Wise Blood

I know some people have two separate blogs, one for what they are reading and the other for other possible blog comments. Mine isn’t popular enough to separate it yet, so its a bit of an eclectic piecing together.

A book I read after Gilead is a book called Wise Blood. Just as Gilead reminded me of The Road, so wise blood reminded me of both Gilead. At first anyway. Then I kept reading. I thought there might be some similarity with the pastoral role– the main character is the son of a pastor and ends up being a pastor of sorts, except he preaches “The church of Christ without Christ.” But it pretty quickly seemed to be a book of reversals– unlike Gilead’s hopeful, Christian worldview, this proposed what seemed to be a man trying to find meaningfulness in meaninglessness.

Definitely one of the weirdest books I’ve ever read. I don’t know if I would recommend it. But, it was interesting how it almost seemed to correlate.

Pilgrim at Shute Park

There couldn’t have been too many better places to finish Gilead than Shute Park. And even though Gilead takes place in a small country town, and Shute Park is in the middle of suburban central, it was still pretty good. I was there early in the afternoon, and since school isn’t out for most kids for another week, there was a school group there with about fifty kids and like two adults. But it was beautiful. A group of them played soccer together. One of them had this bright yellow sweatshirt on that invited the sun to come out from behind the clouds.

Gilead invited me to appreciate youth, and see every moment as beautiful. I was there for about an hour as I finished the book, and once or twice I looked up to see a grandmother pushing her granddaughter on the swings. She was there the whole time, with such a look of sheer joy on her face. I could tell she wasn’t thinking of all the other things she could have spent that hour doing. She truly enjoyed being with the child. The father in Gilead makes a few comments in his letters to his son that he was mostly just thankful for the boy’s existence. For just being. I could see that in the grandmother’s expression.

This does not have much to do with Gilead, but it was interesting. Not long after I sat down a man in a motorized wheel chair came over to me. Growing up in the area, I have seen him for years, wheeling up and down the streets, sometimes with a cat on his lap, if my memory serves me correctly. But this was the first time I had ever talked to him.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” I replied.

“Are you a Christian?”

I knew then that he was partially disabled; his words were a little unclear, but I could understand him because he also held his cross necklace gingerly between his fingers as he asked.

“Mmhmm,” I said, smiling.

“Do you have a Bible?”

This one was a little harder for me to understand, until he opened and closed his hands together like a book.

“Yes.” I said, smiling again.

“Can you do me a favor? Could you read the book of John for me, please?”

“Yes.” I said again.

Then, he held his hand out straight, as if he was going to give me a high five. I raised my own hand and met his. He grasped it, firmly, and said, “I will see you in heaven.”

Then he wheeled away.

What a confusing, yet beautiful, world.

The Road vs. Gilead

I have been thinking for a while that I should write something about The Road since it is a really good book and had a lot to do with why I enjoyed the last two weeks of my time in high school. But, I put it off, and then felt inadequate to properly blog about it since it wasn’t completely fresh in my mind… and so, it almost slipped through the cracks into the realm of “what might have been.” However! My recent friendship with the book, Gilead is about to change that.

Gilead struck me immediately in its similarity to The Road: It also depicts the relationship between a father and son, mainly from the father’s point of view, and although it is not about the end of the world, it is about nature, and life and death. It reminded me of Annie Dillard, some of the ways the father describes the world around him. It emphasizes the importance of remembrance and history, and most of all, beauty, truth, and goodness.

While on first glance it does not wrestle with the nature of evil, or nothingness, as much as The Road does, it does put it in terms that are very understandable to the reader, the evil of the human heart. This becomes especially clear to me in the letter the father is writing about the covetous nature of his own heart regarding the son of his best friend, a man named after him: John Ames. It is about life and what that should look like. It really does not end up dealing with death as something unnatural, as The Road tends to do… but it is a beautiful treatise on what it looks like when the ordinary is redeemed to the extraordinary through the intentional meaningfulness of saints.

Graduation… continued.

Even with my initial post, I didn’t feel like I properly talked about graduation in a truthful way. But I didn’t quite know how to do a good job, since there were so many conflicting thoughts about it.

But I think I got it. I was having a conversation with a friend who is determined to be predisposed toward an attitude of hopelessness. If a situation is not going the way he imagined it, perfectly, it is valueless, and should be forgotten, or at least not dwelt on.

That seems to be a really common way to deal with grief. If something is less than perfect, or uncomfortable, don’t think about it. Ignore it. Blare the music really loud. Read a book to distract oneself. Get into a theoretical conversation that has no real relevance for anyone’s life. (I’m talking to myself, here).

But is that really the virtuous thing to do? To ignore it? The last class of worldview was by far the most redemptive, in that it took everything we had learned the past three weeks and made it relevant to our lives, and gave us a mindset with which to live by. There were three options in how to respond to evil, or nothingness in the world: Ignore it. But that’s a shallow and ignorant way of dealing with it. So, for the more thoughtful person, they might move from ignoring it to caving in to it. Reasonably, it is going to win. All data points toward evil’s victory. But! If one believes in a transcendental outside of our frame of reference, a different reality that claims that evil will not win, that in fact goodness will win, through unreasonable things like courage, and sacrifice, and love... then one has a myth that he or she can align himself to that makes his life meaningful.

All that to say… I am really tempted to ignore the messy aspects of graduation that made it uncomfortable. The fact that it totally did not fit in with the hopes I’ve had for it the past six years. The speeches that danced around the difficult subjects. The comments that seemed like just a bunch of b.s., and not even in a “let’s focus on the good so it becomes true” sort of way, but just the fake, let’s put on an act sort of way. The confusion of whether I was listening to the messages for my benefit, or for my non-Christian family? Was I the guest, or the hostess? All these confusions made graduation difficult. Not to mention the lack of sadness I felt at leaving people. Well certainly there were some people I’m sad to leave… but I’m so tired of things. Have I let that tiredness allowed my heart to grow cold and not care about people? Or have I allowed the cultural ramifications of what it means to move off to college affect how I act as I’m making that transition? The ego-centric, leaving people in the dust mentality?

See all these things are difficult and should be wrestled with. Maybe its just because its late that these all seem really important. But what if I didn’t wrestle with them? What if I stopped and just let graduation be a day that was less-than-perfect? Would it not do justice to the event to wrestle with it? And would it be an insult to myself if I allowed myself to get away with not thinking through it?

Graduation blessing

There’s a lot of good memories from the last six years at Heritage Christian School… but my senior year, unfortunately, was by far the most difficult year of my life.

So, the ceremony itself was a relief, signaling the end of a difficult time. But if I allowed myself to put away the nonchalance and see the true nostalgia that hid underneath, I would know that I was haunted by the “what might have beens.” But there was one or two redeeming factors that made it worthwhile. One of the traditions at Heritage, because the school is so small, is to have each senior receiving a blessing. Sometimes they are just a big pat on the back for all the good things someone has done… but the better blessings look to the future and encourage the student to be better.

I think my blessing did that. Delivered by my teacher and friend Christian Amondson, who has taught me more in a year and a half than I ever dreamed possible, it told just as much about his character and the things that are important to him as much as it described me. This definitely was the highlight of my graduation, and I pray I live up to the person he sees me as.

Jasmine, you are the seeker… of justice and of truth. You possess a restless spirit, which yearns to know the right, the good, the what should be. You loathe the lie, yet know, that in this world, the lie has great power. And so you work. You work to know the truth, you work to seek justice, and you work to subvert the lie from below. Put simply: You work to know and follow the way of the cross.

Jasmine, it has been my great pleasure to be your teacher. Your thought provoking presence has been a constant source of challenge and encouragement to me. And I never cease in my amazement of your insatiable appetite for ideas. You eat books like a half-starved peasant at the King’s table: devouring, savoring, reaching for more. And with all happiness and sincerity I can say that you are twice the scholar I will ever be… just give it time.

Jasmine, with a hunger for justice and truth comes the danger of resentment, cynicism, and despair. Take heart in the theological virtues: Faith, Hope, and Love. Let them guide you on your quest. Remember, that truth must always be wedded to grace. If you can hold them together, you will be well on your way. For if it is the Lord’s justice and the Lord’s truth you seek, then they must take the form of a suffering and obedient love. This is a love at work behind the scenes, leading through example, giving in service without asking in return. I see these traits in you already… tend to them and they will grow.

Jasmine, God has a tight hold on you. It is a joy to watch him ignite and reignite his Spirit within you. Please just remember to not forget us all back here at home as you follow Him down The Road.

Philosophy and Liturgy: Ritual, Practice, and Embodied Wisdom

I was properly chastised for not having written a blog during my trip to Michigan. I did have some internet time while I was there, but to be honest blogging didn’t even cross my mind. But I am now trying to remedy that!

The most memorable thing really is the train rides. And meeting Jamie Smith face to face. That was pretty cool. Especially since he signed my book. But that wasn’t the only souvenir I brought home. Thanks to Frank, I now have a very *cough* beautiful sketch drawn of yours truly. Actually, it’s kind of hard to tell it’s me if you don’t know. Which is good, because otherwise I would be extremely ugly and manly looking.

But the conference itself… well it was over my head. The title is weighty in and of itself. Even with my education at Heritage providing me a great vocabulary and the capacity to think, it was beyond my scope. It was cool to see how those sort of conferences work, though, and what sort of people come to them. There were a lot of intelligent people who weren’t speakers, but could have been, and their questions at the end of each speaker’s presentation proved it. Philosophy as a discipline seems to appreciate individuals really well, I think. I heard a lot of comments like, “So-and-so’s work, which has been really important for such-and-such reason…” It was kind of encouraging, that this field of study is so focused on people and their ideas. Even if they totally tear someone’s thesis apart, it has sort of a loving-community sort of feel to it.

My one concern was that it was a very philosophical conference as opposed to a theological conference. I was kind of unaware that there was a wide difference between the two, but there seems to be (according to some people). It did over lap a bit, but most of the overlap occurred at the lunch and dinner time conversation, as opposed to the actual presentations. Apparently William Cavanaugh and Catherine Pickstock were invited as well, though, and they probably would have bridged the gap, but they declined the invitation.

So, in conclusion, I am glad I’m going to Calvin next year, and I’m excited to study with James K.A. Smith. And, I think I would ride the train again. But maybe just one direction, as opposed to a round trip. A total of four and a half days is a bit much for one trip.