Awe

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From A Theology for the Social Gospel (1918)

  1 68 A THEOLOGY FOR THE SOCIAL GOSPEL of God is brought to a people ignorant and accustomed to superstitious methods of winning the favour or help of higher beings, it will soon be coarsened and materialized. The changes in the Hebrew conception of God were the result of the historical experiences of the nation and its leaders. The Christian idea of God has also had its ups and downs in the long and varied history of Chris- tian civilization. A fine and high conception of God is a social achieve- ment and a social endowment. It becomes part of the spiritual inheritance common to all individuals in that religious group. If every individual had to work out his idea of God on the basis of his own experiences and in- tuitions only, it would be a groping quest, and most of us would see only the occasional flitting of a distant light. By the end of our life we might have arrived at the stage of voodooism or necromancy. Entering into a high conception of God, such as the Christian faith offers us, is like entering a public park or a public gallery of art and sharing the common wealth. When we learn from the gospels, for instance, that God is on the side of the poor, and that he proposes to vie^v anything done or not done to them as having been done or not done to him, such a revelation of solidarity and humanity comes with a re- generating shock to our selfish minds. Any one studying life as it is on the basis of real estate and bank clearings, would come to the conclusion that God is on the side of the rich. It takes a revelation to see it the other way. Wherever we encounter such a strain of social feeling in our conceptions of God, it is almost sure to run straight THE CONCEPTION OF GOD 169 back either to Jesus or the prophets. The Hebrew proph- ets were able to realize God in that way because they were part of a nation which had preserved the traditions of primitive fraternal democracy. The prophets empha- sized God's interest in righteousness and solidarity be- cause they were making a fight to save their people from the landlordism and oppression under which other peoples have wilted and degenerated. When, therefore, we to- day feel the moral thrill of Hebrew theism, we are the heirs and beneficiaries of one untamed nation of moun- tain-dwellers. When such a conception of God is trans- mitted to other nations or to later times, it is the expor- tation of the most precious commodity a nation can pro- duce. On the other hand, if a conception of God originates among the exploiting classes in an age of despotism, it is almost certain to contain germs of positive sinfulness which will infect all to whom it is transmitted.

• From A Theology for the Social Gospel (1918)

  The personality which he achieved was a new type in humanity. Having the power to master and assimilate others, it became the primal cell of a new social organ- ism. Even if there had been no sin from which man- kind had to be redeemed, the life of Jesus would have dated an epoch in the evolution of the race by the intro- duction of a new type and consequently new social stand- ards. He is the real revelation of God. Other concep- tions have to be outlived ; his has to be attained. In the words of one of the most personal and orig- inal idealistic philosophers : “ The consciousness of the absolute unity of the human and the divine life is the profoundest insight possible to man. Before Jesus it did not exist. Since his time, we might say to this day, it has been almost lost again, at least in secular philos- ophy. Jesus evidently had this insight. How did he INITIATOR OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD 1 53 get it? There is nothing very wonderful in rediscov- ering the truth after another man has found the way; but how the first, separated by ages before and after by the sole possession of this insight, obtained it, this is matter for profound wonder. Therefore it is really true that Jesus of Nazareth, in a unique way, true of no other, is the only begotten and first born Son of God, and that all ages, if they are capable of understand- ing him at all, must recognize him as such. It is true enough that now any man can rediscover this doctrine in the writings of the apostles and appropriate it in his own convictions. It is also true, and we assert it, that the philosopher, — as far as he knows, — discovers the same truths independently of Christianity, and sees them with a clearness and breadth of vision which traditional Christianity can not match. Yet it remains for ever true that we, our entire age, and all our philosophical investi- gations are based on Christianity, and our thinking pro- ceeds from it; that this Christian faith has entered in the most manifold ways into our entire culture; and that we all would not be what we are, unless this power- ful principle had preceded us historically. It remains incontestably true that all those who since Jesus have arrived at union with God, have attained it only through him and by his mediation. Thus in every way it is con- firmed that to the end of time all wise men will bow before this Jesus of Nazareth, and the more of life they have themselves, the more humbly will they acknowledge the exceeding glory of this great personality.” ^ ^Johann Gottlieb Fichte, “Die Anweisiing zum seligen Leben,** Lecture VI. 1806. The translation , is mine. 154 A THEOLOGY FOR THE SOCIAL GOSPEL

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  ELEVEN These prayers are a waste of time Julia and I have moved to a new city or a new house several times in our marriage. That is a test of both mental and marital strength, if we’re being honest here. There’s one thing in particular that amazes me every time we move: how much junk we’ve managed to collect. We’re not hoarders. We’re the opposite of hoarders, whatever that is. Anti- hoarders? Clutter-haters? Enemies of all the things? I don’t know. My point is, we consider ourselves relatively neat, orderly, and efficient, yet we still have massive amounts of useless things crammed into cupboards and corners and cubbyholes, all because we “might need that someday.” Single socks, for example. We have an entire collection of them. Why are we stockpiling single socks? Do we really have faith that their partners are going to return for them? Do we expect to someday lose a leg? It’s probably not going to happen. They are useless socks. Ironically, one of our greatest sources of clutter is storage containers. That’s right—storage solutions are actually creating storage problems in the Veach household. Julia loves Netflix shows about tidying up, so she’ll get inspired to organize things in a new and better way. That naturally means purchasing more bins. The Holy Laws of Decluttering state that bins have to match each other, though, so she buys multiple bins at once. But since the old bins still hold some emotional promise of helping reduce clutter, she doesn’t throw those out. So we now have approximately five thousand plastic bins of assorted sizes, shapes, and colors. An empty storage bin is a double curse: It takes up lots of space without reducing any clutter. It’s as useless as a single sock, and it’s a lot bigger.

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  During this period, I met an Argentinian man named Yoel Bartolomé. We worked together at a church in California, and he became a close mentor. Every couple of weeks, we would meet at a gas station at six in the morning, then drive up to the San Gabriel Mountains. We would split up and wander the mountainside, praying and seeking God. Like the lunchroom prayer times, those mountaintop moments became part of the fabric of my walk with God. Being outdoors and surrounded by creation is always a good reminder that there is someone bigger than you out there. Maybe that’s what Jesus was doing when He would sneak away to the mountains to pray: He was connecting with a God whose power, like His love, is limitless. In high school, I met a personal God. He knew my name and cared about my needs. In the mountains, I met a big God. A sovereign, missional God who didn’t just know my name and care for me, but who loved the world. A God who wanted to use my life as part of His plan. PRAYING FOR PUYALLUP The mountaintop prayer times were a highlight of my season in East LA. But that stage of life came to an end when, in 2004, I moved to Puyallup, Washington, a town of thirty-five thousand people south of Seattle, known for hosting the Washington State Fair and having the world’s greatest scones. Seriously. I miss those scones. I had been offered a job at a church in Puyallup. I knew it was the right decision, but to be honest, I didn’t want to go. Nothing against Puyallup, but I was in love with LA. The way the city moved, the people, the culture, the weather, the palm trees, the Lakers, the food. Seemed like a lot to trade for scones. I remember leaving LA, driving north on the freeway, and complaining to God about where life was taking me. Suddenly, He interrupted my rant. I can’t really put the experience into words; I just knew it was Him. He spoke to me specifically: “You’ll move back here one day. You’ll start a church, and you’ll live here for the rest of your life.”

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  His help. When we pray, we connect directly with God. We skip the artificial protocols of empty religious systems. We bypass human-made rules about how to approach God, and we burst into His presence with a confidence and humility He adores. True prayer is anti-religious. Our raw, unfiltered, unpoliced conversations with God rebel against legalistic attempts to define and predict (and therefore control) God. The more we pray, the closer we get to God and the more we are in awe of Him. PRAYER IS THE LANGUAGE OF GRIEF A second way that prayer puts us into the mystery of God is by giving us a way to lament. Lament is not a word you hear very often today, but it has always been a part of Jewish and Christian beliefs, and many other religions as well. There is even a book in the Bible named Lamentations. I remember as if it were yesterday when my beloved Seattle SuperSonics moved to Oklahoma in 2008. Actually, they didn’t just move—they were stolen. And it cut deep. It still does, to be honest. When it happened, I went through my own personal book of Lamentations. I felt mad, sad, betrayed, lied to, crushed, numb, and a thousand other things all at once. That is lament. And that is sports. Funny how often they go together. Expressing our grief to God is one of the most spiritual things we can do. It doesn’t feel that way—it feels like venting. It feels like blasphemy, almost, to tell God what we really think and feel. Some people never do it because they’ve been taught to only approach God with carefully curated words of prayer. But God already sees your heart. Why not express what you are feeling with your mouth? God is not afraid of those feelings. He created them, after all; and Jesus felt them too. Historian and author Ernest Kurtz writes that to “experience sadness, despair, tears, and howls of pain demonstrates not some violation or deficit of spirituality, but rather the ultimate spirituality of acceptance.” 2

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  limb. Why? Because they were your parents, and you’d better talk to them with respect. Or else. I’m not going to argue for one culture over the other. Actually, they both have something to teach us. Familiar language implies closeness and trust, while more formal language implies respect. Both are good, and both are needed. Closeness and respect are not mutually exclusive, of course. Whether you say sir or sure, you can respect and honor your parents and simultaneously trust them, lean on them, laugh with them. The same goes for God. Prayer should bring us closer to God, but it should also inspire awe and respect. The love of God and the greatness of God go together. We love Him, but we also worship Him. We run into His presence, but we also realize that He is King, that we are running into the throne room of heaven. We have great confidence and access as His children, but we remember that our Father is the God of the universe. Prayer creates both absolute trust and humble dependency. That’s a great place to be. It’s healthy, it’s restful, it’s honest. The problem with unchecked religious systems is that they tend to replace closeness with protocol and respect with fear. Our relationship with God becomes more about walking on eggshells and less about coming confidently before His throne of grace. We begin to see God as distant, not close to us. And we’re okay with that, because why would we want to be close to someone we’re scared of? True prayer upends the toxicity of empty religion. It creates closeness and awe at the same time. Think about the last time you prayed from your heart, with urgency and rawness. Maybe you heard about a family member who was sick, or you lost your job, or you were facing serious financial pressure, or you found yourself spiraling into anxiety or depression. How did you talk to God in those moments? Probably very directly. I’m guessing you didn’t sound super “spiritual.” You simply cried out to Him in desperation, maybe even anger, because you needed

• From The Lives of Great Christians (2007)

  Outline I. The idea of a life of discipline and “rejection of the world” is as old as Christianity itself. A. Jesus urged some to sell all they had and spoke of forsaking family and sex. B. Acts describes the first Christians in Jerusalem surrendering private property. C. Paul preferred that Christians not marry. II. We have early evidence of widows sharing in some elements of a common life in Rome and other cities and men who moved to the literal and metaphorical edges of towns to live lives of prayer. III. We usually identify Antony, a young man living in a town in Egypt, as the first monk. A. At age 18 in the year 269, the recently orphaned Antony arrived in church just as the gospel was being read in which Jesus told the rich man to sell what he had and give to the poor. 1. Antony understood this as a call from God. 2. He did what the gospel commanded and began an 87-year life of discipline, solitude, and prayer. ©2007 The Teaching Company. 17 B. During his long life as a hermit, Antony moved more than once farther into the desert to seek solitude. 1. People sought him out for counsel and advice. 2. Men (and a few women) chose to imitate his life. IV. During Antony’s lifetime, Christianity went from being a persecuted religion to a religion of the emperors. A. With martyrdom no longer a possibility and Christianity the favored religion, Antony’s pattern of life was understood to be a kind of “daily martyrdom.” B. There were doctrinal disputes among Christians at this time, and Antony supported the Council of Nicaea’s decrees. He entered Alexandria more than once to support his position against the Arians, whose beliefs had been rejected at Nicaea. V. Before describing how Antony lived his life and what he thought, it is worthwhile to explain the surviving sources. A. The famous Alexandrian bishop and theologian Athanasius wrote a life of Antony; this work became a model for future saints’ lives, called hagiographies. B. Several letters of Antony survive. C. Some of Antony’s sayings are incorporated into collections known as the sayings of the desert fathers, which are major sources for the discussion of desert fathers in the next lecture. VI. Athanasius describes Antony’s life as one of discipline. A. He ate little, wore itchy clothing, and rarely bathed. B. Antony constantly faced temptations in the form of family, money, glory, good food, and sex. C. Athanasius describes many of Antony’s struggles in terms of conflict with demons, and his imagery has entered into Christian lore and art. D. Antony grew some vegetables and wove baskets, which he would sell to buy necessities. E. Stability was important for Antony: “Just as fish die if they stay too long out of water, so the monks who loiter outside their cells … lose the intensity of inner peace.” ©2007 The Teaching Company. 18

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  But the real Jesus didn’t look like a Caucasian mystic on weed. Jesus was strong, active, and present. He was a blue-collar worker, comfortable hanging out with fishermen and laborers and people who were rough around the edges. He was blunt, edgy, even sarcastic at times. He made people laugh and He made them squirm. Jesus healed people, and raised the dead, and cast out demons. He brought heaven down to earth in such a real way that it scared people at times. Yes, there is security in Jesus. He is a safe place in the sense of being strong, faithful, and trustworthy. But if your idea of safety is a god you can keep on a leash, then no, Jesus is not safe, any more than taking a lion on a walk would be. And prayer isn’t either. In prayer, we interact with the untamed and untamable God who created the universe, who sent Jesus to die in our place, who can and does do miracles, who knows us better than we know ourselves, and who has absolutely no problem getting all up in our business. In this chapter, I want to look at a few prayers that I call dangerous prayers. These are prayers such as commitment, surrender, dedication, repentance, transparency, and prayer for your enemies. They are dangerous because they will take you places you might not have anticipated—but you won’t regret them. Prayer isn’t safe. But it is good. 1. NOT MY WILL, BUT YOURS. Remember that iconic line in The Princess Bride that Wesley would repeat to the princess: “As you wish”? The last time he said the phrase, it was more like, “AS YOU WIIIIIIIIIISH,” because Wesley was shouting it while he tumbled down a hillside into the fire swamp. This was the climactic moment where the princess realized her true love had returned. And she had pushed him off a cliff. True love hurts, apparently. True love also surrenders itself to another. Not in a toxic, blind, codependent way, but in a faithful way. A covenant way. A trusting way. It says, “As you wish,” as part of a mutual surrender.

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  Moses conversed with God in front of a burning bush and again on a mountaintop. (Exodus 3–4; 33) Israel experienced God’s presence in a pillar of fire and cloud. (Exodus 13:21–22) Deborah received marching orders from God and delivered Israel. (Judges 4–5) Solomon consecrated the temple and God’s glory filled it. (2 Chronicles 5–7) Elijah heard God’s voice as a whisper while he was hiding in a cave. (1 Kings 19:12–13) Daniel was accompanied by an angel, who shut the mouth of lions. (Daniel 6:22) Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were joined by God in the fiery furnace. (Daniel 3) Mary was visited by an angel announcing the birth of Jesus. (Luke 1:26–38) Peter, James, and John saw Jesus transfigured and glorious on a mountain. (Matthew 17:1–2) Mary Magdalene encountered Jesus in a garden the morning of the resurrection. (John 20) Paul was knocked to the ground and his life changed on the way to Jerusalem. (Acts 9) John had a series of apocalyptic dreams that reveal God’s ultimate victory. (Revelation) I could go on, but you get the picture. God has a long history of visiting humanity in very creative ways. And He hasn’t stopped. Apparently, He likes being with us. CHOOSING WHAT IS BETTER In the chaos and craziness and pain and pressure of life, prayer helps us slow down. It creates a space for us to listen to God’s voice. One day, Jesus stopped by the house of two sisters named Mary and Martha. This is probably the same Mary and Martha whose brother Lazarus was later raised from the dead by Jesus. Luke tells us that Mary “sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said” (10:39). Martha, on the other hand, was “distracted by all the preparations that had to be made” (verse 40). Martha needed help in the kitchen, and she expected Mary to do her part. I can imagine Martha gesturing to Mary when Jesus wasn’t watching. Coughing and sighing loudly from the kitchen. Whispering menacingly into Mary’s ear. Dropping passive-aggressive hints every time she hurried in with another bowl of snacks about “how hot it is in the kitchen” and “how much work there is left to do.” Mary blissfully ignored her. At some point, Martha couldn’t take it anymore, and she lost it. She complained to Jesus: “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” (verse 40). Gently but firmly, Jesus refused. “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her” (verses 41–42). Notice the two postures contrasted here: sitting versus serving . Sitting at a teacher’s feet was the customary place of a disciple.

• From The Lives of Great Christians (2007)

  G. Although some monks live in large monasteries, others live in groups of small houses of two or three monks, while still others live as hermits. 1. There is no equivalent in the East to the Rule of St. Benedict. 2. There is a greater variety of lifestyles—or, as we might better say, monastic vocations—in the East than in the West. V. The most important and influential idea to come from the Athonite monks is that of hesychasm, a form of mystical prayer. A. Although its origins predate the monastic communities, we associate hesychasm primarily with monks. B. Hesychasm was the quest for spiritual ascent to God. 1. One of the most common hesychast practices is the repetition of the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” 2. Some hesychasts also use physical positions and even rhythmic breathing as part of their spiritual exercises. 3. This form of prayer is largely a matter of stripping away or leaving behind what the senses record in order to bask in the uncreated light of God. 4. The most widely used texts for those who practice hesychasm are found in a collection called the Philokalia, written beginning in the 4 th century. C. In the 14th century, a Western-trained abbot in Constantinople condemned hesychasm. 1. He objected to certain theological presuppositions of hesychasm. 2. Being trained in Scholastic thought, he believed that knowledge of God came from more intellectual activity. D. The great defender of hesychasm was the 14th-century monk of Mount Athos, St. Gregory Palamas. 1. Two councils held in Constantinople ultimately gave official sanction to hesychasm, which remains an important element of the Orthodox faith today. 2. This way of prayer to God is best known today in the West through The Way of the Pilgrim, the writing of an anonymous 19th-century Russian monk. ©2007 The Teaching Company. 88 Essential Reading: Graham Speake, Mount Athos: Renewal in Paradise. Supplementary Reading: Gregory Palamas, The Triads. Basil Pennington, The Monks of Mount Athos: A Western Monk’s Extraordinary Spiritual Journey on Eastern Holy Ground. Questions to Consider: 1. Why would anyone today leave the world in such a radical way in order to seek God as a monk on Mount Athos? 2. Is monastic life an escape from the world and its problems or a beacon of light and hope to Christians who live thoroughly “in the world”? 3. Can people not living the monastic life benefit from the kinds of prayer developed and written about by the monks of Mount Athos? ©2007 The Teaching Company. 89 Lecture Twenty Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Maximilian Kolbe

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  Mark recounts that Jesus was asleep in the back, peacefully resting on a pillow while His disciples nearly lost their minds. Finally, they woke Him up. “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” (4:38). Jesus woke up, yawned, stretched, looked around, yawned again, then casually told the wind and the waves to knock it off. Instant calm. The disciples, Mark writes, were now terrified of Him , not the storm. In a good way. “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!” (verse 41). They had a perspective change. Rather than being in awe of the elements, they were in awe of the one who created and controlled the wind and the waves. Prayer reminds us that all obstacles are small next to the omnipotent creator of the universe. 6. Material things We invest so much of ourselves trying to make money and build wealth. But the one who dies with the most toys . . . still dies. Maybe you’ve heard the Biggie Smalls song “Juicy.” I know I’m dating myself here, since it first came out in 1994, but it’s a classic, and it’s one of the greatest hip-hop songs of all time. It’s about Biggie’s rags-to-riches journey, and it’s mostly an in-your-face message to the haters who never thought he’d make it. There are so many great lines in the song that point out just how far he had come, like, “Now we sip champagne when we thirsty.”3 That’s what we’ve all been taught, right? That success looks like fancy cars and tastes like champagne? But with all due respect to the late Christopher Wallace, that kind of success can’t bring lasting contentment. It beats poverty, for sure—but we have to get our perspective on success from God, not from rap artists. Prayer gives us perspective on money and success because it brings heavenly values to bear on our earthly pursuits. It reminds us that what lasts longer is what is worth the most. And what lasts the longest is what is eternal. Mostly, that means people . Material things don’t go to heaven, but people do. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t care about your job, house, car, or espresso machine. It just means you should care more about people. 7. People People matter more than anything, and praying for individuals in your life will always change your perspective about them. This might mean praying for your enemies, as we saw above. But more often, it means praying for friends and loved ones. Every relationship in your life could benefit from prayer. Are you dating someone? Pray for your significant other. Are you recently married? Pray for your spouse. Are you a parent? Pray for your kids. Are you a boss? Pray for your employees. Are you a pet owner? Okay, pray for your pets too.

• From Justine (Alexandria Quartet vol. 1) (1957)

  But here at least in the oasis one had the illusion of a beatitude which eluded one in town life. We rose early and worked on the chapel until the heat of the day began, when Nessim retired to his business papers in the little observatory and Justine and I rode down the feathery dunes to the sea to spend our time in swimming and talking. About a mile from the oasis the sea had pushed up a great coarse roundel of sand which formed a shallow-water lagoon beside which, tucked into the pectoral curve of a dune, stood a reed hut roofed with leaves, which offered the bather shade and a changing-place. Here we spent most of the day together. The news of Pursewarden’s death was still fresh, I remember, and we discussed him with a warmth and awe, as if for the first time we were seriously trying to evaluate a character whose qualities had masked its real nature. It was as if in dying he had cast off from his earthly character, and taken on some of the grandiose proportions of his own writings, which swam more and more into view as the memory of the man itself faded. Death provided a new critical referent, and a new mental stature to the tiresome, brilliant, ineffectual and often tedious man with whom we had had to cope. He was only to be seen now through the distorting mirror of anecdote or the dusty spectrum of memory. Later I was to hear people ask whether Pursewarden had been tall or short, whether he had worn a moustache or not: and these simple memories were the hardest to recover and to be sure of. Some who had known him well said his eyes had been green, others that they had been brown.… It was amazing how quickly the human image was dissolving into the mythical image he had created of himself in his trilogy God is a Humorist. Here, in these days of blinding sunlight, we talked of him like people anxious to capture and fix the human memory before it quite shaded into the growing myth; we talked of him, confirming and denying and comparing, like secret agents rehearsing a cover story, for after all the fallible human being had belonged to us, the myth belonged to the world. It was now too that I learned of him saying, one night to Justine, as they watched Melissa dance: ‘If I thought there were any hope of success I would propose marriage to her tomorrow. But she is so ignorant and her mind is so deformed by poverty and bad luck that she would refuse out of incredulity.’ But step by step behind us Nessim followed with his fears. One day I found the word ‘Beware’ [image file=image_rsrc1AU.jpg] written in the sand with a stick at the bathing-place. The Greek word suggested the hand of Panayotis but Selim also knew Greek well.

• From The Chronology of Water (2011)

  I thought, this is how writing is supposed to be. I thought, man oh man, she’s good. I thought, I want that. Literally. I wanted that chapter. See the protocol at workshop is that we bring in pages, hand them out, read them out loud, and then go around the table for comments. After that, we collect the pages, which by then are theoretically covered with highly useful notes. Work does not leave the room. We never take home anyone’s pages. They don’t let scientists take home uranium in their pockets after a day at Los Alamos. That’s the deal. But I wanted that chapter. I wanted to take it home so I could read it again and again. I’d never felt like that about anyone else’s work, ever. I considered stealing it. I could pretend to put it in the stack as the pages were collected, but then palm it off the table onto my lap and slip it onto the floor into my open purse. I didn’t want to ask her for it. She already thought we were all perverts, the way we kept checking out her chest. I decided to play it cool. We went around the table, all of us giving feedback, happy, exhausted, delighted that she didn’t suck. I tried not to blather, counting on the fact that there would be more, more writing, more Lidia. It worked. She came back. The next week. Amazing! She workshopped that book, and this memoir. And the more I’ve learned about her, the more in awe I am. To start, she isn’t really from Texas. She just went to college there, which is a totally different thing. She does have nice knockers. For the other stuff, you’ll have to read the book. I’m just looking forward to getting a copy I can keep. Tell all the Truth but tell it slant - - EMILY DICKINSON Happiness? Happiness makes crappy stories. - KEN KESEY Here lies one whose name was writ in water. -JOHN KEATS I. Holding Breath The Chronology of Water THE DAY MY DAUGHTER WAS STILLBORN, AFTER I HELD the future pink and rose-lipped in my shivering arms, lifeless tender, covering her face in tears and kisses, after they handed my dead girl to my sister who kissed her, then to my first husband who kissed her, then to my mother who could not bear to hold her, then out of the hospital room door, tiny lifeless swaddled thing, the nurse gave me tranquilizers and a soap and sponge. She guided me to a special shower. The shower had a chair and the spray came down lightly, warm. She said, That feels good, doesn’t it. The water. She said, you are still bleeding quite a bit. Just let it. Ripped from vagina to rectum, sewn closed. Falling water on a body.

• From Emotional Inheritance (2022)

  I was stunned by the coincidence. How did she know that this was the fairy tale I had chosen for my research and that I had gotten the approval to start only the week before? The more experience I have with patients, the more I learn how unconsciously connected we are to the people around us. With Lara, it was the first time I’d experienced that, but it wouldn’t be the last. Since then I have had many uncanny coincidences with my patients. Through our dreams, reveries, and synchronicities we realize that we know more about one another than we are aware of. Lara smiled. “You are the daughter and I am the mother,” she said. I opened the closet. There were the new puppets I had just gotten: a girl with a red dress, a mother, a grandmother, and a wolf. “What about the grandmother and the wolf?” I asked. “Who plays them?” Lara paused. “We don’t need a wolf,” she said. “There are no wolves in our story.” A FEW WEEKS before my first session with Lara, I had met with her parents, Hanna and Jed. When working with children I always meet first with the parents, to gather information about the child and the family and to discuss the goals and process of therapy. Although the child is the one in therapy, very often it is the parents who need the most help. Children frequently express the reality of the family and become what we call the “identified patient,” which means the one who seems like the “sick” member of the family. Those children usually carry and express the problems of the whole family as a unit. Most families have one member who is unconsciously assigned to carry the symptoms, that is, the family member on whom the family projects the pathology. That person, often one of the children, will be the one sent to therapy. When treating families as a system, we explore the role of the child as the symptom carrier for the family. Lara was the “identified patient” in her family. She was in second grade and would wake up in the mornings nauseous, holding her stomach and crying that she didn’t want to go to school. Her parents believed she suffered from social anxiety. After meeting with Lara, I understood her anxiety a little differently, realizing that she was worried about her mother, and therefore it was hard for her to separate from her. It wasn’t that Lara didn’t want to go to school, but rather that she wanted to stay home with Hanna, whom she experienced as distressed and felt she needed to protect.

• From Emotional Inheritance (2022)

  I owe this to myself and to all of us.” Rachel had planned the trip for mid-April, without realizing she was going to be there for Holocaust Remembrance Day. She was going to look for traces of her family history and try to put a narrative to the disturbing images she has carried inside her since she was a child. NAMES ARE A significant part of one’s identity. In first sessions, I usually ask people about the meaning of their names, inquire who chose the names for them and why, and wonder if there are specific meanings or stories associated with their names. Names are connected to emotions, the hopes parents have for their child, who they think the child will become or want the child to become. A name reflects the parents’ feelings about having that child. It contains remembrances from the past as well as a vision of the future. Babies are often named after relatives or others who passed away. A child might be given the name of a person the parents loved, admired, or attributed certain characteristics to. The child’s name might reflect certain expectations, responsibilities, or roles. For example, one of my patients was named after his mother’s father, who died just before my patient was born. In therapy we connected his name to the role he was assigned at birth, as his mother’s caretaker. His mother described him as a mature and responsible baby, wise from a young age, whom she turned to for advice. Another patient was given a name by his mother that meant “mine.” It turned out that his father was ambivalent about having a child; she felt this baby was hers alone. As I describe in Part II, there is a profound meaning in naming a baby after a person who died in tragic circumstances, for example, a child or a person who died by suicide or was murdered. Doing so is often an expression of a wish not only to revive what was lost but also to repair the past and heal trauma. In mid-April Rachel, Marc, and baby Ruth go to Israel—to look for their future, to search for the past, to find out who Ruth was. What they discover is unbelievable but in fact also quite believable. Suddenly everything makes sense. In Jerusalem, Rachel, Marc, and Ruth meet the family of her grandfather’s friend from Auschwitz. His friend had died years earlier, but the man’s daughter and granddaughter are happy to see them. They invite them to the daughter’s house in Jerusalem. “We met them on a Sunday morning,” Rachel tells me. “I had never felt such a breeze as on that day in Jerusalem.

• From Worried about Everything Because I Pray about Nothing (2022)

  SIXTEEN These are dangerous prayers In 1950, a brilliant, creative theologian named C.S. Lewis wrote a children’s book called The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, which was part of a larger series of books about the fictitious land of Narnia. You might have read the book, or—like me—maybe you watched the movie. Besides being a great story in its own right, this story is an allegory for many elements of the Christian faith. At one point, the protagonists—four siblings: Lucy, Edmund, Susan, and Peter— meet a pair of talking Narnian beavers, rather predictably called Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. The children have heard rumors of the great king Aslan (who represents Jesus in the story) returning to make wrongs right and save Narnia from the evil White Witch. The children ask Mr. Beaver about Aslan, and he gives them some startling news: Aslan isn’t human at all. In His words: “Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.” “Ooh!” said Susan, “I’d thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.” “That you will, dearie, and no mistake,” said Mrs. Beaver. “If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.” “Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy. “Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? ’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” 1 I love that thought: Jesus is good, but He’s not “safe.” That is, He’s not tame. He isn’t a pet. He can’t be controlled or predicted or subdued. Most pictures and paintings of Jesus show Him looking serene, even detached, posing passively for the artist with sad eyes and a halo around His head. (He’s also usually white, blond, and blue-eyed, which is another fallacy.)

• From Justine (Alexandria Quartet vol. 1) (1957)

  Capitally, what is this city of ours? What is resumed in the word Alexandria? In a flash my mind’s eye shows me a thousand dust-tormented streets. Flies and beggars own it today — and those who enjoy an intermediate existence between either. Five races, five languages, a dozen creeds: five fleets turning through their greasy reflections behind the harbour bar. But there are more than five sexes and only demotic Greek seems to distinguish among them. The sexual provender which lies to hand is staggering in its variety and profusion. You would never mistake it for a happy place. The symbolic lovers of the free Hellenic world are replaced here by something different, something subtly androgynous, inverted upon itself. The Orient cannot rejoice in the sweet anarchy of the body — for it has outstripped the body. I remember Nessim once saying — I think he was quoting — that Alexandria was the great winepress of love; those who emerged from it were the sick men, the solitaries, the prophets — I mean all who have been deeply wounded in their sex. * * * * * Notes for landscape-tones.… Long sequences of tempera. Light filtered through the essence of lemons. An air full of brick-dust — sweet-smelling brick-dust and the odour of hot pavements slaked with water. Light damp clouds, earth-bound yet seldom bringing rain. Upon this squirt dust-red, dust-green, chalk-mauve and watered crimson-lake. In summer the sea-damp lightly varnished the air. Everything lay under a coat of gum. And then in autumn the dry, palpitant air, harsh with static electricity, inflaming the body through its light clothing. The flesh coming alive, trying the bars of its prison. A drunken whore walks in a dark street at night, shedding snatches of song like petals. Was it in this that Anthony heard the heart-numbing strains of the great music which persuaded him to surrender for ever to the city he loved? The sulking bodies of the young begin to hunt for a fellow nakedness, and in those little cafés where Balthazar went so often with the old poet of the city,* the boys stir uneasily at their backgammon under the petrol-lamps: disturbed by this dry desert wind — so unromantic, so unconfiding — stir, and turn to watch every stranger. They struggle for breath and in every summer kiss they can detect the taste of quicklime.… * * * * *

• From Less (2017)

  As the van rounds the corner of an agave grove, he is aware of an enormous structure, with the sun pulsing behind it and striping it in shadows of green and indigo: the Temple of the Sun. “It is not the Temple of the Sun,” Fernando informs him. “That is what the Aztecs thought it was. It is most probably the Temple of the Rain. But we know almost nothing about the people who built it. The site was long abandoned by the time the Aztecs came through. We believe they burned their own city to the ground.” A cold blue silhouette of a long-lost civilization. They spend the morning climbing the two massive pyramids, the Temple of the Sun and the Temple of the Moon, walking the Avenue of the Dead (“It is not the Avenue of the Dead, really,” Fernando informs him, “and it is not the Temple of the Moon”), imagining all of it covered in painted stucco, miles and miles, every wall and floor and roof in the ancient city that once held hundreds of thousands of people, about whom literally nothing is known. Not even their names. Less imagines a priest covered in peacock feathers walking down the steps as in an MGM musical, or a drag show, arms spread wide, as music plays from conch shells all around and Marian Brownburn, standing at the top, holds the beating heart of Arthur Less. “They chose this spot, we think, because it was far from the volcano that destroyed villages in ancient times. That volcano there,” Fernando said, pointing to a peak barely visible in the morning haze. “Is it still active, that volcano?” “No,” Fernando says sadly, shaking his head. “It is closed.” What was it like to live with genius? Like living alone. Like living alone with a tiger.

• From Justine (Alexandria Quartet vol. 1) (1957)

  ‘We were still almost a couple of hours’ steaming distance before land could possibly come into sight when suddenly my companion shouted and pointed at the horizon. We saw, inverted in the sky, a full-scale mirage of the city, luminous and trembling, as if painted on dusty silk: yet in the nicest detail. From memory I could clearly make out its features, Ras El Tin Palace, the Nebi Daniel Mosque and so forth. The whole representation was as breath-taking as a masterpiece painted in fresh dew. It hung there in the sky for a considerable time, perhaps twenty-five minutes, before melting slowly into the horizon mist. An hour later, the real city appeared, swelling from a smudge to the size of its mirage.’ [image file=image_rsrc1AY.jpg] The two or three winters we have spent in this island have been lonely ones — dour and windswept winters and hot summers. Luckily, the child is too young to feel as I do the need for books, for conversation. She is happy and active. Now in the spring come the long calms, the tideless, scentless days of premonition. The sea tames itself and becomes attentive. Soon the cicadas will bring in their crackling music, background to the shepherd’s dry flute among the rocks. The scrambling tortoise and the lizard are our only companions. I should explain that our only regular visitant from the outside world is the Smyrna packet which once a week crosses the headland to the south, always at the same hour, at the same speed, just after dusk. In winter, the high seas and winds make it invisible, but now — I sit and wait for it. You hear at first only the faint drumming of engines. Then the creature slides round the cape, cutting its line of silk froth in the sea, brightly lit up in the moth-soft darkness of the Aegean night — condensed, but without outlines, like a cloud of fireflies moving. It travels fast, and disappears all too soon round the next headland, leaving behind it perhaps only the half-uttered fragment of a popular song, or the skin of a tangerine which I will find next day, washed up on the long pebbled beach where I bathe with the child.

• From Wild (2012)

  When I tossed the peach pit, I saw that I was surrounded by hundreds of azaleas in a dozen shades of pink and pale orange, a few of their petals blowing off in the breeze. They seemed to be a gift to me, like the peach, and Kyle singing “Red River Valley.” As difficult and maddening as the trail could be, there was hardly a day that passed that didn’t offer up some form of what was called trail magic in the PCT vernacular—the unexpected and sweet happenings that stand out in stark relief to the challenges of the trail. Before I stood to put Monster on, I heard footsteps and turned. There was a deer walking toward me on the trail, seemingly unaware of my presence. I made a small sound, so as not to startle her, but instead of bolting away she only stopped and looked at me, sniffing in my direction before slowly continuing toward me. With each step, she paused to assess whether she should continue forward, and each time she did, coming closer and closer until she was only ten feet away. Her face was calm and curious, her nose extending as far as it dared in my direction. I sat still, watching her, not feeling even a little bit afraid, as I’d been weeks before when the fox had stood to study me in the snow. “It’s okay,” I whispered to the deer, not knowing what I was going to say until I said it: “You’re safe in this world.” When I spoke, it was as if a spell had been broken. The deer lost all interest in me, though she still didn’t run. She only lifted her head and stepped away, picking through the azaleas with her delicate hooves, nibbling on plants as she went. I hiked alone the next few days, up and down and up again, over Etna Summit and into the Marble Mountains on the long hot slog to Seiad Valley, past lakes where I was compelled by mosquitoes to slather myself in DEET for the first time on my trip and into the paths of day hikers who gave me reports about the wildfires that were raging to the west, though still not encroaching on the PCT.