Books: Surprised by Oxford

I came across Carolyn Weber’s blog when I was Googling “Maundy Thursday” and “liturgy.” I didn’t find any ideas for a Communion liturgy, but I found deeply thoughtful posts. I was so captivated by both the content and style of Carolyn’s writing that I promptly subscribed to her email newsletter.

I also read about her book Surprised by Oxford, and used our interlibrary loan program to request a copy. It came in right before I left on my business trip to Philadelphia, so I had wonderful reading material to occupy the hours I spent on the plane, in the airport, and evenings alone in my hotel room.

The book chronicles her year at Oxford University, a year of intellectual, personal, and spiritual growth. Carolyn is an excellent writer, and the book is fun to read simply to see the varied circumstances in which she finds herself, and how she deals with them. But the spiritual questions she grapples with make it far more than just good reading.

Life is good

Until Sunday, I had never heard of the company Life is good, which is perhaps not surprising considering that the company eschews conventional advertising. Instead, they grow based on word of mouth, and through the publicity generated by their work on behalf of children affected by poverty, violence, and illness.

Bert Jacobs, co-founder (together with his brother John) of Life is good, was the keynote speaker at the Ellucian Live conference I attended in Philadelphia this week. Bert’s story about the power of optimism is indeed inspiring, and it’s clear that his message – embodied in the grinning face of “Jake” on the products the company sells – resonates with people.

Redemption

Yours is the glory. Ours is the shame,
that made in Your image, we turned away
and acted so unlike You.

The Word made flesh, Jesus came,
bearing Your image. He showed the way
(made the way, is the Way)
to life as Your people.

Humbly grateful, we come in His name,
restored to Your image, to walk in Your way.
By grace we become holy.

Why Lent?

A Facebook friend posted a link to this column by Tom Chantry, and adds this comment: “How come many (most?) Reformed Baptists get this and many (most?) Presbyterians don’t?”

I’ve never been a Reformed Baptist (and during the years I was a Baptist I had no idea there was such a thing), but I’ve been a Presbyterian now for over twenty years, and the wife of a Presbyterian pastor for the last fifteen, so I have some idea about what Presbyterians think. And the approach to Lent that is decried in this column is foreign to my experience.

Why Ash Wednesday?

I took my usual lunchtime walk with a co-worker today. Remembering that she attends a Baptist church, I commented that I guessed they wouldn’t have an Ash Wednesday service this evening. She said no, and that it was too bad – Ash Wednesday is a tradition she appreciated when she belonged to a church that observed it.

I was a Baptist for a number of years, until I married a Presbyterian. I would see my Catholic co-workers come back to work after lunch on Ash Wednesday with black smudges on their foreheads, and I thought of Ash Wednesday as a Catholic thing.

(The Congregational church I grew up in had Ash Wednesday services, but I remember nothing about them. I didn’t really believe in Jesus back when I attended church there, and after I became a Baptist I dismissed anything the Congregational church did as empty ritual since they had not preached the Gospel clearly or cared much what people believed.)

The first time we attended a Presbyterian Ash Wednesday service where people were invited to receive ashes on the forehead, I declined. It was just too strange, too “Catholic.” I vaguely regretted not being able to bring myself to participate in that way, as it seemed meaningful to those who did.

By the time the next Ash Wednesday came around, I had come to appreciate Presbyterianism’s embrace of such traditions. Symbols are powerful in shaping our faith and our thinking, and an “embodied” symbol like a cross drawn with ashes on the forehead is that much more powerful.

A web page that does a good job of expressing what I find meaningful about Ash Wednesday is this Christianity FAQ. Another is this blog post, even though I would probably disagree with its writer, who calls herself a liberal Christian, on a number of theological points.

Interestingly, both point out that Ash Wednesday is one holiday that Hallmark will never co-opt as it has other Christian holidays. (I did discover, however, an Australian Hallmark website that not only includes Ash Wednesday in the list of holidays, but does a decent job explaining it.) Penitence and self-indulgent materialism just don’t mix. Perhaps that’s one of the best things about Ash Wednesday, and why we need it.

No bad prayer

I am currently reading two books on prayer, both to help with my own prayer life and because I am leading a small group study on prayer at church. When it came to choosing a topic for the small group, I was initially reluctant to consider a study on prayer. Certainly it’s an area where I need to grow. But how could I possibly lead such a study when my own prayer life is so inadequate?

As we talked about the new year, however, and the areas of our lives where we would like to see God do something new in us, I wasn’t the only one to have a concern about my prayer life. Perhaps, I thought, my own need in that regard was a reason to pursue a study on prayer more than a reason to avoid it.

I chose these two books, Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home by Richard Foster and The Folly of Prayer: Practicing the Presence and Absence of God by Matt Woodley, in part because I found discussion guides to these books available online (here and here). No doubt there are other good books out there I could have used, but based on the discussion guides I was confident the books were worth buying.

I’ve read plenty of books on prayer before, heard sermons, and done Bible studies. Usually I just end up feeling more inadequate, as I compare the poverty of my own prayer life with the examples of powerful prayer I read or hear about.

The meaning of salvation (part 3)

Several months ago, I purchased and read Simply Jesus by N.T. Wright. I had read reviews of some of his books and had been wanting to read at least one. When I read the description and reviews of Simply Jesus, I “simply” had to get it.

I did not immediately write a blog post about the book, partly because there is so much meat in the book that it is hard to do it justice, and also because I wanted to wait and see what long-term impact – if any – the book would have on me. Sadly, it’s very easy to be excited about a book that seems to change how you think about things, but then pretty soon to go on with daily life much as before.

I’ve been thinking about rereading the book, and then writing a blog post on it, but it was only reading another book that pushed me to do so. One morning at church when I had little to do (being a pastor’s wife means getting to church early and sometimes staying late afterward, and occasionally I forget to bring a book to read while I wait), I found an interesting book in the church’s small “library” (two bookshelves in the room used for fellowship and coffee hours).

The meaning of salvation (part 2)

One of the first things I was told I needed to do as a new Christian was share my faith. Since I preferred the company of books to people, and I rarely expressed my thoughts to anyone if I didn’t have to, this was very difficult for me.

One of the first and most difficult conversations was telling my mother about my new beliefs, as I knew my parents had a pretty low opinion of fundamentalist Christians. (I don’t remember telling my father anything; I assume my mother told him about it.) They had always insisted that my sister and I were to make our own choices, however, and they were surprisingly accepting of my going over to the fundamentalist “side”, if not exactly supportive.

In his comment on my previous post, modestypress says he “would feel less aversion to Christianity (or other religious beliefs) if there were less obsession with guilt (about our imaginary original sin Adam and Eve ancestors) and with an imaginary Hell, and with condemnation of people who do no harm (e. g. non-believers and homosexuals).” I’m sure my mother’s aversion to the fundamentalist version of Christianity was for much the same reasons.

The meaning of salvation (part 1)

One day in eighth grade, our English teacher wrote a list of eighteen ”values” on the blackboard. While I certainly don’t remember most of the list, it was probably something like the list of “terminal values” in the second column of this document. Our assignment was to rank these different values, from the highest at 1 to the lowest at 18, according to our personal views.

(If that sounds like it had little to do with English class, no, it didn’t. Our teacher did teach us some grammar, and we read and discussed Call of the Wild and various short stories in our reading textbook. But he was more interested in getting us to think deeply about life than whether we mastered the idiosyncrasies of the English language.)

As I looked over the list, my initial inclination was to assign number 18 to “salvation.” It wasn’t a word in my active vocabulary, as the church I had attended since I was a baby didn’t talk about it. I knew some churches did think salvation was important – whatever it was, but at that point I was an agnostic about both the existence of God and life after death.

Books: The Wisdom of Father Dowling

The Wisdom of Father Dowling is actually the second volume of Father Dowling short stories I have read. The first was The Compassion of Father Dowling, which I came across in the “new books” section of the library. I thought the name Father Dowling sounded vaguely familiar, though I didn’t recognize the author, Ralph McInerny. Now that I have heard of him (First Thoughts has an article summing up his life) and read some of his stories about Father Dowling, I look forward to reading more, especially the novels.

These stories are unlike most mysteries I have read in that relatively little of the story is devoted to tracking down clues. Father Dowling is, first and foremost, a priest, and he spends his time counseling parishioners, celebrating Mass, and whatever other duties go with the Catholic priesthood (something I know very little about). To the extent that he goes out to talk to people who may know something about the crime, it is to minister to their souls, or to get information that will help him better minister to someone else. Often, it seems that the people come to him, not to help solve the crime but to get relief from a guilty conscience.

Each story stands alone, as best as I can tell. That is, there are no references in one story to the events of another story, so there’s no way to assign them to any chronological order. I find myself wondering just how plausible it is that one parish priest could encounter so many murders among people of his flock or connected to them. Of course, the same is true of a lot of mystery series, though usually they try to give an explanation for this (easy when the protagonist is either a police or private detective) or at least acknowledge how unusual it is.

I have read reviews saying the stories are not very exciting – which is true. Whether because of the (short) length of the stories or because it is simply McInerny’s style, there is little suspense, though there certainly is mystery. The focus is more on the people than the storyline, but I have always liked stories where the characters matter at least as much as the plot. Naturally in a short story there isn’t a great deal of character development, and there were none that I felt sorry not to learn more about (as often happens in novels), but the characters are interesting.

I don’t know if the intended audience was people who had already read novels featuring Father Dowling, but I found some things a bit confusing until I had read several stories and figured out more details about the main characters and the town. McInerny also has a habit of tucking in brief flashbacks with no real transitions, which confused me at first but I got used to it. There is some understated humor, which I enjoy, though also some that I didn’t quite get (that is, I suspected there was humor involved but I wasn’t getting the point).

I was interested to note, on the flyleaf, that McInerny was a scholar as well as a novelist, and a prolific and successful writer in both arenas. I see he wrote quite a few books dealing with the teachings of Thomas Aquinas, which doesn’t greatly interest me, but I might try something like his A Student’s Guide to Philosophy. First, though, I’ll read one of his novels – of which our library has quite a few.