We've been in a drought here in Minnesota. Thankfully, we’ve had a few rainfalls recently, but we're still not out of it. On the local late evening news a couple weeks ago, a farmer was interviewed who said that any rain that comes now is too late for this year's crops, but it prepares the way for the crops of next year. He called it a recharge. The water that comes will wait deep in the ground to sustain what hasn't even yet been planted.
"That recharge is so important," said the farmer. "You can get by that first year but you got to have something down in the ground for the roots to go after."
This rings of truth for more than the growth of corn and soybeans, as important as that growth is. The next morning I thought about recharging rain as a metaphor and wrote "Anticipatory hydrating" in my journal, "Hydrating for the future." Think of all that needs to be stored up in one's soul, in one's thoughts and habits, to grow the roots that will sustain the future. Taking care to store it up is an act of hope.
Daniel Bowman's On the Spectrum: Autism, Faith, & The Gifts of Neurodiversity
Daniel Bowman, associate professor of English at Taylor University, editor of Relief Journal, has written an important and captivating memoir in essays, On the Spectrum: Autism, Faith, and the Gifts of Neurodiversity (Brazos Press), about his experience as a creative writer, professor, husband, and father after receiving a diagnosis of autism at the age of 35.
Through his experiences, he guides the reader to think about autism not from a pathology model but from a paradigm of neurodiversity.
Here's the thing: Neurodiversity is real, it's not going away, and people ought to be excited about such a momentous breakthrough. We are unveiling layers of mysteries about what it means to be human....
[L]et's be curious; let's be in awe of how complex we all are. Let's get excited when the frontiers of knowledge open up even just a little. And let's be aware of what it means: that for the first time in human history, a certain group of people have a better chance to be understood and affirmed and to get what they need in order to flourish and contribute to the flourishing of the culture. That's a wonderful thing.
After reading Bowman’s book, I’ve been thinking about relationships I’ve mishandled or people I’ve misunderstood. About how easy it is to wrongly assess a person or situation—or to be wrongly assessed oneself. On The Spectrum teaches its readers about autism but it also models and calls out humility and compassion, persistence and calling, friendship and joy.
Benjamin Tucker: Don't Lose Hope
Benjamin Tucker, a musician here in the Twin Cities (and good friend), released a new album this past May, Such Is Love. One of the songs is titled, "Don't Lose Hope."
These three words are repeated again and again, leaving no doubt that whoever listens to and engages with the song should receive the message, clear and strong: Don't lose hope.
The lyrics extend beyond that trio of words but those are what you'll carry with you. Don't lose hope.
You can listen to "Don't Lose Hope" here and watch videos of that and all the other songs on the album here.
Sprinklers and Robins in Times of Drought
Here in Minnesota, as in much of the United States, we’re in a drought. While watering of lawns is discouraged, strategic watering along the root zone of trees is encouraged, and so we’ve set up this old sprinkler to occasionally deliver a small targeted dose to our beloved teenaged river birch tree lest it fail to thrive. Yesterday, shortly after the sprinkler was turned on, a family of robins appeared and stood and shook their feathers under the falling streams. This smaller female stayed around longer and was particularly intent on getting what she needed. A drink. Can you see her sticking her beak in the spray, right at the source? She drank again and again. I’m so glad I got this shot; I’m so glad she got some water. This morning I read a poem in Christian Wiman’s collection, “Joy.” The poem is by Norman MacCaig and is called “One of the Many Days.” Here’s the line that jumped out at me: “I watched / a whole long day / release its miracles.”
Participating Faithfully in a World Being Remade
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?
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[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.]
Covid and Camus' The Plague
Given the success of the vaccine in reducing the rate of new Covid cases, life has opened up substantially where I live, and I hope it has where you are as well. The relief has reminded me of the last handful of pages of Albert Camus' The Plague, which you probably remember is a sobering and frightening novel about a mid-twentieth century plague in a town in Algeria. Finally, the plague did lift, however, and the roads and the railroad tracks into the town again reopened, and the people returned to moving about the streets. In the days just before the gates allowed entrance, for Dr. Bernard Rieux, the story's narrator, "the prospect of imminent release had obliterated his fatigue."
"Hope had returned and with it a new zest for life. No man can live on the stretch all the time, with his energy and will-power strained to the breaking-point, and it is a joy to be able to relax at last and loosen nerves and muscles that were braced for the struggle.... Indeed, he had a feeling that everyone in those days was making a fresh start."
If you've read the book, you know it's not a fairy tale and not everyone lives happily ever after, even with the plague lifting, but still, joy returned.
"[T]he moment they saw the smoke of the approaching engine, the feeling of exile vanished before an uprush of overpowering, bewildering joy. And when the train stopped, all those interminable-seeming separations which often had begun on this same platform came to an end in one ecstatic moment, when arms closed with hungry possessiveness on bodies whose living shape they had forgotten."
Intellectual Hospitality: A Way to Rebuild Trust
The theme of the current issue of Comment magazine (Winter 2021) is rebuilding trust in each other and within communities given all that has happened in recent months and years to break down that trust. I encourage you to read the piece by Cherie Harder, president of the The Trinity Forum, titled, “Reviving Intellectual Hospitality.” The essay discusses ways to “disrupt this vicious cycle” we have gotten ourselves in of attending only to what we already think is true and only to those who agree with us. The practice of intellectual hospitality is about being open to each other again, to discussing with and learning from each other. It’s a path of humility and camaraderie.
"How to disrupt this vicious cycle? A society of diminishing public trust in both institutions and each other—riven by difference we seem unable to bridge, and marked by malice and misinformation—calls for creative means of rebuilding a shared sense of the common good. Vital to such renewal will be the reinvigoration of what might seem a modest practice: the extension of intellectual hospitality."
Harder outlines multiple ways to practice such hospitality, including: read widely, particularly to learn other perspectives; pursue friendships with those who think differently; cultivate curiosity; ask questions; and many others. I hope you’ll read the article for all her suggestions. In fact, read the entire issue. During this time of Covid, the publisher of Comment (tagline: "Public Theology for the Common Good") has been generous in opening up many of their issues to online reading without a subscription.
Harder also points out that a key corrosive to trust is over-reliance on social media. (For more on the need to reduce the over-reliance on social media, not just for reasons of intellectual hospitality but also to free up leisure time for many other pursuits, let me also recommend Digital Minimalism, by Cal Newport.)
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[Photo: Beauty beneath the Ford Parkway Bridge, which connects Minneapolis and St. Paul.]