God in a Pulitzer Prize Winning Novel

I have recently read a beautiful novel, “Gilead” by Marilynne Robinson, which I want to spread the word about. I first discovered Marilynne Robinson in the late 80s when I by chance saw a Bill Forsyth film based on her book “Housekeeping.” I sought out the book and enjoyed the book even more than I had the movie, which itself was most enjoyable and full of Forsyth's quirky charm and humour. But I find it is often the case that when you have a longer period of time to savour a work, as you do in reading a book versus watching a movie, that you enjoy the book more.

I remembered the name of the author and when I saw that Robinson had published a Pulitzer Prize winning novel in 2004 I bought a copy of “Gilead” for my American nephew for Christmas and then somehow forgot about it. Then for my birthday this year my sister, mother of said American nephew, gave me a copy of “Gilead” and said that I had to read it. I said oh yes I'd heard of it and that she'd probably find it on Jon's bookshelf. I think that she was a bit disappointed that she wasn't introducing me to a previously unknown work! I am, however, the literary sister who took a degree in English literature and has been reading fiction ever since.

First of all, I am in awe of Robinson's craft as a writer. She teaches at the University of Iowa Writers' Workshop, a prestigious American creative writing school, which makes me very curious to know if she can actually teach what she does, which seems so effortless and right. “Gilead” is written in the first person, in the voice of an elderly Congregationalist pastor, and the voice is wholly authentic. I often have trouble “willfully suspending disbelief” when I read a first person narrative, particularly when a man is writing in a woman's voice or vice versa, as Robinson has done here. But here it is totally Reverend John Ames speaking, telling his young son about his life and something of the lives of his father and grandfather who were also pastors in Iowa and Kansas.

If you read contemporary fiction, fine as it often is, you'll probably agree with me that God is usually left entirely out of the picture. But “Gilead” is different - it's about the faith of a man which is inseparable from his life's story, a description of faith that is truly uplifting and wonderful. The narrator gives us a sense of what it is to have a vocation as a pastor and he touches on so many everyday dilemmas of Christian life in ways that he has thought long and hard about.

One thing that really surprised me was Ames' description of his sacramental ministry – of how powerful baptism and communion were to him. I suppose I've had a vague misguided sense that in non-conformist denominations the sacraments have been reduced to mere “symbolic” significance. Ames certainly felt the power of God's presence when he gave these sacraments to his people. Another thing that really struck me was Ames' thorough familiarity with the Bible. He had learned to recite back long passages of the Bible that came after verses his father would recite to him long before he went to the seminary and learned Hebrew and Greek. It seemed that this complete familiarity with God's written word just seeped through all his view of life. (On the other hand, he had a brother who went off to secular studies in Europe and seemingly lost his faith.)

I really can't say enough about the beauty of this book. Robinson has written another book, “Home”, about characters in “Gilead”, which I am eager to read.............And I am happy to know that “Gilead” exists and that I can go back and reread it!  (Aline Kouhi-Klemencic)

A summer read from Pastor Tuula

Summer is here, and with it the lure of vacation, recreation, or at least a little free time. It’s a great time to reacquaint yourself with the pleasures of a good book. But, what to read? There are so many pages out there, and not nearly enough time.

 Maybe I can narrow your list a bit. Let me share with you what I am reading this summer, and the reason why I am rereading a book from several years ago.

This week I visited the office Etobicoke Centre MP, Ted Opitz. I wanted to learn more about the neighbourhood around St. Philip’s and assumed he would know.  'Who are our neighbours?' was my main question. I learned that the area around our church ranks # 8 in the number of senior citizens in Canada. The suggestion was made for the church to provide programs, even spiritual ones, to the seniors. When I inquired about the community housing around the corner, I was informed that many of our newest neighbours live there. Many of them come from Somalia. “But you might not want to reach out to them, because their beliefs and customs are quite different from yours”, the staffer said. I insisted that we would very much like to get to know our neighbours, if they would like to know us. The MP’s office promised to find out, and then arrange a meeting of introductions. 

The year my daughter started her university studies, the New Student Orientation committee at her school, Wagner College in Staten Island, instituted a reading-in-common program for incoming students. New students were encouraged to read a selected book before arriving on campus, and the book was discussed in orientation groups and used as a source of conversation for early residence hall activities and first year class meetings. Parents were encouraged also to read the selection. The book chosen that year was Honky, by Dalton Conley (Vintage, 2005), a memoir of the author’s childhood as one of the few white boys in a neighbourhood of mostly Black and Puerto Rican housing projects on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. His portraits of people caught up in a vortex of race and class in America explain more about life along the colour line, notes one reviewer, 'than does a shelf load of sociologies'. 'There is an old saying that you never really know your own language until you study another,' Conley writes. 'It’s the same with race and class. In fact, race and class are nothing more than a set of stories we tell ourselves to get through the world.'

As I await the meeting,  I will reread this book. 

Is it true? Can God be trusted?

This is how our new pastor, Tuula Van Gaasbeek, began our conversation about the relevance of the church in the 21^st century.   With the decline of church disciplines and the proliferation of social service agencies, this Karl Barth question is really the only essential call to come to church.  Pr.  Tuula went on to affirm that our Lutheran theology offers so many wonderful answers to these questions of spiritual hunger.     Here are some other soundbytes from our conversation that may just help to provide a sense of who she is, as we await her arrival.

Q:  What is Christian community?  It has to be more than a handshake and a cup of coffee.  It has to be an embrace in the arms of God

Q:  What do you try to achieve in your preaching?  I want to make people think.  I want to stir them, give them something to take home.  It’s not giving answers. 

Q:  What do you hope for in a new congregation?  I’m looking for a willingness to take a risk, progressiveness, inclusiveness and open minds.

Q:  What does it mean to be a leader?  It means having a vision and being a catalyst for getting people to take the next steps

Q:  What will you do in the first 100 days or the honeymoon period?  It will be focused on building relationships and building trust

Q:  What is church about?  It’s about equipping Christians to find their place and do their work

We await her arrival in great expectation and pray for an inspired beginning. 

Ashes to go

Upon returning from the Ash Wednesday service with ashes still on my forehead, I read an article about an Episcopalian priest in the USA who five years ago stood at a busy intersection in St. Louis and smudged the sign of the cross on the foreheads of passerbys.  The concept has spread across 12 states and a resource guide written.   The thinking is that we can't just wait for people to come to us.  We have to meet them where they actually are.  The priest reflects that 'it's fulfilling a spiritual need in a pragmatic way.  It shows flexibility where often inflexibility is seen.  Alot of people don't come to church but they still are interested in claiming symbols of their faith and their relationship with God.  This is a small way of engaging people in their spiritual life at this time of year.   It left me feeling that what I had experienced within the walls of St. Philip's was also playing out on the world stage.  We are part of something much bigger.   It is exciting to think about ways to go where the people are

Happy New Year...God's unfinished future

After recently being at Trinity Church at Broadway and Wall Street in New York,  I became aware of the Trinity Institute and some of the topics it has sponsored.   One was entitled 'God's unfinished future'.   It struck me as an inspiring way to think about 2012.  We are indeed shaped by our past and our present but also most definitely by our anticipation of the future.  As we forage our future together as individuals, as families and as a church family,  it seems that thinking about it as God's unfinished future is a source of great hope.  Our call process and search for a new pastor is a very visible element of the unfinished future at St. Philip's.  Jurgen Moltman, a German theologian who was part of the Institute's event said 'if we live in God's unfinished future, we're looking forward and greeting the coming morning in the light of the coming day of God's new creation on earth'.   I wish each of you and our faith community a sense that we are living in the promises of God's unfinished future.  May we go into our unfinished future with the seven word mantra of our bishop:  pray, read, worship, study, serve, give and tell.