Reuven Fenton, Goyhood: A Novel (Central Avenue, 2024), 276 pages.
The story of twin boys is as ancient as Esau and Joseph. In this story, David and his younger brother (by forty-three seconds) Marty are raised by a single mother in a small town in Georgia. Together, they make quite a team. Then their lives change one afternoon as they come home on their bikes and discover a rabbi talking to their mother. She confirms their Jewish heritage. This sets them on divergent paths. Marty takes this revelation seriously (and changes his name to the more Jewish sounding “Mayer”). He becomes a model Jewish student. He receives a scholarship and heads to New York for more study. There, he marries the daughter of a leading Orthodox Jewish scholar, who provides for their needs. He spends his life studying and living as an observant Jew.
David, on the other hand, becomes involved in all kinds lots of shady business deals. He makes and loses money, but mostly loses money. Then he finds success. Now middle-aged, their mother’s death brings the boys back together. She committed suicide and left behind another revelation in the form of a letter. While there to morn their mother’s death, and with the revelation that he’s not even Jewish, David encourages Mayer to go on a road trip as the brothers become reacquainted.
For Marty, who has lived his life in a sheltered Jewish enclave in New York, it’s a chance to really see the world, a sort of Jewish Rumspringa. The travels and his brother’s experiences amaze Marty. Along the way, we learn more about both brothers as well as Mayer’s marriage. They have a few close run-ins with the law, and adopt a dog.
In New Orleans, David picks up Charlayne, an African American social media influencer he met on the internet. She’s planning on hiking the Appalachian Trail, and David suggests to Mayer they drop off her at Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the trail. Two white guys traveling through the South with a black woman sets up some interesting encounters such as one which happened in a fireworks store. They even hike a day with Charlayne, allowing David a chance to experience nature and to ponder the meaning of worship. Charlayne, who has dealt with her own grief, gives Mayer a copy of book she’s read multi-times, C. S. Lewis’ A Grief Observed, which opens his mind up to the thoughts of non-Jews on the subject of grief. .
David also arranges for him and his brother to attend a Jewish retreat in the mountains. This allows for more interesting encounters, from a phony self-centered musician who acts as if he’s unable to walk, to a woman rabbi. The whole concept of a woman rabbi is beyond Mayer’s comprehension, but she opens his eyes to possibilities beyond previously narrow life.
I’ll save the ending of the book for the reader. This is a quick read, and there’s plenty of laughs along the way. I recommend reading the book. I read the book at a time I needed some chuckles, mostly while sitting in my father’s hospice room in the days before his death. But the book isn’t just humorous. Fenton explores the meaning of faith, belonging, race, and family.
My one wish is that the book would include a glossary of Jewish words used throughout the book. Such words are sprinkled throughout the book and add to the story. While I knew some of the words, most were unfamiliar to me. I found myself googling some phrases. The word “Goy,” used in the title is a Yiddish word for a gentile or non-Jew.
I received an advanced publication of the book for the purpose of reviewing the book. The book was published earlier this week.
Jeff Garrison Mayberry and Bluemont Churches May 26, 2024 Mark 4:35-41
Sermon recorded at Mayberry on Friday, May 24, 2024
At the beginning of worship
Mark Twain had an acquaintance, a saintly woman, probably a Sunday School teacher, who was deathly ill. Nothing could be done. The doctors gave up. But Twain knew just what she needed. Standing over her bed, he shared his good news. She was greatly relieved. Twain confessed to having had a similar problem. “I beat it by giving up some of his bad habits,” he said. “Pretty soon, the starved illness left my body for more fertile ground. Just give up a few bad habits,” Twain assured the dying saint.
“But I don’t have any bad habits,” the woman proclaimed. “None?” Twain asked. “None,” she assured him. “I don’t run around with men. I don’t smoke, drink, dip snuff, curse or even bite my nails. I’ve been a good woman, almost without fault.” A frown came over Twain’s face and he bowed his head and said, “I’m afraid the doctors are right, there’s no hope. You’re a sinking ship with no ballast to throw overboard.”
I don’t recommend Mark Twain’s variation of fasting. I’m thankful we don’t have to try to please the Almighty by giving up stuff to win God’s favor. That’s the theology of pagans and shamans. Instead, as Christians, we accept God’s grace and then, order our lives in such a manner that they praise God. Yes, we’re to give up sinful ways, but not to get God’s attention. We give up our sinfulness out of thanksgiving for what God has done.
Before reading the Scripture
We continue our journey through Mark’s gospel. In the last two sermons, we’ve seen how Mark broke away from his traditional structure of telling what Jesus did and provided examples of Jesus’ teaching.[1] Today, Mark returns to his narrative structure, as he tells a story found in also in Matthew and Luke’s gospels.[2]This passage is linked to the previous passages by a boat. Jesus taught the parables in a boat, now they set out across the Sea of Galilee.[3]
The calming of the sea is the first of three miracles Mark recalls in rapid succession. Following this miracle, we have the healing of a man possessed by demons and the raising of Jarius’ dead daughter. These stories were not haphazardly arranged. Mark reveals aspects of Jesus’ sovereignty—his power over creation, evil, and death.[4] In other words, through these three events, Mark makes a Christological statement, demonstrating that Jesus’ power is equal to God’s and implying, through examples, Jesus’ divinity.[5]
READ MARK 4:35-41
It’s Memorial Day weekend and for many people that means the beginning of boating season… Isn’t this an ideal passage for today?
You know, there is nothing more dangerous to the safety of a vessel on the water than having the crew panic during a chaos. When things get dicey, all hands need to be “on deck” and willing to carry out their assigned task to make sure the boat safely handles the trouble.
Having grown up near the coast and spending a lot of time on the water, this is a favorite Bible stories. I appreciate both the fear of the disciples at the power of a storm and the comfort that comes from having someone like Jesus, who assumes control when danger lurks.
Let’s look at our text for the morning. Three problematic questions are raised in this passage. The first comes from when the disciples wake Jesus and ask: “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing.” What kind of question is this? There’s some cynicism in the tone with which they ask it, as if they believe Jesus has the power to save them, but they are unsure he’s going to act.
Did the disciples think Jesus would let them drown? Maybe… It must have been a shock for them to find Jesus asleep. After all, they’d toiled to reef the sails and control the rudder. Their hearts raced as they batted down hatches and tightened knots. And then, soaking wet, they observe Jesus napping. While the disciples can’t appreciate this at the moment, Jesus’ sleep shows his trust in the Father to protect them.[6]
There’s a parallel between this story and Jonah. If you remember, Jonah booked passage on a ship heading away from God’s call. As the ship sails out into the sea, out beyond the horizon, it encounters a storm. The vessel fills with water. The sailors, taking Mark Twain’s advice, throw cargo overboard to lighten their load and keep their vessel afloat. Then the crew spots Jonah, like Jesus, fast asleep.
Jonah tells the deckhands he’s disobeyed his God, the God of heaven, maker of the sea and the land. Jonah then suggests they cast him into the sea to appease God. But the sailors don’t want to do this; they continue trying to save their ship. After all, tossing passengers overboard would hurt their bookings. Who’d want to sail with such a crew? But the storm continues and soon these seasons sailors are at wits-end. So, they toss Jonah into the waters, and witness the power of God over the seas.[7]
In both stories, we see the power of God, the power of the Creator who calmed the ancient waters and separated land and sea. God’s power extends over all which is why Jesus can stand amidst the howling winds and command the sea to calm and the winds to cease.
Now we now come to the second and third problematic questions, which I link together. Jesus asks the disciples, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” On a human level it’s obvious why they are afraid… We all would be afraid. It’s natural. After all, things are out of our control. We like to think we have a grip on life and don’t like to be in situations where the forces of nature, or the forces of other people, control over our ability to act and respond.
Jesus’ questions here are often seen as a rebuke. God is a God who has power over nature, then God is to be feared, not nature. Furthermore, if God is good and has power over nature, we should willing place our faith and trust and seek guidance from such a God for his love tempers our fear and calls us back to him.
The sea frightened the Hebrew people. Israel wasn’t a maritime nation. They lived in a desert; they farmed and herded animals. What few fishermen there were, sailed on inland lakes and seas. However, like we see in this text, even lakes can be dangerous.
Large bodies of water, in Scripture, are often portrayed as the reservoir of evil. Think about it. What is one of God’s first tasks at creation? God tamed the chaos of the waters, separating water and land. The apocalyptic visions we have in Daniel and Revelation depict evil coming from where? From the sea![8]Symbolically, in scripture, the sea is the Devil’s Triangle. It’s frightening. These formerly nomadic people wanted to keep their feet on dry land; they don’t like venturing out into the ocean.
If we grasp this ancient Hebrew concept of the sea harboring evil, then we can understand the deeper meaning to Jesus’ actions. Jesus’ power over the sea is also an indication of his power over evil—not just over a bunch of demons, but the whole system of evil. When our lives seem to be chaotic, when wickedness seems to have control over us—then our friendship with Jesus is even more valuable because he calls us to believe and trust in his power and will keep us safe when evil confronts.
Yet, we must admit, tragedy is a reality. Not all ships caught in a storm survive. Some sink; others miraculously endure. There seems to be no rhyme or reason why one event ends in triumph and another in disaster. The frailty of life should drive us to our knees in humility. We owe our lives and our continuing existence to God.
The hope this passage offers has nothing to do with whether our prayers during times of peril are answered in the way we expect. The hope offered comes from the calming presence of our Savior. Even during the midst of a storm, Jesus remains by our side.
Artists have portrayed ships on stormy seas with Christ at the helm as an interpretation for the church. The ship in a storm demonstrates the difficulty of our lives on this planet. But the reminder of Christ at the helm, having things under control, reassures us.
We live in a world of uncertainty. But as Jesus reminded the disciples, a crisis is no time to panic. Instead, we must trust in God. As Paul reminds us, nothing in life or in death that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.[9]
A sermon by Augustine of Hippo, the great theologian of the early church, brought this text into the lives of his listeners. His words still ring true:
When you have to listen to abuse, that means you are being buffeted by the wind. When your anger is roused, you are being tossed by waves. So, when the winds blow and the wavs mount high, the boat is in danger, your heart is imperiled, your heart is taking a battering… On hearing yourself insulted, you long to retaliate; but the joy of revenge brings with it another kind of misfortune—shipwreck. Why is this? Because Christ is asleep in you… You have forgotten his presence. Rouse him…. Let him keep watch within you.[10]
Although I joked about it earlier, Twain’s suggestion of throwing our bad habits overboard isn’t a bad idea. But if we desire smooth sailing, ridding ourselves of ballast is only a small part of the answer. We must turn the helm over to the one who calmed the seas. He can calm our hearts. Amen.
[10] Augustine, Sermons 63.1-3, as quoted in Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: New Testament II: Mark (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 1998), 65.
Jeff Garrison Mayberry and Bluemont Churches May 19, 2024 Mark 4:21-34
Sermon recorded at Bluemont on Friday, May 17, 2024
At the opening of worship:
Read Acts 2:1-4
Today is Pentecost, in which we recall the empowering of the church with God’s Spirit. As we just heard, God’s Spirit swept among the early disciples like flames, setting them on fire with the gospel. But because I’m focusing on Mark’s gospel this year, we’ll discuss the kingdom of God today. I think this theme works with Pentecost, for the kingdom can only come through God’s Spirit.
We tend to think of the kingdom as something accomplished for us and given as a gift. I like to think of the kingdom as described in Psalm 23, a grassy place beside still waters. This idyllic vision has me semi-horizonal, propped up against a tree, chewing on broom straw while watching puffy clouds float overhead. When I get tired of that, I pull my hat down over my eyes and take a nap, enjoying the peace.
But I’m not sure such ideas fits with much of scripture. One of the tenets of the Presbyterian Church is that we’re to exhibit the Kingdom of God to the world.[1] We may not always be good at that, but it’s our calling. And Pentecost, with those winds of fire rushing about, rouses us up from our naps, reminding us of the work to be done. But we’re also reminded of that invisible hand helping us.
Our scripture this morning contains a series of Jesus’ parables involving the kingdom. And two of the three parables relate the kingdom to farming. So back to that image of me napping up against a tree by the sill waters…. Jesus comes along, shakes me awake, hands me a gardening hoe, and tells me there are rows of crops to be chopped. The kingdom begins now, we’re a part of it. So, ask yourself, what’s God calling you to do?
Before reading the Scripture:
We’re continuing through Mark’s gospel. As we have seen throughout this series, Mark focuses more on narrative than teaching. We learn what Jesus did, including teaching, but often Mark doesn’t give us the content of such teachings. If you remember from my sermon three weeks ago, when I was last in the pulpit, there are two sections of Mark, each less than a chapter in length, where Mark inserts a string of teachings.[2] In the fourth chapter, Mark pieces together a group of parables which Jesus used to convey the meaning behind the Kingdom of God. Mark starts with the Parable of the Sower (or the Parable of the Soil or the Seeds) which we explored last time.
Next, Mark recalls several short parables Jesus tells. We’ll explore these today. Most of these parables can be found in Matthew and Luke, but in different places in Jesus’ ministry, which indicates how Mark gathered them up and included them in this longer teaching section to give us an idea of Jesus’ teachings.
These parables refer to the unexpected and surprising way God works in our world. The Kingdom of God is not equivalent to the heaven we often imagine, where we stroll around on golden streets. The kingdom is dynamic. It’s a light to be displayed. It grows. The Almighty is a God of creation, and God’s work didn’t stop at the end of Day 6. God continues to create. God builds a kingdom, and, in a way, we get to participate.
Verses 21-25
The first set of stories have to do with our role as Christ followers. If we have seen the light of Christ, we’re to help it shine for others to see. We get this same advice in the Sermon on the Mount, where we’re told to let our light shine so others may see our good works and give glory to our Father in Heaven.[3]
The purpose of light is to illuminate. But there is a veiled warning in the way Mark uses this story. The light will shine one way or another. And it will be illuminating all including our dirty laundry. We need to take the risk and come to the light and be made pure.
The second part of this first set of stories almost sounds counter to the gospel. After all, Jesus speaks of the last being first,[4] but here the one who has more will receive even more. What’s this about? Does it fit with God’s economy that seems to reward the underdog?
Here, Jesus must be alluding to faith, not possessions. Faith is given but must also be used.[5] An athlete can have a natural gift. But only by practice and through working out, can an athlete grow stronger, more proficient, and achieve success. Likewise, faith grows stronger with use. By repeatedly depending on faith, the amount we possess grows or strengthens. Faith, like our bodies, can’t be stagnant. If we don’t use it, we slide backwards.
Verses 26-29
The second group of stories within our passage is about a farmer who plants seeds and then watches his field day and night. He knows he’s not in control of what happens. The seed germinates underground, out of sight. The farmer looks expectantly for the first sprouts.
I don’t know about you, but I get excited when I start to see green sprouts poke through the ground. And it’s amazing how quickly such sprouts take root and grow. In just a few weeks, a squash seed will grow from a couple of leaves about the size of a dime to long vines with huge leaves. As the farmer, we do what we can. We weed, water, and fertilize. But we’re still not in control. This is a perfect metaphor for the kingdom, which grows mysteriously. Yes, we can help it grow, but ultimately the growth is given by God.
This second set of stories contain elements of human freedom and responsibility. It’s freeing to know that God is in control because sometimes our best efforts don’t produce desired results. Farmers certainly know they can faithfully nurse a crop along only to have it wiped out by a hailstorm just before harvest. But what’s important here is not the harvest but the faithfulness. It’s important that we plant kingdom seeds, and then trust God.
When we first moved to Utah, the house we lived in had a wonderful mini orchard in the backyard. There was an apple tree which, because of grafting, produced several types of applies. We also had a pear tree. There was an apricot tree which produced a wonderful harvest one year. The rest of the years we lived there it bloomed earlier and the buds froze. And then there was a mulberry tree which just made a mess. Except for the mulberry tree, I really appreciated the effort someone put into creating that mini orchard. We lived in that house for about four years. If I had planted such trees on day one, I would have never enjoyed a harvest.
After leaving that first house, we moved into a house with a totally barren backyard. We were there for six years. I planted fruit trees, laid out terraces for herbs and vegetables. While I did enjoy vegetables and herbs, it wasn’t until the last summer I was there I received any fruit. 3 peaches! Hopefully, the next owner of that house enjoyed more of a harvest. It’s like that sometimes. As Paul reminds us, someone plants, someone waters, and God gives the growth.[6]
Verses 30-34
It’s interesting that Jesus tells so many parables about seeds. He began the chapter discussing grain. Jesus then uses another parable about grain and the farmer watching its growth. Finally, he ends the parable with a discussion of a mustard bush.
It seems to be a bit paradoxical for mustard to be discussed. As a plant, it could be a nuisance to grain farmers. It shades the grain and takes up valuable space. It also becomes a haven for birds who feast upon the grain seed. So, what is this parable about?
This parable contains layers of meanings. Like the previous parable, we learn how the insignificant can become magnificent. The smallest of seeds becoming a great bush. Like a good storyteller, Jesus uses hyperbole here to bring home a point. The small seed stands in contrast to its growth. As one commentator writes, “The kingdom of God arises from obscurity and insignificance.” We’ll be amazed as God’s kingdom becomes real and more visible and wonder from where it came.[7]
There is also a deeper meaning in this parable about the birds nesting in the branches. This harkens back to the Old Testament prophets who spoke of birds resting in the branches of a tree as a metaphor of the gathering of all of God’s creation. In other words, Jesus alludes to the inclusion of the Gentiles. God’s grace applies to all people.[8] And that’s good (yet humbling) news to those of us who are not descendants of Abraham, but nonetheless follow Jesus.
Conclusion
In these stories, Jesus reminds us of our calling to do what we can to build God’s kingdom. But we’re also reminded that the growth of the kingdom is beyond our control. At times we may not understand and feel discouraged, but we should trust that God has things under control. We do our part, and we trust God for the rest.
In a way, individually, we’re like a foot soldier in a mighty army. We may not understand how our role helps achieve the victory, but we trust and follow orders. And our orders are to love God and to love our neighbors[9] as we trust God to make all things new. Amen.
[4] Matthew 19:30, 20:16; Mark 9:35, 10:31; Luke 13:30. See also 2 Corinthians 6:10, 8:9; James 2:5.
[5] Bebe, in his Homilies on the Gospels (7th Century) says that those who hear Jesus’ words and observe them in their hearts will receive more. See also Morna D. Hooke, The Gospel According to Saint Mark (1991, Hendrickson Publishing, 1997), 134-135.
I’ve been quiet on social media lately, especially in blogland and on Facebook. Let me explain. I have also not posted any sermons recently as I have been away from the pulpit. This has been a time of reflection and change, which came to a head this past Monday, May 6, around 11:30 PM. That’s when my brother called from hospice to let me know our dad had died.
Dad paddling in the Okefenokee (2015)
As you may imagine, I didn’t get much sleep the rest of the night, and was up way before sunrise to walk the beach (I was staying in Kure Beach). As the sun rose, I remember all those times being with Dad on the boat running out of Carolina Beach, Masonboro, or Barden’s Inlet as the sun rose. Dad’s timing always seemed perfect as we headed out toward the sun for a day of fishing. Of course, there were other days with rain or fog… But now, they’d be no more of those adventures.
On April 30, my father had his fourth intestinal surgery in twelve days. The first surgery was on Thursday, April 18. I was in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan at the time. My dad came out of the surgery doing well and things were looking up. We had several conversations by phone. He expected to get out of the hospital in four or five days. But before this happened, his intestines started to leak and there were infections. The next Thursday, he had the second surgery. They were not able to do everything, so they scheduled another surgery for Sunday and kept him sedated. There would be one more surgery for Tuesday morning, April 30. I arrived in time to meet the surgeon as he met with my brother, sister, and me. While he expressed hope, he also warned us that our father couldn’t survive another intestinal surgery.
Dad, after his 25th Wedding Celebration (1980)
On Wednesday, they removed the respirator and Dad slowly woke up. Things looked even better on Thursday morning, May 2. I was there first thing that morning and when the doctors and staff made their rounds. They discussed moving Dad from ICU to a step-down unit that afternoon. Later in the morning, my brother came in to relieve me. I went out to have coffee with Billy Beasley, a friend of mine whose friendship goes back to my elementary school days. While there, I got an urgent text from my brother to come back, that Dad’s intestines were leaking. Over the next hour, we learned there was nothing more they could do. Dad understood what was happening and with my brother Warren and I on each side of the bed, sniffling, he told us not to cry. He later thanked us for being there and for being good boys. They moved Dad that afternoon to hospice, where he spent the next five days.
Fishing at jetty at Masonboro Inlet (~2010)
Thankfully, the first two days, Dad did well and was able to see a lot of friends and family members. My younger brother was even able to make it in late Friday night from Japan. One of the highlights during this time was one of the visits of the pastor of his church. He is relatively new and thank my father for all he did to support his ministry and how he checked in on others within the congregation. My father said, “that’s what we’re supposed to do.
By Saturday, May 4, Dad began to slip and mostly slept. Once, he woke up enough to say, “That was nice,” after I prayed over him. They had to keep increasing morphine to keep his pain under control. Although a strong man, fate took over. Yet, it took him a long time to give up. He would eventually stop breathing when alone (my brother was in the room but asleep).
Probably ten years ago, my father had me write an obituary for him and my mother, Barbara Faircloth Garrison, who died in 2020. I pulled out the obituary from my files, updated it (mostly increasing the number of great-grandchildren), and began editing it with my siblings. Below is the final product:
Mom and Dad in the 1990s the (copy of photo wasn’t the best)
Charles Albert Garrison died on May 6, 2024 from complications following intestinal surgeries. Charles loved being on the water and never felt more alive than when he was out on his boat or fishing. He and his late wife were known for their love for each other and their hospitality toward others, including annual New Year Eve oyster roasts.
Dad at six years of age
Charles was born on December 29, 1936 in Pinehurst, North Carolina to Helen McKenzie and A. H. Garrison. He was an Eagle Scout and while a high school student played football, basketball, and baseball. In 1955, he graduated from Pinehurst High School and two months later, on July 29th, married Barbara Jean Faircloth. Their marriage lasted 65 years, till Barbara’s death in 2020. Together, they had four children: Charles Jeffrey (Donna), Warren Albert (Sheri), Sharon Kaye and David Thomas (Monica).
In 1962, Charles went to work for the Hartford Steam Boiler Inspection and Insurance Company. He was employed by the company for the next forty years. He began his career in Petersburg, Virginia in January 1963. In 1966, he jumped at the opportunity to move to Wilmington, North Carolina where he could be near the ocean. He would live the rest of his life in Wilmington except for two overseas assignments in Japan and Korea. During his career with the company, he was an insurance inspector, an ASME Code Inspector for Boilers, Pressure Vessels, and a Nuclear In-Service Inspector. He retired from Hartford in 2002 but continued to do consulting work for another five years. He finally gave up working to care for his wife.
Fishing off Cape Lookout (Fall 2008)
Charles remained active throughout his life. In his younger years, he hunted and fished, played basketball and softball. Once he moved to Wilmington, he continued to play softball for a few years and limited his basketball to outside pickup games with his sons and their friends. He devoted as much time as possible to fishing. He often spent weeks in the fall of the year camping and fishing on Masonboro Island. Later, he would make a sojourner of a week or so to Cape Lookout, where he would camp and fish with family and friends.
Dad with grandkids in the 1990s (notice the reindeers in the yard)
The church was always important to Charles. Like his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, he was a Ruling Elder in the Presbyterian Church. He served on many committees, especially the building and grounds committee at Cape Fear Presbyterian Church, where he remained a member for 58 years. Charles attended church every Sunday he was able. He and his wife made many friends at Cape Fear and often visited new families within the church. They also delivered tapes of the church services to shut-ins within the congregation.
Basketball goal (in need of a painting)
Charles was a craftsman and handy man. He restored a home in Pinehurst and added on to his home in Wilmington. In high school, he made his future wife a cedar chest which they used for the rest of their lives. An excellent welder, he built the basketball goal which still stands in his yard. His great-grandchildren now play basketball on this goal. He also welded a Christmas tree stand out of steel that would have survived a nuclear war (the tree might have snapped off, but the steel stand wasn’t going anywhere). Charles was also known for his handmade wooden Christmas decorations including a sleigh and reindeer which populated his front year during the season. He also built many Rudolph the Red-nose Reindeer door hangers and poinsettias holders which he gave away as gifts.
Charles also served as a leader in the Boy Scout program when his sons were in scouting and helped coach baseball. Charles continued to enjoy attending the ball games of his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. He also served for many years as a Myrtle Grove Volunteer Firefighter and as a Gideon.
Charles was preceded in death by his parents, a sister (Martha Kay), and his wife. In addition to his children, he is survived by his brother Larry (Louise), his four children, seven grandchildren (Craig, Kristen, Elizabeth, Jonathan, Clara, Thomas, and Caroline), twelve great-grandchildren, a niece (McKenzie), and many cousins. For the last three years he enjoyed the company of Ginny Rowlings and her family. They spent many evenings at the NC Symphony, concerts and plays and eating ice cream.
In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Cape Fear Presbyterian Church and the Lower Cape Fear LifeCare of Wilmington (hospice). A graveside service will be held at Oleander Memorial Gardens on Monday, May 13, 2024 at 2 PM. The Rev. Aaron Doll of Cape Fear Presbyterian Church will officiate. Charles will be buried by his wife in a plot they picked out and where his body will lie in rest near the salt water he loved and where, at high tide, it might even tickle his toes.[1]
[1] Some might wonder about this last line, so let me explain. My parents brought cemetery plots in the 1980s, after coming back from Japan. His mother (my grandmother) wanted to know why he wanted to be buried so far away and not with the rest of the family at Culdee Presbyterian Church in Moore County. My father told her that he wanted the salt water to tickle his toes during high tide. My grandmother didn’t think it was funny, but I Dad (and I) got a laugh out of it.
I started this post two weeks ago, when I was in Detour Village in Michigan’s UP. Today, I am in Wilmington, NC, , as my father is recovering from four bowel surgeries… I know this is a long post. If you find what I say about one author boring, just skip to the next. In a way, this massive data dump is my way of summarizing what’s in my journal. I placed photos of the books which I came away with from the festival.
Pre-Conference Workshop on Wednesday
Northern Red Oak “I am the vine, you are the branches,” Jesus said. “Cut off from me you can do nothing.” Yet, the heavy oak branch, sheared from its life source, fallen from the empyrean, decomposes slowly on the forest floor in a bed of rotten leaves from which trout lilies sprout.
Wednesday at the Festival
I scratched out the above poem in a workshop by Paul Willis, a poet I first met at the festival nearly 20 years ago. He gathered us into groups of four and set us free in the nature preserve behind the Prince Conference Center at Calvin University. We were to quietly make our way through the preserve, taking turns leading and then pointing out something of interest. We would each make notes, and another person would lead the group. After 45 of so minutes of silence, we discussed what we saw. Then he gave us just a few minutes to take one of the things we’d written about and to create a poem. Hence, the poem I wrote about a large branch of an oak tree resting on the forest floor.
New moon, a day after the eclipse
After seeing the eclipse in South Charleston, Ohio on April 8, I attended the Calvin Festival of Faith and Writing. This is my fifth time at this festival, which is held every other year. The last festival I attended was in 2012. And, because of COVID, this year’s festival is the first in-person gathering since 2018. Over the years I have heard a many great authors speak about writing and faith including Salman Rushdie, Wally Lamb, Scott Russell Sanders, Eugene Peterson, Kathleen Dean Moore, Thomas Lynch, Parker Palmer, Mary Karr, Debra Dean, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Craig Barnes, and Ann Lamott. Each year, the festival draws in around sixty authors and a couple thousand participants. While almost all the authors are Christians, the only requirement is that they write about faith. In addition to Christian authors, there have been Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, and even atheists.
Here are the authors I heard. There’s no way one can hear all the authors in three days. I tried to capture a bit of what I learned from them. I have listed the authors in order that I first heard them at the conference (in some cases I heard them speak twice):
Thursday at the Festival
Margaret Feinberg is a podcaster (The Joycast) and author of Scouting the Divine: Fight Back with Joy, Taste, a See. Feinberg spoke on sustaining a writing life. She detailed two practices and drew from her own life and her book for examples:
Cultivate a life of Adventure (or live a compelling life). She drew on her parents’ examples as well as on those who grow grapes.
Cultivate a life of healing. Here, she drew on the work of olive growers.
Ruth Graham Born in an evangelical family, Graham now serves as a religious writer for the New York Times. Thankfully, she noted, the job of a religious reporter today isn’t focused on denominational meetings. She’s more interested in getting to the heartbeat of religious experiences. She told of a story she wrote for Slate, about a man from Dalton, Georgia, whose Bible leaked oil. She tried to tell the story, which she suggested was about a man who had a religious experience which got out of hand, in a way that is fair to all sides.
Sara Horwitz Born in a secular Jewish family, Horwitz rediscovered the faith of her ancestors in her mid-30s working in the Obama White House. She first was on a team of writers for the President, and later became the speech writer for Michelle Obama, the first lady. Horwitz spoke about how encouraging everyone in the White House was to her desire to practice her faith (including turning off her cell phone on the Sabbath). She gave up an opportunity to help Michelle Obama with her memoir to write a book on her journey into Judaism. Religion, she said, should draw us out from ourselves and into something larger. She found freedom in the Jewish law which she interprets as a system of maintaining dignity in others.
Marilyn McEntyre A popular podcaster and Bible teacher, Feinberg titled her talk, “Writing Through a Fog of Fear: Finding Life, Giving Words in an Alarming Time.” Acknowledging the challenges facing writers today, she spoke of our context while providing questions for discernment and strategies for publicly presenting our work. She began with two epitaphs: “Be not afraid,” -Jesus. And “Be afraid, very afraid.” -Mel Brooks. Discerning questions:
From where does my energy or sense of urgency come?
Who would I most like to read this? If only one reader, who?
Who will take offense or be troubled? How can I address their concerns?
In writing this, what does it mean to me to be as wise as serpents and innocent as doves?
We bring our own association to every word. But the same works for others. What words of ours will be their triggers?
Strategies for speaking into fear:
Study your favorite risk takers (suggest reading Gaza Writes Back)
Have meta-conversations where you can. Talk about language behind our words to help people better connect.
Listen to the call of the moment.
What does it mean to be faithful? Do you put a name to what you are faithful to?
You don’t have to go into anger. You can model debate, hope. Let your style be modelling.
Be responsible to speak to the complication of the issue. What do we want people to hear? Honor complexity of beliefs.
Don’t under-estimate the power of beauty.
Be surprising. Change up our writings with exhortation, humor, lament in the same piece.
Change genres. Try out new genres.
Offer authentic antidotes. Try following Jesus’ example and speak into issues.
Stories are important. Stories help disarm.
Acknowledge the emotional weight (Susan Sontag writing on the pain of others)
Play with paradox. Be a gentle alarmist, a light-hearted doomsayer.
Be a prophetic trickster, a Riddler.
When you have the privilege from writing with safety, remember those being killed for their speech. We can speak because they can’t.
Write with others.
Pray for clarity, for when and to whom to write, for obedience, courage, and passion.
Tracy Smith (keynote). Smith provided the Thursday night keynote address. A graduate of Harvard and Columbia, she also was a Stenger Fellow at Stanford. She has served as nation’s poet laurate (2017-2019), has been awarded the Pulitzer-Prize and has published poetry, a memoir, and non-fiction. Currently, she teaches at Harvard, and has recently published To Free the Captives: A Plea for the American Soul.
Her speak focused on reading certain poems and reflecting on how they came about and how they might be interpreted. In her introduction, her work was described like “Jacob wrestling with God” and how our “paradoxical wounds can heal.” The poems she read and reflected on included: “Hill Country,” Weather in Space,” “We all Go Chasing All We Will Lose,” “Political Poem,” “The United States Welcomes You,” “The Fright of our Shared History,” and “Wade in the Water.”
Sadly, all her books of poetry had sold out, but I came away with a signed copy of To Free the Captives and look forward to exploring her vision of a better world.
Friday at the Festival:
Mary DeMuth spoke on “stories as healing.” Telling the truth, she proclaimed, is the key too both good writing and good living. She provided six things to consider if we fear sharing a story:
Discern timing. “Don’t vomit on the reader.” A story never told can never heal, but we should remember that our call is to first write, not necessarily publish.
Exactness is not the same as truth. We must remember that it is our story and no one else can tell the story in the same way as we can. Storytelling is an effective truth delivery vehicle.
Expect opposition. While we should welcome helpful feedback, we also take a risk of putting our work out there. Sometimes, when you tell the truth, you engage is spiritual warfare. She finds having a prayer team helpful as they both pray against attacks but also help keep her humble.
Name our fear.
Expose evil but love your readers.
See the benefits (God gives us glory in our weakness).
If we don’t tell the truth, we misrepresent people. Our job is not to enlarge villains but to enlarge Jesus.
Matthew Dickerson and Fred Bahnson titled their conversation, “Ecology Imagination and why stories matter.” Dickerson part of the conversation was often based on Tolkien. I haven’t read Tolkien since college. Bahnson (I’ve read his book Soil and Sacrament), drew more from Wendell Berry and Barry Lopez, two authors I continue to read. Bahnson described how the richest life is found where rivers meet oceans, and how writers need to put themselves in such uncomfortable and risky settings to best flourish.
Diane Mehtu spoke about Dante and Virgil (Dante’s guide through hell). This was a fascination lecture even though the presenter read from a paper. She uses powerful language. She presented the idea of the friendship of the two poets, who lived over a Millenia apart, and what she’s learned from repeatedly reading the Divine Comedy. What made the lecture even more interesting to me is that I had been listening to an unabridged reading of Augustine’s City of God and had just heard Augustine dealing with Virgil.
Karen Swallow Prior titled the lecture I attended, “Imagination: It’s not just Hobbits and Hobby Horses.” She questioned how we often consider imagination as something playful within our childhood and mostly individualist. This she challenged, suggesting that we often inherit language structures (language is based on imagination) without understanding how it came about. This she applied to evangelicalism, of which she was critiquing and suggests needs to embrace imagination to work its way out of its crisis. Another criticism of evangelism is that it tends to draw more on American ideals than the Christian faith and is a product of modernity and late-stage capitalism. She also critiqued evangelism’s emphasis on the end times, suggesting that we don’t need stories about the end but about how to get there. The early Christians, who called themselves “people of the way” understood this.
Yaa Gyasi (Friday evening keynote) This “conversation” between Gyasi and Jane Zwart focused on her two novels and how they deal with grief and loss. Gyasi was born in Ghana, but grew up in Huntsville, Alabama. Her experiences seem to provide her a unique perspective even though I haven’t read her books. Quote: “Prayer and writing comes from the same place. From your pen to God’s ear.”
Saturday at the Festival
Christian Wiman is a professor of communication arts at Yale Divinity School (and former editor of Poetry). I attended his lecture titled “The Art of Faith, The Faith of Art.” Wiman read several of his poems and reflected on the faith and art within them. Sadly, I was running late and missed part of this lecture.
Danielle Chapman I heard Chapman speak twice. The first session was a discussion with Jim Dahlman on Southern literature. While both have published books which I came away with, I questioned their representation as a Southern writer. But her poetry is engaging as is her memoir, which I have already started and will review.
I later heard her talk on memory in non-fiction and poetry.
Sonya Bilocerkowyez gave the best lecture I attended outside of the keynotes. Sadly, it was also one of the least attended lectures. An American-Ukrainian, she’s the granddaughter of Ukrainians who were displaced during the Second World War. She happened to be teaching in Ukraine in 2014, when the Maidan Revolution kicked out the Russian puppet government and Russia invaded the Dobast and Crimea. Afterwards, she published a collection of essays titled, On Our Way Home from the Revolution: Reflections on Ukraine.
Her lecture was titled, “Whose Manuscripts to Burn? On the Role of the Writer during Wartime. Drawing on “cancel cultural” and “imperialistic language,” she spoke passionately about how Russia once again attempts to cancel Ukrainian identity. She credited her grandmother for teaching her an 1840 poem against Czarist imperialism.
She made four points on the role of the writer in war:
The role begins before the war.
The role is to document.
The role is to save lives.
The role is to free the land (Decolonization cannot be a metaphor).
Throughout her lecture, she drew on Ukrainian writers (such as Oksana Zabuzhko and Victoria Amelina, as well as those from Bosnia and Gaza.
Stacie Longwell Sadowski lead a lunch circle dealing with the use of social media for writers. As she and her husband maintain a site that encourages people to explore the outdoors, I joined her group and learned a bit more about what I am doing wrong . Actually, I did learn a lot from the luncheon circle. However, since I am not into monetizing my site, I’m not changing much. Check out her website, \Two Weeks in a hammock.
Anthony Doerr
Anthony Doerr (closing keynote) Doerr was the reason I decided to make the trek to Grand Rapids for the conference this year. I am still amazed five years after reading his breakout novel, All the Light We Cannot See. He began the final keynote of the conference, before a packed house, speaking about similes. Doerr questioned if the age of similes is over. quoting polls and exposing outrageous similes he’d come across in his reading. He drew upon Homer and Superheroes and made fun of the mistakes he’d made in his slides.
Doerr was by far the funniest speaker I had heard at the festival. He was very free in his presentation which was given in Calvin’s fieldhouse. At one point, he pauses and looks up at the banners hanging around and says, “Calvin’s girls volleyball team must have really been good.” At another point, in this long diatribe on similes and metaphors, he pauses and looks around at the crowd and says what many were thinking, “You thought you were going to hear the bald guy talk about All the Light We Cannot See, didn’t you?”
Then Doerr made a serious turn. His talk about similes was to point to the interconnectedness of our violent and conflicted world. He suggested reading as a way for us to get beyond our self-centeredness and to make connections with the larger world. Next, he called for leaders who could make such connections. Then he encouraged writers, who have the advantage of metaphors, to bring these connections out in our writing. He advised us to tell stories, which are needed to bring our world together. It was a simple message that extended to 45 minutes through his humorous antidotes. When he was over, he received a standing ovation.
After the lecture was over, I met Bob, a friend of mine from Hastings, and the two of us drove up to Detour Village in the UP, arriving a little after midnight on April 14th. More about that later…
