taken, blessed, broken and given

May 26th, 2007

Life of the BelovedFew evenings ago I read, more less in one sitting, a book that Henryk recommended to me long time ago. Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen. The genesis of the book is in itself a story; a story of a remarkable friendship between a catholic priest and a secular jew. The challenge that birthed the text was posed by Fred: write about the faith in a way that would be relevant and communicative for secular (‘unchurched’) New Yorkers.

Nouwen starts in a very similar place where Kenny Borthwick (thanks to David for this introduction) starts one of his talks: who we are in God’s eyes. The very basis, indisputable fabric of our identity. Kenny talks about unconditional father-love, Nouwen about being chosen, blessed. Nouwen uses the wonderful symbolism of eucharist – the bread and wine are taken, blessed, broken/shed and then given. And through these symbols we can observe and talk about our own life.

When I read this text I was ever so powerfully reminded of both how difficult it is for us, for me, to grasp and accept this and how utterly transforming this message is. Understanding this makes us revise what we think about suffering (being broken) and living – it makes us live for others (being given).

Starting with our identity being intimately rooted in the total undeserved unquivering acceptance. Ending with us delighting when we can truly invest, without calculating or hoping for any return, in lives of other people.

Henri J M Nouwen: Life of the Beloved

close to the dirt of earth

May 24th, 2007

Nights at the CircusCouple of days ago I have finished reading Angela Carter’s Nights at the Circus. Despite it being Bella’s recommendation the book did not delight me, maybe it did entertain. Yes, I am not the greatest fan of magical realism (it is very much hit and miss with me, Satanic Verses being a miss and Ground beneath her feet a hit).

The text is skillful. Which, in truth, I think is damnation rather than praise on my lips. Just like lighting in a theater; when you notice it, something went wrong. The author changes the style and picks and mixes her literary tools. Skillful – yes. But I am reminded of Kill Bill – were there too many gadgets to use and the artists could not make their mind up?

This said there were some great passages, so one cannot deny – she writes well. I was just slightly nauseated. And alongside gripping, ornate paragraphs I found ones that were … dirty. I don’t mean that in a prudish way – rather, they were earthy, made of dust. Reading them brought a shadow of exhaustion (I felt similarly when I read Money by Martin Amis, but to a much lesser extent with Carter’s text).

Having re-read my opinion I must stress it is exactly that – my very subjective account of how I received the text. And is far from any balanced view.

Fevvers for me was too heavy of a beast to take off and fly.

Angela Carter: Nights at the Circus

effortlessly

May 24th, 2007

Mona LisaI was talking with Bella the other night. She introduced me to the concept of Sprezzatura. We started on it from the art technique point of view, but what caught my imagination was the very attitude that sprezzatura signifies – they say nonchalance, but I take it to be the very english upper class way of succeeding without seeming to be putting in a huge amount of work. The success is to come naturally (remember the scene in Chariots of Fire when Harold is told by the master of Trinity that hiring a professional coach is below him?). The self-made man (so close to new money) in England seems to be persona non grata, the very opposite of US (or so we are led to believe by the ‘american dream’). Now it seems that also in Italy working too hard is not to be praised.

I thought about Polish culture, and could not find an example of such an attitude. True, maybe we have not always praised hard work (close to heart for polish positivists’ literature, but maybe not for romantics) but I think it was never looked down in the same way as on english and italian courts. I would risk a suggestion that as the upper class becomes bored (see Dangerous Liasons) their system of values gets significantly rearranged. If so, it seems for worse.

rubbles

April 29th, 2007

My good friend, David Hunt, in one of his sermons used the following illustration:

rubbleImagine that one day someone comes and proves, beyond any shadow of doubt, that Christianity is not true – it is a fairy tale, wishful thinking, one more product of human speculations.

Would your life be in a complete ruin, or would you put the pieces together, get over it and start rebuilding your life?

I want to be in such a place, that I could not, in any way or form, rebuild my life – my life would be an utter ruin without Christ. [my paraphrase, as much as I remember]

As I was thinking about this today I sadly had to accept that I am not in such a place. That quite probably it would not be too difficult to find my new place in a Christ-less world.

What a lack of understanding (heart-knowledge as Nick would put it) of the cosmic difference that Christ’s incarnation, death and resurrection made to the world and to my life, here and now. The message of Christ’s salvation is either completely irrelevant or so important that it changes absolutely everything – who I am, what I do and what life is about.