So, once again, I went there and back again, reading The Hobbit aloud because my younger two boys are old enough. They were riveted by Tolkien's invention and humor -- it seems like we laughed more this time. Also, Tolkien's writing doesn't follow a three-act shape, but is surprising in how events unfold as well as which events unfold. Alas, if only Peter Jackson had been able to hold back ...
PS: Now my youngest runs around yelling "Attercop!" and "Tomnoddy!". I couldn't be more proud.
Thursday, April 27, 2017
I want to teach like Herbert McCabe writes. He takes the nearly-thousand-year-old ideas of Thomas Aquinas and sharpens them to fine points, then uses them to poke holes in all manner of shoddy thinking. He is a Dominican who writes so clearly about transubstantiation and the Immaculate Conception that they make sense to even this Protestant scientist. My understanding of sacraments, Holy Week, creation, even time itself was expanded by this book. The worst part is when other scholars write a chapter or so and he argues back and forth with them. These other scholars are good, but it's like sunspots, they look dark even though they're bright because they are against the backdrop of the sun itself. I find McCabe's politics challenging and (since most of this was written in the 80's) not quite as applicable, but still, it's a genuine loss for us that we don't have him around to comment on today's events.
As a collection of essays, it's hard to give this a single rating. Three of the essays are as good as anything I've read: "Natural Goodness," "The Cross," and "The Way of Exchange." I assigned the first of the three in class to talk about the Fall and the Problem of Evil; the third of the three deserves to be taken seriously by anyone who thinks relationship and narrative should affect theology (by which I mean it deserved to be taken seriously by everyone). Williams coined the phrase "holy Luck" to describe the chance events that bring people into our spheres of influence, and months later I find myself still thinking of that. His theology of "exchange" may be more relevant now than it was in the 1940's. It's not all this powerful: I find the first section and last section to be least relevant because they are very literary and focused on Williams's Arthurian writing, which I have not read. But as for the high points of this book, there's nothing higher.
There are two rules for reading Charles Williams: 1.) The later the better and 2.) The more about Dante the better. This book proves them both. The first half is an earlier set of several chapters where he outlines his ideas about "romantic theology." It's fine, but not vintage -- he's still working out his ideas and his Biblical analysis is a distinct angle but seems too constricted. The second half is a later essay that is a distilled version of The Figure of Beatrice and it boils down his insights to a 180-proof version. Probably the most accessible and best combo of pages vs. content that you'll find for this author.
This is a nifty little book that doesn't overstay its welcome. I expect a book like this to have good twists and a genuinely creepy atmosphere, but there's a few character moments and subtle details that make it a cut above the rest. I almost wonder if it would be better if some key information were not deliberately withheld to give it some twists near the end. A good choice for an audiobook, too.