Living futurally

This past weekend, the latest newsletter from James K. A. Smith, editor of Image journal, popped into my email. The subject line caught my eye: "Hope Takes Practice." Some of you may remember me mentioning, a long while back, that my working title of my (still-long-in-progress) manuscript on hope is Being On The Way: The Practice of Hope. So of course I had to quickly open his email and see what he had to say. Smith writes of "living futurally."

"Living futurally is not living in such a way that my being and doing are subsumed or overwhelmed by waiting; rather, to live futurally means that my very mode of being-in-the-world is infused by anticipation. Instead of being defined by waiting, my active life is shaped by what I hope for. I receive myself from the future. I am what I am called to be. We are what we hope for. And hope, like love, takes practice. Lord knows I need it."


There's much to think about in his words: Our current life is shaped by what we hope for. Anticipation vs waiting. Practice.

Participating Faithfully in a World Being Remade

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Given all that’s going on in our communities and in the world, it's a good time to think about—but then, it's always a good time to think about—the value of putting a body of work out into the world that aims for a common good beyond yourself, no matter your job title (including retired), industry, or the size and grandiosity or lack thereof of that body of work, as long as it's what you have to give.

If you're in need of inspiration or camaraderie, let me suggest you peruse the writings from Breaking Ground, a year-long, online, publishing project led by Cardus that started in May of last year, when tensions of multiple varieties were escalating: viral, racial, socioeconomic, political. The project, which started as "first and foremost an act of hope,” had the goal of "galvanizing the Christian imagination from a wide array of voices to equip tomorrow’s leaders, thinkers and caring citizens to participate faithfully in a world being remade."

Although the project recently ended, per its original plan, rather than simply stopping the work the editors have passed the baton to their readers. The goal, now individualized, becomes how can each of us, from a base of Christian imagination, participate faithfully in a world being remade? I think that's quite a good question to ask ourselves, regardless of whether you've read any of the Breaking Ground writings. How can I—how can you—from a base of Christian imagination, participate faithfully in a world being remade?

~~~

[Photo: Eric Carle, children's book author and illustrator whose great body work brought much good into the world, died last month. Many of Carle's books have been on our bookshelves over the years. This picture of two pelicans is from Animals Animals. A number of pages in this book are falling out, it's been read so many times.]

Tiers of Attention

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Another book I've been reading is RAPT: Attention and the Focused Life by Winifred Gallagher (2009). Gallagher writes to turn our attention toward things that matter, because the things that matter most may not be what gets our attention first. She gives the example of going bird watching and becoming so enamored with the brilliant cardinals that quickly come into view that you tend to not see the more elusive or less colorful birds. This is exactly the scenario in my backyard. I look out the window, and, Oh look, there's a beautiful cardinal! And there's another! The cardinals tie a tether around my attention, and I never look for most of the other species of birds that are circling my yard just beyond the cardinals. Seeing the cardinals is an example of what Gallagher calls “bottom-up” attention, in which you go for the lowest hanging fruit and stop there. The problem with that approach is that there is so much more to see and learn and think about. Let’s aim instead for the “top-down” approach, urges Gallagher, and choose our focus with intention.

I’ve been watching my yard more carefully the last few days. What of the small birds that rustle the lilac bushes or that seem to shoot straight up through the blue spruce? What birds go with what song? I hear a multitude of melodies. Blue jays are another bird easy to see although they aren’t as common as cardinals. Yesterday, a blue joy slammed into my living room window, right in front of me, and bounced off as if to jealously warn me not to get too carried away aiming for sightings of birds of a more subtle variety.

Of course Gallagher’s goal is not to warn us about thinking too narrowly about birds but rather to consider carefully the thoughts that we too easily allow to capture and predominate our thinking. Given all that's gone on this past year, in the world, our nation, our cities, our personal lives, it's definitely been a year in which our attention has been grabbed and often by the bottom-up news, messages, and fears. The cardinal flits, the blue jay slams, the statistics flash, the sound byte lands and our attention is no longer our own. Pull it back, own it, I tell myself.

Gallagher writes, “Deciding what to pay attention to for this hour, day, week, or year, much less a lifetime, is a peculiarly human predicament, and your quality of life largely depend on how you handle it.”

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[Photo: Tulips seen on a morning walk. A house further down the block had much flashier tulips set in a large garden. I almost took a picture of those tulips. But then I saw these, tulips of a more humble variety, hugging the street.]

Lifted Faces and Flashing Eyes

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From the blog archives (February 11, 2016), a post about the human spirit:


I’ve been reading a book by Elton Trueblood, Alternative to Futility. Trueblood, a Quaker theologian, wrote the book in the late 1940s in response to the prevalent sense of futility in society around him despite the end of World War II. In many ways he could have been writing today.

This paragraph jumped off the page at me:

“Joy has gone out of much of our lives. Millions go through the motions as though they were waiting for a catastrophe. What we miss, almost everywhere, is the uplifted face and the flashing eye. Men [and women] cannot live well either in poverty or abundance unless they see some meaning and purpose in life, which alone can be thrilling.”

Trueblood goes on to describe societal ways in which the human spirit can be renewed. While some of his suggestions and ideas are a bit dated, this key – and timeless– theme emerges: the need for communities to be a place of renewal for each other.

In a chapter called “The Habit of Adventure.” he wrote:

“Here then is our clue. The method which succeeded before must be tried again and we must not be dismayed by its amazing simplicity. The best chance for the renewal of the human spirit in the twentieth [read: twenty-first] century, as in the first, lies in the formation of genuinely redemptive societies in the midst of ordinary society. Such fellowships could provide a sense of meaning for the members within the societies and, at the same time, maintain an infectious influence on the entire culture outside.”

Through my little blog and my little books, I’m trying, in a small way, to offer this to you. A space of community and camaraderie in which we lift our faces and not only open our eyes, but flash them, as Trueblood wrote. I like that image of emanating light. It’s my hope, and assumption, you have other real-time spaces in your life for this renewal: churches, family, friends, book groups, special interest groups, and so on. There are also opportunities for such spaces online, and I hope you’re finding what you need wherever you can. Please consider letting me know how I can do better at providing such a space. Also consider letting me know where else you find community and and camaraderie that encourages you to lift your face and flash your eyes - if I get enough response to this I may include them in a subsequent newsletter or blog post.

Thank you for taking the time to read. As always, I appreciate it so very much.

~~~

[Photo: taken of a new walkway along a nearby creek. I love how the sun is flashing off the metal coils.]

The Prophetic Imagination

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A few nights ago I was talking with some writer friends about our respective works in progress, and I mentioned that one of the sections in my hope manuscript draws on Walter Brueggemann’s writing in his books The Poetic Imagination and Reality, Grief, Hope. One of the friends told me that she had recently listened to Brueggemann being interviewed on the radio program “On Being” and sent me the link (“Walter Brueggemann: The Prophetic Imagination”). I listened to it while taking a walk a couple mornings later and again just this afternoon. Although recorded in 2011, and re-aired last December, the content is just as relevant today. I encourage you to listen as there is much wonderful wisdom here on hope, the use of metaphor and poetry in understanding God, and the mercy of God.

Here’s a small section:

The other text I’ll read is Isaiah 43. It’s a very much-used passage. “Do not remember the former things nor consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” And apparently, what he’s telling his people is just forget about the Exodus, forget about all the ancient miracles, and pay attention to the new miracles of rebirth and new creation that God is enacting before your very eyes. I often wonder when I read that, what was it like the day the poet got those words? What did it feel like, and how did he share that? Of course, we don’t know any of that, so it just keeps ringing in our ears.

I first read Brueggemann when I was at St. John’s Abbey Guest House in Collegeville, Minnesota (6 years ago?). I was in the library writing when a book on the shelf, The Prophetic Imagination, caught my eye. I took it down and read it nearly nonstop over the next day or so. I hope you’ll take a listen.

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[Photo: taken on the Detroit River Walk in Detroit, where we were for a wedding several weeks ago.]

A scene from Tiger Drive

My friend Teri Case just published her first novel, Tiger Drive. I finished it about ten days ago while on a plane back from a work trip. The last 100-plus pages were so good that I had to put down the book between chapters and look out the window or close my eyes, take a deep breath, and yes, sometimes wipe a few tears. The book is wonderful for lots of reasons, and one of the images that has stayed with me is that of a bookshelf that a character in the novel keeps empty to represent "faith, hope, and opportunities." I love that intentionality of making room, holding space open for the good that will come.

The scene I just described from the novel Tiger Drive also made me think about creating an open space in our work, whether or not of the paid variety, for faith, hope, and love, to enter. Of course these three don't need an empty space in order to appear, but maybe we could use the empty space to remind ourselves that we've invited their arrival. Think of the bowl on your desk, your empty pocket, that space next to your cash register.

Richard Wilbur: Called to Praise

Last month, The New York Times Book Review had an essay that I underlined and saved. Written by Christian Wiman, the essay was titled, "Richard Wilbur: 'Called to Praise'," and it raised some interesting thoughts about with what we choose to fill our mind.

Wilbur, a poet and a poet laureate, died at 96 years of age last October. Wiman wrote that Wilbur continually attended to "the blind delight of being" and that he did so with great intention. Wiman quotes a poem of Wilbur's: "Try to remember this: what you project / Is what you will perceive; what you perceive / With any passion, be it love or terror, / May take on whims and powers of its own."

Wiman suggests two questions raised by Wilbur's work: "How much does the imagination have to do with one's experience? And how much does one's will have to do with one's imagination." Interesting and worthwhile questions to think about.