Filling the World

Dear Eugene,

It's been a weekend like what John declares at the end of his account of Jesus' life, that if everything happened were to be written down, "I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written."

I am sure people today could and would object this way: Well, it's only thirty-plus years on earth, narrowly focused on no more than three; if a camera is to fixate its lens on Jesus for the whole time, it would not yield more than a thousand days of footage, hardly what one would call filling the "whole world."

How technology and "knowledge" has shriveled our imagination, that we can only think in a straight line, and the most boring one at that!

Of the many suggestions John might have made, one has to be Jesus' life can hardly be reduced to the narrative strands John has propose, as variegated and far-reaching as they are.

Well, that's the kind of weekend I just had.  I am too drained to write about it.  That might come later, but not today.  All I will say for now is that not a day went by without me sharing the good news of what you've taught me.  Such as the following:

"Story is our most natural form of language. We do tell stories. The way we use language that reflects plot, name, identity, relationship—it’s the most relational use of language, so that everything in life gets into the story, or can get in. It’s a non-specialized form of speech. So when I’m talking about story I’m talking about a way both of listening and speaking which is relational and comprehensive.

Theologically, we use the trinity to discuss that, to kind of nail those things down. But story is the form.

So when I’m talking about story, I’m not just talking about making up stories or telling stories. I’m talking about listening for story. Basically, we are listening for the relationships, the things that are unsaid that are part of the story, the silences. We live in a society that is just relentlessly—relentlessly!—taking the story out, removing the story and leaving us with facts. With information. With slogans, with causes, programs. And this relational intimacy that language draws us into is then gone, and we are left with stuff to do, with stuff to think, but no story. So you have to understand that I’m using this word “story” in this way, I’m using it to pay attention to what’s going on. It’s always relational. There’s always a lot of hiddenness in a story, so you gotta use your imagination to get behind some of these things.… 

What about novelists? Who do we listen to? Who do we read?

The novelist is the person who is listening for a story, not content to just tell us information but draws us into the relational life. A good novelist deepens our participation in reality, heightens our awareness for these unspoken, often relational, silences and hiddennesses that make up the texture of our lives.

I would urge you, if you are not a novel reader, start being one, so that you are trained in this imaginative way of dealing with language…. But make sure they are good. A bad novelist destroys relationship. You just end up with these little wooden stereotyped figures. There’s a lot of that writing going on today."

Thank you Eugene.  Alex

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