The silence here over the past week is pretty indicative of the fact that there just hasn't been much to write about. I will say that there are some potentially exciting new opportunities on the horizon with regard to employment, so I'm looking forward to seeing where these new roads lead. I've also been dealing with a combination of not being able to sleep at night and being exhausted all day; I'm hopeful this, too, will pass [soon].
I'm well into the first volume Wiesel's autobiography and have found it to be an amazing and powerful read. I've been amazed with the amount of regret and anguish he still feels over several events from his life (particularly from his childhood), and he does such an incredible job of writing vividly that it's been very easy for me to feel the pain he still feels: not really knowing his father until after they were taken to Auschwitz; wishing that he had taken advantage of those extra times to play with his little sister when she asked instead of sitting under a tree reading his books, and how that all came back so painfully at the instant she, along with his mother and grandmother, were taken straight off the transport and to their deaths; and many others along those lines. He also talks at some length about the struggles he experienced -- still experiences -- with his faith in God, his anger with God, his disappointment in what he perceived as God's inaction at times of crisis, and his overwhelming anger and sorrow that the people who knew what was happening to the Jews in Europe (the pope, world leaders, even other Jews) didn't do more to bring attention to that horror. I still have 2/3 of the book left to read, but I would already give this book a 5 out of 5 for its emotion, its sincerity, and the powerful, overwhelming story it tells.
Showing posts with label book reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label book reviews. Show all posts
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Saturday, June 09, 2007
A Disturbing, Dark, Powerful, Loving Read
During my recent foray into the world of reclusive authors, I ran across the name Cormac McCarthy. I hadn't ever heard of him before (which is a big reflection on how much I have avoided reading modern authors, preferring instead to stick to folks from the 1970s on back), and at best think I may have only heard fleeting mentions of a few of his books. However, not long after hearing his name, I learned that his most recent work, The Road, had been awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. For me, that's always been a good measuring stick for the quality of a book, so I went out and picked out a copy. (Sidebar: Thankfully, I bought it before Oprah named it as her book club selection; I'd never want to admit that I bought a book because Oprah said so! I will admit watching her recent interview with McCarthy on her show and being totally fascinated by him.)I finally got around to reading it two days ago, and finished just a few minutes ago. Without a doubt, it is one of the most haunting, disturbing, frightening, powerful, emotional, and loving books I have ever read -- and yes, you're going to be hit by each of these as you read it. Despite the fact that it is almost 300 pages, McCarthy's writing style is such that it is a very easy read, and I was able to devour large chunks of the book at each sitting. Not having read any of his other books, I'm not sure how his style has changed or evolved over the years, but I thought that this was a good introduction for me to his work.
I won't summarize it here, hoping instead that you'll go to the bookstore or library and pick up a copy to read. All I will say is that it will hit you hard no matter who you are, but if you are a parent then you'll need to prepare yourself; it's a tremendous story of love between a father and son and shows the great and nearly impossible (and unexpected) lengths to which any parent will go to protect their child. And throughout my reading of the entire book, I only saw one color in my mind -- gray.
If you've read it, please tell me what you thought. I'll be interested in seeing how the movie (someone recently purchased the rights to develop a script from the book) will trasfer McCarthy's words to the screen. For those interested in reading more, this website has a list of reviews of "The Road" from a wide variety of newspapers, and nearly all of them have rated it highly.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Musings on Buechner, Growing Up, and the Voice of Life
I'm close to finishing yet another amazing book, The Sacred Journey, written by Frederick Buechner (and the first of his three autobiographical volumes). For those who may not be aware, Buechner is an ordained Presbyterian minister and writer whose works -- particularly his collections of sermons -- have provided inspiration to millions of people, clerics and laity alike, around the world. This first book focuses on the early part of his life, from childhood through early adulthood.
Two particular ideas that Buechner sets out in telling his life story jumped out me as worth reflecting on, and so I'd like to take a moment to do just that.
First, one of the major themes threading through the book, and a lesson that Buechner says he learned for himself as he has progressed through life, is that one should always listen to the sounds of their life. As he says after running through an example of the sounds (what many would refer to as noises) he was listening to in his house at a particular moment, "We must learn to listen to the cock-crows and hammering and tick-tock of our lives for the holy and elusive word that is spoken to use out of their depths."
How often do we indeed take time to listen to what is going on in our lives? As I have discovered in my discernment process, I am an introvert, tending to draw much of my strength from solitude, and I use my love of music -- something I have had since I was a child -- as a tool to help drown out the distractions of life. Whether it be going to or coming from work, or trying to get to sleep at night, or sitting and reading on the front porch, I am pretty much always playing music; until now, I thought it was to help relax me. In truth, it appears to be simply a manner of pulling within myself to refresh and escape the noise of life.
But why should we avoid the cacophony of what is going on around us? Why should we not take in (without eavesdropping) the conversations going on around us? Why shouldn't we accept and be attuned to the sounds of the birds in the trees, or the cars driving by on the street, or the airplanes flying overhead? As Buechner points out, we should do that very thing: "...all those sounds together, or others like them, are the sound of our lives. What each of them might be thought to mean separately is less important than what they all mean together. At the very least they mean this: mean listen. Listen. Your life is happening. You are happening."
The 21st century world in which we live has, for good or bad, become a very type A world (a trait that I fear I have acquired during my professional career). Because of that, people all too often focus on the immediate task at hand, complete it, and rush to the next problem or obstacle or assignment to clear it off their list. In doing this, we miss so much -- hurrying to get the garbage to the curb in the morning just as the garbage truck rumbles up the street prevents us from hearing the birds sitting on a wire overhead who are observing us running around. Hurrying through the neighborhood on the way to work could easily keep us from hearing the laughter of children enjoying their summer vacation.
Buechner reminds us that "at moments of even the most humdrum of our days, God speaks." It's a truly valuable lesson, and one that I think that all of us should try to remember; in the noise and in the silence, God is talking to us. At the very least, we should take time to stop and listen to what he is saying.
------------------------------
Another important story in Sacred Journey deals with the transition that we all must make from being a child to being an adult. In describing childhood, Buechner writes, "...for a child all time is by and large now time and apparently endless...It is by its content rather than its duration that a child knows time, by its quality rather than its quantity." Reading these words brought me to a very reflective point, where I was thinking back to how timeless my own childhood was: the summer nights out in the yard that we some of the most enjoyable times of the year; the Christmas Eve dinners at my grandparents house that ended so late that, when we left their house, the cold, clear December air was lit with the twinkle of millions of stars; the long walks and playtime in the woods that were the highlight of my week; the parties and games with my friends -- all of these provided memories that I still carry with me to this day.
I never thought those times would end. As slowly as life seemed to be progressing for me, I never thought I would so quickly move to being nearly 40, having a family, having responsibilities, and having to make my way in the world without the luxury of Mom and Dad and the old house to come home to every evening. Those times do end, though; "...it starts at whatever moment it is at which the unthinking and timeless innocence of childhood ends, which may be either a dramatic moment...or a moment or series of moments so subtle and undramatic that we scarcely recognize them." I don't know when that time was for me, and honestly I think it falls more into the series of moments to which Buechner is referring. Even now, so many years later, I miss the part of my life where time didn't matter, where I was sure that all of the tough decisions affecting my life would be made for me, and where I didn't have to worry about growing up and moving out into the world.
At times, I still try and recapture that feeling -- going back to visit that one special former home, or taking a walk through the woods that were so important as a child, or revisiting the places that held such significance in the years that I was growing up. Even now, at 36, there are still moments where I have difficulty accepting that time is flying by so quickly. Part of me still longs for the time where it didn't matter to me that (paraphrasing Buechner) that there were clocks and calendars all around that were "counting my time out like money."
But as often as I've heard it in my life, you really can't go home again -- or, as Buechner writes, "We cannot live our lives constantly looking back, listening back, lest we be turned to pillars of longing and regret, but to live without listening at all is to live deaf to the fullness of the music." The lesson here is not to try to relive the individual moments that make up your life, but to listen to the overall story that God has crafted by speaking in those moments. That's one of the most amazing things that has come out of my discernment process -- learning to hear the voice of God and find the movement of the Spirit in my life. The joy from that is even greater than the joy of having lived the life.
Two particular ideas that Buechner sets out in telling his life story jumped out me as worth reflecting on, and so I'd like to take a moment to do just that.
First, one of the major themes threading through the book, and a lesson that Buechner says he learned for himself as he has progressed through life, is that one should always listen to the sounds of their life. As he says after running through an example of the sounds (what many would refer to as noises) he was listening to in his house at a particular moment, "We must learn to listen to the cock-crows and hammering and tick-tock of our lives for the holy and elusive word that is spoken to use out of their depths."
How often do we indeed take time to listen to what is going on in our lives? As I have discovered in my discernment process, I am an introvert, tending to draw much of my strength from solitude, and I use my love of music -- something I have had since I was a child -- as a tool to help drown out the distractions of life. Whether it be going to or coming from work, or trying to get to sleep at night, or sitting and reading on the front porch, I am pretty much always playing music; until now, I thought it was to help relax me. In truth, it appears to be simply a manner of pulling within myself to refresh and escape the noise of life.
But why should we avoid the cacophony of what is going on around us? Why should we not take in (without eavesdropping) the conversations going on around us? Why shouldn't we accept and be attuned to the sounds of the birds in the trees, or the cars driving by on the street, or the airplanes flying overhead? As Buechner points out, we should do that very thing: "...all those sounds together, or others like them, are the sound of our lives. What each of them might be thought to mean separately is less important than what they all mean together. At the very least they mean this: mean listen. Listen. Your life is happening. You are happening."
The 21st century world in which we live has, for good or bad, become a very type A world (a trait that I fear I have acquired during my professional career). Because of that, people all too often focus on the immediate task at hand, complete it, and rush to the next problem or obstacle or assignment to clear it off their list. In doing this, we miss so much -- hurrying to get the garbage to the curb in the morning just as the garbage truck rumbles up the street prevents us from hearing the birds sitting on a wire overhead who are observing us running around. Hurrying through the neighborhood on the way to work could easily keep us from hearing the laughter of children enjoying their summer vacation.
Buechner reminds us that "at moments of even the most humdrum of our days, God speaks." It's a truly valuable lesson, and one that I think that all of us should try to remember; in the noise and in the silence, God is talking to us. At the very least, we should take time to stop and listen to what he is saying.
------------------------------
Another important story in Sacred Journey deals with the transition that we all must make from being a child to being an adult. In describing childhood, Buechner writes, "...for a child all time is by and large now time and apparently endless...It is by its content rather than its duration that a child knows time, by its quality rather than its quantity." Reading these words brought me to a very reflective point, where I was thinking back to how timeless my own childhood was: the summer nights out in the yard that we some of the most enjoyable times of the year; the Christmas Eve dinners at my grandparents house that ended so late that, when we left their house, the cold, clear December air was lit with the twinkle of millions of stars; the long walks and playtime in the woods that were the highlight of my week; the parties and games with my friends -- all of these provided memories that I still carry with me to this day.
I never thought those times would end. As slowly as life seemed to be progressing for me, I never thought I would so quickly move to being nearly 40, having a family, having responsibilities, and having to make my way in the world without the luxury of Mom and Dad and the old house to come home to every evening. Those times do end, though; "...it starts at whatever moment it is at which the unthinking and timeless innocence of childhood ends, which may be either a dramatic moment...or a moment or series of moments so subtle and undramatic that we scarcely recognize them." I don't know when that time was for me, and honestly I think it falls more into the series of moments to which Buechner is referring. Even now, so many years later, I miss the part of my life where time didn't matter, where I was sure that all of the tough decisions affecting my life would be made for me, and where I didn't have to worry about growing up and moving out into the world.
At times, I still try and recapture that feeling -- going back to visit that one special former home, or taking a walk through the woods that were so important as a child, or revisiting the places that held such significance in the years that I was growing up. Even now, at 36, there are still moments where I have difficulty accepting that time is flying by so quickly. Part of me still longs for the time where it didn't matter to me that (paraphrasing Buechner) that there were clocks and calendars all around that were "counting my time out like money."
But as often as I've heard it in my life, you really can't go home again -- or, as Buechner writes, "We cannot live our lives constantly looking back, listening back, lest we be turned to pillars of longing and regret, but to live without listening at all is to live deaf to the fullness of the music." The lesson here is not to try to relive the individual moments that make up your life, but to listen to the overall story that God has crafted by speaking in those moments. That's one of the most amazing things that has come out of my discernment process -- learning to hear the voice of God and find the movement of the Spirit in my life. The joy from that is even greater than the joy of having lived the life.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Review of Barbara Brown Taylor's "Leaving Church"
After just two days, I finished reading Barbara Brown Taylor's latest book, Leaving Church, and I was so amazed and overwhelmed by what it contained that I felt I should make an attempt at a review. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I had read a review which included the statement that this book should be required reading for someone considering the ordained ministry. With the reading done, I can say that I agree wholeheartedly with that thought -- but I would take it a step further and say that it should be required reading for anyone who is in the midst of their own spiritual journey. Already, my copy is marked by many of those colored page markers, and I know that every subsequent reading is only going to provide me with the opportunity for more underlining, more highlighting, and more reflection.
The book appealed to me on many different levels, and unfortunately there wouldn't be any way that I could possibly try and cover them all -- it truthfully is something that is best discovered by taking the time to read it yourself. However, I do want to try and touch on some of the ideas and thoughts that jumped out at me. On one of the most basic levels, the story appealed to me because the church where she was rector -- Grace-Calvary Episcopal Church in Clarkesville, Georgia -- reminds me in so many ways of the small country church in Virginia I attended in my teen years. Several important components were there: a small and tightly-knit congregation -- in fact, more of a loving family than a mere congregation; a historic old building; and a rich history and presence in the community. More than that, though, Rev. Taylor's description of her time there -- from her first Sunday to her last -- displayed vividly that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit were all present and constantly moving through the church and the lives of those who attended.
As someone who has only recently been introduced to Rev. Taylor's work, I approached the book with an enthusiasm based solely on the positive comments that many others have made to me about her writing. However, nothing could have adequately prepared me for the powerful emotions I felt from the first page to the last. I could relate on such a deep level with so many of the emotions she experienced and feelings she felt, particularly as she completed seminary and came to the realization that the ordained ministry was for her. Reading about her experiences brought even more focus and clarity to the call I am feeling now: my desire to share my gifts and talents with a vibrant, growing, changing faith community; my desire to be a companion, a teacher, a friend, and a support for a congregation of people engaged in their own journeys, great and small; and my desire to come into a closer relationship with God, a deeper understanding of the life of Christ, and a greater awareness of the power and beauty of the spirit.
There are several sections where she discusses her great love of the outdoors -- remembering her childhood experiences and, later, relating the extreme pull to the property that she and her husband Ed bought outside Clarkesville and where they made their home. For three very important years of my early life, I lived on a 200-acre farm, and I cannot think of any time in my life where I was happier than having the freedom to explore the woods, wander the fields, and just enjoy the solitude and the sights and sounds of nature. I didn't realize it at the time, but it is impossible to get a full sense of God's presence in the world unless you are out in the world and experiencing every bit of it (sucking the marrow from life, as I believe the line from "Dead Poets' Society" went).
At its very core, though, the true power of the book -- aside from the power of the Spirit -- comes from the power of her words. Again, it would take a thorough reading to understand both the meaning and the context of what she has to say, but here are just a few examples of the beautiful, powerful, instructional, and loving words of Rev. Taylor:
"I did truly love helping people. It was not only chief among the reasons I had decided to seek ordination; it was also, I believed, why I had been born. To help lift a burden, to help light a path, to help heal a hurt, to help seek a truth -- these struck me as the sorts of things that human beings were created to do for one another...." (p. 47)
"I know that the Bible is a special kind of book, but I find it as seductive as any other. If I am not careful, I can begin to mistake the words on the page for the realities they describe. I can begin to love the dried ink marks on the page more than I love the encounters that gave rise to them." (p. 107)
"Those who became ordained were not presented with Moses or Miriam as our models, so that we could imagine ourselves as flawed human beings still willing to lead people through the wilderness. We were not presented with Peter or Mary Magdalene as our models, so that we could imagine ourselves as imperfect disciples still able to serve at our Lord's right hand. Instead, we were called to fill in for Jesus at the communion table, standing where he once stood and saying what he once said. We were called to preach his gospel and feed his sheep." (p. 150)
I really feel that this book is a love letter in the truest sense of the word: a love letter to her husband, Ed; a love letter to her parishes in Atlanta and Clarkesville; a love letter to her students at Piedmont College. Above all else, though, I think it is a love letter to God -- the God who was patient through her own faith journey and her joyful acceptance of the Episcopal Church, the God who nurtured her through seminary and the ordination process, the God who guided her through many years of active ministry, and the God who held her hand and put an arm around her shoulders as she came to grips with the difficult decision to leave the smaller church and live more fully in the larger, more universal church.
Buy this book, read this book, and share this book!! You will be blessed beyond measure, be taught by an extremely talented and wonderful writer and minister, and be moved to the point where you yourself feel like you have taken the journey with Rev. Taylor and have come out the other side having grown and become a stronger and more aware Christian -- both self-aware and aware of the power moving through the world.
The book appealed to me on many different levels, and unfortunately there wouldn't be any way that I could possibly try and cover them all -- it truthfully is something that is best discovered by taking the time to read it yourself. However, I do want to try and touch on some of the ideas and thoughts that jumped out at me. On one of the most basic levels, the story appealed to me because the church where she was rector -- Grace-Calvary Episcopal Church in Clarkesville, Georgia -- reminds me in so many ways of the small country church in Virginia I attended in my teen years. Several important components were there: a small and tightly-knit congregation -- in fact, more of a loving family than a mere congregation; a historic old building; and a rich history and presence in the community. More than that, though, Rev. Taylor's description of her time there -- from her first Sunday to her last -- displayed vividly that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit were all present and constantly moving through the church and the lives of those who attended.
As someone who has only recently been introduced to Rev. Taylor's work, I approached the book with an enthusiasm based solely on the positive comments that many others have made to me about her writing. However, nothing could have adequately prepared me for the powerful emotions I felt from the first page to the last. I could relate on such a deep level with so many of the emotions she experienced and feelings she felt, particularly as she completed seminary and came to the realization that the ordained ministry was for her. Reading about her experiences brought even more focus and clarity to the call I am feeling now: my desire to share my gifts and talents with a vibrant, growing, changing faith community; my desire to be a companion, a teacher, a friend, and a support for a congregation of people engaged in their own journeys, great and small; and my desire to come into a closer relationship with God, a deeper understanding of the life of Christ, and a greater awareness of the power and beauty of the spirit.
There are several sections where she discusses her great love of the outdoors -- remembering her childhood experiences and, later, relating the extreme pull to the property that she and her husband Ed bought outside Clarkesville and where they made their home. For three very important years of my early life, I lived on a 200-acre farm, and I cannot think of any time in my life where I was happier than having the freedom to explore the woods, wander the fields, and just enjoy the solitude and the sights and sounds of nature. I didn't realize it at the time, but it is impossible to get a full sense of God's presence in the world unless you are out in the world and experiencing every bit of it (sucking the marrow from life, as I believe the line from "Dead Poets' Society" went).
At its very core, though, the true power of the book -- aside from the power of the Spirit -- comes from the power of her words. Again, it would take a thorough reading to understand both the meaning and the context of what she has to say, but here are just a few examples of the beautiful, powerful, instructional, and loving words of Rev. Taylor:
"I did truly love helping people. It was not only chief among the reasons I had decided to seek ordination; it was also, I believed, why I had been born. To help lift a burden, to help light a path, to help heal a hurt, to help seek a truth -- these struck me as the sorts of things that human beings were created to do for one another...." (p. 47)
"I know that the Bible is a special kind of book, but I find it as seductive as any other. If I am not careful, I can begin to mistake the words on the page for the realities they describe. I can begin to love the dried ink marks on the page more than I love the encounters that gave rise to them." (p. 107)
"Those who became ordained were not presented with Moses or Miriam as our models, so that we could imagine ourselves as flawed human beings still willing to lead people through the wilderness. We were not presented with Peter or Mary Magdalene as our models, so that we could imagine ourselves as imperfect disciples still able to serve at our Lord's right hand. Instead, we were called to fill in for Jesus at the communion table, standing where he once stood and saying what he once said. We were called to preach his gospel and feed his sheep." (p. 150)
I really feel that this book is a love letter in the truest sense of the word: a love letter to her husband, Ed; a love letter to her parishes in Atlanta and Clarkesville; a love letter to her students at Piedmont College. Above all else, though, I think it is a love letter to God -- the God who was patient through her own faith journey and her joyful acceptance of the Episcopal Church, the God who nurtured her through seminary and the ordination process, the God who guided her through many years of active ministry, and the God who held her hand and put an arm around her shoulders as she came to grips with the difficult decision to leave the smaller church and live more fully in the larger, more universal church.
Buy this book, read this book, and share this book!! You will be blessed beyond measure, be taught by an extremely talented and wonderful writer and minister, and be moved to the point where you yourself feel like you have taken the journey with Rev. Taylor and have come out the other side having grown and become a stronger and more aware Christian -- both self-aware and aware of the power moving through the world.
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