annie dillard and God.

annie dillard was one of the first creative non-fiction writers I was taken by. The way she could expose the world through words really gave some light to rather dark and misunderstood places in my own heart. One of my favorite essays of hers is "expedition to the pole". When I first read this essay years ago, I was frustrated because she alternates between writing about her experience in a particular church, to writing about the early expeditions to the arctic. I wasn't really patient enough to make the connection, so i just skipped the sections where she began talking about things that resembled a national geographic article. I am pretty sure I missed the greater story.

A couple of nites ago, Josh and I were kind of bored, so I asked him if he wanted me to read some Annie Dillard out loud. We do this time to time- read books to one another because we are soooo cute. anyway, i started reading and then I remembered all the arctic tangents- which I knew josh would love because he gets the significance of land much more than I do - but I was not that interested- yet I persevered, and it was worth it. it was even interesting.

I take it so for granted what people actually do to find things. they will die to find things.

So annie off and on talks about these various expeditions to the poles. how on most of the early ones- everyone died, only to be found by the next explorers. she spoke about some english explorers, from the the royal navy, and how they left on a ship full of tea cups and fine silver- and only their uniforms. they were refined, educated men. they all died. interesting, but still no connection.

and then the lights went on. throughout the story, annie is talking about her particular experience at a catholic church on a particular Sunday. there is a band playing, which is particularly annoying to her because she had already left the protestants and their guitars. it's more than this, though. she is disappointed. she wants more.

the connection:

annie writes:

must I join this song? may I keep my silver? my family crest?....I would rather, i think, undergo the famous dark night of the soul than encounter in church the dread hootenanny-but these purely personal preferences are of no account, and maladaptive to boot. they are passing the plate and I pass in my schooling. i toss in my rank with the royal navy....my pious refusal to eat sled dogs....I was looking for bigger game, not little moral lessons, but who can argue with conditions?

It was at the end of this paragraph that i looked up at josh. this is something we are both really struggling with. worship. how we gather. liturgy. prayer. bigger game- as annie dillard says.

but what annie gets in this essay, that I had not gotten, was that worship is a matter of life and death. we want to take our silver and education- our status in the royal navy- but in subzero temperatures, it doesn't matter who you are. you need a coat, and food. silver is neither here nor there.