This is only the second theology book I’ve reviewed here, after Joan Chittister’s Between the Dark and the Daylight in May 2015. I requested John Pritchard’s Something More from SPCK after reading a leaflet about it at Bloxham Festival, thinking it sounded like a relevant, non-preachy approach to the spiritual side of life. And that is indeed what I found. It’s a book stuffed full of relatable themes under one overarching topic: the moments that cause us to question whether there is more to life than what we see and do in the everyday.
Each chapter has many of the familiar elements of a short sermon: opening prompts, personal or borrowed anecdotes, exposition of a theme, quotations from the Bible and other writers or poets, and life application questions. At times I felt Pritchard was too reliant on quotes from other authors, meaning I didn’t get a particular sense of his own style. However, like an Anglican sermon, each chapter is something you can work through in 10 or 15 minutes – understandable, solidly put together, and with plenty of take-home messages.
Some examples of the chapter-by-chapter themes are suffering, social justice, the arts, and the search for stillness and wonder. There are a few slightly overlapping pieces that might have been combined, but that would have altered the digestible format. A recurring image is of the church building as a tranquil place of holiness and power – no matter if you view it religiously or not. Whether Pritchard is discussing pain or poetry, his tactic is always to expose hints of the supernatural. “To describe the Bruch violin concerto as the product of horse hair scraping over catgut doesn’t feel adequate. There’s more to be said,” he writes.
That word “more” is the book’s clarion call, encouraging readers to look deeper into every situation for sparks of light that point to God. SPCK is a venerable Christian publishing company and Pritchard is a retired Bishop of Oxford, so it’s clear where the book is coming from. Its assumptions may not reflect your own, as Pritchard is well aware. He remembers being in a hospital in London and telling his nurse about the book he was planning. “The entire Christian world-view is probably a foreign country to my nurse,” he realized, which encouraged him to avoid religious jargon and keep it simple and applicable here.
I think everyone can relate to the circumstances Pritchard sets out at the beginning of the book: “Life is OK in an OK kind of way but it fails the test of ecstasy or lament. It rolls on in a safe, middling register, but it feels as if there should be more. … In the meantime we get on with secondary things, with our habits of low hope.” If you dare to think there must be more to life than going to work and paying the bills and want to explore what might be out there, I’d recommend picking this up alongside books by some of the other terrific writers Pritchard quotes, such as Brian McLaren, Marcus Borg, and Barbara Brown Taylor.
With thanks to Sarah Head at SPCK for sending a free copy for review.
Joan Chittister is a Benedictine nun and author of over 50 books of theology. Somehow I had never heard of her before I requested this title from Blogging for Books. Between the Dark and the Daylight, which came out in February, strikes me as a work of practical spirituality with a self-help bent. It’s not very religion-specific; in fact, Jesus is only mentioned four times, and the word “Christian” appears just once.
Based on the title, I was expecting something like Barbara Brown Taylor’s Learning to Walk in the Dark, which is more about metaphors of darkness and how times of doubt and suffering may actually be helpful for people of faith. Although there is likely some overlap between the two, Chittister’s subtitle – Embracing the Contradictions of Life – gives a better idea of what her book is about. Her focus on oxymorons and pairs of opposites spurs readers to re-evaluate and redefine experiences that are always envisioned as negative: frustration, confusion, loss, solitude, and doubt (in this last she reminds me of Peter Rollins).
“To the average person whose life is exemplary most of all for its ordinariness—to people like you and me, for instance—it is what goes on inside of us that matters for the healthy life and real spirituality. … Whatever it is that we harbor in the soul throughout the nights of our lives is what we will live out during the hours of the day.”
Chittister takes emotions seriously, but at the same time she gently nudges us to look below the surface and ask what’s really going on within.
In Chapter 2, “The Delusion of Frustration,” for example, she insists that “Frustration is a cover-up for something we have yet to face in ourselves. … It’s what we use to explain the sour or pouty or demanding or manipulative attitudes we have developed. It is the right we assert to be less than we are capable of being.”
Rather than seeing uncertainty as negative, we should consider it as fostering “the spirit of invention and possibility”: “Life is about participating in the fine art of finding ourselves—our talents, our confidence, our sense of self, our purpose in life.”
Rather than letting failure drive us into despair, we must “pursue the possible in the imperfect,” for “hope lies in taking what we have … and using every heartbeat within us to turn it into something worthwhile.” As Churchill once said, “Success is bounding from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm.”
“The Creativity of Confusion” and “The Liberation in Loss” are two more stand-out chapters, with too many quotable lines to mention here.
This book has been quite inspirational for me. It’s refreshing to see that Chittister doesn’t advocate mute resignation to what life/God/Fate has in store for us; “it is as much our responsibility to shape life as it is for life to shape us.” I especially appreciated her advice to “Plant yourself where you know you can bloom.”
If I were being critical, I might say that her prose is a little repetitive and too reliant on quotes and anecdotes from external sources. She is certainly more focused on ideas than on writing style. This is a common complaint I have about theology books: if academic, they’re inaccessible; if popular, they’re averagely written.
Nevertheless, I think Chittister’s work will be revelatory for a lot of people. And you don’t have to be a Catholic, or even a Christian, to find wisdom here. (My NetGalley request to read the book was initially declined because I’m not a Catholic blogger, a curious instance of narrow, discriminatory thinking.) Anyone who wants to pursue a life of joy and purpose – who dares to believe that life could be more than a cycle of frustration and hopelessness – will want to give this a read.