Life stages

Review: Insane for the Light

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Cover image of "Insane for the Light" by Ronald Rolheiser

Insane for the Light, Ronald Rolheiser. Image (ISBN: 9780593736463) 2025.

Summary: The spiritual journey of our final years, learning not only how to relinquish one’s life but to give away one’s death.

On Saturday, I learned of the passing of an actor whose movies I watched as a young adult. She was eight years older than I am. This is not an uncommon experience when I read of the deaths of famous people, or the obituary page from my high school on Facebook. It reminds me that part of the business of this stage of my life is to live with intention and attention toward my death. How does God want to continue to form me in the way of Christ as my bodily and mental powers wane? And how may I live so that my life, and even my death, may be a gift to those I love?

There are not many guides for this journey. Many of the books about spirituality address our productive years and the transitions of midlife. But what about the years of autumn and winter? In recent years, I’ve come to appreciate the writing of Ronald Rolheiser in his books The Holy Longing and Sacred Fire. I discovered that this new book, Insane for the Light completes this trilogy. In the first, Rolheiser writes about our search for meaning. Then in the second, he speaks to how we give our lives away. Now, in an interesting turn of phrase, he writes about how we give our deaths away. Rolheiser observes:

“Giving our deaths away as a gift to our loved ones means that at some point in our lives, we need to stop focusing on our agenda and begin to focus on our obituary, on what kind of spirit we will leave behind.”

But what does that look like?

Rolheiser begins with anthropologies from aging, considering voices as diverse as Hindu mythology’s sannyasin to Germain Greer’s crone, Richard Rohr’s angry or holy old fools, and David Brooks’ call to scale the second mountain of meaning and love. Then he considers the challenge of transformation in aging. Instead of becoming the same person, only more so, he addresses seven transformations, all summarized in Jesus call to metanoia, the change of mind into creatures more like God. More like Christ. In the end, the image of Christ defenseless on the cross, submitting to death and giving his life, is our model. In our death, how we deal with helplessness, the loss of control are crucial. It is the experience of passivity. We may embrace or bitterly fight this, but if embraced, following Jesus in death is lifegiving to others.

But this journey is sometimes a journey through dark nights. Rolheiser draws upon the wisdom of St. john of the Cross’s Dark Night of the Soul. He offers wise counsel for how we live through such nights (pp. 80-82) that is worth the price of the book. He proposes that the purpose of the “dark night” is so that “God can flow into our lives and into this world purely, uncontaminated by human projection and self interest, because in our frustrating darkness we are helpless to control the experience.”

Then Rolheiser turns to the image of the “beggars hut.” In fact, that hut is the aging process. a kind of monastic existence with its own order of tasks. Carrying tension for the young. Offering prophecy to the world. Radiating God’s compassion. Rescuing God from narrowness. Blessing the young. Giving up on fear. Preparing for our move to a place beyond the illusion of self sufficiency. Making peace with those in our circle through the words “Please forgive me,” “I forgive you,” “Thank you,” and “I love you.” Rolheiser synthesizes Henri Nouwen’s ideas of how we give our deaths away into twelve invitations.

In his final chapters Rolheiser addresses his thoughts about the afterlife, including our communion with those who have died. Finally, he outlines St. John of the Cross’s paradigm of spiritual transformation. He includes examples of transformation through prayer and through service. His parting word comes from St. John’s advice:

“We all have made vows: to one another, to God, and to ourselves. John of the Cross simply advises that we stay within these vows and accept the times of disillusionment–and then love, others, maturity, and God will find us,”

It seems to me that the book’s central idea is that our aging is an invitation to die with Christ. What I find most attractive in this is that it suggests that old people can grow! We can be transformed by God through the aging process. We can mellow, become grateful, forgiving, hopeful, and childlike. Then we generously give away the remainder of our lives–and our deaths. And in our dying, we become “insane for the light” of God’s glory. I recall reading of my childhood pastor’s final words: “The glory, the glory!” To read these words was a gift, as is remembering them. He gave his death away to others.

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

Review: The Gap Decade

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The Gap Decade, Katie Schnack. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2021.

Summary: A first-person account of navigating the decade of one’s twenties, the transition from adolescence to adulthood.

I first noticed the idea of this book in my work with grad students. They were living on their own, most were working while pursuing grad studies, they had cars, health insurance, paid taxes, and in some cases were married or had even started families. They looked like adults and I thought of them that way. Yet they did not yet feel they were “adults.” Perhaps part was that they saw themselves as “still going to school.” They described some of the things I’ve mentioned in the preceding sentences as “adulting” which suggests a kind of rehearsal for adulthood. I came to discover that this is descriptive of many in their twenties.

Katie Schnack captures this in her book, The Gap Decade. The title comes from the idea of a “gap year,” which many take before or after college as a kind of transition. Schnack suggests that the gap decade isn’t a choice, but a host of transitions “that the universe just dumps in your lap” that come with a ton of emotions from loneliness or even depression to exhilaration and joy and intimacy.

In an informal and quirky style, Schnack describes her own journey through the transitions of this decade. One is the finding of new friends in the places where one moves. Another is the waiting (sometimes literally at tables) one does on the way to find the work one wants to do. Then there is the work (or #werk) and the crazy things that happen like the boss who up and quit, throwing her stapler across the office (how not to quit). She describes a couple years in Austin where she learned to “embrace the stuck” while her husband completed an MFA program.

Working on taxes taught her and her husband how to make the hard things like doing taxes more endurable–snacks and pizza with champagne afterwards made it easier–and learned to apply that lesson to other hard things, like Tuesdays. She writes about finding the balance between tidy (which she is not) and good enough, and between taking care of oneself and enjoying one’s body, and going crazy in some exercise program. She describes the new appreciation of her home in Minnesota after living in other places, including knowing how to bait a fishhook and de-ice a windshield. It also means accepting change–that Christmas celebrations, even with family are different than childhood.

Living in a tiny apartment where both worked from home in New York exposed all their shortcomings, the grace and self-forgiveness they needed to practice, as well as some good life hacks–and the value of a bigger place to live. Like many couples starting out (especially during the recession that began in 2009), finances were tight and lean into their faith:

“When all my go-to comforts are stripped from me–a sense of physical and financial security, an understanding of what outcomes I can expect, my tangible needs and emotional needs being met–I have learned just to lean hard on God, with the expectation he will show up with enough to get me through. How? Just by the good ol’ “cry out to God” method because sometimes that is all we have to offer” (p. 124).

Another move, this time to Memphis led to a mental health crisis as Katie went through profound depression. She speaks candidly of the stigmas that still exist in the Christian community around mental health–particularly the stigma that one should not need medication. And she writes about the transformative experience of going to a therapist (not a Christian), an elderly woman with an eye problem who she dubs “Dr. Magic Wizard.” She finally was able to process the death of her closest college friend.

The concluding part of the book describes her and her husband’s journey into becoming parents–the deep grief of a miscarriage, carrying and birthing her daughter, and that as a mom it is still OK–or not–to wear a bikini. You can even survive showing up to register your daughter for daycare with a stray piece of pink underwear hanging out the back of your shorts, that you discover only after you leave.

Schnack is real, vulnerable, and funny. She lets you know you are not the only one to go through all of this stuff–a lot of people are. She describes a life of learning that she doesn’t have to have it all together. She tells stories of leaning into her faith in all sorts of practical ways–God shows up and she keeps showing up. The book ends with her turning thirty–far from flawless but also marveling how far she has come.

This is an encouraging book. I enjoyed the quirky writing style as well as the skill of weaving a number of “adulting” transitions into her narrative. This is a great book if you are wondering if you are the “only one” or know someone who is.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

Review: The Good Retirement Guide 2018

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the good retirement guide 2018

The Good Retirement Guide 2018, Allan Esler Smith, ed. London: Kogan Page, 2018.

Summary: A wide-ranging guide exploring everything from financial planning to housing to health to business and personal pursuits for residents of the UK approaching retirement.

Reading and reviewing this guide is the result of a well-intentioned mistake. Retirement is an approaching reality in my own life, and when I saw this available for review on Netgalley, I requested it, failing to read the second paragraph of the book description noting that it “offers clear and concise suggestions on a broad range of subjects for UK retirees.”

Now there may be some of you who follow this blog for whom this is just what you need. You live in the UK, and much of this will already make sense. You will find the first four chapters on financial planning, pensions and investment instruments, taxes, and a number of the websites and resources in all of the chapter quite useful. Mainly for me, it made me aware that there are parallel issues of planning, retirement savings, investment advisors, and dealing with tax issues. It was also apparent that scammers are not limited to this side of the Atlantic, and that they use many of the same ploys. The most helpful advice is that if it sounds too good to be true, it likely is, and that if it doesn’t “smell” right, it probably isn’t. Oh, and don’t be careless about taxes because it sounds like enforcement is more rigorous and there are steep fines and penalties!

Chapters 5-11 covered issues that had broader general applicability, although resources and public and private agencies recommended are UK-based, as one would expect.  There were helpful tips on determining whether to age in place or downsize and the various options, The chapter on healthcare included practical discussions of caring for eyes, feet, hearing, teeth, and health issues like insomnia and depression as well as country specific information about health insurance and the National Health Service. There were a number of encouraging ideas about starting businesses, working for other and volunteering, as well as leisure activities.

Having already passed this threshold personally, it had not occurred to me that for many retirees, there are elderly parents and relatives still to be cared for, as well as children or even grandchildren. Finally, the book has important advice about wills, powers of attorney, and estate and funeral planning that none of us like to think about but are vital. The big takeaway here is, have a will and make sure it is up to date.

Each chapter and subsection has “top tips” and generous lists of websites and agencies that offer advice, much of it free. Where provisions are different in Wales and Scotland, this is also noted. All told, this appears to be an accessible and up to date guide for anyone living in the UK. For the rest of us, or at least for me, it suggests the kind of guide I want to look for tailored to the American scene.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

 

Review: Falling Upward

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Falling UpwardFalling Upward, Richard Rohr. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2011.

Summary: Richard Rohr focuses on what he sees are the key developmental tasks for each “half” of life, using the image of the container for the first half, and contents for the second.

I’ll be honest. This is not a book I can wholeheartedly recommend. While I found a number of useful insights, I thought the “spirituality” on which Rohr grounded these more reflective of a “blend” of Eastern and Western spirituality rather than the Catholic Christianity with which Father Rohr is most closely identified. For some, that may not be a problem, or even is a plus! If you are looking for a spirituality that roots an understanding of development in classic Christianity, whether Catholic, Orthodox, or Protestant/Evangelical, that is not this book.

First for the insights I most appreciated, which I think come out of long pastoral work with people seeking to grow in their faith throughout life. There are two key insights that are important:

First, there is the insight that life can be divided into two halves with the key task of the first being fashioning the “container” of one’s life and that the second half is devoted to the “contents” of that container. The first half is the structures of rules, disciplines, community. This occurs in a healthy way when these things are present in an atmosphere of unconditional love. Where love is lacking or the structures are lacking, the container is inadequate for the second half task. The second half, then focuses on the contents of life, the becoming of a unique person who knows how to draw from all these structures and yet go beyond them.

Second, there is the title idea of “falling upward”. At some point, there is a necessary “fall”–failure, suffering, tragedy. In some sense the first half “container” may have prepared you to face these, and yet is inadequate of itself to do so. It is time, in Rohr’s words to “discharge your loyal soldier.” It is often in the facing of our fallenness and finiteness and imperfection that we become fully human as we stop trying to be what we are not, and begin to pursue a life of grace, of calling, of wholeness, discovering our True Self. Those who resist “falling upwards” go on in life to become cynical, emptily driven, emotionally detached and judgmental individuals. This is the story of the elder son in the story of the Prodigal.

There are several key places where I believe Rohr is articulating a spirituality grounded more in a “new age” spirituality than in Christian orthodoxy, despite his warm avowals of how for him Christ is the center. For one thing, he articulates a new age account of the fall of Adam and Eve as a “necessary fall” for their development of consciousness. I would agree with the formative nature of failure, transgression, and suffering that comes to the foot of the cross and finds grace. That is different from a theology that says the fall was necessary for the evolution of our consciousness. One involves restoration of what was lost through the cross. The other seems to involve evolutionary progress where a cross is superfluous.

A second place is Rohr’s proposal that “heaven” and “hell” have to do with our consciousness, rather than ultimate destinies. Certainly, our consciousness can be “heavenly” or “hellish.” Views like this have become popular of late, perhaps as alternatives to ugly forms of “hell fire preachers”. Yet I wonder if the grace Rohr speaks of can be meaningful without there being a real judgment.

Finally, Rohr seems to propose that our development is really through a transformation of consciousness through the “falling upward” experience, perhaps aided by the Spirit of God, rather true spiritual rebirth. There is language of “union with ourselves and everything else” that seems more the language of pantheistic monism than of being “at-one” with God in Christ. In fact, it seems at times that Rohr is among those who say that all religions are really saying the same thing and that those who say otherwise are guilty of “either-or” thinking. I would contend that the difference between a “both-and” view that wipes out distinctives and the Christian faith is that the Christian faith is a faith of reconciliation–a third way between “either” and “or” that doesn’t wipe out distinctions but reconciles them in Christ.

This is regrettable in my view because his insights into the two halves of life and the transition of what I might call “fall into re-formation” may be grounded far more robustly is what C. S. Lewis would call “mere Christianity.” There are so many things that, for one living in the second half, connected deeply for me. His description of “the second simplicity” and the “bright sadness” ring true. I think part of what so many like in Rohr, and I’ve appreciated in his other writings is his ability to capture the imagination and heart in his word paintings. However, as one who cares about the second half journey and believes it is best grounded in “mere Christianity” I would recommend Hagberg and Guelich’s The Critical Journey as one of the best books I’ve come across on the issues of our life journeys.

 

On Liminal Space

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One of the ways to impress friends (and maybe gain some sympathy if they understand you) is to say that you are in a “liminal space” in your life right now. I’ve come across this idea more and more in the past few years and particularly this week at the conference I am attending. A liminal space is the undefined boundary between two clearly defined spaces. The threshold to my house (the front stoop and entryway) is a liminal space between outdoors and the indoor living areas of my house.

In many instances, this term is used to describe a life transition. Pregnancy is a liminal space between just being a couple and being parents–between something that was familiar and something that will be totally new. It can be the space between losing a job and getting another one. It can be things like “mid-life”, that odd period somewhere in your forties where you realize you are no longer “young”, where you see changes in your body, and you are asking questions again of what’s it all about?

This is actually a good term for something my wife and I have been experiencing. This is the year we enter our seventh decade, complete with Golden Buckeye cards, courtesy of the State of Ohio. A number of our high school and college friends have already retired. While I’m not there yet, we’ve noticed some interesting changes and new questions we are asking.

For one thing, we are becoming far more ruthless in deaccumulating. I was cleaning out a desk we are preparing to sell and discovered old notebooks from seminary and college that I haven’t looked at in 30 to 40 years. And for the first time, I had the courage to say–I don’t need to keep this. I also recently got rid of several boxes of books I realized I either would never read or never look at again. And I feel like we are just getting started.

In my work I’ve found myself moving from simply thinking about my own goals and career development to nurturing these in younger colleagues. While I still have challenging assignments and great ministry opportunities among the students and faculty with whom I work I am thinking more and more about encouraging and empowering others and handing off to a new generation of people in our organization. I’m really not intimidated by that–I want what we are doing to outlast my working years. I find myself thinking more about not simply ending work at some point but wanting to finish well–something older workers don’t always do. In particular, I don’t want to be the old crank!

I’ve found we’ve begun pursuing more avidly interests we just couldn’t consider during the peak years of work and being parents. And so we go painting, take photographs, write blogs and sing music. We’ve learned you can audit courses for free at Ohio public universities when you are sixty and are thinking about this. Health permitting, we expect to have a life after work and it is interesting to begin cultivating what that might be and asking what that will look like.

One thing about liminal spaces is that one is going from high def to low def. I really don’t know what life after work entirely will be like. One of the things we learned today is that it is very tempting to rush the answers to these questions rather than to spend some time lingering with the questions, which often leads to greater self-understanding and better answers. Low def is uncomfortable yet it can be a place for growth.

One would think we’d have life figured out by this point. Wrong! We’ve never been to this part of life before, other than watching parents and older friends go through it. In my faith, we talk about growing in Christ-likeness, or as I like to speak of it, growing into our “size Jesus” clothes (thank you for that image, Andrea!). I’m so glad I still have opportunities to learn and grow, even if it means new questions and uncertainties. It seems to me the only alternative is stagnation, and to me that would be to die before I’m dead! Liminal space seem far better.