11/22/63 by Stephen King

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I’ve been avoiding Stephen King for years now. I don’t like horror, I would say. I’m sure he’s a fine writer, I would say. Really, mostly, I never game him a thought except to note that all the movies made of his books sounded scary.
But last year a colleague suggested 11/22/63 as a book group read, and we put it on the schedule, so I downloaded the 853 page book (heavy!) to my Kindle and off I went.
The premise is that a high school teacher in a real Maine town, Lisbon Falls, is pulled aside by the local diner owner and exposed to a “rabbit hole” that takes him back in time, to a particular moment in 1958. The diner owner is dying, and he urges the teacher to take on the mission he himself was unable to complete: to go back in time and prevent the assassination of President Kennedy.
As a longtime sci-fi fan, I actually love time travel/alternate timeline stories, and while I still may not read his scarier books, I loved this novel. The portrayal of the late 1950s and early 1960s felt, to use a word King has his central character use to describe 1958 root beer, “Full.” I absolutely recommend the book for its plot, its use of all time travel conundrums, exploration of the butterfly effect (which fascinates me), and the vivid characters about whom I came to care. I understand that King often drops in references to his other works, and since this story is partly set in Derry, Maine, that happens here. (I had to look it up on Wikipedia to know; for those who like “It,” the hero of this story arrives on the scene shortly after the 1950s events in that book.)
I gave a copy of the book to #1 Son last Christmas; if he hasn’t read it, I hope he will now!

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Jesus Freak: Feeding Healing Raising the Dead by Sara Miles
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I want to start by saying I really loved this book, and going back through it makes me love it more.

I’m a fan of Miles’ first book, “Take this Bread,” and I adore her experience of an open table and her church’s practice of it. For those who haven’t read it, she wandered into St. Gregory’s Church, took Communion without being baptized first or really knowing much of anything, and in eating that bread, she knew Jesus. Hers is an incredibly powerful witness to the mystery of what happens at the Eucharist.

But I’m UCC, not Episcopal, and I realize I have less at stake than people in her own denomination might have. The first time I knowingly served Communion to an adult I knew had never been baptized, I got over the need for a rule immediately. No way would I ever turn a person back for that reason, or really any, because who’s to say how God might work through bread and juice? Clearly, in Miles’ case, powerfully.

Her writing is frank and profane and utterly holy, full of gorgeous phrases, images, whole paragraphs.

This second book gathers stories from her work at St. Gregory’s, where she now runs a huge food program, in the following categories: Feeding, Healing, Forgiving, and Raising from the Dead.

I have dog-eared pages and marked them to be able to find the quotes that stirred something in me. The first section takes us back to the feeding ministry, and it feels fresh, not like a repeat of Take This Bread. The second section is about healing, both about being called to it and how prone to burn-out healers can be. The shorter third section is about forgiving, and how hard it is to do and how important. The last section explores the forms resurrection takes, and within the focal story, what a family is or can be.

Here are some of the passages I want to be sure and remember:

Prayer can’t cure. All prayer can do is heal, because healing comes embedded in relationship, and prayer is one of the deepest forms of relationship–with God and with other people. And through relationship, there can be healing in the absence of cure. From “Healing,” p. 85

On burnout and asking for help,

And yet, when I could force myself to do it, I saw how getting to the point of asking was an essential part of my healing. As much as I might fantasize that my real friends, my most beloved family members, the best priest or teacher or spiritual director would guess just want I wanted and provide it, the fact was I had to ask. I had to put myself in a place of truth, or admitting that I needed help.
“What do you think I should do?” I’d finally say to Paul. I hated being told what to do.
“Honey, I’m worried,” I’d finally say to Martha. I always wanted to be the one who told others not to worry.
“I’m afraid,” I’d finally say aloud. “I’m upset. Hold me.”
And then, usually, I’d discover–no matter whether the person I asked had the perfect response, whether the help disappointed or delighted–that something had changed. I wasn’t alone with myself, with my ingrown desires and denials, with the thing that I’d been stewing about in private. I’d given myself over to a relationship. From “Healing,” p. 100

One more, okay? This time she’s talking about family and the way Jesus came to break them apart, according to his own words.

But Jesus was not talking about the cozy, affective private household idolized by contemporary Christians. In Jesus’ time, family ruled as much as the temple did, or soldiers of the imperial army. Your very name, your identity, was determined by whose son or daughter you were. our role in life was completely circumscribed by your position in the family. Your freedom as an individual was negligible inside the family and in the network of families that made up tribes and nations. The father ruled the mother, the mother-in-law ruled the daughter-in-law, the elder brother ruled the younger brother.
And central to the construction of family, of course, was who was outside it. Families existed–in fact, just as they do now–to define outsiders. Widows and orphans, illegitimate children–these people had no power, no authority, no place. They were not full humans, because they did not belong to a family.
Jesus just burns that sucker down. From “Raising the Dead,” p. 152

It’s not that Miles is telling me things I didn’t already know on some level. It’s her *way* of telling them that feels sharp and fresh and invitational. When I read about her church, I want to go there. I mean, I am not someone drawn to Byzantine chant. Not at all. I’m less formal and less liturgical. But I would like to be there and feel it wash over me, because she makes it that real. It’s brilliant writing. I hope she writes another book.

I’m not quoting my favorite paragraph, because I hope you’ll buy her book yourself, but I’ll tell you where to find it: the second paragraph on page 99.

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This Odd and Wondrous Calling: The Public and Private Lives of Two Ministers by Lillian Daniel and Martin Copenhaver

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Daniel and Copenhaver are both UCC pastors, well known within the small circle of the denomination and also that of writing pastors and preachers. They’ve taken on a variety of topics, some of which they both engage. I think my original plan to read this collection of essays one at a time was better than running through them quickly, as I did with the second half of the book. I felt encouraged and challenged, in a positive way, by the first half, but in the end I felt like I wasn’t very good at any of the things they were writing about, either professionally or personally. That’s a little discouraging, and I’m sure it wasn’t the intention of the authors! I resonated more with Daniel’s chapters, and I don’t think that’s about age or gender. I like her writing style better. It’s more compact. Copenhaver’s style is a little more meandering. I found myself wanting to edit some of his chapters, but there were others I loved.

I recommend this book both for pastors and for involved lay people who might appreciate an insight into the pastoral life, with the limitation that these are two straight, white pastors who went to seminary young and are still married to the only spouse they’ve had, leaving out some significant portions of the pastoral population.

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One Was a Soldier by Julia Spencer-Fleming

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I love this series, but it had been a few years since I read the first five all in a batch just in time to read the 6th installment. I wanted to enter the new book with a good sense of the landscape, so I re-read “I Shall Not Want” before starting “One Was a Soldier.”

The new book gives us the Reverend Clare Fergusson back from a long deployment in Iraq as a helicopter pilot. Spencer-Fleming digs into the post-war experience of a number of residents of Millers Kill, New York, with a strong plot line about PTSD. I don’t want to spoil readers who are reading earlier books in the series, so I won’t say too much about the relationships Clare has except to say that what once was uncomfortable has become more acceptable.

I also think it’s good for a priest/pastor to be drawn as so human. It’s a mystery, not a documentary, so of course there are plenty of fanciful elements built into the premise. But I love Clare’s humanity and her mistakes and, in the end, her humility.

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What’s the Least I Can Believe and Still Be a Christian?: A Guide to What Matters Most by Martin Thielen

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I’ve been looking for a book I could use with folks in my church that might also attract some interest from the community, and the challenging title of this book caught my eye. A Willow Creek satellite nearby has drawn people of all ages in part because of worship style but also because of children’s programs. If people don’t know our theology is different, namely more accepting, why would they come here instead of going there? I turned to this book hoping it might attract some attention if we publicized a book study.

Martin Thielen is a United Methodist pastor who framed this book in response to the question in the title. He presents ten things you don’t have to believe followed by ten you do, but he lost me after Thing Nine in the former section: “God loves straight people but not gay people.” Clearly, he wasn’t saying this was true. He was making a different case. He describes conservative churches as “Now Welcoming and Not Affirming” and liberal churches as “Welcoming and Affirming,” then makes the case that the broad swath of the mainline is “Welcoming but not Affirming.”

He’s defending people who like individual gay people but don’t want to have to think about the broader issues of rights, and saying since that’s where most of the mainline is, you don’t have to be afraid of them. It’s a very strange little chapter. He’s being super-careful to assure the reader that God doesn’t hate gay people, but hedges on acceptance and also seems to be joining in the careful chorus that wishes liberals would shut up already about the gay rights, because it’s upsetting to people and dividing denominations. To me it’s a revolting point of view. I wouldn’t in good conscience be able to use the book in my church and wouldn’t want community members to think I might be lukewarm about them because of their sexual orientation. Pah! Because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I spit you out of my mouth!

I’ll admit that I did not then go on to read in detail the ten things you must believe, but I did note that the book ends with a question about salvation and invites people to pray a version of the Sinner’s Prayer, which would also be a little Evangelical in my context. So this book is a great idea in theory that disappointed in actuality.

I requested a review copy of this book on behalf of RevGalBlogPals, which was supplied by Westminster John Knox Press, and I did not receive any other considerations from them.

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A Clash of Kings by George R.R. Martin

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I’m continuing my gallop through George R.R. Martin’s “A Song of Ice and Fire” series. Book Two is, not surprisingly, also gripping. Things in the world of the novels continue to go to hell in a handbag. The major difference from the first book is that the point-of-view chapters are longer. New p-o-v characters are added, neither of whom is particularly sympathetic initially. One, Davos Seaworth, brings the reader into the world of the previously unseen Stannis Barratheon, who has abandoned the seven gods his people worship for a monotheistic sect that worships the Lord of Light. The other, Theon Greyjoy, takes us to the world of the Iron Islands and people who worship the Drowned God. There are many different belief systems in the books, which is one of the things I enjoy so much about them.
On to book three!

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