I recently read Rod Dreher’s remarkable book The Little Way of Ruthie Leming. My expectations for the book were extremely high, as the near-universal praise of reviewers has been effusive, and Dreher is one of my favorite bloggers and writers. Reading his earlier book Crunchy Cons was uncanny: it explained a great deal of me to myself (why do my wife and I – evangelicals, Baptists, and conservatives – belong to a community-supported agriculture co-op??). The Little Way is a very different book, in which Rod Dreher explains Rod Dreher to himself. But it did not disappoint. Before I say anything else, let me get to the crux of my review: read this book as soon as you can. I have not read a more compelling, thought-provoking (contemporary) book in some time.
Some of you may know the Dreher family’s story from his blog or from other reviews, such as one at Patheos by Amy Lepine Peterson: as Dreher and his family endured the tragic death of his beloved sister Ruthie from cancer, they decided to move back to Rod’s hometown of St. Francisville, Louisiana. It was a move for community and love of family. They wanted to help raise Ruthie’s daughters in her absence, and to help take care of Rod’s aging parents. They wanted to dwell among the remarkable family and friends who rose up to bless and honor Ruthie as her health declined. Although they had made friends in the big cities of Dallas and Philadelphia, they had found no community like St. Francisville.
Not that Dreher paints a rose-colored picture of his hometown, or even his relationship with his sister, which was loving but fraught with classic tensions between the carefree, self-sacrificing sister who devoted her life to that hometown, and the bookish, angst-ridden brother who could not wait to get out. That tension is one of the critical themes of the book: our culture celebrates the global, the technological, the place-less. But life in community – the kind that brings comfort when you’re dying of cancer – requires place, history, family, and settledness. Settledness that sticks even in the midst of frustration and despair.
This is the first main lesson of The Little Way: the importance of making decisions for place and community. I have now lived in Waco, Texas, for eleven years, and it is the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere (we moved a lot when I was growing up). We’re just starting to feel like we’ve got a few roots here. Reading this book made me appreciate the value of having been in a church for eleven years, a house for eleven years. It’s made me think about the prospect of my children growing up in the same place their whole childhood, and having a place that is, without question, their “hometown.”
The second main lesson is the purposefulness of suffering. Ruthie’s death was shocking and incredibly painful – spiritually, emotionally, and of course physically – and Dreher does not hold back in his depictions of how his family grieved through her travail. (I defy anyone to read this book without weeping repeatedly.) But good things came out of her death, including charity, blessing, and reconciliation, that would not have happened otherwise. If you, like me, have experienced unexpected death in your family, you will find this book phenomenally helpful and redemptive.
I hesitate to raise any critical questions about the book, but I do think that some readers will find aspects of The Little Way unsatisfying. Most notably, the church, and the specifics of Christian belief, are very much in the background, and in a book on death, that is a little troubling. Perhaps the tension has to do with me being an evangelical, Rod being Orthodox (an adult convert), and Ruthie being United Methodist. Nevertheless, some Christians reading the book may realize that while they do not live in their hometown or have a tight-knit kin network, they have found true community, perhaps the most authentic community of all, in the ekklesia, among the called-out ones of the church.
I think of wandering Abraham, who left his home and lived in tents in the promised land because “he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God.” [Heb. 11:10] That’s the permanent hometown. Any place can feel like home if you have a good church. But this is not a either/or proposition – being rooted in your church and your broader earthly community are hardly exclusive.
Also, while remarkable spiritual experiences and divine manifestations populate the book (again, some Protestant readers might get nervous!), Dreher almost celebrates the non-theological, practical orientation of Ruthie’s faith (a faith which was clearly substantial and marked by spiritual fruit in the form of relentless acts of mercy, service, and charity). Some will wince when Rod describes her convictions this way: Ruthie “believed God existed, and loved us, and wanted the best life for us, though not necessarily the easiest life. That was all Ruthie knew about God, and all she wanted to know.” I suspect this is not literally true – did she read the Bible, or know and believe the Apostles’ Creed? God has made himself known to us, through the Word and the incarnation of Jesus. Not wanting to know more about God, then, is a bad thing. Doctrine and practice are not at odds in biblical Christianity.
But I quibble. Read this book – read it with a friend or family member. You’ll want to live differently when you do.
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On October 26, 2013 By Kuyperian In Books, Scribblings Like
Marc Hays: Lust of Flesh and Eyes & Pride of Life
In 2009, Athanasius Press published Peter Leithart’s commentary on 1 John. It is included in their “Through New Eyes” commentary series, and is entitled “From Behind the Veil.” In chapter 5, he elaborates on the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life:
“…John focuses attention on the relationship between the world and “desire.” He enumerates three evil desires, or lusts (epithumia): the lust of the eyes, the lust of the flesh, and the boastful pride of life.
The desires John lists are, first of all, variations on the desires evoked by the tree of knowledge. Eve saw that the tree was good for food, a delight to the eyes, and desirable for wisdom (Gen. 3:6); she was gripped by the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the boastful pride of life. Adam and Eve took the fruit of the tree of knowledge prematurely, but the things they desired from the tree were truly desirable, and God planned eventually to fulfill the desires of Eve’s heart.
In the Old Covenant, Yahweh offered Israel the tree of knowledge in the form of three gifts, and then stored them away in the temple, hidden in the Most Holy Place, until the fullness of time, until Israel became mature enough to receive her inheritance. These are the three gifts in the Ark: a jar of manna, the gift of food and life; the tablets of the law, written with the finger of God, the gift of instruction and wisdom; and the rod of Aaron that had budded with almond blossoms, the gift of authority, the gift of glory. Israel had these gifts in part: they had life in the presence of Yahweh, they had the wisdom of God in Torah, they had a share in the glory of God. But for Israel the fulness of these gifts lay in the future, and the life of each Israelite, and the life of Israel as a nation, was to be directed by the desire for these three gifts, by the anticipation that someday the veil would be rent and the gifts would be opened and distributed freely. Yahweh promised that when he came forth from his tent, he would bring these gifts with him.
That is the gospel, which is, once again, the gospel of the rent veil. In the fulness of time, God sent these gifts not in part but in full. God sent Torah in the flesh, his Eternal Word and Wisdom; the Father sent bread from heaven, the One who is the way, the truth and the life; he exalted humanity to heavenly places to share in his authority to judge. By his death and resurrection, Jesus tore down the veil where the gifts of God had been hidden away. By his death and resurrection, Jesus made these gifts available to anyone who trusts in him. Jesus is the life of God; Jesus is the wisdom of God; Jesus is the glory of the Father, the exact representation and image of his Father. In Jesus we have life and wisdom and royal glory. In Jesus, who is the ark of God, the gifts of God are freely offered to those who are united to Jesus and follow him. He is the tree of knowledge as he is the tree of life. Under the Old Covenant these gifts were holy, taboo, unapproachable. But no longer; now, it’s holy things for holy people.”
Good gifts to be thankful for as we enter into worship tomorrow morning, as we proclaim the Preface and Sanctus together with our kin in Christ atop His holy mountain.
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