Madeleine's nonfiction is very much full of Madeleine the writer, Madeleine the mother, Madeleine the teacher, Madeleine the dreamer who looks upon a world full of horror and despairs, Madeleine the doubter who looks upon a world full of beauty and wonder and dares to hope. There is so much of her heart and her mind and her love in here. This volume in her Crosswicks Journals in particular is full of musings on the Incarnation, on human brokenness, on the fragmented lowercase-c catholic church, on the community of the Trinity, on learning to love people, on art and writing, on motherhood, on marriage, on the preciousness of being alive.
I particularly loved (after reading Malcolm Guite's "Nathanael" yesterday) reading her thoughts on how "reasonable, chronological time was broken open, and he glimpsed real time, kairos, and was never the same again" (190)!
favourite bits (of many. I can't be bothered to type quotes from every other page, though):
- "The fact that Peter could see God, and thus be pure in heart despite all his faults and flaws, is ia great comfort, because it tells me that this purity, like every single one of the Beatitudes, is available to each of us, as sheer gift of grace, if we are willing to be vulnerable" (81)
- "... the Institution is not the Church; the Church is all of us flawed and fallen people who make up the Body of Christ" (167)
- "What is the Church?" Not the building in which I stand or sit, often uncomfortably, often irritably. Not any denomination of any kind - and the fact that the Body of Christ is broken by denominations is another cause for Satan's pleasure. Why can't we worship in our differing ways and still be One? I doubt if Christian unity will ever come through paperwork and red tape. The time has come for us to leap across boundaries" (141)
- "I know that when I am most monstrous, I am most in need of love. When my temper flares out of bounds it is usually set off by something unimportant which is on top of a series of events over which I have no control, which have made me helpless, and thus caused me anguish and frustration. I am not lovable when I am enraged, although it is when I most need love" (153)
- "...myth is the closest approximation to truth available to the finite human being. And the truth of myth is not limited by time or place. A myth tells of that which was true, is true, and will be true. If we allow it, myth will integrate intellect and intuition, night and day; our warring opposites are reconciled, male and female, spirit and flesh, desire and will, pain and joy, life and death" (114)
- "I am convinced that each work of art, be it a great work of genius or something very small, has its own life, and it will come to the artist, the composer or the writer or the painter, and say, "Here I am: compose me; or write me; or paint me"; and the job of the artist is to serve the work" (122)
// 1
I love this lady so much. She has such a strange and lovely way with words, and these books (while quite different from her Time Quartet in some ways) are so refreshing and thought-provoking. I always end up having to read them slow--this one in particular needed to be taken in in slow sips.