Written Word

Published by Novalis, 2018

Review by Laura Locke

Steve Bell

My husband and I count ourselves as members of the legion of longtime fans of singer/songwriter Steve Bell and his music.  Not only do we own most of his CDs, but we’ve also enjoyed seeing him in concert many times over the past few decades. Each time we see him perform live, we are blown away by the beautiful songs that he crafts, his stellar guitar-playing, and his warm, rich vocals. However, as anyone who has been to one of his concerts knows, another big part of the pleasure is Steve’s storytelling. Because of that, I was delighted to hear that Steve has written a seven-book series called Pilgrim Year, published by Novalis Press. In the series, Steve takes readers on a journey through the major seasons and feasts of the Christian liturgical calendar, gifting us along the way with an abundance of personal anecdotes, observations, stories from the lives of various Christian figures, and poetry – not to mention his keen theological insights. As well, there is a companion website where you can find songs and videos associated with each chapter (or a 2-CD set with the songs, which can be purchased).

Steve came late to an interest in the ancient Church calendar. Growing up in a Christian tradition that was, as he puts it, “largely suspicious of the liturgical and traditional”, it was as an adult that he came to slowly develop a great appreciation for the wisdom he discovered in the Church calendar. His new book series take us through Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, and Ordinary Time. Each book is less than 100 pages and can be purchased separately or as a box set. Whether you are familiar with the Liturgical calendar or just learning about it, Steve’s own growing delight in the Church’s seasons, remembrances, feasts and sacred stories lights the way like a beacon.

Like Steve, the Christian Church calendar was not something I knew much about as a child or young woman. Beyond the celebrations of Christmas and Easter, it wasn’t emphasized in the churches I attended back then. When I was introduced to it in more detail, much later, I thought it sounded rather monotonous – like a circle going around and around, treading the same path each year. Then a young priest, to whom I was teaching English, explained to me that it was more like a spiral, going ever upward. Each year, he explained, we are farther along – farther up, you might say – in our lives and in our faith. Each year we see the liturgical seasons, celebrations, fast days and feast days from a higher vantage point on the spiral. Each year, as we encounter them all again, we gain new insights – thanks in part to the 365 days of fresh experiences under our belt.

Steve Bell puts it this way:

The Church tells and retells her sacred stories year after year, much as a mother to her children who ask for the same stories night after night.  And like any good child’s tale, they continue to reward well into adulthood.  Each time we rehearse and reharrow these stories, we unearth something new precisely because there is so much more to receive, but also because our capacity to receive has deepened.

My box set of Pilgrim Year arrived in the mail near the beginning of last fall, as summer was slipping away. Excited, I plunged into the reflections on the season of “Ordinary Time”, and relished Steve’s guidance as we travelled through The Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’ Day, All Souls’ Day, and the Feast of Christ the King. This left me hungry and thirsty for more, so I backtracked to read about the Church celebrations which occur earlier in Ordinary Time, such as Trinity Sunday (the first Sunday after Pentecost), the Nativity of John the Baptist, The Feast of the Transfiguration of Jesus, and the Feast of St. Clare of Assisi.

I gained new understanding when Steve explained the social context of the place and times during which St. Francis and St. Clare lived, in the late 12th and early 13th centuries. It gave extra colour and depth to their stories.  And I was challenged when the Feast of Christ the King led Steve to contemplate our servant king and his upside-down kingdom, where the “lofty are brought down and the lowly lifted up”.  Steve writes:

It causes me to weep tears of both awe and shame. I am complicit in the structures and systems that allow for the wretchedness to exist alongside historically unprecedented privilege.  Yet, what makes me get up in the morning, dust off my shame and jump back into the story is the firm conviction that the story isn’t over.

I also know that my spirit was fed and watered by Steve’s rich insights, such as when he shared these thoughts on the Nativity of John the Baptist:

If it only be an accident that in the northern hemisphere, the nativity of John falls at the summer solstice, when the days begin to shorten, and that Jesus’ nativity falls at the winter solstice, when the days begin to lengthen, then it is a happy accident.  For John, in relationship to Jesus, instinctively knew that “he (Jesus) must increase, but I (John) must decrease” (John 3:30). If John the Baptist is the dimming light of the Old Covenant, and Jesus is the ascending light of the new, then this is the stuff of poets.

Needless to say, in the months that followed Ordinary Time, I thoroughly enjoyed accompanying Steve through his Advent and Christmas books – and am now hiking my way with great pleasure through the season of Epiphany, which we are in presently. Last Sunday I read his reflection of The Feast of the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple (Feb. 3), and was intrigued to learn the reasons why the Feast is sometimes called Candlemas.  I was also moved to discover that the sacrificial offering that Mary and Joseph brought to the Temple that day were two turtledoves, an offering designated for the very poor. It was a stark reminder to me of the Holy Family’s poverty.

I also loved Steve’s reflections on that aged pair, Simeon and Anna, who welcomed the Holy Family at the Temple. The stories of these “venerable elders” sparked beautiful memories that Steve shared of his own father, and his grandmother. He also reflected on Simeon’s words to Mary, that her little baby was “destined to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own soul, too.” (Luke 2: 34,35) Those words are always deeply moving, and caused me to think about the joys and sorrows of motherhood that I’ve experienced. Steve also points out that Simeon’s words to Mary begin our slow “turn” from the season of Epiphany to Lent and Holy Week. (I’m really looking forward to what Steve has to say about Lent – fertile ground for deep thoughts, I’m sure.)

Not only does the rhythm of the liturgical year help keep us in closer touch with many of the great events and figures of our faith, it also invites us to take more notice of the seasons of the earth. It’s caused me to become more aware of the ways our lives intersect with nature’s patterns and rhythms – the rising and setting of the sun and moon, the ebb and flow of the ocean tides, the swelling buds in spring and the falling leaves of autumn, the migration of birds…as well as our own daily rhythms of sleeping and waking, working and resting. Our very breath and heartbeat are reminders of life’s rhythms moving within and around us. I find it all very reassuring and “whole-making”, that even as things are constantly changing, they are in many ways remaining the same. Steve writes that pilgriming through these familiar yet ever-new stories in the Church calendar, and absorbing them as a living tradition, has “fashioned in me a unified mind, body and soul capable of loving God and loving all that God loves.”

I know I’ll be returning to these books for spiritual sustenance for many, many years to come, and sharing them with friends and family. I’ll leave the last word to Joan Chittister, Benedictine nun, theologian and author, whom Steve quotes from her book The Liturgical Year: The Spiraling Adventure of the Spiritual Life:

Like a great waterwheel, the liturgical year goes on relentlessly irrigating our soul, softening the ground of our hearts, nourishing the soil of our lives until the seed of the word of God itself begins to grow in us, comes to fruit in us, ripens us in the spiritual journey of a lifetime.

You can purchase Steve Bell’s Pilgrim Year books in a box set or individually from his website or at Novalis Publishing.

Rising Strong: How the Ability to Reset Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead
Random House Trade Paperback Edition
New York; 2017

Review by Laura Locke

I know we’ve all done it – gotten ourselves in a brain rut where we can’t stop thinking about a conversation that didn’t go the way we wanted. Or kept replaying an embarrassing incident over and over again in our mind, that even years later still makes us cringe. Perhaps a crushing event has caused you to make a vow to never, ever try that path again. How on earth do we get back up and move forward, when all our instincts tell us to curl up into a ball and hide?

I recently read (and loved) Brené Brown’s book, Rising Strong, originally published in hardcover in 2015. A research professor at the University of Houston, she has spent the past two decades studying courage, vulnerability and shame. Her two previous books, The Gifts of Imperfection (2010) and Daring Greatly (2012), along with Rising Strong, were #1 New York Times bestsellers. You might also know her from her 2010 TED Talk on “The Power of Vulnerability” – one of the top five most viewed TED Talks in the world, with over 35 million views.

Rising Strong naturally extends the lessons from her earlier books. Some of the key ‘take-aways’ from her previous work, for me, are:

1. Understanding the huge, positive consequences that can come from letting go of my worries about what others might think of me
2. Seeing how my willingness to be open and vulnerable is a powerful catalyst for building deeper friendships with others
3. Realizing how much more fulfilling and exciting my life is when I stop being ruled by my inner cautious voice, and instead make the choice to just “show up” as often as I can – even when there’s no guarantee of a good outcome

In Rising Strong, Brown takes a step further and addresses the rather unfortunate fact that if we live courageously, the chances are very good that we’ll make mistakes and sometimes fall flat on our face. And that can really, really hurt.

Then what?

Brown sets forth in this book to give us a process to not only navigate the challenging “big events” in our lives, like a business failure, or a life-changing illness, or the loss of a loved one – but also a way to navigate the “everyday hurts and disappointments”. I love the fact that she isn’t afraid to bring her own vulnerability to her writing, opening up about her personal mistakes, weaknesses and heartaches.

Extensive research led her to develop a three-step process to help us get through times when we are dealing with failure, loss, humiliation, and the difficult emotions that they dial up inside us:

The Reckoning: Walking into our Story – Recognize emotion, and get curious about our feelings and how they connect with the way we think and behave.

The Rumble: Owning our Story – Get honest about the stories we’re making up about our struggle, then challenge these confabulations and assumptions to determine what’s truth, what’s self protection, and what needs to change if we want to lead more wholehearted lives.

The Revolution: Write a New Ending to our Story – this one is based on the key learning from our rumble. Use this new, braver story to change how we engage with the world and to ultimately transform the way we live. (from page 37, Rising Strong)

Rising strong after a fall is how we cultivate wholeheartedness. Brown defines this way of life in one of her previous books:

Wholehearted living is about engaging in our lives from a place of worthiness. It means cultivating the courage, compassion, and connection to wake up in the morning and think, ‘No matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough’. (pg. 10; Daring Greatly)

Brené Brown. Photo by Danny Clark

A critical piece for me in this 3-step process, and also for Brown, is moving from judgment (of myself and others) to curiosity. If we’re willing to explore and ask questions, rather than immediately leaping into old, negative patterns of behaviour, we might actually learn something new. We can travel beyond our usual knee-jerk responses, and get a better grasp on the ways our minds tend to work. That wisdom can lead us to find better, calmer, more loving and generous ways of engaging with others…and with ourselves.

Getting curious – instead of getting angry, resentful, jealous, or just shutting down –takes guts. It means we have to let go of some of our self-righteousness and try to adopt a very different attitude, one filled with uncertainty. It can lead to new epiphanies about ourselves, some of which might be rather painful to admit. But as Brown puts it, this approach has led her to adopt and live by the belief that ‘nothing is wasted’.

“There is a profound relationship – a love affair, really – between curiosity and wholeheartedness. How do we come to those ‘ aha’ moments if we’re not willing to explore and ask questions?” (pg. 52; Rising Strong)

Brené Brown. Photo by Maile Wilson

A practical recommendation from Brown that made me laugh and also helped me gain self-awareness is the suggestion to write down our SFS’s (“shitty first stories”) after a bad experience. She adopted this idea from a suggestion to aspiring writers by author Anne Lamott to write down “first shitty drafts”, in which you “let it all pour out and let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and that you can shape it later.”) These stories that we scribble down are our raw “first take” on what has happened, filled with honest initial emotions. Brown encourages us to “wade through the sometimes-murky waters of whatever you’re thinking and feeling. You can be mad, self-righteous, blaming, confused.” She gives some examples of her own SFS’s, and they’re hilarious…and very revealing.

This exercise can really give us a glimpse into the strange places our minds tend to go when we’re embarrassed or upset. It then sets the stage for using our curiosity to evaluate what we’re thinking and feeling, and to question our assumptions and conclusions. The stories we make up about a difficult incident are so often based on incomplete information, bottled-up emotions, and strong emotional push-back in the moment.

I found myself recently writing my own SFS, after a particularly upsetting incident. After taking a break, I read it over again as objectively as I could – and had a good laugh at myself. Then, like a detective, I started to look for the places where I was pretty obviously off-base, or was shifting blame onto someone else.

I also started to search for the actual truth in the situation, while trying to consider the points of view of others. I realized that I needed to take more responsibility for my own actions, and I also thought deeply about the roots from which my faulty thinking patterns emerge. That’s “The Rumble”. As Brown puts it, “We can’t chart a brave new course until we recognize exactly where we are, get curious about how we got there, and decide where we want to go.”

The Revolution happens when we do our best to extend the most generous interpretations to the intentions, words and actions of others – and when we choose to make the assumption that those around us are doing the best that they can. We should continue to maintain boundaries where they’re needed, but we must also realize that it’s important to hold ourselves accountable for speaking our minds (respectfully), asking for what we need, and sharing our discomfort. Brown explains, “As miserable as resentment, disappointment and frustration make us feel, we fool ourselves into believing that they’re easier than the vulnerability of a difficult conversation. The truth is that judgment and anger take up way more emotional bandwidth for us.”

The book has a number of other ideas and strategies that I found very helpful. As well, Rising Strong is a really enjoyable read, with Brown’s penchant for self-revelation and great story-telling. It’s good medicine for the soul, and can help to heal our dysfunctional reactions to life’s struggles. Her research and fresh perspective go a long way to helping us develop true resilience and build deeper, more honest relationships – which in turn lead to healthier families and communities.

Be yourself. Be brave. Rise strong.