanity's capacity of evil toward one another. What happens when those signs of seasonal rhythms are interrupted or destroyed by our innate sinfulness toward one another? I look at photographs and video footage of cities in the Ukraine where trees are stripped bare by explosions, courtyards are destroyed by missiles, and flower bulbs will not be planted in time to bloom, where attention must be focused simply on staying alive. The losses, known and unknown, are deep as the land, rhythms, and people are wounded in ways we cannot understand. I don't have a lot of answers at this point and may never have them. However, I will still hold the unfolding I see here and losses there together. I cannot do otherwise and stay attentive and sane. I'm responsible for both.  I'll hope to share my reflections here as I seek answers or find new rhythms that I hope bring some healing, however small.

*This is an essay by C.S. Lewis titled "Meditations in a Toolshed," an essay on how we come to know about our world and ourselves. Spoiler: You have to be reflective and active.

Hospitality and Floods

 

This is another place marker post. 

I've been taking a class at the Davenant Institute studying The Chronicles of Narnia. I took it in part to push me along with the Hospitality and Lament project, but also because the professor, Dr. Jason Leporjavi, used Narnia Code by Michael Ward. Narnia Code is the popular version of Planet Narnia, and I have long wanted to discuss it with others. I'm writing this post as a marker for ideas that solidified or arose from the class that I will explore further in later posts.

1) While reading Ward's Planet Narnia around 2010, I expected to see a connection between Jupiter and his role as defender of the practice of hospitality. In Ward's work, I did not find a reference to Jupiter and hospitality. You see a similar role in Ancient Greek society based on Zeus as a defender/punisher/rewarder of hospitality or xenia. This was the cause of the whole Trojan War. Xenia was the practice of hospitality that includes responsibilities of both host and guest in the practice. More on that later. 

2) Sometime in the past, I made a connection between Ovid's poem Baucis and Philemon and the Dimbles in That Hideous Strength. Common to both was an older childless couple who practiced hospitality in its most life-giving form. Offering food, shelter, and fellowship in their poverty and childlessness. I had not connected until I recently re-read both was the common destruction by flood of those the leaders and their town for the leaders' corruption of, dismissal of, and lack of hospitality. Flood is an archetype of the destruction of wantonly corrupt societies going back to the oldest stories in antiquity, including the Jewish/Christian story. I also connected during my re-reading between the couple becoming oak trees at their death and Hermes, who, along with Jupiter, visited Baucis and Philemon. My other connection was to see that the Beavers in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe could be based on Baucis and Philemon. Both are childless, poor, and gracious in hospitality. I see here three couples who, in their poverty and childlessness, did not become bitter for childlessness and poverty are real sorrows. Instead, their woes became the ground where humility and hospitality flourished.  

3)When writing a paper for the Narnia class on the role of myth in Lewis's writing and thought, I began to see that Eustace in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader became a different boy because myth worked in him; not because as his mother thought from the influence of the Pevensie children. By participatory knowledge, he learned to look along the sunbeam when he traveled on the Dawn Treader instead of looking at the world. This will all make sense when I edit the paper for posting here.

The next post will be on the foundation of hospitality and lament, God as Good. 

Drop the Toxic

 

 

What if we don't label anything to do with human persons or relationships with the ubiquitous "toxic"? "toxic relationship" "toxic person" even "toxic behavior" For one thing it's awfully vague. More importantly we are labeling a human created in the image of God. A human who is created with the capacity and agency to change. When something is toxic, be it plant, mineral, or element, it *cannot* change. The toxicity is inherent, and therefore unchangeable, part of that substance. That in no way describes any human.  More tomorrow.

The Big Year: A Tale of Man, Nature, and Fowl Obsession

 

The Big Year: A Tale of Man, Nature, and Fowl Obsession by Mark Obmascik
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

After watching the movie, I wanted to know more about the Big Year competition. The author does a respectable job of provided background both on birding and the three men the movie is based on. I really enjoyed the historical background, development of birding, and about birding in general. But about halfway through the book, I began to grow weary of the excesses, and wondered why we as a society, and some of us, feel a need to turn an enjoyable venture in to a die-hard competition. The author gives us insight into what drove these three men and, inadvertently, encouraged me to be a better birder to see what I'm missing in my area, but no need to be competitive.

#birding #bookreview   

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Space and Abundance

 “Small events, observed with generous curiosity, yield epiphanies.” *

Marilyn Chandler McEntyre

I am a summer gal. I love everything about it, including the heat and humidity. Not the hot 95 degrees hell heat. Just the normal hammock-napping, fresh tomato sandwich, cicada night-sounds summer heat. Late summer, there is peace unlike any other time of year sitting in the evenings at the pasture's edge, watching the slanted light of sunset gild dragonfly wings. September brought cool fall nights and warm summer days, turning the pasture golden where the early morning dew bends the grasses, dragonflies sit atop tall seed heads, and silver spider webs sway in the cool morning air. My husband had always mowed the acre and a half pasture every few weeks. In his absence, caring for his dad during Covidtide, the grasses grew tall, and we let it go. It gave him less to do when he would return home for short stays, and I had always wondered if birds and other animals would make good use of it if left fallow. In short, they did. 

The deer had plenty to graze and, for the most part, stayed away from my yard. The fawns and does lay near the edges of the pasture, napping during a steady misty rain without fear from coyotes or my curious presence. Flocks of goldfinches, during their spring and fall migrations, made quick work of dried seed heads and were drawn to my feeders. This year, two wild turkey hens set up residence with their eleven chicks. Their numbers are fewer now, probably due to raptors, Cooper’s Hawk, Mississippi Kite, and Red-Shouldered Hawk, who recognized the pasture's abundance as well. Watching all of this, I rarely felt alone or deprived during those solitary months.

When winter came, the pasture provided in a way I could not imagine. Winter’s cold added to the rest of the overwintering birds dark-eyed juncos, a species that only visits during that season. It’s a small sparrow-sized bird, with dark-slate uppers and a gray-white chest preferring to eat seed that falls on the ground below bird feeders. They are often harbingers of imminent snowfall that provides a backdrop that highlights their delicate beauty.

One particularly bitterly cold morning in February, when temperatures were below zero and snow covered everything, I bundled up to walk the puppy down the long gravel drive that borders the pasture. The prolonged bitter temperatures only added to the isolation I felt on this silent, gray morning. Birds, my faithful visitors, had disappeared from their feeders. As we quietly walked, I heard faint rustlings and saw the grasses stir and then watched as flocks of sparrows and dark-eyed juncos rose quickly above the pasture where they had gathered underneath in caves of snow-laden grasses. So, that’s where they were. Our "neglect" of the pasture gave shelter to them and granted me an unexpected and welcome sight. 

I planned none of it. How could I? I didn’t know then birds could burrow and shelter in grasses. Even if I had known, I’m far from being able to predict during the summer, when we let the pasture grow, birds and others would need it in a mid-winter polar vortex, much less herd the birds to safety. It happened on its own, due to a little intentional neglect and plenty of curiosity on my part. I only gave space.

You Shall Know

You shall know suffering and grief, and suffering and grief shall make you odd.

With apologizes to Saint Flannery.

Working Together

When I began making the connection between the practices of hospitality and lament and discussing it with others, I quickly realized that I needed to explain those words. Often the word “hospitality” conjured images of a table set with pristine linens, fine china, silver, and candles. Beautiful as that can be, it was a limited image and far from the images I hoped to encourage. Similarly, "lament" recalled images of an unbridled display of grief. I didn’t want either set of images to hinder others who wished to learn more about these practices. I found that some definitions and illustrations were either too terse, lengthy, or vague to be helpful. As providence would have it, Alan Jacobs came to my aid.  Some of his most recent blog posts were extremely helpful not only in providing apt descriptions for these practices but in spurring a meaningful connection between hospitality and lament. 

Jacobs is working on a series titled Invitation and Repair. In one of his recent posts in this series he discusses the use of similes saying, "Maybe that’s what humanistic thought is essentially: a search for new similes, new ways of perceiving the familiar — better to appreciate it when it deserves appreciation and better to change it when it requires changing.“ This was what I was looking for, similes for hospitality and lament. Words flexible enough to give me new ways to explain the practices and allow others new ways to envision and embody those practices. In his next post, I found those similes and meaningful connections between hospitality and lament. 

In his post titled, not giving up, Jacobs explained, "One way to describe the Invitation and Repair project is to say that it’s for people who haven’t given up." He goes on to give examples of various institutions and how they have given up their good purpose. Those good purposes, he says, require the hard, patient work of those who do not give up. This idea is easily connected to both hospitality and lament. Those who practice hospitality and lament commit to hard, patient work, knowing there will be temptations to give up.  Both practices require physical, emotional, and spiritual stamina which are often tested due to the frequency and intensity of the work. 

Jacobs goes on to say in doing the work of inviting and repairing, "we manifest hope: we look towards a future of cooperative endeavor — cooperative discovery, cooperative healing."* There was the connection I had been looking for between hospitality and lament, hope. The two practices work in a cooperative endeavor to manifest hope. When hope is initiated and supported within hospitality, then the practice of lament can work within and toward hope and healing. If the hard, patient works of lament and hospitality don’t collaborate, and if hospitality and lament surrender to the temptation to give up, hope and healing are forfeited. Hospitality and lament must work in collaboration for the discovery of hope and healing.

And what of those similes?  Well, I saw that hospitality offers an invitation of hope to those who seek, in their lament, to repair hope grown tired or lost along the way. So, invitation and repair seem at this point to be apt similes for hospitality and lament. 

*This echoes Andy Crouch's suggestion that lament is the seedbed of creativity, but that is an upcoming post. 

Aeschylus I Review

Aeschylus I: Oresteia by Aeschylus
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I read this with a reading group formed by the Catherine Project the brainchild of Zena Hitz, author of Lost in Thought. I'm probably the oldest in the group and have thoroughly enjoyed reading and discussing these plays with this group. As far as the text, it is a classic for a reason. We discussed various topics including justice, motivations for justice, hatred, revenge, vengeance, etc.

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A Path

This is a tentative outline of upcoming posts laying out my discussion of hospitality as the soil for lament. You can read the impetus here. 

The first set of posts will give background information on hospitality from ancient, medieval, and biblical perspectives. If time permits, I plan to take the time to examine how the meaning of the term "hospitality" has changed to our present understanding. For certain I will show the connection between hospitality and lament from the Latin root word "hospitalis". 

The second series of posts gives a broad overview of suffering historically and biblically. I'm indebted to Tim Keller and his thorough coverage in Walking with God through Pain and Suffering.

The next series will cover the practice of lament from ancient through present times. 

A fourth series explores the practices of lament as seen in the record of protestant Bibles. I hope at some time in the future to look at other traditions as well. 

A smaller series will look at how, and if, various protestant traditions, have included lament within their times of corporate and private worship.

A post or two will feature Andy Crouch's suggestion that lament is the seedbed of creativity. 

The last of the posts will examine how each of the Narnia books show us lament practiced within hospitality. 

Why the Chronicles of Narnia?  Reading, and re-reading, the Narnian tales as an adult can be a vastly different experience than reading as a child.   As C. S. Lewis, author of the Narnian tales, these stories allow us to

 "steal past a certain inhibition which had paralysed much of my own religion in childhood. Why did one find it so hard to feel as one was told one ought to feel about God or the sufferings of Christ? I thought the chief reason was that one was told one ought to. An obligation to feel can freeze feelings. And reverence itself did harm. The whole subject was associated with lowered voices; almost as if it were something medical. But supposing that by casting all these things into an imaginary world, stripping them of their stained-glass and Sunday School associations, one could make them for the first time appear in their real potency? Could one not thus steal past those watchful dragons? I thought one could.” ¹ 

When someone is paralyzed, it is difficult to grow physically, emotionally or spiritually. These stories can show us our paralysis. On a personal note, when reading The Horse and His Boy, particularly the chapter, "The Unwelcome Fellow Traveler", I finally saw God's sovereignty of goodness and generosity in my own life, not the begrudging god I had created and which had paralyzed me, when Aslan invites Shasta to "Tell me your sorrows."   As we see a little further in the story, Aslan full well knew Shasta's sorrows and his questions, but Shasta's re-telling was necessary for Shasta to acknowledge his hurt and paralysis and Aslan to give comfort and freedom. 

Some have noted the overuse of and overreliance on Lewis's works, and some even go as far as to dismiss him, his works, and those within the Inklings universe due to that overuse and overreliance. To those, I say, abusus non tollit usum.² It seems from the quote above my use would be in line with his purposes. 

1. C. S Lewis, "Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What’s to be Said" in On Words and other Essays on Literature, ed. Walter Hooper (Harvest, 1982) pg. 47

2. Misuse of something is no argument against its proper use

Resources

There really aren't any new ideas (but always new connections) so a bibliography of sorts is needed and hopefully this will list most of the materials I will reference in blog posts. I'm not including links, but I will include ISBN numbers where appropriate. If any of these materials interest you, please consider purchasing them from Byron Borger at Hearts and Minds Bookstore or other independent booksellers. If it is not listed on Bryon's site, email him and he can probably get it. This list will be updated.

Hospitality:

• Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition by Christine Pohl 0802844316
• Real Love for Real Life: The Art and Work of Caring by Andi Ashworth 0877880484
• Illiad Elizabeth Vandiver Great Courses Lecture

Suffering and Grief:

• Walking with God in Pain and Suffering Tim Keller
• Embodied Hope by Kelly Kapic
• Companions in Suffering by Wendy Alsup
• Grace Disguised by Gerry Sittser
• Affliction by Edith Schaeffer
• How Long O Lord by D. A Carson
• Making Sense of Suffering by Peter Kreeft
• This Too Shall Last by K. J. Ramsey
• Prayer in the Night: For Those Who Work or Watch or Weep

Lament:

• Praise and Lament in the Psalms by Claus Westermann
• The Psalms as Christian Lament
• Hurting with God: Learning to Lament with the Psalms by Greg Pemberton  0891124004
• Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament By: Mark Vroegop 1433561484
• A Heart Set Free: A Journey to hope through the Psalms of Lament By: Christina Fox 1781917280
• A Sacred Sorrow: Reaching Out to God in the Lost Language of Lament By: Michael Card 1576836673
• Prophetic Lament: A Call for Justice in Troubled Times By: Soong-Chan Rah 0830836942
• The Psalms of Lament in Mark's Passion: Jesus' Davidic Suffering by Stephen Ahearne-Kroll 0521130409
• The Uncertainty of a Hearing: A Study of the Sudden Change of Mood in the Psalms of Lament [Supplements to Vetus Testamentum, Vol. 121] Villanueva, Frederico G.
• After Lament by Glenn Pemberton
• Rejoicing in Lament

Death:

• The Lost Art of Dying: Reviving Forgotten Wisdom by Lydia S. Dugdale  0062932632 
• The End of the Christian Life: How Embracing Our Mortality Frees Us to Truly Live By: J. Todd Billings 1587434202

Other:

• Inexpressible: Hesed and the Mystery of God's Lovingkindness By: Michael Card 0830845496
• Reflections on the Psalms By: C.S. Lewis 0062565486
• Surprised by Paradox: The Promise of And in an Either-Or World by Jen Pollock Michel
• Strong and Weak: Embracing a Life of Love, Risk, and True Flourishing by Andy Crouch
• Prayer: Experiencing Awe and Intimacy with God by Tim Keller
• The Chronicles of Narnia print and audio

Why?

Why? Why put these ideas out here? For one it is a way of me thinking through how hospitality, fully practiced, tills the ground to allow the gospel of Christ to be heard and lived in, especially those places of lament.  

A friend of mine and I were texting back and forth a few months ago about an idea I had for post-Covidtide. It involves clearing a path and setting up space beside a stream, a place where small groups or individuals could come for a day to slow down, sit, pray, think, reflect, and lament. Perhaps some of these posts will be provided to use as a guide if needed. While it will be years, if ever, before we understand the impacts this time has had on all of us, the time is ripe for some to walk down that path and sit quietly. Some have lost loved ones, jobs, money, time with family and friends. We have all experienced an overwhelming sense of instability at times. But loss and uncertainty, as with good fortune, is best lived with others. True no one can experience or live loss for you, but we can share it with each other. 

 

Between The Lion's Paws - Laying Down a Marker

PNG Pic Lion

I'm following in the footsteps of Alan Jacob in the way that a child does her father on a sandy beach. She attempts and misses but continues in belief that he knows where he is headed or least, he has an idea. Why I am choosing to share this project on my blog can best be expressed in this post  where Alan explain the difference between the blogosphere and blogging.  Specifically, he contends that blogging can be dialogical:

... I post a thought; later, I return to it with an update; someone responds, and I incorporate their thoughts into a new post that links to them and to the original – basically, what I am doing right now. Note also that blogging, when done in this fashion and in this spirit, is also seriously dialogical, and I think there is a close connection between a dialogue-friendly medium and a forgiving medium. More on that another time, perhaps.

In this blog post he writes of a new project, saying that he is  "Just laying down a marker here, by way of a beginning."

And so, I do the same. Laying down a marker, by beginning. More accurately continuing and combining several themes I've read about, mulled over, and noticed connections between for over ten years now. It's time to put the pieces on the table, see if they fit and if they do how.  If they don't at least I will know.

The themes I've worked with are lament, suffering, hesed, the goodness of the Lord, hospitality, and The Chronicles of Narnia. Subsequent posts will list resources and initial thoughts of these themes and others. While at times lament will take a prominent seat, it is only because we have lost this God-given practice, and I am convinced, as you will see from others as well, one we need to recover quickly.

First, I am indebted to Michael Ward for sparking this line of thinking via passages in his brilliant book Planet Narnia. Ward makes a convincing argument for his theory that each of the Narnia books corresponds with a planetary influence properly understood within medieval cosmology. You can watch here for a summary of that argument. While living through a season where many if not most of my beliefs about grief and suffering, and the goodness of God were challenged and dismantled, this passage from the chapter "Saturn" helped to begin a rebuilding. (Saturn being a vehicle to express the sorrows of this life.)

Despair or outrage at crookedness only makes sense of one has a notion of the straight, and that notions could not have arisen if everything were bent or even if everything were dualistically good and bad, for dualism is a truncated metaphysic which cannot account for the natural human preference for happiness over sorrow. Saturn with his plagues and pestilences therefore cannot be sovereign, Indeed, it is only by virtue of his deferral to Jove that Saturn can exert his true influence, making his patients into contemplatives who see beyond sorrow. 

It was in re-reading the Narnia stories with his theory in mind that I noticed that each book begins with a lamentable state.  A state with hints of Saturnine influence that could and did lead to expressions of lament. But the more surprising element began to appear on subsequent readings. Without the presence of Jovian hospitality (Jupiter being the god who presides over hospitality, read the story here),  true lament could not occur and accomplish the work it is given. 

Said another way, from a  psalm that I came to learn is a psalm of hospitality,

Psalm 23

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

    He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside quiet waters,

    he refreshes my soul.

He guides me along the right paths

    for his name’s sake.

Even though I walk

    through the darkest valley,

I will fear no evil,

    for you are with me;

your rod and your staff,

    they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me

    in the presence of my enemies.

You anoint my head with oil;

    my cup overflows.

Surely your goodness and love will follow me

    all the days of my life,

and I will dwell in the house of the Lord.

This Morning

Early this morning I took Sheba, my German Shepherd puppy, out to take care of her business. We pass the forsythia, blossoms a bit wilted from a spring freeze. We both stood, looking up. She, smelling the air, distracted by squirrels. Me, feeling the cold air, noticing an overlooked woodpecker hole in a tree, listening to the cardinals. We both are slow, quiet. Odd for both a puppy, but not for an aging woman. 

Great Horned Owl

Book Review- Turning of Days by Hannah Anderson

 

Turning of Days: Lessons from Nature, Season, and Spirit by Hannah Anderson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Thomas Henry Huxley wrote, “To a person uninstructed in natural history, his country or seaside stroll is a walk through a gallery filled with wonderful works of art nine-tenths of which have their faces turned to the wall.” An all too true statement about most of us, excepting children whose innate curiosity beckons them to run around to peer into the artworks’ faces. Fortunately for the rest of us, Hannah Anderson and her husband Nathan, illustrator of her new book, Turning of Days: Lessons from Nature, Season, and Spirit stand in the gap between nature and nature’s God pointing us to both. They offer seasonal lessons of what it looks like to turn our faces to the works of goodness, beauty and truth in nature given to us by our Creator and reveal more about Him and ourselves than we are aware.
This collection of essays of her observations of nature and theological connections is ordered around the seasons. You will learn about spring peepers, pruning, and hawks’ migration habits. You will read of God’s providence, memento mori, and kronos, the fulfillment of time. You will see detail illustrations showing the same attentiveness.
In an online conversation with Hannah, she writes that she and Nathan have “shared a particular disposition or awareness of [the] natural world.” I share this disposition due in large part to spending much of my childhood exploring the woodlands, creeks, and streams that bordered my home and to a church that offered me a chance to read and learn much of the Bible. The connections come somewhat naturally when you watch a hawk soaring over an open field and then read in Scripture about “rising up on eagles wings”. Fortunately for us throughout the book she models for us how to learn more about what we see and to read the Bible with those observations in mind. In a final essay she gives suggestions how to place our ourselves, so our attention is directed to observe nature well. We will not learn this disposition if we will not place ourselves as creature among creation willing to submit to its teaching.

I received a copy of the book for an honest review.

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I wrote this as a response to a post I saw on IG. Putting this here as reminder of where I'm going.

Thanks for asking about my thoughts surrounding the lament, common good, etc. My thoughts are not fleshed out at all but this is a very brief outline of what I hope to work through more fully. A bit of background to set it up. I’ve been in a lamentable situation for about 6 years with no end in sight at this point. It has been an extended period of lamenting. I’ve read a few books, have a couple of close friends with whom I can share, but other than that I have been at a loss as to live in this period. And yes, part of the reason is the loss of the practice of both corporate and individual lament. We grieve, but that is short-term.  Last year, at Hopewords writers conference, Andy Crouch’s keynote address was how our best creativity is born out of lament. Yep, there was my key. I practically tackled him after the address to thank him and to pass on another resource.

All that to say this is my current outline for understanding how the topics below are integral to one another.

1)      Understanding what the phrases “common good” and “flourishing” mean. Are they universal and/or local? Does the beatific vision guide us here? I’ve read Jake Meador’s book, In Search of the Common Good, and plan to work through James K. A. Smith’s Kingdom series.

2)      When flourishing/common good are lost due to sin/fallenness what does our grieving and lament look like? Does the loss tell us, show us what has been lost, tell us something about the good that has been lost? Does experience of loss precede knowledge of the good? Does the practice of lament help us to name the loss and the good? If it does, then perhaps the loss of corporate lament has been a larger factor in our loss of common goods. More here: https://fisherlane.blogspot.com/2019/09/recently-i-was-asked-about-lament_30.html

 Working with books by Tim Keller, Wendy Alsup, Kelly Kapic and other essays on suffering, grief, lament.

3)      Creativity, as Andy illustrated, is a natural outworking of those who seek shalom while working from a place of lament. Unfortunately, I can’t lay my hands on my notes, but when I do, I will send you more details on this. (why am I so disorganized when I’m home all the time? 😉 ) Creativity is needed to recognize, repair, recover as best we can the good. I’m compiling a list of books about creativity, theological anthropology, etc.

4)      To recognize, repair, recover will require struggle and sacrifice.

5)      And now to the question that is more difficult for me at this point. Can we come to an agreement on the common good, or that fact just one common good, that we can all agree on and all struggle and sacrifice for? If so, what? If not, how do we go forward?

Prayer in the Night

Prayer in the Night: For Those Who Work or Watch or Weep by Tish Harrison Warren


“What I most love about this line—’and give hour angels charge over those who sleep’—is that it pulls together supernatural cosmic strangeness and the most quotidian of human activities: sleeping.” With that, and other carefully chosen words, Tish Harrison Warren proves once again in Prayer in the Night that she is a master of revealing glimpses of how our lives in the temporal sphere meet the eternal one.
In her opening note she tells us that wisdom is a “slow work”, and it is. Painfully so at various times and in various relationships in our lives. To guide us through this slow work, she walks us through the Prayer at Compline in The Book of Common Prayer:

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch,
or weep this night, and give your angels charge over
those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to
the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the
afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love's sake.
Amen.

She helps us to see how prayer and faith are related; “Faith, I’ve come to believe, is more craft than feeling. And prayer is our chief practice in the craft.” With each phrase or word of the prayer, she reminds us to whom we pray, of his goodness toward those for whom we pray, including ourselves, and our work that proceeds from this prayer. Works of belief, rest, struggle, as well as justice and mercy.

I could have, and practically did, underline the entire chapter, “Shield the Joyous”. I tend to see the dark and twisty side of life too easily. I practice pessimism as naturally as a child is afraid of the dark. To petition my Creator to “shield the joyous”, feels foreign to me. The other shoe always seems to drop and who am I to get out of its way. But I miss the mark when I practice my faith this way. I miss “intentionally and habitually open[ing] [my]self to God’s unconditional love…and practice living in the reality that his love is deeper and more substantial than any need we could present to God.” The practice of joy and asking for it to be shielded “is a vulnerable and courageous choice.” It is the slow work of wisdom. Warren reminds me not only who I am, His Beloved, and that I can pray this petition, but the loving Father of whom I am asking.

As with Liturgy of the Ordinary, Prayer in the Night is a book to be read both in one gulp and then re-read slowly, thoughtfully and practiced. This is the first book I’ve read in 2021. I look forward to re-reading this throughout the year with pen and notebook in hand.

I received an ARC from the publisher.


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Jesus the Great Philosopher: Rediscovering the Wisdom Needed for the Good Life

 

I saved the best for last. In the last days of 2020, I began reading Jesus the Great Philosopher: Rediscovering the Wisdom Needed for the Good Life by Dr. Jonathan Pennington, Associate Professor of New Testament Interpretation and Director of Research Doctoral Studies at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. This is a book I have wanted to read since the Fall of 1979 when I took Philosophy 101 at a small Christian college in Nashville, TN. I loved the class and the professor, but never knew how to connect my love of philosophy with living. After all, I had the Bible, right? Never mind trying to meld philosophy and theology. This was an error on my part because my philosophy professor was also a systematic theologian and the one who wrote the systematic theology for our denomination. He was also my advisor and would have gladly helped me to understand. Thankfully, Dr. Pennington filled that role.

In Jesus the Great Philosopher: Rediscovering the Wisdom Needed for the Good Life, Dr. Pennington explains what philosophy is, what philosophers do, and how that has changed over the centuries. He also shows philosophical ideas of the Bible, and how and why early Christians would have considered Jesus a philosopher. The remainder of the book covers topics of life ancient philosophers would have taught and encouraged their followers to learn and to live out: educating emotions, restoring relationships, happiness, and human flourishing. He then discusses these topics in philosophical light of what the Christian Bible, and specifically Jesus Christ taught.

One of the most helpful aspects of this structure, and the entire book, is to reveal to us where some of our philosophies and practices of life originated and how they pervade our thinking and living without our conscious acknowledgement. More helpful is his explanations of how Christianity, rightly understood, can correct our thinking and practices.

The key theme, and I would argue its most important, throughout the book is living in hope, but not “baptized optimism.” “Hope is a virtue to be cultivated. Hope is a virtue of the will that can teach us to embrace both hardships and joys, because it is more than a mere emotion.” Pennington uses the topics above to express why and how we can cultivate this hope and why it is necessary.

Clearly this is a book for our times. 2020 has tested the best in and of us and in some ways, we have been found wanting. I wish the book had been available earlier in the year, but faith in God’s timing is well placed and as Dr. Pennington explains having faith is to hope.

While this is my last book of 2020 to read, it will go with me into 2021 as I re-read it. He answered my question about how philosophy, theology and living work together, but more importantly specific questions this book raised will be answered more slowly as I examine my own life and cultivate hope.

This is the one book for 2020 that I can recommend heartily and will be giving away to others.

I received an ARC of this book from the publisher.

Samwise

Dear Sam,

It's been two months since our last trip together. In the wee hours before dawn, I settled you into the car's front seat, my faithful wingman, Captain Sammydawg. You, usually butt and tail wagging, always loved running to the car after you saw suitcases by the back door. You would jump into the seat, let me buckle you in, and then look around as if to say, "Where to now?!" This time you were fading.

We started life together on my 50th birthday. I had wanted a beagle for a long time, and the local Humane Society had two. A little girl wanted the other, so by default, you became mine. By default, but not by chance. We came home, and boy, were you excited about being home. You raced around the house and then let me know you considered yourself a lap dog and that I should too. Whenever and wherever I sat, you came slowly creeping onto my lap, first one paw, then another, then your whole self, looking into my eyes with that adoring gaze. I didn't deserve that gaze, but you thought I did.

We had a few of the everyday challenges, but we settled quickly. You were my pet, I was your owner, and life was tied up neatly. I gave you the usual pet care, and you would do cute or not-so-cute dog things.

Then my life caught up with me, beat me, and left me sobbing on the floor. And there you found me, curled yourself around me, sighed deeply, and didn't leave. I realized then, at least to you, we were never pet and owner. I simply belong to you. I was yours to care for. The adoring gaze tried to tell me, but I had been too blind to see.

In the following years, I watched you and saw how mealtimes were always a reason for a party. Warm spring days were meant for surveying your kingdom from the open patio door and then a long nap in the sun. Snow was to be snuffled and tossed. You considered every stranger a friend you hadn't met yet and who desperately needed your affection. Mornings were for snuggling and wrestling, evenings for cuddling on the sofa and snoring softly. Popcorn was for sharing, and you made sure you were never more than a few feet from me for no reason other than wanting to be there.

And no one greeted me home like you. I was told you would stand by the door and whine when I left. And I know that when I came home, you did the same. It always sounded like, "Hurry up and open the door! I've missed you!"

My days now are spent recognizing how you wove our lives together with each moment of every day. In all of this, Samwise, you knew, as your namesake did, that presence is enough, there are joys amid sorrows, and being faithful to the task at hand is one of the greatest gifts we can give one another. And you gave them abundantly. This is how life is well lived.

So as that last trip ended, I laid you in a small grave that holds you. Holds a gentle, kind heart with strength so immense it wrapped all who met you in delight that lifted anyone vulnerable enough to allow it. I am not a theologian, but I am told that God will restore and renew all creation. I'm not ashamed to admit that I hope that includes you, my friend I named Samwise. Until then, rest.