Review: Lies My Teacher Told Me

Lies My Teacher Told Me, James W. Loewen. New York: Touchstone, 1995 (Link is to 2018 edition with a different publisher).

Summary: Based on an examination of twelve American history high school textbooks, looks at how these oversimplify, omit, distort, and sometimes perpetuate false myths of American history, and make the teaching of history boring in the process.

The late James Loewen wrote this book after surveying twelve history textbooks used to teach high school students in the early 1990’s. He found that most of these often passed along lies or distortions of the material they covered. Often this was the result of omitting important discussions. Loewen opens this study considering what most history books don’t tell us about Woodrow Wilson. They don’t tell us that he launched a war with Communist Russia at the end of the First World War. Wilson also launched invasions of several Latin America, and after an era of progress, instituted racist policies in government that may have contributed to the resurgence of the Klan in the 1920’s. Likewise with Helen Keller. We hear about how she overcomes blindness and deafness but most say little about the other six decades of her life, probably because of her socialist activism.

Loewen goes on to discuss a number of examples throughout American history and what the twelve textbooks do with them: Christopher Columbus and what his “discovery” meant to indigenous peoples who were “discovered,” the realities of the first Thanksgiving, how we narrate the history of Native Americans, how we whitewash racism from textbooks, even in accounts of the Civil War and in our treatments of both John Brown and Abraham Lincoln. He goes on to discuss federal power and how our government sought to bring down regime after regime, rarely discussed in our history books and how many texts are nearly silent about Vietnam, with the results that students think it was a war between North and South Korea!

Why does this happen? Loewen, who had worked with editorial committees of textbook publishers, discusses the aversion these publishers have to controversy. Controversy can mean losses of millions of dollars. Patriotism sells. America’s failures to live up to its stated ideals do not. They realize how consequential state and local boards are to the adoption of textbooks. He believes a large part of the fault lies here. He is more forgiving of teachers, recognizing both that they may not always have the knowledge or the time to gain the knowledge to challenge the textbooks–and they have huge demands on their lives.

The tragedy of all this in Loewen’s mind is that in making history uncontroversial we have made it dull. Accurate history, in all its complicatedness, is far more interesting. When students explore a president like Wilson at both his best and worst, they stop worshipping heroes and see historical figures as real and fallible human beings. History that is honest about both our failings and how people stood up to resist corruption and power because of their belief in America’s ideals doesn’t teach students to hate the country, it teaches them to care.

Loewen was writing this in 1995 and what reading him helped me realize is that what is going on in many of our state legislatures and parents groups around what is taught as our history is not a new discussion, simply a reinvigorated one. For a long time, we have been a nation that wants to feel good about ourselves without doing the hard work of facing what has been and is not good about us and learning from those who have brought progress toward our American ideals. For a long time, powerful interests have sought to hide what they are doing to the rest of the country behind facades of American greatness. How can it be that the wealth disparities between the top 1 percent and the rest of the country are just because the rest of us are benighted losers?

What is saddest is that we don’t turn students into patriots, we turn them into cynics, because they are good at detecting falsehoods. The tragedy is that we also teach them that truth cannot be found in our history, or really in anything else. And when there is no basis for liberty and justice in truth, then all that we have left is power.

I was one educated in the way Loewen describes. Thankfully, several college professors opened my eyes to what it really means to do history without the lies, to look at our complicated human condition, and to keep asking questions, and to care about the answers. They taught me to love history. They also helped teach me that for love of country to really mean something, it has to be able to look at ourselves at our best and worst and to keep showing up as citizens, pursuing the common good.

Loewen holds out to us the hope that we can do so much better, not by sanitized versions of our history but through texts and teachers that teach both the good and the bad, that will not only capture our children’s interest, but help them become passionate about making our country at least a little better in their generation. It seems to me that this is something all true patriots ought support.

The Month in Reviews: May 2023

Two mysteries by Ngaio Marsh. Books by an Ann and an Anne. Two excellent novels by Zafon and Patchett. David Grann’s riveting account of the Osage murders and Roger Angell’s elegant essays on baseball. Poetry, fantasy, and essays on what matters most. Theology on Paul, the Trinity, God’s emotions, and from an Asian-American perspective. A new edition of a classic work by Dorothy L. Sayers, a shorter piece on why we get out of bed, and a surprisingly good collection of Christian poetry. So many delightful reads this month! Part of what I love about this blog is the chance to share them with you. So here they are.

The Apostle and the Empire, Christoph Heilig (foreword by John M. G. Barclay). Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2022. Focusing on 2 Corinthians 2:14, Heilig argues for an alternative to either hidden or unexpressed criticism of the empire in Paul’s writings, proposing that we might also consider texts that have been overlooked. Review

The Trinity in the Book of Revelation (Studies in Christian Doctrine and Scripture), Brandon D. Smith (Foreword by Lewis Ayers). Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2022. A Trinitarian reading of Revelation, drawing upon the insights of the pro-Nicene fathers to elucidate John’s vision both of the One God and the working of the Father, Son, and Spirit. Review

Photo Finish (Roderick Alleyn #31), Ngaio Marsh. New York: Felony & Mayhem, 2016 (originally published in 1980). A New Zealand trip for Alleyn and Troy goes sideways when Isabella Sommita, a soprano and diva is murdered after she debuts a badly written opera composed by her latest love interest. Review

The Emotions of GodDavid T. Lamb. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press. 2022. A study of the emotional language used of God in scripture, considering seven emotions spoken of both in Old and New Testaments. Review

Why the Gospel?, Matthew W. Bates (Foreword by Scot McKnight). Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2023. Instead of asking what the gospel is, explores why has God made this proclamation of good news, centering on the kingship of Jesus and what this means for those who place allegiance in him. Review

The Shadow of the WindCarlos Ruiz Zafón (Translated by Lucia Graves). New York: Penguin Books, 2005. Daniel Sempere’s life is changed when he finds a mysterious book in the Cemetery of Lost Books, and embarks on a quest to learn the true story of its mysterious author, one that places him in great peril. Review

Things That Matter MostChristopher de Vinck. Brewster: MA: Paraclete Press, 2022. A collection of essays that remind us that the things that matter most are as close as the beauty of things around us from fireflies, to Fred Rogers, to friends and family, and to the tip of our fingers. Review

On Getting Out of BedAlan Noble. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2023. Written for those whose experience of life or mental state make even getting out of bed a challenge, offering encouragement that even this is courageous and testifies to the goodness of God, and of life. Review

Divine Love TheoryAdam Lloyd Johnson. Grand Rapids: Kregel Academic, 2023. Proposes that the love within the Trinity serves as the objective basis and foundation for living moral lives and engages the competing atheist theory of Erik Weilenberg proposing an objective basis for morality apart from God. Review

Season TicketRoger Angell. New York: Open Road Media, 2013 (originally published in 1988). A collection of essays covering the 1982 to 1987 seasons, from spring training to the drama of the championships, and all the skills of players and managers and owners required to compete at the major league level. Review

Killers of the Flower MoonDavid Grann. New York: Doubleday, 2017. The true crime account of a series of murders of Osage tribal people motivated by money and the FBI agent who arrested some of the major figures involved in the deaths. Review

You Are UsGareth Gwyn. Austin: River Grove Books, 2023. An account using case studies showing how self-understanding and inner work allows individuals to become leaders in healing polarized relationships. Review

Christian Poetry in America Since 1940Edited by Micah Mattix and Sally Thomas. Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2022. An anthology of poetry written by a wide variety of poets who identify as Christian, born between 1940 and 1989. Review

The Dutch HouseAnn Patchett. New York: HarperCollins, 2019. Two siblings, Maeve and Danny, seek to come to terms with past losses of parents, and their childhood home, a striking three-story home built by a Dutch couple. Review

Mossflower (Redwall #2), Brian Jacques. New York: Avon Books, 1988. A prequel to Redwall, narrating the quest of Martin the Warrior and his companions to deliver Mossflower from the attack of the cruel wildcat Tsarmina, ruling from the fortress Kotir, next to Mossflower Wood. Review

Doing Asian-American TheologyDaniel D. Lee. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2022. A book laying out a framework for doing Asian-American theology considering both the shared and diverse cultural contexts of Asian-American peoples. Review

Dusk, Night, Dawn: On Revival and CourageAnne Lamott. New York: Riverhead Books, 2021. An exploration of the values that sustain us when we see a world as well as our own bodies falling apart. Review

The Man Born to be King (Wade Annotated Edition), Dorothy L. Sayers, edited by Kathryn Wehr. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2023. A new annotated edition of Sayers’ cycle of twelve plays on the life of Christ. Review

Death of a Fool (Roderick Alleyn #19), Ngaio Marsh. New York: Felony & Mayhem, 2014 (originally published in 1957). A fertility dance culminating in a ritual beheading of a fool, followed by his resurrection, ends with the fool having been truly decapitated. Review

Best of the Month: Dorothy L. Sayers The Man Born to Be King cycle of twelve radio dramas on the life of Christ, along with C. S. Lewis’s lectures on “mere” Christianity, helped sustain England during the depths of the Second World War. Now, Kathryn Wehr has edited a wonderful new edition of these plays with helpful introductions to each play and annotations throughout on the original text including Sayers’ Introduction, notes for each play and the text of the plays. An invaluable resource for Sayers’ scholars and lovers, and for any who want to explore her imaginative exploration of the life of Jesus the King, using the vernacular of her day. This is a tour de force!

Quote of the Month: Christopher de Vinck, in What Matters Most, made this probing observation to students he was teaching in a literature course on finding themselves in the literature they read:

“When we know who we are we can build a life upon wisdom, love, and compassion, and set the footprint of our lives firmly onto the earth for others to find who need the evidence and the inheritance of goodness as a guide for the future. When we know what matters most, we know where we are going” (p. 18).

What I’m Reading. I just finished Lies My Teacher Told Me. Written in the mid-Nineties, it reminds me that whitewashing American history is not just a current political fad but something we have been doing for a long time. The Language of the Soul by Jeff Crosby is a literate reflection on ten of our deepest longings. Alicia Britt Chole’s The Night is Normal is a deep dive into how we handle disillusionment. A Bond Between Souls is a scholarly study of Augustine on friendship, based on his letters to his friends. The Buster Clan, inspired by genealogical work, studies one Virginia family’s history, the Busters/Bustards, through American history. I’ve just put Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore on my reading pile. I’ll let you know what I think–I’ve not read him before. I’m also in the middle of two books for book clubs. Carmen Joy Imes Being God’s Image explores what it means that we were made as images of God. Matthew Lynch’s Flood and Fury explores God’s acts both in the flood and the invasion of Canaan resulting in great loss of life.

I’m looking forward to the more relaxed schedule of summer to enjoy these and other books on my TBR pile. As always, would love to hear what you are reading!

The Month in Reviews is my monthly review summary going back to 2014! It’s a great way to browse what I’ve reviewed. The search box on this blog also works well if you are looking for a review of a particular book.

How Many Books Are You Currently Reading?

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

At the moment? Seven in my case. Two are for book clubs of which I’m a part. Then I usually have at least two religious books I read, because I receive a lot of these for review. Then there is one on my Kindle, which is handy to read at breakfast and bed time. I have another that alternates between fiction and non-fiction. Finally, I have a book I can read in short snatches–often essays or poetry or something with short chapters.

I think personally that I have to take breaks from a book rather than read straight through. When I come back, my interest is renewed. I also have an interesting thing happen sometimes where it feels like my books are talking to each other–sometimes literally when one author mentions another, as is the case with the two books I’m reading for book clubs currently.

Some of this is shaped by interest and time of day, and some is shaped by my involvement in reviewing books. I find that I generally finish and am able to review four or five books most weeks (today is the rare exception when I didn’t have a book ready for review).

I posted a variation on this question on social media and was fascinated by the differences among reasons in this regard and the reasons for those differences. There is a group of people who like to read just one book at a time. For many of these people, reading more than one book at a time gets confusing. One person wrote, “I greatly prefer one book at a time. I’m confused enough by single books, and I can’t imagine trying to keep track of multiple plots, different genres simultaneously, etc.” The flip side of this is that some people choose books they can immerse themselves in and they just want to see how it all turns out without distraction. A person commented that you don’t watch two movies in different rooms at the same time (I personally suspect that there are some who try but I also think movies are different).

The picture seems to be more complicated for those reading multiple books at a time. Some are like me–they like the change. One person proposed that “A change is as good as rest.” They felt they could read more at a sitting if they switched off. Others mentioned getting into the habit of reading multiple books during their school years and never got out of it. For some, it is a question of the time of the day–more challenging material when one is fresh, more engaging or exciting material when they are tired and so they have different books for different times of the day. Some also read in different media–a printed book during a quiet moment at home, an audiobook while driving or working, an e-reader while commuting if not driving or on vacation or in bed. Others like to have a different book in different rooms in their homes to have a book available anywhere. One person reads multiple books because “I don’t have the self-control to finish one before starting another. I get too excited to see what the books have to say.”

I honestly don’t think there is a “right” answer to this question. In this as in other aspects of reading, I go with the axiom, read as you can, not as you can’t. Attention and memory seem to be two key aspects. For some, attention wanes if they go on and on in one book without a break; while for others, a book’s not worth reading if they cannot immerse themselves in it–perhaps reading all night to finish it. Some seem to have no problem remembering the plot or key ideas of multiple books while others can’t keep multiple books straight in their minds. We’re all wired differently, and the best thing we can do is understand what works for us.

Bottom line? It’s not a competition, no matter how many reading challenges are out there. You do you.

Review: Death of a Fool

Death of a Fool (Roderick Alleyn #19), Ngaio Marsh. New York: Felony & Mayhem, 2014 (originally published in 1957).

Summary: A fertility dance culminating in a ritual beheading of a fool, followed by his resurrection, ends with the fool having been truly decapitated.

It’s the winter solstice in South Mardian. Time for a ritual fertility dance known as the Mardian Morris Sword Dance. The dance is held among the ruins of Mardian Castle, in front of a home still inhabited by 94 year old Dame Alice Mardian, sharp as a tack, and her great niece and spinster, Dulcie Mardian. For generations, the core of the cast has been the Andersen family, who operated the Copse Forge, a blacksmithery in the nearby town, on a road soon to be turned into a thoroughfare. Presently, there is old William Andersen and his five sons. Andersen plays “The Fool” in the dance while the five enact a sword dance that culminates in a feigned beheading of the Fool, who conceals himself in a depression behind the Dolmen stone and subsequently rises from the dead at the conclusion of the ritual.

Three others are involved. Ralph Stanes, son of the rector and Dame Alice’s great nephew plays “the Betty,” a bisexual figure in a monstrous dress known to envelope young boys or girls. Crack, the Hobby Horse is played by Simon Begg, whose big role is to chase young maidens like Camilla Campion, the love interest of Ralph Stanes, into his arms. All of this is accompanied by the fiddling of Dr. Otterly, the town’s GP, who assiduously observes the players.

There is another key character, Mrs Bünz, a German immigrant who had fled Nazi oppression, and was taken up with researching folk rituals, of which the Mardian Morris Sword Dance is an outstanding example. She spies on rehearsals, tries to wheedle information from the players, and is resolutely resisted by William Anderson, until he is murdered.

As you might guess if you are a reader of Marsh, the staged murder actually occurs. When the Fool fails to rise at the climax, an investigation finds him decapitated, lying in the depression behind the rock. The local authorities, unused to dealing with such a horror, call in Scotland Yard and Alleyn, Fox, Bailey, and Thompson arrive forthwith.

The interviews of witnesses present a number of suspects. Anderson’s sons clearly are conspiring to conceal something. Ernest, the youngest and subject to epileptic fits and considered to “not be playing with a full deck” is the lead suspect. He wielded the “Whiffler” that beheads the Fool and he had an angry set to with his father over the putting down of a dog. He’d also beheaded an aggressive goose earlier in the day at Mardian Castle. And yet William Anderson was seen to crouch behind the Dolmen stone afterwards, very much alive. Chris, another son, wants to marry a village girl, Trixie, known to be “generous” with her favors, including with Ralph Stanes, and disapproved by William. Several of the boys, encouraged by Simon Beggs, a former officer barely surviving running a service station, wants to go in with the boys to turn the forge into a service station by the new thoroughfare. Ralph wants to marry Camilla Campion, William’s granddaughter. William is opposed because of Ralph’s previous dalliance and lets him known by asking Ralph to draw up a will with a bequest to Camilla if she doesn’t marry Ralph. And what is the real deal with Mrs. Bünz?

The big problem was that The Fool was very much alive after the pretend decapitation and very dead at the end of the play, yet the accounts of all the witnesses, including those who could see behind the stone, indicate no point at which he was attacked. So how did he die and who was his murderer? In the end, Alleyn resorts to a re-enactment to see if the murderer will be revealed.

Like many of her stories, there is “theatre,” which serves as the setting of a murder, but I thought her plotting was genius and found myself uncertain up to the end. The female characters, from crusty and imperious Dame Alice to the two young women, Camilla and Trixie, clearly upstage the men, as does the eccentric Mrs. Bünz. I also found it fascinating that Dr. Otterly seems to work more closely, and even conspiratorially, with Alleyn than the members of his investigative team, who remain in the background for the most part. All in all, I thought this, not among the very best, but certainly in the top ranks of Marsh’s Alleyn books. The use of a fertility dance in an English village was an unusual and fascinating plot choice.

Review: The Man Born to be King

The Man Born to be King (Wade Annotated Edition), Dorothy L. Sayers, edited by Kathryn Wehr. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2023.

Summary: A new annotated edition of Sayers’ cycle of twelve plays on the life of Christ.

Between December 1941 and October 1942, during the depths of Second World War, the BBC broadcast twelve radio dramas written by Dorothy L. Sayers. Through the efforts of Kathryn Wehr these works have been brought to life for a new generation, accompanied by Wehr’s annotations and introduction to the work, offering important background, explanations and discussions of textual emendations during the process of writing for broadcast. This work was supported by a grant from Marion E. Wade Center, the location of a significant archive of material on Dorothy L. Sayers,

The plays center around the idea of Jesus as king, and the contrast between the kingdom he inaugurated in his coming and the kingdoms of the day, those of Herod and the Roman Caesars, a contrast resulting in the peril of death over Jesus from his birth to his crucifixion. The first in the cycle is “Kings in Judea” where Herod is visited by the traditional Three Kings (from Europe, Asia, and Africa) seeking the one that the heavens said was born king in Judea.

The king theme is elaborated in Sayers portrayal of Judas Iscariot, who is portrayed as probably the most intelligent of all the disciples, perhaps more far-seeing and idealistic, but also proud in the particular way some of the brightest are, and thus vulnerable to the insinuations of Baruch, a recurring figure who is conspiring with the Zealots to lead an insurgency. Baruch raises questions of Jesus’s intentions and Judas comes to believe Jesus in the end was going to betray his own ideals. He determines to stop him by betraying him first–one of the most probing portrayals of Judas I’ve seen.

The plays are in the vernacular British English of the day, a controversial decision which Wehr discusses in her Introduction (as well as the miraculous consensus that came about on the religious board vetting her material). Despite protests from some religious bodies, the plays enjoyed widespread support from the public. The one thing I notice is that Sayers will sometimes quote verbatim from scripture and then at other times render accounts in the vernacular. Also, some expressions may be anachronistic today, such as Proclus, the centurion’s servant being his “batman.”

Another device Sayers uses is what she calls “tie-rod” characters. Balthazar, one of the Three Kings, reappears at the crucifixion. With him before Herod is Proclus, the Centurion, whose servant is later healed by Jesus, and who also is at the foot of the cross, testifying to Jesus as the Son of God. Baruch also serves in this role, particularly in the development of the Judas plot. Mary the mother of Jesus (Mary Virgin in the plays to distinguish from other Marys) and Mary Magdalene (who she identifies with Mary of Bethany) also recur and critically tie the narrative together.

Sayers weaves the Synoptic accounts and John’s Gospel into a seamless narrative over the twelve plays, contrary to much of the scholarship of her day. Yet she works carefully with biblical texts, other source materials and commentaries. She is also theologically acute, as is evident in this monologue of Mary, the mother of Jesus, as she watches Jesus struggle under the weight of the cross up to Golgotha:

“I know now what he is, and what I am. . . . I, Mary, am the fact; God is the truth; but Jesus is fact and truth–he is reality. You cannot see the immortal truth till it is born in the flesh of the fact. And because all birth is a sundering of the flesh, fact and reality seem to go separate ways, But it is not really so; the feet that must walk this road were made of me. Only one Jesus is to die today–one person whom you know–the truth of God and the fact of Mary. This is reality. From the beginning of time until now, this is the only thing that has ever really happened. When you understand this you will understand all prophecies, and all history. . . .”

In a few sentences, Sayers powerfully summarizes the doctrine of the incarnation and the hypostatic union of the two natures.

Some comments are in order on what is included in this edition. It begins with Kathryn Wehr’s introduction to the plays, describing their inception, Sayers’ conditions, and how the plays illustrate her creative trinity, developed in The Mind of the Maker. Also reproduced are James Welch’s introduction as director of religious broadcasting for the BBC and Sayers own introduction, in which she details her own process in writing the plays.

Each play in the cycle begins with an editor’s introduction offering not only a plot synopsis scene by scene but also background information and discussion of theological issues in each play. This is followed by the cast listing for the original radio broadcast and Sayers notes to actors on the play and the particular characters and how she would have them played–fascinating for her insights particularly into the lives of the disciples, and several other key players, including Caiaphas and Pilate. Also, Wehr provides annotations alongside the text, some explanatory, some providing alternate readings from draft materials, some citing correspondence with James Welch discussing elements of the play. Underlining in the text (as well as introductions and notes) point the reader to annotated material.

This edition was published after Advent and Christmas this past year. The plays are wonderful reading at any time of year but would seem ideal in the time between Advent and Easter. Of course, anyone who follows the works of Dorothy L. Sayers will want this edition of the plays for all the scholarly material included. Above all, the plays help us ask afresh a question that recurs in the gospels and that each of us must resolve for ourselves–who is this Jesus?

________________________________

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Lance Corporal Charles F. Azara, Jr.

Lance Corporal Charles F. Azara, Jr. (USMC)

I grew up in Youngstown watching the Vietnam War on the evening news. Meanwhile, young men from Youngstown were serving, fighting and dying in Vietnam. The war was unpopular, and sadly, we took it out on the returning soldiers, who, living or dead, did not always receive the honor they deserve. Each year, on Memorial Day, I remember one of those who died, representing the sixty-four from Youngstown who made the ultimate sacrifice.

This year I focus on Lance Corporal Charles F. Azara, Jr. He served with H(otel) Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marine
Regiment, 3rd Marine Division.

Charles F. Azara, Jr. was born to Charles F. Azara and Rose Adams Azara Ranno on September 8, 1942. He graduated from North High School in 1960, where he played football and was a member of the school band. After graduation, he worked for Strouss-Hirshberg, Simco Shoe, and then the Edward J. Debartolo Construction Company.

He enlisted in the Marine Corps in November of 1965 at the Cleveland recruiting office. After bootcamp, he was deployed in Vietnam at the end of May 1966. On August 24, 1966, he was on combat patrol in the mountains approximately 14 km north northwest of the An Hoa Airfield, a Marine Corps Combat Base in Quang Nam Province. At about 1100 hours local time, his patrol came under small arms fire and he received a gunshot wound to the neck from which he died before medevac could arrive, approximately at 1200 hours. He died less than a month before his 24th birthday.

Funeral services were held on Saturday September 3 at the Immaculate Conception Church followed by interment at Calvary Cemetery, where he lies at rest.

He was awarded the Purple Heart, National Defense, Vietnam Service, and Vietnam Campaign medals. He served with honor, dying in action. His name appears on the Vietnam War Memorial on Panel 10E, Line 32. I honor and remember him, and all who died in service to our country.

WE REMEMBER.

Other servicemen remembered in this series:

SP4 Robert Thomas Callan

SP4 Patrick Michael Hagerty

To read other posts in the Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown series, just click “On Youngstown.” Enjoy!

Review: Dusk, Night, Dawn

Dusk, Night, Dawn: On Revival and Courage, Anne Lamott. New York: Riverhead Books, 2021.

Summary: An exploration of the values that sustain us when we see a world as well as our own bodies falling apart.

Anne Lamott wrote this in the first year of the pandemic amid illness, lockdown, and death, reports on the dire consequences of a rapidly warming planet and a presidential election fraught with conflict. And she writes of being newly married, three days after she signed up for Medicare. The book evidences a consciousness of both bodies and the world falling apart. Internally as well as physically, she seems more aware than ever how messed up we are, both by the complicated histories of our families and our own lousy choices.

A predominant message of this book is “that love is sovereign here, and that the hardest work we do is self-love and forgiveness.” We try to pretend we are better than we are, only to fall flat on our faces, as Lamott describes during the time she struggled with alcoholism, sprawled on a cliff ledge after having blacked out, with a battered toenail and all muddy. If anything as we get older, we have a diminished capacity to keep up the façade.

Along the way, we listen to her as she describes the awakening to the challenge of living with another person with all their foibles, trying to teach Sunday school to a bunch of kids who are more concerned about when is the snack, who think that the passage in Exodus about seeing God’s back is about seeing his butt, and the challenges of a new cat in the house. She explores the strangeness and difficulty of repentance, the growth of forgiveness in us like the growth of a nautilus shell, her alarm at swallowing pills meant for her dog, and enduring a night of people telling the stories, droning on and on.

Somehow, she maintains hope that in the end, all will be well with the climate, and with us. She believes we’ve risen to other occasions and will to this. I think Lamott’s gift is self-deprecating honesty, grown even more acute as she gets older that eventuates in both forgiveness and recognition of the moments of grace. At times one feels that her efforts to share wisdom end up as platitudes like “love is the gas station and the fuel.” Then, on the same page you encounter the staggering insight that as messed up as we are “we are loved out of all sense and proportion.” Perhaps in the end, that is what makes all the difference between hope and despair. Platitudinous or profound, one has the sense that Anne Lamott stumbles day by day toward that love and toward that hope (and she really doesn’t care how it sounds).

Review: Doing Asian American Theology

Doing Asian-American Theology, Daniel D. Lee. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2022.

Summary: A book laying out a framework for doing Asian-American theology considering both the shared and diverse cultural contexts of Asian-American peoples.

For too long we would “do theology” without cultural modifiers. It was assumed that the theology that arose from European and American contexts (at least among the dominant culture) was theology. Only in doing mission did the awareness arise that there was a lot in the theology of European-Americans that was contextual, and out of context in indigenous settings. To truly be embraced in indigenous contexts, the faith had to be translated not only into the language but also the culture of the people.

Daniel D. Lee contends that this concern for context is no less true for Asian Americans who believe, and in this book he attempts to set out the cultural context that frames doing theology as an Asian American. “Neutral” theology really is White theology, and risks the loss of distinctive Asian American cultural identity and the contribution of Asian Americans to the global and national mosaic of the church. Just as Jesus entered the world as a Jew in all the particularities of Jewishness, so the particularities of being Asian American matter.

Before we launch into the framework Lee proposes, we should note his definition of Asian American theology. He writes:

“Asian American theology is about God revealed in Jesus Christ in covenantal relationship with Asian Americans qua Asian Americans. Thus, Asian American theology is about Asian Americans as human covenant partners with God.”

For Lee, particularity matters and can be lost when we are blind to the cultural normativities latent in so-called “neutral theologizing.”

The framework he then proposes is what he calls the “Asian American Quadrilateral.” The four themes he articulates are:

  1. Asian heritage. These are the cultural, religious, and philosophical inheritances that inform an intuited sense of “how things are done.” As there are many Asian peoples, this is hardly monolithic and sometimes conflicting. There is a danger of essentializing or giving way to stereotypes (e.g. the “tiger mom”). He develops the use of cultural archetypes such as Confucian filial piety, some consonant with the faith, some distorted by fallenness, some neutral but which may be considered through the eyes of faith.
  2. Migration experience. This addresses the immigrant or refugee experience, acculturation and assimilation, intergenerational conflicts and identity formation.
  3. American culture. This addresses everything from American cultural and theological heritage to colonialism to the secular and post-modern turn of the culture and what it means to live amid different ways in which “things are done” and how the Asian and American aspects of one’s identity are integrated personally and in congregations.
  4. Racialization. This involves understanding the process of racial identity formation, the black/white binary, the particular experience of microaggressions Asian Americans experience, often summed up in the “perpetual foreigner” status.

After devoting a chapter to each theme, Lee offers two concluding chapters where he begins to do some theological formulation around identity and the church. He first discusses fragmented and integrated identities in the Asian American experience and the trauma of self-editing that comes with living bi-culturally. He believes healing comes when mental categories to describe one’s experience, such as the Quadrilateral, are developed, leading to storytelling that constructs a coherent narrative of one’s life, and spiritually formative communities where narratives are shared, affirmed, and offer insight.

Finally, he addresses the idea of the Asian American church, addressing the flaws in various proposals of multi-racial churches, particularly that these often lead to being blind to the structural aspects of racism as well as submerging identities, often for the sake of White normativity. He draws on Rowan William’s idea of “mixed economy” to explore the various layers of diversity that may exist within a community, going beyond race and ethnicity. Drawing on the Quadrilateral, he proposes contextual communities for Asian heritage, transitional communities for migrant communities, missional communities for American culture and liberational communities for racialization. Some will come more to the fore than others at times and they will exist in tension with each other.

The subtitle of this work is important to make sense of what Lee is doing. “A Contextual Framework for Faith and Practice” helps one see that before one engages in the work of theology proper, one must be aware (and self-aware) of the context within which it is being done so that theological reflection both reflects and engages one’s Asian American identity and the Asian and American contexts in which that is lived out. As an onlooker in this enterprise, I look forward to see what is built upon this framework and how it enables Asian American Christians to flourish, the wider church to see Christ more fully, and the wider culture offered a fresh witness to the God who has been revealed in Jesus Christ.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher.

Review: Mossflower

Mossflower (Redwall #2), Brian Jacques. New York: Avon Books, 1988.

Summary: A prequel to Redwall, narrating the quest of Martin the Warrior and his companions to deliver Mossflower from the attack of the cruel wildcat Tsarmina, ruling from the fortress Kotir, next to Mossflower Wood.

Martin the warrior mouse is marching by the Kotir fortress when seized, after a fierce fight, by the forces of Verdauga, the dying wildcat Lord of Kotir. His daughter Tsarmina, furious that Verdauga has spared Martin’s life, breaks his sword, creating the enmity between Tsarmina and Martin that builds throughout the book. Martin meets Gonff, a mouse-thief in the prison, and Gonff succeeds in helping them both escape into Mossflower Wood.

Verdauga dies. Tsarmina imprisons her brother and rules. She is ruthless, willing to kill any who challenge her. The tribute she enforces drives villagers into Mossflower, leading to increasingly depleted stores. She plots the conquest of Mossflower. Her forays are resisted by mice, moles, hedgehogs and squirrels but it is apparent that Kotir’s might is superior. It is decided that only with the aid of Boar the Fighter, who went off many years ago on a quest to Salamandastrom Mountain, the Mountain of Dragons, that they can conquer. Martin, wearing his broken sword around his neck, along with Gonff and Dinny the mole, go on a quest to the mountain, surmounting encounters with crabs, toads, gulls and owls.

Will they find Boar alive? Will they return in time when no one has come back from Salamandastrom? And will the determined animals of Mossflower be able to withstand the attacks of Tsarmina until reinforcements arrive? Along the way, we see Martin truly emerge as the Warrior, and learn of the forging of his sword that plays such an important role in Redwall. We also admire the ingenuity and fierce resolution of the creatures of Mossflower.

Martin and Gonff make ideal companions and part of the enjoyment of the book is the friendship between the determined warrior and the happy-go-lucky but equally courageous Gonff. We also observe the folly of evil, its propensity to self-destruction that help undermine the advantages Tsarmina has enjoyed, even as her fortress is slowly being undermined. By contrast, there is the goodness of the creatures of Mossflower, loving peace but resolute and self-sacrificial in the defense of their home. The arrival of the Abbess Germaine adds wisdom, spiritual depth, and the arts of a healer, desperately needed as Mossflower faces war. And in her arrival, the foundations are laid for Redwall.

In addition to the contest between the forces of Tsarmina and those of Mossflower, Jacques fills in many backstories alluded to in Redwall. I hope this is not all we see of this generation. I really liked Martin and Gonff and hope I will see more of them.

Review: The Dutch House

The Dutch House, Ann Patchett. New York: HarperCollins, 2019.

Summary: Two siblings, Maeve and Danny, seek to come to terms with past losses of parents, and their childhood home, a striking three-story home built by a Dutch couple.

This story, it seems to me is about the longings of people who care for each other, often at variance with each other, resulting in wounds of estrangement, with which we may spend a lifetime trying to come to terms. So it is with siblings Danny and Maeve Conroy, born seven years apart. Their father, an aspiring real-estate tycoon has bought an extravagant house in an old Dutch neighborhood of Philadelphia, once owned by the Van Hoebeek’s, whose forbidding portraits and presence fill the house. Danny, who has never known anything else is the narrator of this account. Conroy’s wife Elna, who nearly became a nun, cannot come to terms with a place so extravagant. Her absences become longer until she leaves permanently, devoting herself to a life helping the poor, first in India and later, at various places in the United States, including New York’s Bowery.

Cyril’s ambitions, represented in his growing portfolio of properties leaves him vulnerable to the longings of Andrea, who becomes his second wife, bringing her two daughters. She has no problem seeing the house as hers. She relegates Maeve to a third floor bedroom so her daughter Norma can have her room. When Cyril, making repairs on one of his buildings, drops dead of a heart attack, Andrea expels Danny from the house, forcing him to live with Maeve. Soon they learn they have been cut out of their father’s company and assets apart from an educational trust for Danny and Andrea’s two girls.

Maeve already has a job as chief financial officer for a frozen vegetable concern and uses acumen to look after her brother, using the trust first to send him to Columbia, and then through medical school. She pours her life out for Danny, who strikes me as spoiled and self-absorbed, at times, to the detriment of her own health as a diabetic. It seems her longing is to be needed. Yet the question of what Danny wanted wasn’t asked. Finally after his medical training, he pursues what he wants–to be like the father he had followed around collecting rents and making repairs as a boy. That longing clashes with his wife, Celeste who thought she was marrying a doctor, anticipating the life of a doctor’s wife.

Meanwhile, Maeve and Danny continue to wrestle with the father and mother they lost, symbolized by the Dutch House. Repeatedly, they sit together, parked across the street wondering why their mother had left, why their father had so compromised their interests, and what had become of their evil stepmother. They try to understand their past and its hold on their lives. It turns out that they end up being versions of the parents they had lost.

I’ve often wrestled with what I’ve felt to be the unsatisfying endings of many of Patchett’s books. For one, I felt that Patchett wrote an ending I found to be satisfying. Not everyone lives happily ever after but there are real resolutions, real reconciliations. Danny, as narrator, grows in a trajectory of maturity and character. I’ll leave you to discover how Patchett accomplishes this. Like her other novels, she explores the unique ways in which families can be unhappy. In the resolution of this one, I found it satisfying in the authentic growth of the characters. I leave to you to discover how she does this and what you think.