One More Quote from Live Not By Lies

Accepting suffering is the beginning of our liberation. Suffering can be a source of great strength. It gives us the power to resist. It is a gift from God that invites us to change. To start a revolution against oppression. But for me, the oppressor was no longer the totalitarian communist regime. It’s not even the progressive liberal state. Meeting these hidden heroes [of the Czechoslovakian underground] started a revolution against the greatest totalitarian ruler of all: myself.

Documentary filmmaker Timo Krizka, quoted in Live Not By Lies by Rod Dreher, p. 211

More Quotes About Suffering

Taking up your cross and carrying it is always going to be uncomfortable. We can say clearly that this current ideology of comfort is anti-Christian in its very essence. But we should point out the fact that the church, not once, ever called its followers to look for suffering, and even made it clear that they are warned not to do that. But if a person finds himself in a situation where he’s suffering, then he should bear it with courage.

Father Kirill Kaleda, quoted in Live Not by Lies by Rod Dreher, pp. 194 – 195

Quote: “Your suffering is like a seal”

Suffering is a part of every human’s life. We don’t know why we suffer. But your suffering is like a seal. If you put that seal on your actions, interestingly enough, people start to wonder about your truth — that maybe you are right about God. In one sense, it’s a mystery, because the Evil One wants to persuade us that there is a life without suffering. First you have to live through it, and then you try to pass on the value of suffering, because suffering has a value.

Maria Komaromi, quoted in Live Not by Lies by Rod Dreher, pp. 186 – 187

Quote about something scary: Adolescence

Adolescence is a time of expanding spirituality; parents must never underestimate its authenticity or its intensity. But adolescent spirituality is not wise, it is not well formed, it is not mature. We accept the witness of our adolescents to the emphatic presence and necessity of spirituality at the center of our lives, but we do not to look to adolescents to guide us in matters of spirituality. It is essential to distinguish between the two elements. We are completely attentive to the witness of their lives; but we are detached and discerning regarding whatever they have to say on the matter. Like the canary to the miners, they are a signal that we notice, not a model that we imitate.

Like Dew Your Youth: Growing Up with Your Teenager, by Eugene H. Peterson, p. 89

Dorothy Sayers on Sacrificing for your Work

To feel sacrifice consciously as self-sacrifice argues a failure in love. When a job is undertaken from necessity, or from a grim sense of disagreeable duty, the worker is self-consciously aware of the toils and pains he undergoes, and will say: “I have made such and such sacrifices for this.”

But when the job is a labor of love, the sacrifices will present themselves to the worker — strange as it may seem — in the guise of enjoyment.

Moralists, looking on at this, will always judge that the former kind of sacrifice is more admirable than the latter, because the moralist, whatever he may pretend, has far more respect for pride than for love.

I do not mean that there is no nobility in doing unpleasant things from a sense of duty, but only that there is more nobility in doing them gladly out of sheer love of the job. The Puritan thinks otherwise; he is inclined to say, “Of course, So-and-So works very hard and has given up a good deal for such-and-such a cause, but there’s no merit in that — he enjoys it.” The merit, of course, lies precisely in the enjoyment, and the nobility of So-and-So consists in the very fact that he is the kind of person to whom the doing of that piece of work is delightful.

Dorothy Sayers, The Mind of the Maker, pp. 134 – 135

Bonus Book Excerpt

This excerpt is from my upcoming book, The Great Snake. If you don’t like spoilers, feel free to skip today’s post.

Background: Many years ago, shortly after Jai had gotten married, Jai’s mother died after giving birth to a baby girl, Klee. Jai took Klee and raised her as his own daughter. His wife, Amal, was jealous of the baby and never liked her. When Klee was a teenager, she ran away from home. The fallout from this blew up Jai’s marriage, and he is now camping out in an abandoned house that used to belong to his father, Endu. While there, he gets a visit from the tribal shaman, Ikash, his little brother.

As soon as he was strong enough to walk around and visit relatives, Ikash went to see his brother.

This required going to his father’s old house, because that was where Jai was staying. Ikash had been inside Endu’s house plenty of times during the four years since the founding of the village, but it had by no means become a second home to him. He had never felt he understood the inner workings of the family his father had built with young Dira, who was only a year older than Ikash himself. All he knew about their family was that it felt different. Different from the one he had grown up in. And so the house had never been exactly homelike.

But now, it was completely alien.

Endu’s house was a cavernous rectangle. The door, set in the middle, gave on to a great central hall. On either end of this were smaller rooms where the family slept. This time, when Ikash entered the central hall, he found it completely filled with the dark, fragrant bulk of drying wood planks. The planks were stacked in hollow boxes with aisles in between. They rose nearly to the ceiling and gave the place a completely different feel. One’s view was blocked, making the place seem even bigger.

His dog, Frost, was at his side. She scrabbled her toenails on the wooden floor and then began to sniff around, cautiously, as if in a new place. Ikash put a calming hand on her back and muttered a command to stay with him.

He called out for his brother.

Instead of echoing, the words seemed to be eaten by the stacked wood.

It was evening and Ikash had it on good authority that Jai was here, bedding down for the night. He must be in one of the side rooms. Ikash picked an aisle at random and began advancing towards the side of the house where Endu had usually slept. He almost felt as if he ought to have a weapon with him, as if he was stepping into an ambush. That, of course, was ridiculous.

He came into sight of the end of the aisle. There he could see the wall, and the door to Endu’s old bedroom. Jai was sitting with his back against the doorframe. He had a stone fire-basin on the floor in front of him, and he was warming his feet at the fire. His big skinny brown dog lay at his side. The fire cast a long shadow from Jai’s sharp nose and lit up a section of the wall around him.

A few steps from the end of the aisle, the firelight fell on Ikash and Frost. Jai squinted, said sharply, “Father? Is that you?” and scrambled to his feet.

“It’s me, brother.”

“Oh, God,” said Jai, visibly relieved. “Of course. It’s Ikash.” He invited his brother to sit down. Then he apologized for his mistake. “I thought for a second you were his ghost. You looked so much like him.”

“I don’t look like Father.”

“You do, though, now that you’ve gotten so skinny. I thought you might be his spirit.”

“I’m not, but thanks for the compliment.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to offer you,” said Jai. “I don’t keep food in this house generally. I had supper at the central fire.”

“I thought that might be the case, and I brought something.”

Ikash had with him a small satchel containing cakes that his wife had made using cornmeal, cattail-root starch, and last year’s dried berries. He brought them out and shared them with his brother, his brother’s dog, and his own dog.

He noted with surprise that this brought tears to Jai’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He too had been brought to tears, once upon a time, by the simple fact of someone cooking something special for him.

They sat in silence for a long time. Ikash kept waiting for Jai to speak, but he didn’t. He seemed too preoccupied to wish his younger brother a good recovery, if indeed he was even aware that his brother had been sick.

At last the shaman said, “How do you like this house, brother?”

Jai had a small, narrow face topped with his father’s long almond-shaped eyes. He now turned the face toward his brother and those eyes gave out their trademark flat stare that might have been hostile or incredulous.

“No, of course I don’t like this house. This isn’t a house at all. It’s a goddam warehouse. I am living here because I can’t live in my own house any more. I am homeless. That’s how I like it.”

He snorted.

Ikash drew a breath, but his brother wasn’t finished.

“And I am living here because, as I think you know, I was kicked out of my own house by your wife’s sister and her goddam family. I’ve been replaced by my mother-in-law. That’s how things are going. And you know what the chief is like, you know the way he is about his daughters. I doubt he’d let me back into that house if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes.” The syllable was bitter, but it nearly broke at the end.

“Tell me more,” said the shaman.

Jai spoke for several minutes about his wife. He was clearly angry with her, mostly for being so angry with him. He was also very lonely. Endu’s house was spooky and unhappy, a far worse place to sleep than sleeping outdoors during a hunt.

Ikash nodded. He had felt the menace as he was walking through the drying wood stacks. He did not wonder that his brother had expected to see a ghost. Jai had the dog with him, that was the saving grace, but even he didn’t want to live here forever.

Ikash said, “What if you were to reconcile with my wife’s older sister?”

Jai stopped dead in his ranting and his long dark eyes looked sideways.

“Is that even possible?”

“Perhaps,” said the shaman. He had not spoken with Amal and knew little about her mental state.

“She insists that I not blame her for our sister leaving. But I have to. She mistreated Klee horribly. I didn’t think it meant so much at the time – she never beat her – but I was wrong. Girls are more sensitive, brother. All it takes to drive them away is words. Now I can’t believe that I let Amal turn her against me. I wish I had put a stop to it at once.”

“How would you have done that, brother?”

“I … don’t know.”

Silence descended as both brothers slowly realized that if Jai had tried to put a stop to it, it would only have brought on this very situation several years earlier.

“I’ve been a terrible father,” said Jai.

“You are not finished being a father.”

“To Klee.”

“You gave her a home, kept her fed and clothed, kept her alive as she grew. Now she is grown and gone. Married. As she would have done in any case.”

“That is true, brother.”

“Do you remember when we were young and we wanted to get out and explore?”

Jai got a fierce, faraway look and said nothing. After a moment he said, “Are you saying that I haven’t failed her?”

“Perhaps not as completely as she thinks.”

“But she hates Amal and me.”

“But she is alive and whole.”

“You are right,” said Jai. “Let her hate us if it makes her happy. I am still her brother.”

“She hates me, too,” said Ikash helpfully.

“And you hate our father.”

“No, brother, I don’t.”

“Well, you think he is dangerous, and a bad man.”

“In many ways, he is.”

“He was a great father,” said Jai. “I still don’t know how his house got so sad and ghosty. I can’t understand it.” He shook his head silently for a few moments, and then said, “Brother … I feel as if …” And then with a very fierce look, “Do not mock me.”

“I won’t.”

“I feel as if,” said Jai, stroking the dog and not meeting his brother’s eye, “As if, were I to … truly let Klee go … I’d be failing our mother. Again.”

And Ikash took a sharp breath as if he had been stabbed, but did not reply.

This was too big a matter for words, so the two of them sat in silence a time.

“But she is grown,” said Jai then. “Not dead, but grown. Do you really think I can reconcile with my wife?”

“Maybe it is possible,” said the shaman carefully. “I think … I think it might be necessary that the two of you stop talking about Klee. I know that … I realize what that … means to you. But you may need to do it if you want to reconcile with your wife. Perhaps you can sort of … start over.”

Jai’s face softened. “Start over,” he murmured. “If she agrees to start over …, would you do some sort of ceremony for us?”

“I’d be honored.”

His intercession did not make all come right immediately. But Jai began to make overtures towards reconciling with Amal. In the early summer, Ikash did a reconciliation ceremony for his brother and sister-in-law that involved smoke and sacrifices. Everyone was as happy as if it were a wedding. At that time, it had been exactly a year since Klee found out the truth about her parentage.

Not long after this, the tribe performed on Endu’s house what might be described as an extreme form of spring cleaning. The seasoned wood was removed and re-stacked in a dry outdoor location, with a temporary cattail roof overhead to protect it from rains. The house itself was then dismantled. Some of the timber was salvaged, but most of it, the “ghosty” part, was burned. Ikash performed a purifying ceremony over the land where the house had been. The newly seasoned timber was then used to make a tribal meeting hall. The remnants of Endu’s house were used in a remodeling project that Jai and Amal were undertaking.

The Angel is Not Impressed: A Poem

Were you bitter, Zechariah? Many fruitless years had you

asked and asked God for a child, just to see your prayers fall through?

Standing slack-jawed at the altar, towering o’er you, Gabriel’s face:

not a chance you could have doubted God’s real power in that place.

But those dark years were your downfall, and your anger was your sin.

Now’s my chance, your sad heart whispered, Just to get one good dig in.

“It’s too late — You should have given us a baby long ago!”

Any man could understand it, but not the angel Gabriel.

Bitter mouths ought to be silenced, so the angel struck you dumb.

And so, dazed and unhappy, out into the light you come.

In a comedy of errors, Luke says you “kept making signs,”

till those gathered came to realize God had come to you inside.

Sometimes silence is a blessing. Yours was not empty but full

as you watched your once-hard neighbors come to wish Elizabeth well,

like an acorn dead below ground till its time comes to unfurl.

Nine months dumb, your mouth was ready to unsay its bitter ways:

Ready to croon to a baby, ready to explode in praise.

Theology Friday

I just finished reading the book of Job. Again. I swear, it is so amazing. Here’s what G.K. Chesterton had to say about it:

The Jews were unpopular … [but] … They had one of the colossal corner-stones of the world: the Book of Job. It obviously stands over against the Iliad and the Greek tragedies; and even more than they it was an early meeting and parting of poetry and philosophy in the morning of the world. … But this mighty monotheistic poem remained unremarked by the whole world of antiquity … It is a sign of the way in which the Jews stood apart and kept their tradition unshaken and unshared, that they should have kept a thing like the Book of Job out of the whole intellectual world of antiquity. It is as if the Egyptians had modestly concealed the Great Pyramid.

G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man, chapter IV: ‘God and Comparative Religion’

Job is Not Just About One Thing

So what makes the book of Job so great? There are so many things, and there is so much going on in it. This makes it kind of difficult to follow, especially on a first reading, especially if you are looking for one overarching theme that is easily discovered. Everybody has their say in Job, and the reader just kind of has to go along for the ride.

And, continuing with the perhaps rather inappropriate metaphor of a long, twisty water-slide, everybody talks about the big waterfall at the end, but maybe this time you almost drowned in the innocent-looking swirly pool, or you thought you were going to tip off when going around that one curve right at the top. Different parts of the book of Job jump-scare you on each separate ride through it.

So what jump-scared me this time?

On Being Gaslighted

Being gaslighted puts people in a terrible spot really. It might not bother a sociopath, because such a person does not have any self-doubt, any respect for the opinions of others, or any sense that it is wise to consider the possibility that we may be wrong. But for a person with a modicum of humility and self-awareness, the natural response to being gaslighted is to turn the spotlight inward and ask yourself, “Am I in fact wrong?”

Then, when careful examination assures you that you are not mistaken, yet the gaslighter is still insisting that you are, you have to betray one of two moral values. You have to either stand up for your own perspective, thus betraying the principle of humble and prudent self-doubt, or you have to betray the idea of truth. The longer the gaslighting goes on, the more frustrating this pinch becomes.

As surely as God lives, who has denied me justice,

the Almighty, who has made me taste bitterness of soul,

as long as I have life within me,

the breath of God in my nostrils,

my lips will not speak wickedness,

and my tongue will utter no deceit.

I will never admit that you are in the right;

till I die, I will not deny my integrity.

I will maintain my righteousness and never let go of it;

my conscience will not reproach me as long as I live.

Job 27:2 – 6

Now, despite the words “righteousness” and “conscience” here, I do not think that Job is making an arrogant claim to be currently sinless and never going to sin as long as he lives. In other verses, he has shown that he is aware he is sinful. For example, in 13:26 he addresses God, “You write down bitter things against me and make me inherit the sins of my youth.” In 14:16 – 17 he says, “Surely then You will count my steps but not keep track of my sin. My offenses will be sealed up in a bag; you will cover over my sin.” He is aware that “no one living can be righteous before God,” and he portrays God as watching him every moment, waiting for him to make a misstep (10:13 – 14), which is technically within God’s rights but, as Job points out, no one can withstand.

In other passages, Job indicates that if his friends were to rightly point out something that he had done wrong, he would submit to it. But what he’s not willing to do is allow them to accuse him of a bunch of things he knows he has not done: oppressing the poor, living a careless, selfish life, defying God, etc., etc. This has not been Job’s lifestyle, and he knows it.

So I think that when Job uses the word integrity in the passage above, he is talking about epistemology. He will not deny his integrity by “admitting they are right,” not because he’s an arrogant blowhard who won’t take correction, but because he has done self-examination — a lot of it — and the things they are saying are just not true. It might be easier in some ways to just go ahead and “admit” to all the things his friends are accusing him of, but that would be to throw out his entire epistemology, which includes the assumption that certain things are true, and that Job is capable of perceiving and remembering them. Giving up the epistemological point that truth is discoverable and that Job is not delusional, would be to betray his integrity. I believe that in the lines below, he is using “righteousness” and “conscience” as synonyms for “integrity” in the sense of epistemological integrity. I believe that in the lines above, when he says he will “speak no wickedness” and “utter no deceit,” he is saying he will not give up on his idea of the truth being a real thing and his own mind being a reliable guide to it, which he would be doing if he were to agree with all that his friends have been saying about him.

Obviously, admitting you are wrong is not a betrayal of the value of truth in every case. In many cases, valuing truth can lead us to admit we are wrong. But Job has examined their claims for 24 chapters now, and he has realized he is being gaslighted. He even realizes that, following their logic, his not being an evil oppressor creates a logical inconsistency with the idea that God is just. He is willing to take the puzzle rather than deny what he knows to be true. He is also not worried about looking like an arrogant blowhard. They have already called him that and worse. He’s just not willing to give up this last shred of dignity, that he knows what his lifestyle has been like and it has not been one of habitual wickedness.

I’ll let you make your own applications of all of this. The words of Jen are ended.