Showing items filed under “The Rev. Canon Dr. Victor Lee Austin”

Bessie Head

The joy of discovering a new author—new, that is, to the reader; she can be long dead but you had never heard of her—it makes you feel young again, as if it is not too late for you to become an explorer.

In the lovely small journal Slightly Foxed—an obscure British quarterly of only sixty-some small pages—there was a short essay on Bessie Head, an author from Botswana. Head’s first novel, When Rain Clouds Gather, was published in 1968. Born in South Africa, Head lived most of her life in Botswana, a landlocked country north of South Africa, east of Namibia, and southwest of Zimbabwe. In this little essay in a little journal I learned not only of Head and of this novel but that this novel was included in “The Big Jubilee Read” of seventy books published during the reign of Queen Elizabeth. I found that the Dallas public library had a copy available, and once I turned to read it, it hooked me. How could I never have known of this? How wonderful to learn of it!

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The plot centers on a man who, as the novel opens, is escaping into Botswana from South Africa, where he has just been released from prison. Violence, of unspecified sort, is in his past and in his heart. He settles in a small village—we learn of how the people live, poor, close to the ground. There is a British fellow who has settled there too; he brings modern agricultural knowledge and is trying to figure out (because somehow he has come to love these people) how to change their practices to ones that will be better for the soil, and for their lives. To do so he must come to understand how they see things, which is to say, become less of an outsider. We note that the white man is neither an enemy nor a native, though the book ruminates much on the evils of apartheid in South Africa and the myriad dehumanizations, large and small and all over the world, of African folk. There is an old woman who reads her Bible, who sees their local story as having its place in the Old Testament narrative. The man who is the center of the narrative has his own, anti-biblical thoughts.

Bessie Head puts all this together in a story that threatens catastrophe at various points—and there is great sadness at death from disease, and the vultures consuming cattle that died of hunger, and much more. Nonetheless, although I feared it repeatedly, nothing worse happened. The books ends with no simple message. The village has survived, its people if anything more interconnected than before. Evil has been dealt with by solidarity and not violence. And that solidarity is put as divine vengeance! God deals with a character who had intended revenge against God and his purposes. God plans revenge: “He would so much entangle this stupid young man with marriage and babies and children that he would always have to think, not twice but several hundred times, before he came to knocking anyone down.”

That “stupid young man” is the center of this remarkable novel. Reading it makes me feel like a new explorer, meeting people and moving into a world freshly strange. I am considering it for the book seminar next year, but perhaps you will go ahead and read it now?

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Out & About: This Sunday, August 4, I will be preaching at St. Francis in the Fields in Louisville, Ky., and offering a Sunday morning class: “Praising God for Creation: Reflections on Walking the Camino de Santiago.”

The next week, August 11, I am to preach at St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Dallas, where the services are at 9 and 11:15 a.m.

The Good Books & Good Talk seminar is to resume on Sunday, September 22, on Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. Subsequent fall discussions: October 13 on Russell Kirk’s Old House of Fear and November 10 on Marly Youmans’s Charis in the World of Wonders—all in Garrett Hall at St. Matthew’s in Dallas, from 5 to 6:30 p.m.

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On the Web. August 6 is the feast of the Transfiguration, which celebrates the revelation of Jesus as the luminous Son of God to chosen disciples. I have written about this shining; I wonder whether the shining indicates simply the light of God, or if it might (also?) point to the light of true humanity. Visit: https://humanlifereview.com/the-shining/

Two Old Popes

Age is on my mind—and blessed is the reader who doesn’t know why. The following has nothing to say to current events, but perhaps will point to some timeless theological wisdom.

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John Paul II was one of the most vigorous popes ever. He transformed the papacy into a center of dynamism through relentless travel. One recalls his plane landing on various continents and various climes, and himself, a man strong in body and spirit, descending in his fluttering white robes down the stairs, reaching the ground, and at once kneeling to kiss it. He had grown up under political oppression in Poland that tried to control minds and thoughts. He had been trained as an actor and wrote subversive plays and organized meetings where people could grow in solidarity with each other. He became a priest and taught interestingly about marriage and sex and prayer. He became a bishop. He became pope.

Then gradually his vigor left him. His body aged. He had one of the afflictions that come upon some of us in the evening of our lives. He trembled. He shuffled. And yet, he continued pope. He did not hide his infirmity. He prayed and he asked for prayer. And he remained extremely witty. Once he labored, slowly, to cross the room where church eminences were gathered to meet with him. He finally reached the far side, took his seat, and said in Italian, “Still he moves.”

In Italian, the same words mean “Still it moves.” They are the words Galileo is supposed to have said under his breath after the church had forced him to recount his view that the sun did not move around the earth. With John Paul, everyone laughed.

Of course it was awkward: to see this great man shuffling, sometimes drooling, and so forth. Wouldn’t it be better if he just went into a home, lived in private, and let someone else be pope? Yet in truth, it was precisely in his infirmity that he was pope. John Paul was teaching all of us how to age with dignity. He was showing us: This is what human dignity looks like sometimes. It’s okay. It’s human.

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In contrast, his successor, Benedict XVI, chose to resign as pope. This was due to a sense that he had growing inadequacies to carry out what the church needed. It was not an obvious decision, and it did not have to do with manifest physical ailments. It was, however, a breath-taking decision: no pope had resigned for centuries, and Dante had placed one who did resign down in the torments of the Inferno. To resign seemed unthinkable.

Yet Benedict did think it. And since he was the most brilliant theologian who had been pope for centuries, he deserved our giving him the benefit of the doubt. As an Episcopalian interested in ecumenical matters, I heard others say that by this resignation, Benedict had made the papacy much less of a stumbling block between our churches. He had made it clear that the papacy was a service and not an indelible thing like ordination. Bishops, priests, deacons: we can resign, retire, stop practicing; but we never cease to be the bishop or priest or deacon that we are. Our church believes that if you are ordained, you receive something that is indelible, it is with you forever. (We believe the same thing about baptism!) By his resignation, Benedict showed us that being pope is not something indelible, and thereby, possibly, he made it less of an obstacle to a future united church.

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So one pope showed us human dignity persisting in frailty. The other pointed us to unity with one another. In different ways, each was faithful to God’s call where he was.

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Out & About: Sunday, July 21, I am preaching at St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Dallas; the eucharists there are at 9 and 11:15 a.m.

The following Sunday, July 28, I’ll be at St. Luke’s in Dennison, Tex. I’ll be preaching at 8 and 10:30 a.m., and at 9:15 a.m. teaching a class on the parish as a school of friendship.

 

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The Rev. Canon Victor Lee Austin. Ph.D., is the Theologian-in-Residence for the diocese and is the author of several books including, "Friendship: The Heart of Being Human" and "A Post-Covid Catechesis.: