A Few Book Notes
During my weekend at Rivendell, I managed to raid the library amid the tumult and dip into two of the three remaining New Church Teaching Series books I had not read. I liked what I found in Early Christian Traditions by Rebecca Lyman, but I thought I'd better make the most of my little time there to read Mysteries of Faith by Mark McIntosh. McIntosh is a theologian and professor at Loyola University, and I'd had a taste of his academic work a few months before, dipping into Mystical Theology while staying at yet another house. Mysteries of Faith is not written in the academic style, but though I was able to make deeper inroads into it in less time, I found it no less thought-provoking. I only actually got to read the first two chapters or so, but what I remember is the leap of connection between the love relationship of the Trinity, and the creative power born of that love. He quoted Dorothy Sayers's The Mind of the Maker, which I was smart enough to have checked out a few years ago, but not enough to get read before the due date. There is a mystery to it, one I dare not try to plumb in a blog post, but suffice it to say that it makes a tantalizing background to my current everyday life, especially during Advent. (Have I mentioned how much I love Advent?)
(There, I have just ordered The Mind of the Maker from the Swan ILL.)
Also, now that I have busted my books out ofprison storage, I am sampling their delights at my leisure. Currently I am enjoying my clutch of Chestertons, which is admittedly small, but Chesterton is like pepper, quite potent in small doses. Can I just say that, while not being hugely gung-ho myself about tracing homoerotic themes in literature, I believe The Ball and the Cross to be one of the most hilariously obvious examples of love-hate slashiness in fiction? (Am I allowed to say that on TV? Oh, well, guess I just did.) Whatever you may think about the homoeroticism, I heartily recommend the book to any and all readers. I giggle every time they chase the little blood-worshiper into the river -- "Shoo! shoo! shoo!" Gets me every time. I've also been dipping into my copy of Tremendous Trifles, which includes one of my favorite of Chesterton's essays, "A Piece of Chalk" (which you can find in etext here.) My other Chesterton gem, The Man Who Was Thursday, is responsible for a pivotal change in my spiritual development and thus I've saved it for last. I cannot recommend that book strongly enough, because even if you don't come away with a spiritual change, you will at least laugh aloud at the opening of Chapter X, which I intend to post behind a cut-tag in my LiveJournal. Chesterton never fails to tickle my funny bone, although, as Jessica remarked to me last night, he would be a rather unnerving and possibly unpleasant man to know in person.
My forages in the Rivendell library also rewarded me with a few books on fundamentalism, particularly Stealing Jesus by Bruce Bawer, and I found myself troubled with an Occam's Razor-y sort of problem, namely how to draw an adequate distinction between orthodoxical views of the Atonement and the whole emotional tenor of the fundamentalist message that you have to be able to describe yourself in a certain way in order to benefit from the sacrifice of Christ. I don't think Bawer's book drew the line well enough, and I don't think that John Killinger, in Ten Things I Learned Wrong From a Conservative Church, drew it well enough either. I know this because I am a liberal Christian, who does (and with reason) hold an orthodoxical position on the Atonement, and their dividing line just absolutely murders to dissect, as I see it.
I very nearly asked to borrow A Distant Mirror by Barbara Tuchman, but decided I could as easily check it out myself -- I mean, I work in a library -- and indeed I have just done so. I look forward to reading about the 14th century in print as small as that of Dorothy Dunnett's Checkmate, with my brand-new glasses (courtesy of my mother, who sent me a very tidy birthday sum).
There, that should do it. *pours imaginary glass of Napoleon brandy and settles down*
During my weekend at Rivendell, I managed to raid the library amid the tumult and dip into two of the three remaining New Church Teaching Series books I had not read. I liked what I found in Early Christian Traditions by Rebecca Lyman, but I thought I'd better make the most of my little time there to read Mysteries of Faith by Mark McIntosh. McIntosh is a theologian and professor at Loyola University, and I'd had a taste of his academic work a few months before, dipping into Mystical Theology while staying at yet another house. Mysteries of Faith is not written in the academic style, but though I was able to make deeper inroads into it in less time, I found it no less thought-provoking. I only actually got to read the first two chapters or so, but what I remember is the leap of connection between the love relationship of the Trinity, and the creative power born of that love. He quoted Dorothy Sayers's The Mind of the Maker, which I was smart enough to have checked out a few years ago, but not enough to get read before the due date. There is a mystery to it, one I dare not try to plumb in a blog post, but suffice it to say that it makes a tantalizing background to my current everyday life, especially during Advent. (Have I mentioned how much I love Advent?)
(There, I have just ordered The Mind of the Maker from the Swan ILL.)
Also, now that I have busted my books out of
My forages in the Rivendell library also rewarded me with a few books on fundamentalism, particularly Stealing Jesus by Bruce Bawer, and I found myself troubled with an Occam's Razor-y sort of problem, namely how to draw an adequate distinction between orthodoxical views of the Atonement and the whole emotional tenor of the fundamentalist message that you have to be able to describe yourself in a certain way in order to benefit from the sacrifice of Christ. I don't think Bawer's book drew the line well enough, and I don't think that John Killinger, in Ten Things I Learned Wrong From a Conservative Church, drew it well enough either. I know this because I am a liberal Christian, who does (and with reason) hold an orthodoxical position on the Atonement, and their dividing line just absolutely murders to dissect, as I see it.
I very nearly asked to borrow A Distant Mirror by Barbara Tuchman, but decided I could as easily check it out myself -- I mean, I work in a library -- and indeed I have just done so. I look forward to reading about the 14th century in print as small as that of Dorothy Dunnett's Checkmate, with my brand-new glasses (courtesy of my mother, who sent me a very tidy birthday sum).
There, that should do it. *pours imaginary glass of Napoleon brandy and settles down*
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