hints of grace//Intro

So I read the introduction to Uncommon Gratitude. I recognized immediately one thing that I may constantly bump up against: the fact that there are millions of people on this planet who live in such dreadful conditions that squeaking out an "alleluia" must take a lot of energy. Chittister wrote, "...is the human condition a bundle of gifts wrapped in darkness, the life task of which is to learn to recognize Goodness/Godness in all its misty forms?" (viii) This makes me nervous. 'Learning to recognize' is in and of itself a matter of privilege. To learn is a human right. But learning to recognize good when you can hardly feed your family, or when your family has been killed by the latest war, seems like something of little import. It's something to do in your spare time. But then Chittister wrote this:

...To deal with the meaning of alleluia in life means to deal with moments that do not feel like alleluia moments at all. But how is it possible to say alleluia to the parts of life that weigh us down, that drain our spirits dry, that seem to deserve anything but praise? (ix)

So I don't know. Maybe I'm not going to bump up against it as much as I think. I have to say, I just finished a class a couple weeks ago with Miguel de la Torre. He is a Christian Ethicist who teaches at Iliff School of Theology in Denver, CO. He has recently developed a theology of hopelessness. Now, I know what you're thinking, "Isn't the gospel all about the hope of the Kin-dom come to earth!?" Well, not totally. This is his topic to take on and not mine, but his espousal of this hopelessness has caused me great reason to rethink what it means to be an "Easter People."I'm not so convinced that we are.  (However, this is a whole different blogpost/book in itself....)  The other contextual piece of this is that Joan Chittister is known in the religious world for her work with death-row inmates. Because she knows the suffering of those beloved people,  I would anticipate a little less of what I call "silver-lining" theology. I guess we'll have to see as the book goes on. Perhaps Rowan Williams will offer something a little different.

I will do my best to keep this perspective of the author's privilege in perspective as I go through the book... after all, there will certainly be good stuff alongside my critique.

And above is a gift for your listening pleasure. It is the choral version of Whitacre's orchestra piece entitled "October," which I played when I was in high school band. It's incredible...