The Shack

I know I have promised 'short' entries before, but this one must be by its nature. The Shack is a novel by William P. Young. The premise is somewhat challenging, as the foundation of the story is a meeting with God experienced by a man who is seriously troubled about the tenets of his religion - at least what he believes are the tenets of his religion. Many people will reject the premise, and close the pages immediately.

Don't.

The novel presents what the author believes is a viable way to approach spirituality, religion, God, faithfulness - whatever one wants to call the component of life that transcends to earthly/physical.

The story presents a three or four dimensional main character and creates a storyline that is compelling. Furhtermore, the author can write. Unlike Mitch Albom, who has become lucrative as a teller of heartfelt tales, but who approaches the task of writing like a plumber elected to create a three course meal, Young really can write. His characterization is solid, and the storyline is well managed, but his facility with language makes the difference.

Young covers difficult territory, and pushes the limits of credulity throughout the story, but he keeps the reader committed because he says what he has to say so well. I think I am a critical reader, and I was drawn to stick with the story to find out what he had to say, in large part because the voice of the narrator is so engaging.

I think the target audience for the book is anyone who has been troubled by the ambiguities and contradictions of institutional religion, whichever denominiation is involved. Let's face it, all of us have at one time or another happened upon dilemmas that our religious teachings really don't answer in a satisfactory way. Why do good things happen to bad people? What is the best way to live our lives? Why doesn't God intervene when tragedies strike?

It's an interesting book. Give it a shot.

Bitterness

About a year ago, at Thanksgiving, the topic of this blog was Gratitude. Uncharacterisically, I decided to focus on the things for which I was grateful. Despite the general state of affairs throughout the world, and more pressing, at home here in America, there are/were things to be thankful for - and to cherish.

Twelve months later, I am tending toward bitter. The Penn State and Syracuse scandals are part of the cause, but so are the other items of interest throughout the world and country. I can't help but thinking, "I didn't sign up for this" on a regular basis. Fortunately, on a personal level, everything is pretty much OK.

At PSU and Syracuse, I am bitter that these two institutions, two places that I have wanted to put on a pedestal and keep there, are being cast as rude reminders that the root of every image is a purposeful lie. I don't blame the current students, the faculty, or even very many of the administrators. I have to castigate myself for wanting to believe in the carefully crafted image.

For instance, for the moment, Jim Boeheim seems to have been removed from the shenenigans of his long-time assistant coach. But like the PSU case, I want to know how the image of the program can be kept so far removed activity that allegedly took place right under his nose. I want to know how JoePa managed to convince himself at any point that maintaining the reputation of his organization was more important than unmasking a monster who was almost assuredly not finished feasting on innocent prey.

Maybe Bernie Fine was slick enough to shield Boeheim from the truth of his depravity, but didn't the coach notice at any point that Fine had atypical interactions and relationships with boys in the program? Didn't he notice that ballboys were sometimes inexplicably traveling with the team, even though such inclusion was not condoned? Someobody made a rule or regulation that said ballboys are homegame employees. You mean the head coach didn't know the program's rule or the organiztional policy?

And what about Joe's lament that he wishes he had done more? Such a statement suggests that he was aware of what he could have done at some earlier point in time. I am befuddled by the situational ethics, or by the equivocation and rationalization that is required when the ignored, hidden, or sanitized offense is child rape.

I want Jim and Joe to be what they purport to be, or what the cultivated image professed them to be. When it walks like a duck, I want the blasted creature to be a duck.

Having made it halfway to 100, I am not foolish or naive`. I know that things aren't what they always seem to be. I am not so easily duped as to swallow whole and without thinking when the 'too good to be true' persona is thrust before my eyes. I have as much skepticism as the next guy; and if you know me well, you know I have more skepticism than many. I just want SOME of the icons to turn out to be almost as good as they are marketed to be. I will tolerate a wart or two.

I am bitter because I have always professed and believed that a man who really tries to do the right thing will choose wisely most of the time, and that his wrong choices won't betray a native evil that even the best of men cannot avoid. In short, I want some men to craft a pretty image and then be able to live up to it, and even go beyond. I am bitter because these latest two scandals force me to accept the possibility that even the best of men can be driven to disgrace by an inability to stay true to the ideals that made someone what to create the ideal image in the first place.

I know there are very few saints. I am bitter that I may have to admit that there are even fewer than I thought.