Kathleen Norris on Repetition and Perfunctory Behaviour in Marriage and Church-going

More from her Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and A Writer’s Life (Riverhead Books, 2008):

And what of the “dead times” in a marriage, when the romance has faded, and “happily ever after” seems a cruel sham? The rock musician Lou Reed once said that repetition was “fantastic,” because it was “anti-glop.” His is an aesthetic concern for shunning the mushy and mawkish by employing repetitive sound, yet the insight might apply to marriage as well. For repetition resists the glop of sentiment, and also tests the spirit. It is easy to fall in love over a meal in a restaurant, where someone else does the cooking and the cleaning up; it is hard to tolerate, much less love, the person who shares our kitchen, bath and bed. How does repetition turn relationships stale and lifeless, so that a once beloved face becomes an object of scorn? What is it about repetitive acts that makes us feel that we are wasting our time? Although it is easy to dismiss our daily routines as trivial, these are not trivial questions, any more than sloth is mere laziness without spiritual consequence. p186

…a recent study that monitored the daily habits of couples in order to determine what produced good and stable marriages revealed that only one activity made a consistent difference, and that was the embracing of one’s spouse at the beginning and end of each day. Most surprising to Paul Bosch, who wrote an article about the study, was that “it didn't seem to matter whether or not in that moment the partners were fully engaged or even sincere! Just a perfunctory peck on the cheek was enough to make a difference in the quality of the relationship.” Bosch comments wisely, that this “should not surprise churchgoers. Whatever you do repeatedly has the power to shape you, has the power to make you over into a different person—even if you’re not totally ‘engaged’ in every minute.”

So there. So much for control, or even consciousness. Let’s hear it for insincere, hurried kisses, and prayers made with a yawn. I may be dwelling on the fact that my feet hurt, or nursing some petty slight. As for the words that I am dutifully saying — “Love you” or “Dear God”—I might as well be speaking in tongues, and maybe I am. And maybe that does not matter, for it is all working toward the good, despite myself and my most cherished intentions. Every day and every night, whether I “get it” or not, these “meaningless” words and actions signify more than I know. pp187-188

Kathleen Norris on the Power of Scripture

Have just finished Kathleen Norris' Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and A Writer’s Life (Riverhead Books, 2008). It is up to her usual impressive standard. Here's something that caught my eye about the power of Scripture:

Perhaps the most radical aspect of the psychology of the desert monastics is the extent to which they believed that Scripture itself had the power to heal. In The Word in the Desert, his study of how thoroughly the early monks integrated Scripture into their lives, Douglas Burton-Christie notes that they regarded these “sacred texts [as] inherently powerful, a source of holiness, with a capacity to transform their lives.” 141

What Do Driveling Little Doodles Have To Do With Christianity's Dangerous Idea?

Reading Alister McGrath, Christianity’s Dangerous Idea: the Protestant Revolution—a history from the sixteenth century to the twenty-first (HarperOne, 2007)…from the public library, yet! Very good. Some bits that caught my eye:

Other nations might have been tempted to experiment with atheism or agnosticism in response to the religious intolerance and bigotry of the Puritan era. The English, however, decided to reinstate the Church of England instead, presumably believing that, for all intents and purposes, this amounted to more or less the same thing.

The same thing as atheism or agnosticism, that is. Hmmm. Does history repeat itself? He goes on:

Under Charles II, who reigned from 1660 to 1685, a decidedly docile form of Anglicanism emerged as the religion of the English establishment. The Church of England would be expected to be submissive to the expectations of the people and to keep its religious beliefs to itself rather than impose them on others. 142

Is there still the tendency to docile submissiveness to the spirit of the age and to keeping its beliefs to itself? I think so, alas. I do it myself.

On early protestantism in America

Whereas Massachusetts became a hotbed of Protestant religious experimentation, with generally secondary interests in commerce, southern colonies from Delaware to Georgia were primarily concerned with trade and saw religion as peripheral to this enterprise. It was an ideal context for Anglicanism to take root and flourish, primarily as the religion of the planting class. Long used to issues of social class and distinction, Anglicanism proved an ideal provider of a veneer of religious dignity to the social structures of the plantations that continued to the dawn of the nineteenth century. 154

Allowing our religion to be peripheral to our lives is still a hazard for Christians. So it devising a form of Anglicanism which merely provides a veneer of religious dignity to living and consuming like everyone else.

The problem with nineteenth century pastors

Who were seen by some as little more than “thin, vapid, affected, driveling little doodles.” 369

Ahem. I AM not thin.

The Great Karoo by Fred Stenson

It feels good to be able write that I've just finished a novel written by a friend of mine. It's not the finishing that feels good, mind, it's that it's written by a friend.

Fred and I toiled for a time at ACCESS in Calgary while it was still more educational than network or broadcast; a sort of poor-man's National Film Board. That was back in the early 80's. He wrote them, I produced and directed them, we suffered and rationalized our way out of the resulting post-mortems and critiques together.

The Great Karoo is a remarkable achievement. I really don't see my friend, Fred, in it. It's like it comes out of a life and experiences I didn't know Fred has had. Mind you, it's been more than twenty years since we worked together so I've missed a lot.

The horses in Karoo constitute characters in the book. I cared about Dunny and Blue almost as much as the people. I am impressed by Fred's knowledge of horses. I've never seen him on or even near one, yet he seems to know how they work. Mind you, I'm so ignorant of them (they're way too high, in my opinion) that he could write anything and I'd accept it, I suppose.

Fred has a lovely turn of phrase which I very much enjoy and to which I look forward when I embark on a Stenson read. An example, from Fred's The Trade, he writes of a landscape which had been baked to a "thirsty tan." I can see that and feel it. I experience it every summer in Medicine Hat. Lovely.

Here are my favourites from Karoo:

When the sun dunked in the crags, the blackened cliffs split into rough knuckled fists whose beating had strewn a boulder field below. (p65)

Prose with a granite chin.

In one scene he described how disturbing the African night wild life sounds were:

It was all just the animal world moving and calling to itself, but it was hard not to feel it was meant for you. (p70)

And this:

Thousands of wagon wheels climbed out of the cups they'd pressed into the ground overnight. (p437)

How did that wonderful image come? Has Fred actually watched that happen, or is it the fevered imagination of the novelist?

Finally:

Jeff believed he could make the war do tricks but finally couldn't even get it to kill him. (p480)

Rich. My friend Fred, the novelist. Good job.

The Great Karoo is published by Doubleday Canada.

Christie Blatchford's "Fifteen Days: Tales of Strength and Honour"

I've just finished Christie Blatchford's Fifteen Days: Stories of Bravery, Friendship, Life and Death from Inside the New Canadian Army. I was much moved; occasionally to tears. She tells the stories behind the terse announcements and ramp ceremonies we see on the news. I was particularly impressed by a couple of things:

Women in Combat

I have to confess I've never really understood why women want to be combat soldiers. I guess I'm old fashioned (hopelessly patriarchal some might say). In my murky masculine way I've attributed it to some mis-directed feminist point-making. Blatchford's chapter on Nichola Goddard gave me some insight into that.

Nichola adopted a motto for herself which says much about what she thought she was doing: Strength and Honour. It was a Roman legion's motto in ages past and comes most recently from the movie, Gladiator. Interestingly, the only intact reference Blatchford could find is Proverbs 31.25 which is part of an ode to a capable wife: "Strength and honour are her clothing." (KJV)

So Nichola (and the other women in uniform I read about in the book) are not so much about making political gender statements as they are good, healthy, well thought out, sacrificial patriotic values.

I admire them.

Compassion, Heroism and Serving Others

I guess I've missed that on the news. I was much moved by the sheer heroism of the folk Blatchford describes. I am impressed by their commitment to helping the people of Afghanistan. I was touched to read of how, when they got home, the soldiers went out of their way to bless the families of those who had been killed.

Two stories stick with me in particular. Both have to do with Lieutenant-Colonels; Omar Lavoie, who because of the quality of his relationship with the people he commanded, was invited to walk the daughter of his recently killed RSM down the aisle at her wedding. The other, Ian Hope, who went out of his way to be the one to remove the torn body of one of his young soldiers from the G-Wagon in which he had been killed.

Strength and honour, indeed.

Language

One wee issue: for some reason Blatchford seems to have a need to out-cuss the soldiers (she says so herself ). I find myself wondering whether her use of the sixth letter word is a tad gratuitous. Puzzling that such a good writer should find it necessary to convey what is obviously deep emotion in such a vulgar way. Shock and awe, perhaps?