I love Facebook "memes," those little photos, cartoons and illustrations that add a joke or pithy saying. One of my favorite memes recently was this one:
My Offensive Library
Once upon a time, all the offensive literature in my library was contained in ink-on-paper books. Now I have a multimedia collection, some of which is held for me in "the cloud," as online storage is called. Digital immigrant though I am, I still haven't quite figured out how "the cloud" works. Sometimes I think it exists much like physicist Erwin Schrödinger's Cat: A fog of possibilities connected to a random previous event until one opens its box to observe it.
Quantum physics aside, I've been reviewing my library as part of our family's downsizing project. Yes, my husband and I are now old enough, and have been empty-nesters long enough, that we're feeling burdened by the accumulations of 40 years together. Herewith for your amazement, amusement and perhaps inspiration to ponder your own library, I present some highlights of My Offensive Library that I plan to keep:
My Favorite Jewish Mother by Florence Byerley. This little book was self-published 40 years ago when self-publishing was an arduous and expensive process. I cherish it because it tells the faith journey of its author, who was a "mother in the faith" for both my husband and me. Flossie called herself an "ecumaniac" by her own definition, someone who believed that there are many authentic paths to God. Her passions were Church Women United, Jewish faith and culture, playing the organ (her favorite hymn was "Living for Jesus") and peacemaking. For years she tried to get the U. S. Postal Service to adopt her design for a stamp depicting Mary and Jesus with the slogan "My Favorite Jewish Mother" (hence the title of her book). Flossie came from the generation that had experienced firsthand the Nazi destruction of European Jews, as well as Nazism's corruption of Christianity in Germany. She never forgot it, and she spent the rest of her life – she lived to age 94 – building bridges between faiths to foster, again in her words, "not mere tolerance, but understanding love."
The Holy Bible, in multiple translations. This is actually a library in miniature, since it was developed over hundreds of years, contains several different genres of books, and was pieced together over generations by authors and editors with vastly different perspectives. My go-to translation is the New Revised Standard Version, the Oxford edition, which I cherish for its high level of scholarship. I read a Catholic version, The Jerusalem Bible, for its beautiful word-smithing; I sometimes read this version aloud for devotions. I have two copies, one paperback and one leatherette-bound, of the New International Version, but my affinity for this one has declined over the years. I have Bibles that I keep for sentimental reasons, such as my grandfather's The Living Bible and the Authorized Version (King James Version) I was given when I joined the Masonic youth organization, the Order of Rainbow for Girls. Later translations such as Eugene Peterson's The Message, the Common English Bible and The Inclusive Bible leave me cold, sad to say.
Missile Envy: The Arms Race and Nuclear War by Helen Caldicott presents a stunning analysis of the arms race, especially with nuclear weapons, that describes the threat of global annihilation as a public health menace. It's still relevant.
The Lord of the Rings trilogy, by J. R. R. Tolkien. I have re-read this masterpiece every year since it first captivated me as a teen-ager in the '60s. Mine is 1973 Red Book version in imitation of Bilbo's and Frodo's book (my mother was aghast at having to spend $50 on a book for my Christmas gift!). Tolkien's use of Christian themes is far subtler, and thus more graceful to my mind, than those of his literary comrade, C. S. Lewis. I was enchanted by Middle-Earth then, and I remain under its spell to this day. I hope that Heaven resembles Hobbiton.
Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein. This is another book that came along at just the right time in my impressionable youth. It taught me that God was far bigger, more complex and more mysterious than I had understood, but that the way to God – unconditional love – was surprisingly simple. It also taught me something that an early church father, Irenaeus, espoused: A human life fully lived is the glory of God, and we are too often afraid to live such a life. Recently I learned from watching a documentary that Heinlein came to hate having written this book, because it made him the darling of "those damn hippies" that the old military man despised. Personally, I think Stranger was God's cosmic joke on its author. Certainly Heinlein's later work, Job: A Comedy of Errors, would support this theory.
One Nation, Many Gods: Confronting the Idols of American Empire by Harry C. Kiely and Ira G. Zepp Jr. Another self-published work, this book was written by two United Methodist pastors who spotted America's disturbing moves toward the kind of fascism once described by Sinclair Lewis: "When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross." An excellent book, including discussion questions, for small-group study.
Christ & Empire: From Paul to Post-Colonial Times by Joerg Rieger. While he has written before on topics of theology and economics, and continues to write highly insightful works, I find Christ & Empire to be this scholar's masterwork to date. More detailed and academic than Zepp's and Kiely's book, Rieger nonetheless makes clear how Christianity has long been complicit in imperial domination, particularly in contemporary globalization through which America overshadows worldwide politics, economics and cultures. Rieger is Wendland-Cook Professor of Constructive Theology at Perkins School of Theology in Dallas, and I'm grateful to count him among my colleagues.
How the Irish Saved Civilization by Thomas Cahill. This was the book that set me on the path toward Celtic spirituality, which in turn help me discern and clarify my own call to the ministry of spiritual direction, i.e., to become the kind of "anam cara" (soul friend) Cahill describes. All other Celtic spirituality books that I use as practical resources owe a debt to this book.
A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants by Rueben P. Job and Norman Shawchuck. If Cahill's book gave the inspiration for spiritual discipline, this first entry in what has become a series was my first introduction to a traditional structure for daily devotions. The guide introduced me to Christian authors such as Carlo Caretto, to whom I am indebted for his wisdom, "The Church is a whore, but she's my mother," which I recite to restore my faith whenever I despair of the Church's future.
And finally, a new addition:
For the Sake of the Bride: Restoring the Church to Her Intended Beauty, by Steve Harper. While some progressive Christians may be put off by Harper's use of historic metaphors for the Church, I resonate completely with his argument that only a spiritual approach will heal The United Methodist Church's current battles over theology and doctrine. After an excellent introduction tracing his own journey of prayerful discernment, Harper zeroes in on the UMC's most divisive conflict: the question of whether homosexual practice can be accepted by the church. Here he pulls no punches regarding the Church's historic condemnation of same-sex relationships, but at the same time he opens wide a door to a new understanding of LGBT acceptance, again through spiritual discernment. I highly recommend that United Methodist individuals and congregations study Harper's book along with another work, Homosexuality and Christian Faith: Questions of Conscience for the Churches by Walter Wink, as we prepare for the 2016 General Conference.
So, what's in YOUR library? Comment briefly below, or submit longer articles here.
May you be blessed with disturbing reading!
A veteran journalist and a certified spiritual director, Cynthia B. Astle serves as coordinator of United Methodist Insight.