As I began to think about my final post to this blog while on Sabbatical, I realized that summary and closure would really be impossible. So I thought I would just leave with some numbers.
My sabbatical lasted 92 days. Of that, I spent 63 nights out of the safe comfort of my bed.
The generous grant from the Lilly Endowment Grant was for $50,000. $35,000 paid for the expenses of myself and my family (which when added to the money I had already budgeted proved just $40 less than I actually spent). The church's portion of $15,000 provided an all-star level interim in Charles Bugg (thank you so much Chuck!). Three tremendous opportunities were provided for the members of Faith to explore storytelling through a variety of media. And to the best of my knowledge, we won't have any money to return the kind folks at Lilly (Thank you so much and sorry!).
According to the Bing Distance calculator, I travelled more than 18,200 miles this summer. That works out to about 200 miles a day and $2 a mile if your counting.
During that time, I've posted 101 entries on my blog here--counting this one. I found one handy application that tracked visits to bobfoxstories@blogspot.com. Over the course of my absence there were nearly 2500 hits and 4800 page views (Thanks Mom!). It constantly humbled and reminded me that there really were a lot of people following along.
While this story of my life has reached its end, other stories are just beginning. The experiences of this summer will provide a background and enriching for everything that follows.
So if we are going by the numbers, let me leave with one--one big thank you to everyone who made this possible and everyone reading this.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Half Full Or Half Empty
When I met with Mark Lucas, to discuss Absalom, Absalom, he made a remark that got me thinking. He said that the Old South and England share a similar reverence of the past since both had fought and lost wars on their home ground. The extensive re-thinking that is required to make sense of why one's noble forebears were unable to prevail leads to an obsession with the past. It is a sort of second guessing. Was their cause mistaken, their courage suspect or were they in the wrong?
This questioning leads to a more circumspect view of the world. The real possibility of failure looms over every endeavor. It leads to a sort of realistic view of existence that can appear to be pessimism. When you examine the work of Tolkien and Faulkner, you certainly see this sort of harsh picture of living. Death and sorrow are real possibilities intricately woven into the tapestry of their tales.
This contrasts with the rest of the United States where during Disney's life, the claim could be made that the U.S. had never lost in a war. In fact, the U.S.'s primary role in Walt's experience had been to enter in on the right side of foreign conflict and tip the scales of victory to bring justice. Losing was not a part of the experience.
So Disney's narratives lack the reverence for the past and the complicated texture of death and sorrow. It is possible for him to have an essentially optimistic view of the world because defeat was unknown.
An interesting thought, loss leads to depth. At least in this case, it appears to ring true.
This questioning leads to a more circumspect view of the world. The real possibility of failure looms over every endeavor. It leads to a sort of realistic view of existence that can appear to be pessimism. When you examine the work of Tolkien and Faulkner, you certainly see this sort of harsh picture of living. Death and sorrow are real possibilities intricately woven into the tapestry of their tales.
This contrasts with the rest of the United States where during Disney's life, the claim could be made that the U.S. had never lost in a war. In fact, the U.S.'s primary role in Walt's experience had been to enter in on the right side of foreign conflict and tip the scales of victory to bring justice. Losing was not a part of the experience.
So Disney's narratives lack the reverence for the past and the complicated texture of death and sorrow. It is possible for him to have an essentially optimistic view of the world because defeat was unknown.
An interesting thought, loss leads to depth. At least in this case, it appears to ring true.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Discovering The Story
William Faulkner's Absalom, Absalom is a narrative masterpiece. The facts of the story are rather spare. Thomas Sutpen is shaped by a childhood rooted in his lower class roots and works the rest of his life to overcome it. He goes to Haiti for riches where he marries the daughter of a sugar plantation owner. When he finds out she is part black, he divorces her because she doesn't fit his plan. He arrives in Yokanaptawpha County, buys a 10 square mile plot from the local Indian chief. He develops it, marries a woman from the town and has two children, a boy and a girl. When the boy goes off to college he meets a mysterious student from New Orleans who is named Charles Bon. He brings him home for the holiday and arranges an engagement between Bon and his sister Judith. Sutpen calls his son Henry in and tells him that Bon is actually his half brother from the mother in Haiti. The two young men go off to war and when they return, as Charles comes back to marry Judith, Henry kills him at the door to the house. He does this not because of the incest but because he has learned that Bon is part black. Henry disappears and Sutpen returns from the Civil War with no son to inherit his dream. Finally he is killed by one of the poor white farmers who lives on the plantation because Sutpen fathers a baby by the man's granddaughter.
And that is basically it. There are a few other details and the sad denouement, but that is the plot. Admittedly it is a bit convoluted (a typical Faulknerian schema), but the book is 378 dense pages far more than seem necessary for the lean events of the narrative. Faulkner's genius is in the way he tells the story. These facts are not revealed in simple linear fashion. Instead the structure of the book is like a spiral staircase with the same points in time returned to from the perspective of different characters who add new and important details. It also is a bit like peeling an onion with layer upon layer of revelation.
The other technique which Faulkner employs is to have those telling the stories to invent the facts that fill in the blanks between the known. The question is not whether these events are true, but rather if they make sense given what is known about the people involved. The last part of the book focuses on Quentin Compson (who is tangentially brought into the story because of family relationships even though Sutpen lived well before he was born) at Harvard telling his friend Shreve the story at night in their dorm room. They riff off of each others tellings and create a persuasive narrative of grand scope.
That Faulkner can pull this off without slipping into the boredom of repetition or the absurdity of fantasy is a real coup. It is a reminder that the best stories sometimes lie in between the facts we know as our imagination builds a bridge.
And that is basically it. There are a few other details and the sad denouement, but that is the plot. Admittedly it is a bit convoluted (a typical Faulknerian schema), but the book is 378 dense pages far more than seem necessary for the lean events of the narrative. Faulkner's genius is in the way he tells the story. These facts are not revealed in simple linear fashion. Instead the structure of the book is like a spiral staircase with the same points in time returned to from the perspective of different characters who add new and important details. It also is a bit like peeling an onion with layer upon layer of revelation.
The other technique which Faulkner employs is to have those telling the stories to invent the facts that fill in the blanks between the known. The question is not whether these events are true, but rather if they make sense given what is known about the people involved. The last part of the book focuses on Quentin Compson (who is tangentially brought into the story because of family relationships even though Sutpen lived well before he was born) at Harvard telling his friend Shreve the story at night in their dorm room. They riff off of each others tellings and create a persuasive narrative of grand scope.
That Faulkner can pull this off without slipping into the boredom of repetition or the absurdity of fantasy is a real coup. It is a reminder that the best stories sometimes lie in between the facts we know as our imagination builds a bridge.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Lurking Evil
In William Faulkner's novels Go Down, Moses and Absalom, Absalom, the characters who seem to be most evil lurk in the background of the stories. The patriarch of the McCasslin clan who starts their downward spiral is never an active character in the narrative. He merely exists in memories and the record of the plantation ledger. Thomas Sutpen whose sins include his great desire for money and lineage and his racism also exists only in the flashbacks of memory.
In a way this is quite similar to J.R.R. Tolkien's personification of evil, Sauron, who exists only in a disembodied form at the the time of the final battle of Middle Earth. His evil overshadows the story even though he is actually a minor character in terms of actions and focus.
What Faulkner and Tolkien seem to have realized is that the power of evil is in the power of shadow. In the harsh light of day, it is not nearly as fearsome or as craven as it appears when shrouded in mystery. Had they spent time focusing on the characters rather than their effects in the narrative world, their evil might well have so becharmed the reader so as not to seem that evil after all.
The characters found ways to justify their horrid acts to themselves and doubtless a closer look at them would have meant weighing those justifications. By keeping them at arms length and in the shadows, Tolkien and Faulkner make the evil more clearly powerful and more sinister.
The problem with evil is its tempting allure. No one is tempted to steal their neighbor's garbage--but things of value. The key it seems is not to get too close to evil, because the seduction it provides is powerful and can result in a sense that maybe what it suggests isn't that bad after all.
Evil is best identified by its results not its arguments. Giving a voice to evil is to let the snake speak in a hypnotic and sensible way, but to lose the key to the garden gate in the process. So when Faulkner and Tolkien want to create evil characters, they limit their ability to speak and concentrate on the consequences of their actions.
In a way this is quite similar to J.R.R. Tolkien's personification of evil, Sauron, who exists only in a disembodied form at the the time of the final battle of Middle Earth. His evil overshadows the story even though he is actually a minor character in terms of actions and focus.
What Faulkner and Tolkien seem to have realized is that the power of evil is in the power of shadow. In the harsh light of day, it is not nearly as fearsome or as craven as it appears when shrouded in mystery. Had they spent time focusing on the characters rather than their effects in the narrative world, their evil might well have so becharmed the reader so as not to seem that evil after all.
The characters found ways to justify their horrid acts to themselves and doubtless a closer look at them would have meant weighing those justifications. By keeping them at arms length and in the shadows, Tolkien and Faulkner make the evil more clearly powerful and more sinister.
The problem with evil is its tempting allure. No one is tempted to steal their neighbor's garbage--but things of value. The key it seems is not to get too close to evil, because the seduction it provides is powerful and can result in a sense that maybe what it suggests isn't that bad after all.
Evil is best identified by its results not its arguments. Giving a voice to evil is to let the snake speak in a hypnotic and sensible way, but to lose the key to the garden gate in the process. So when Faulkner and Tolkien want to create evil characters, they limit their ability to speak and concentrate on the consequences of their actions.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
A Super Sunday
In October of 2009, the Federal Trade Commission released their revised guidelines on endorsements. These new policies included one that required all bloggers who received a material benefit from the product or service they endorse to disclose that information to their readers.
So to stay out of trouble, let me disclose my connections with Lexington Avenue Baptist Church in Danville where I attended worship this morning.
My first memories of LABC are from the 1970's. My Grandfather and his brothers were members of the church and when we would have overnight visits, I would go with him to hear their pastor of the time, Austin Roberts, preach. What I most remember about him was his unusual accent.
Then when I went to Centre, I attended the church while Bob Baker was its pastor. After a year or two, I got a call from Bob asking me to consider leading the R.A. program there. At the time I felt it was quite an honor (although now, knowing how desperate one can get to find volunteers I'm not so sure) and gladly accepted.
Then, sometime later, H.K. Kingkade (now the Director of College/Church Relations at Georgetown College) resigned as youth minister. Bob and the music minister Bruce Richardson encouraged me to apply for the position and to my surprise I was hired. A ministry that consisted of some good times, one blown up van engine and a variety of growing up experiences that make me cringe to think about later, I left for seminary. The church's extraordinary kindness and love helped me in the formation of my ministry identity.
Through the years, I have kept up with LABC. This morning I saw my Great-aunt Rose and my Second Cousin Sallie there. I was glad to see my friends Tommy Valentine (their pastor) and Keith Stillwell (their associate pastor) in leadership. Even though it was twenty years ago that I was there, I still saw some friendly familiar faces.
All that to say, it was great. And if you're ever looking for a church in Danville, I reccomend it.
So to stay out of trouble, let me disclose my connections with Lexington Avenue Baptist Church in Danville where I attended worship this morning.
My first memories of LABC are from the 1970's. My Grandfather and his brothers were members of the church and when we would have overnight visits, I would go with him to hear their pastor of the time, Austin Roberts, preach. What I most remember about him was his unusual accent.
Then when I went to Centre, I attended the church while Bob Baker was its pastor. After a year or two, I got a call from Bob asking me to consider leading the R.A. program there. At the time I felt it was quite an honor (although now, knowing how desperate one can get to find volunteers I'm not so sure) and gladly accepted.
Then, sometime later, H.K. Kingkade (now the Director of College/Church Relations at Georgetown College) resigned as youth minister. Bob and the music minister Bruce Richardson encouraged me to apply for the position and to my surprise I was hired. A ministry that consisted of some good times, one blown up van engine and a variety of growing up experiences that make me cringe to think about later, I left for seminary. The church's extraordinary kindness and love helped me in the formation of my ministry identity.
Through the years, I have kept up with LABC. This morning I saw my Great-aunt Rose and my Second Cousin Sallie there. I was glad to see my friends Tommy Valentine (their pastor) and Keith Stillwell (their associate pastor) in leadership. Even though it was twenty years ago that I was there, I still saw some friendly familiar faces.
All that to say, it was great. And if you're ever looking for a church in Danville, I reccomend it.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Some Commonalities
When I chose J.R.R. Tolkien, Walt Disney and William Faulkner as the focal points for my sabbatical I did so because they all hold a particular place in my passions. When I tried to justify this odd triumvirate, I found that they all lived contemporaneously. So, I based my Clergy Renewal Grant proposal on the variety of their works even though they lived in the same time period.
Over the course of the past three months, I have found many similarities some surprising between them. Some of them I have noted. Some may be important. Some are clearly trivial. I wanted to share a partial list with you of what they share and you can decide which belong in each of the previous categories.
1. Each had a major work published in 1937 (The Hobbit, Snow White, Absalom, Absalom)
2. Each served or tried to in World War I
3. Each drank and smoked
4. Each had dealings with Hollywood
5. Each drew on the settings of their childhood for their work
6. Each had a reverence for wilderness
7. Each experimented with ground breaking approaches (Tolkien invented the modern category of fantasy literature, Disney brought stereo sound, color and feature length to cartoons, Faulkner's use of stream of consciousness, variety of narrators and non-linear storytelling were trail blazing)
8. Each, in their childhood, were active in the church and knew its stories
9. Each had a brother who was significant in their lives
10. Each were recognized during their lifetime, but also had significant critics who questioned the importance and value of their work
There are others of course, but this list illustrates that the men's lives and thought have more in common than one might think at first glance.
It's a small world after all.
Over the course of the past three months, I have found many similarities some surprising between them. Some of them I have noted. Some may be important. Some are clearly trivial. I wanted to share a partial list with you of what they share and you can decide which belong in each of the previous categories.
1. Each had a major work published in 1937 (The Hobbit, Snow White, Absalom, Absalom)
2. Each served or tried to in World War I
3. Each drank and smoked
4. Each had dealings with Hollywood
5. Each drew on the settings of their childhood for their work
6. Each had a reverence for wilderness
7. Each experimented with ground breaking approaches (Tolkien invented the modern category of fantasy literature, Disney brought stereo sound, color and feature length to cartoons, Faulkner's use of stream of consciousness, variety of narrators and non-linear storytelling were trail blazing)
8. Each, in their childhood, were active in the church and knew its stories
9. Each had a brother who was significant in their lives
10. Each were recognized during their lifetime, but also had significant critics who questioned the importance and value of their work
There are others of course, but this list illustrates that the men's lives and thought have more in common than one might think at first glance.
It's a small world after all.
Friday, August 20, 2010
What To Do About Evil
Mark Lucas and I met today to discuss Go Down, Moses at a popular Danville coffee shop. We spent over an hour discussing the plot and characters of this Faulkner novel.
He shared with me a very interesting account of words delivered by William Faulkner at the University of Virginia. A questioner asked him about human responses to evil in the world. He replied that he believed there were three. The first response is to throw one's hands in the air and in despair determine that there is nothing that can be done. The second stance is to recognize the evil and try to remove yourself from it. The third attitude is to recognize the evil and work head on to change it.
In Go Down, Moses, the character Eunice embodies the first response. When she discovers that the slave holder who has bought her and fathered her daughter has now raped his own child leaving her pregnant, she walks into the stream and drowns herself. She is overcome with grief but sees nothing to do but surrender.
On the other hand, the ostensible hero of the book Isaac McCasslin chooses the second course of action. He recognizes the evil and racism of the plantation system which he has inherited. But, rather than addressing the issues, he chooses to repudiate his inheritance and instead to live in town while letting his cousin take over the family farm and its dehumanizing commerce.
Most interesting in the novel is that there is no character who recognizes the evil and tries to change it. There is no Moses who demands that the people be released. There are only flawed and broken folk trapped by the evil of a history of ownership and slavery. But no character stands up and identifies the warped character of their culture and demands its change.
It is almost as if Faulkner leaves that task to his readers. None of the characters in his book possess the moral vision and courage that is necessary to bring change. They are ensnared and wait for some next generation, some Joshua to come and lead them into the land of promise.
It is as if Faulkner understood that the problems of racism were so deep that they would not be resolved in his generation. He hoped as we still do for someone to come with the moral courage to bring change.
He shared with me a very interesting account of words delivered by William Faulkner at the University of Virginia. A questioner asked him about human responses to evil in the world. He replied that he believed there were three. The first response is to throw one's hands in the air and in despair determine that there is nothing that can be done. The second stance is to recognize the evil and try to remove yourself from it. The third attitude is to recognize the evil and work head on to change it.
In Go Down, Moses, the character Eunice embodies the first response. When she discovers that the slave holder who has bought her and fathered her daughter has now raped his own child leaving her pregnant, she walks into the stream and drowns herself. She is overcome with grief but sees nothing to do but surrender.
On the other hand, the ostensible hero of the book Isaac McCasslin chooses the second course of action. He recognizes the evil and racism of the plantation system which he has inherited. But, rather than addressing the issues, he chooses to repudiate his inheritance and instead to live in town while letting his cousin take over the family farm and its dehumanizing commerce.
Most interesting in the novel is that there is no character who recognizes the evil and tries to change it. There is no Moses who demands that the people be released. There are only flawed and broken folk trapped by the evil of a history of ownership and slavery. But no character stands up and identifies the warped character of their culture and demands its change.
It is almost as if Faulkner leaves that task to his readers. None of the characters in his book possess the moral vision and courage that is necessary to bring change. They are ensnared and wait for some next generation, some Joshua to come and lead them into the land of promise.
It is as if Faulkner understood that the problems of racism were so deep that they would not be resolved in his generation. He hoped as we still do for someone to come with the moral courage to bring change.
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