Book Thoughts: The Violent Bear It Away by Flannery O'Connor

The Violent Bear It Away by Flannery O’Connor sets secularism against religious destiny.

Tarwater had been taken by his great-uncle years ago in order that he might be raised as an Elisha, a prophet in training to take the place of the great-uncle. When the great-uncle dies, though, Tarwater rebels. He burns his great-uncle’s house instead of giving his great-uncle a proper burial and runs away to the city to find his uncle, a man who’d also been taken by Tarwater’s great-uncle years ago. This uncle, Rayber, was reclaimed by more logical minds and is able to subdue this crazy religious passion. Now he wants to teach Tarwater to do the same.

Tarwater grapples with what his life now means. He rejects Rayber’s learning, but he also fights his great-uncle’s influence and his calling. When Tarwater’s great-uncle lived, he bestowed on Tarwater his unfinished business: to baptize the mentally-handicapped son of Rayber. Tarwater refuses at first because wants his own calling, not leftovers. Later he fights it as he fights the idea of being a prophet, of being strapped to religion and God. He’s repulsed by and drawn to Rayber’s son because of the call associated with the son (Bishop) and how the son resembles the great-uncle. 

This is something of which to take note: how the mentally-handicapped Bishop resembles the great-uncle. It’s about the eyes, Rayber and Tarwater say. O’Connor uses the eyes as mirrors to the soul in the book. Characters, even minor ones, are described by their eyes. There’s something about the simplicity yet joy that Bishop and the great-uncle share. In some ways, I wonder if Bishop is a Christ-figure, an unlikely one, granted. (Then again, there’s nothing in Christ’s appearance that would draw us to him.) But everyone who touches Bishop experiences his love, even as they attempt to kill him. He plays a salvific role in his life and in his death.

O’Connor gives us characters that
aren’t exactly likeable. You don’t know who you want to "win," and you
don’t know what to expect, but you’re linked to them because you
understand both of them. You understand the religious fanaticism, and
you understand the secularism that pushes away all religion because
it’s dangerous. In the former, passion exists but only under the will
of God. In the latter, "freedom" means a loss of spirit, meaning, and
the capability to love.

Baptism becomes this central theme throughout the book.
Every time you encounter water, baptism hangs in the air. Even Tarwater’s name reflects it. Baptism is entwined with conversion and destiny, dare I say even predestination?

Let me say one word about destiny and predestination in this novel. It reminded me of the movie Evan Almighty (in a much heavier and darker sense, of course). In the movie, Evan (or Noah) fights his call, but no matter what he does, God persists. Does Evan choose to fulfill God’s will? Yes. At the same time, how much longer could he have fought it? What else would it have stripped of his life? And, when he acquiesced, we see him happy, living a fuller life than before, reunited with his family. I see the same ideas and themes in The Violent Bear It Away. Tarwater fights and fights the will of God. Could he continue to have fought it? Yes, but what else would it stripped of his life and well-being? Rayber provides a foil for this question. In fact, Rayber is literally deaf and blind–he cannot hear without his hearing aide, and he cannot see without his glasses.

The power of God
transforms even the most violent of acts. Death by drowning becomes the salvific act of baptism, purifying not only the baptized but the one who baptized. Fire, as well, purifies. It is Tarwater’s final act before giving in to his role as prophet. This, really, is the theme of the book: the power of God to transform.

Besides baptism, fire, and eyes, O’Connor fills her novel with other biblical images: bread, for example. The great-uncle always spoke of feasting on the loaves as a reward for his life (the loaves conjuring the story of the miracle of the feeding of the 5,000 with a few loaves and fish as well as representing Christ as the Bread of Life). Tarwater thought that bland and boring. But as the book goes on, he can’t eat anything else. He becomes violently ill when he does. he realizes when he was with his great-uncle, he ate well. Now, he hungers always and finally recognizes his craving for the same loaves his great-uncle did.

Indeed, how many times does O’Connor refer to biblical stories throughout her novel? I pity those who have little to no biblical literacy as they try to read this book. Even the title–it comes from Matthew 11:12, "From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away." (That one I had to look up.) This verse comes from a discource on John the Baptist. Jesus talks about the kingdom of heaven and John the Baptist’s part in it. John the Baptist is the Elijah foretold of at the coming of the Messiah. Jesus ends this pericope with, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear!" (Interesting regarding Rayber’s deafness.)

It’s amazing
how O’Connor’s mind works, how she delves so deeply into characters. Her writing is incredible. Her repetition of the word "violent" is like a leaky faucet. With every drip, it becomes more and more obvious. It becomes louder and louder. The Violent Bear It Away is not for the light of heart. It encounters you with violent scenes. It forces you to take on hard questions about God and Christianity. 




Tapestry: Loosing the Tongues of Women

I posted a blog article today on the Tapestry Blog about the difficult passage in 1 Corinthians about women being silent. A friend of my mine showed me something in the Greek (yes, we go Greek, but only for a moment). "If this is right," he said, "The church owes women an apology."

Read more.

The Naked Life

While I do believe clothing to be an evil that may or may not be necessary, no worries, this post has nothing to do with physical nakedidity (50 points for knowing which character in my favorite TV show used this term often).

It has to do with Isaiah (who did go naked for some amount of time based on God’s command–oh, the crazy things prophets do) and yesterday’s sermon.

Yesterday, the priest preached from Isaiah 30, about this idea of our running around trying to do things our way. Maybe we don’t see it as doing it our way. Maybe we see it as trying to do good things for God.

That’s how I see it, at least.

I’m speaking of my speaking. I feel called to do this speaking ministry thing. Only things don’t always go as I think they should. So I run around, "God, shouldn’t you use me this way!" and "God! This would be perfect…for your kingdom, of course." But God says,

 

If you repented and patiently waited for me, you would be delivered; if you calmly trusted in me you would find strength, but you are unwilling.

 

Oh, Israel loved to do things their own way, didn’t they? It started with their father Abraham, who went to wait-for-it, Egypt, leaving the Promised Land, and deceived Pharaoh, saying Abe’s wife was his sister. In Isaiah, the Israelites, all in a tither about some problem or another, decided to go to here-it-is-again, Egypt (except now, they had this history with Egypt–Egypt had held them in slavery for 400 years).

And God said, "I’m waiting for you guys to come to me." Isaiah said,

For this reason the Lord is ready to show you mercy; he sits on his throne, ready to have compassion on you. Indeed, the Lord is a just God; all who wait for him in faith will be blessed.

 

He’s waiting for me to stop running tracks in my rug. I’m not arguing that suddenly my ministry would be blessed with millions of people if I do this. But I think it’s about my relationship with God and submitting to him and doing things his way, whatever that means.

That’s what I learned from the sermon yesterday. Because I’m weary. And God gives rest.