A different sort of thing

The endpiece next to the unfinished main section

My new bookshelves are becoming newer every week!

My first non-school summer is drawing to a close. Oddly enough, it has been a good summer and the off and on panic of my first August sans classes is not as prevalent as I thought it might be. Work continues (at work we are driven by the academic year; perhaps this connection helps my own loss of classes?). Post-work work also continues: the arts collaboration New City Arts Initiative is finally rolling off of its own inertia (we’ve received non-profit status, are working on a new website and communications system, and have plans for several cool projects), Lychgate Productions is requiring more and more energy, and my housing search warranted a full time salary for about a week. Fortunately, all of these seem to survive even if I can’t give 110% to each of them at every moment. Even so…

Not many weeks go by that I don’t question what I am doing in Charlottesville… what I am doing with my life, when my sparse collection of hopes and dreams seem to vanish like the morning fog… or even more often, when the fog of exhaustion and work seems so thick that not even the fiercest beam of hope could pierce through. I am amazed that at these times, the thing that relieves the confusion and discouragement in as simple as a different kind of work.

I’m undergoing an effort to refinish a set of (probably) homemade bookshelves. When acquired, they were dark with age, yellowed and scratched beyond recognition. Amazing what a little time, love and sweat can do.

I am not always so adrift with gloom. Though the fog is thick, light does shine through. It can be as simple as a run or the thought that I am actually working on a fun and meaningful project (yes, the shelves, but also with Lychgate). A friend and photographer took pictures of Wade and I for use on our website, and we are moving closer to finding a cinematographer for our intro clip.

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Jayber Crow

If 2008 was a year of anything bookwise for me, Wendell Berry would be near the top, not because I’ve read much of his writing, but because seemingly everyone who is someone I trust is talking about him.

Trey first recommended his “The Mad Farmer Liberation Front,” which rings of a similar tune to Kipling’s “God’s of the Copybook Headings.” Intrigued by this author’s skepticism of a world done away with mystery, I listened as others recommended his writing. Jayber Crow was where I started.

Subtitled “The life story of Jayber Crow, Barber, of the Port William Membership, as written by himself,” Jayber Crow tells the meandering story of a man who experiences the fullness of life by living, rather than by trying to live a full life. It’s difficult to tell whether Berry, in writing this story, was writing more about himself than a fictional barber, but his gentle distrust of the big, the fast and the certain have a strong appeal to me. I would recommend this to anyone willing to reconsider the meaning of life.

You would need to draw a very big map of the world in order to make Port William visible upon it. In the actual scale of a highway map, Port William would be smaller than the dot that locates it. In the eyes of the powers that be, we Port Williamites live and move and have our being within a black period about the size of the one that ends a sentence. It would be a considerable overstatement to say that before making their decisions the leaders of the world do not consult the citizens of Port Williams. Thousands of leaders of our state and nation, entire administrations, corporate board meetings, university sessions, synods and councils of the church have come and gone without hearing or pronouncing the name of Port Williams. And how many such invisible, nameless, powerless little places are there in the world? All the world, as a matter of fact, is a mosaic of little places invisible to the powers that be. And in the eyes of the powers that be all these invisible places do not add up to a visible place. They add up to words and numbers.
Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow, p 139 (2000).

Cynicism: do something better with your time

Something we must be wary of as we study and live is cynicism. Such an attitude easily sneaks in during one’s time. Maybe it is because we enter our studies with such hopes that we can, in fact, change the world, and over our matriculation, discover that our problems– not to mention the world’s– are far beyond our reach. We can easily despair and turn to cynicism to help deal with our broken hopes and dreams. But cynicism is not the answer. A friend once pointed out that cynicism is not the answer. In the worlds of C.S. Lewis:

You cannot go on ‘seeing through’ things forever. The whole point of seeing through something is to see something through it. It is good that the window should be transparent, because the street or garden beyond it is opaque. How if you saw through the garden too? It is no use trying to ‘see through’ first principles. If you see through everything, then everything is transparent. But a wholly transparent world is an invisible world. To ‘see through’ all things is the same as not to see. (Abolotion of Man, 91)

The trick for the student is to remain doubtful while eschewing cynicism. Doubt makes you dig to find answers; cynicism helps you avoid answers altogether.

As a recent graduate, I continue to battle with cynicism. In particular, with a deep discouragement over our apparent human inability to make this world livable for the majority of people. One book which has helped change my perspective on this is James Skillen’s In Pursuit of Justice, in which he explores the cultural mandate as a call to develop the world. Thus, rec leagues and recycling programs, government and families, and any number of God-honoring activities and institutions are part of our calling to “fill the earth and subdue it.” See Psalm 8 which indicates that it is our glory to fulfill the cultural mandate (Bartholomew and Goheen, The Drama of Scripture, 39).

This is nothing new. Our task remains being faithful wherever we our with whatever we have. Oswald Chambers was all about that… come to think of it, so was Jesus.

Amid our own doubts and fears, and the countless doubts and fears of the world at large, there is hope: hope that Christ has redeemed believers and that He is restoring all else.