paradise lost, books 3 and 4

in books 3 and 4, we meet God.  and, it turns out he is less "fun" than Satan.  it struck me as i was reading--and as i have been discussing the poem with my students--that we are incredibly resistant to hierarchy.  and, the God we meet in the poem is all about it. so. we side with Satan, even though we know we shouldn't. 

Milton grew up praying morning prayers at St. Paul's Cathedral in london.  he would have prayed  often about service to God being perfect freedom.  i think he tries to convey that idea in the poem too as we see God set out His plan for humankind.  and i think he tries to show us how easily we are swayed from seeking that perfect freedom--how quickly we'll give it up--in order to pursue a false freedom of the sort that Satan offers.

Paradise Lost, Books 1 and 2

Every time I come back to this poem, I realize again how amazing it is.  The editor of my edition says that "Growing to understand Paradise Lost is a lifelong adventure."  I think he is definitely right.  I can imagine re-reading this poem annually and always discovering something new.

Here are a few things that struck me this time.  I'm curious to hear your thoughts too!

1. This poem is gorgeous to read out loud.  I read a big chunk of Book 1 out loud to myself and it was amazing.  I heard things I'd never heard before.  The rhetoric of the speeches was even more powerful.  Satan had my ear.  If you've never read any of it out loud, try it.  You'll like it.
2. In Book 1, Satan and his compatriots are so proud.  They remain proud throughout the book--that's their trouble, after all--but it stood out to me in new ways this time.  One of Satan's most famous lines is that "The mind is its own place and in itself / Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven" (1:254-55).  How true is that?  And how often do I let my mind run away with me, making a "hell" out of what need not be one?  
3. Satan's refusal to submit, his refusal to believe that he is not equal to God gets him where he is.  But it's his addiction to a misguided notion of freedom that's the real kicker.  Just a few lines on from the mind quote, he praises the freedom that he and his fellow demons will have in hell:  "Here at least / We shall be free.  Th' Almighty hath not built / Here for His envy, will not drive us hence. / Here we may reign secure, and in my choice / To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell: / Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven!" (1:258-263).  Ah, Satan.  So misguided.  And, yet.  How often do I feel the same way?  That I'd rather be in charge and suffer the consequences of my choices than be patient and wait on God?  Misguided or wrongly pursued freedom just creates misery.
4. In Book 2, I'm again struck by the audacity of Satan and his followers--their attempt to construct a kingdom that is a perverted version of Heaven.  Heaven is their only reference point and, despite their striking defeat, there they are, trying to recreate the glory of heaven in Hell.  But they're logical creatures and their discussion over how to best attempt revenge on God is an interesting one.  But I love what Milton says, reminding us that God will use all that Satan means for evil in the service of ultimate good (that's back in Book 1 around line 210, but this knowledge carries with us throughout the poem).
5. Has Sin ever seemed less appealing?  The personification of Sin in Book 2 (starting on line 650 of Book 2) is truly horrifying.  If only I kept that image in my mind each time I begin to think that Sin is attractive. 

simply from scratch summer

so i've decided that this summer is all about (re)discovering simple joys.  like cooking.  and gardening. and reading.  and baking.  and (gasp!) cleaning.

i've kicked the whole thing off with some fun kitchen projects.

first, a goat cheese and chive omelet with chives from the garden, eggs from the farmer's market, and goat cheese from, well, hy-vee:

then, jam bars with homemade plum jam from last summer:

and, today, buttermilk bread:

local friends.  you must help me eat some of these things.  thanks to those of you who have already contributed to the cause!

so nice to create some brain space by creating with my hands and fresh ingredients.  so nice.

new mercies

it's thunderstorming out tonight.  i sat on my porch--one of my very favorite places in the whole world--and listened to the rain and watched lightning trace patterns through the night sky.  the quiet of the neighborhood, the hush of the rain, the flicker of the citronella candle as it mimicked the flashes in the sky.  a sense of refreshment and renewal.

i thought back over my day.  a good one.  a day of productive rest.  grading accomplished.  errands run. time spent reading a good new book (wallace stegner's "Angle of Repose").  restful kitchen time chopping up more rhubarb and baking coconut macaroons.

sitting there, my gaze fell on my violas.  and i suddenly felt a kinship with them.  earlier this afternoon, i noticed that they were wilted and battered by the day's strong winds.  i thought they were gonners for sure.  but i gave them some water and, before long, they were perked up and cheery.  by this evening, they were ready for the rainfall.

the past six weeks have been for me like today was for my violas.  battered and broken by pre-tenure stress, anxiety, fear, and feelings of insecurity, these recent weeks have brought me renewal and refreshment.  i think i am perking up and regaining my cheer.

as i look back, i see that God has been sustaining me always with His gifts: friends, family, church, satisfying work, a home that i love, new adventures, His truths.  but in these past six weeks, post-tenure, He has been allowing me to enjoy those gifts in new ways.  they are beginning to soak in and i feel myself coming into new life.  i feel renewed.  i feel, for the first time in a long time, excited about what comes next.

though it is night, i feel the truth of Lamentations 3:22-24:

It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.
They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.
The LORD is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.

Anne Bradstreet's semi-colon

we read several of anne bradstreet's poems for class on monday.  i've read her poems many, many times before.  but this time, they were changed for me.  this time, i had eyes to see her deal with the struggles of earthly life honestly, while also consistently affirming the truth of God.  it was this poem that really got me.  the semicolon in line 4 is the key to all of bradstreet's work, i think...  more on that after the poem:

On My Dear Grandchild Simon Bradstreet, Who Died on 16 November, 1669, Being But a Month, and One Day Old

No sooner came, but gone, and fall'n asleep.
Acquaintance short, yet parting caused us weep;
Three flowers, two scarcely blown, the last i' th' bud,
Cropped by th' Almighty's hand; yet is He good.
With dreadful awe before Him let's be mute,
Such was His will, but why let's not dispute,
With humble hearts and mouths put in the dust,
Let's say He's merciful as well as just.
He will return and make up all our losses,
And smile again after our bitter crosses.
Go pretty babe, go rest with sisters twain;
Among the blest in endless joys remain.

the subject of the poem on its own is incredibly moving.  mourning the loss of her third grandchild, bradstreet confronts God's nature.  and the key, i think, is in that fourth line and its semi-colon.

the first half of the sentence acknowledges that the death of these beloved children is part of God's will--they have been "cropped" by His hand.  then, a small pause.  the semi-colon.  not a complete break, but a pause.  and, finally, an affirmation of God's goodness: "yet is He good."  period.  the line is perfectly balanced--the thing we don't understand set in perfect tension and balance with the truth we rely on.  it's amazing what a semi-colon can do. 

reading on through bradstreet's work, she comes back to this again and again.  difficult things happen. yet is He good.

"pity the poor in spirit who know neither the enchantment nor the beauty of language."

Paloma, 12-year old co-narrator of The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery:

"Personally I think that grammar is a way to attain beauty.  When you speak, or read, or write, you can tell if you've said or read or written a fine sentence.  You can recognize a well-turned phrase or an elegant style.  But when you are applying the rules of grammar skillfully, you ascend to another level of the beauty of language.  When you use grammar you peel back the layers, to see how it is all put together, see it quite naked, in a way.  And that's where it becomes wonderful, because you say to yourself, "Look how well-made this is, how well-constructed it is!  How sold and ingenious, rich and subtle!"  I get completely carried away just knowing there are words of all different natures, and that you have to know them in order to be able to infer their potential usage and compatibility.  I find there is nothing more beautiful, for example, than the very basic components of language, nouns and verbs.  When you've grasped this, you've grasped the core of any statement.  It's magnificent, don't you think?  Nouns, verbs..."

Ah.

a good and timely word

so, this morning i was reading in 2 corinthians, chapter 4 and came across a few verses that are so familiar, but that i hadn't really paused over before:

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. (v. 8-10)

there's so much there that is dramatic and a little scary--being afflicted, persecuted, struck down--but what stood out to me today is that we are "perplexed, but not driven to despair."  i don't often feel particularly persecuted in dramatic ways.  but i do feel perplexed.  often.  and it's hard, sometimes, not to feel like that is going to tip right on over into despair. 

so, it's encouraging to me that we do not have to understand everything--that we will not understand everything--and that that is okay.  we can be perplexed.  we are perplexed.  but, because of Jesus, we are not driven to despair. 

what a relief.

roygbiv

this happened completely on accident.  i swear!  a little touch of beauty in the midst of the mundane.

a lovely puritan benediction

I'm reading William Bradford's Of Plymouth Plantation for the early American literature class I'm teaching this term and he includes in it a letter the pastor the first Puritan colonists left behind in the Netherlands, John Robinson, wrote to his brother-in-law, John Carver (the colony's first governor).  Bradford says that in the letter, we see "the tender love and godly care of a true pastor."  And I think he's right. 

Robinson closes his letter to Carver with the following benediction:

"And the Lord in whom you trust and whom you serve ever in this business and journey, guide you with His hand, protect you with His wing, and show you and us His salvation in the end..."

I think that is so lovely.  And encouraging.  How great is it that I get to be encouraged like this while I'm preparing to teach my classes?  Pretty great.

transitional phases

i was listening to NPR the other day and there was a spot about this physicist guy who studies the transitional phases of something fancy that i don't remember the details about.  but what stood out to me was the way this physicist was talking about how elements go through transitional phases--like ice to liquid water to steam--and how in the transition between states, something kind of mysterious happens.

and this made me think about how transitions and change are not always my favorite thing.  and about how i sometimes can be pretty hard on myself about not liking moments of transition.

somehow the idea that even water--an element that has no emotions, no psychology, no anything except material existence--has to go through an awkward, mysterious, not-completely-understood transitional phase as it moves between states made me feel better about whatever weirdness i experience as i move between states in my own life.

it's a sort of affirmation that the difficulty of transition is natural--not just me not knowing how to do it right.

new year, new you.

i am probably not unique in the fact that i have a love/hate relationship with new year's resolutions.  on the one hand, the idea of a fresh start, a new beginning, a marked time for change is really appealing.  on the other hand, it always feels like it comes with SO MUCH PRESSURE.  in all caps.  just like that.

so.  this year, i almost resolved not to resolve.  but then i had a change of heart.  and i decided to resolve to resolve gently.  to resolve to do things i *want* to do anyway.  to resolve to do things i *already* do, but to do them slightly better.  as proof of my gentleness, i have not started on a single one of my resolutions.  except, now, this one: to actually write in this space more frequently. even if i feel like i have nothing to say. (thanks for the nudge, darby)

my other resolutions feel mundane, so i'll save listing them out.  but the gist of it is to work towards living the life i want to live, but don't think i have time for.  with some resolve, i'm betting i have more time to do the things i want to do than i think i do. 

happy new year!