Book review: Dakota: a Spiritual Geography

Kathleen Norris’ Dakota: A Spiritual Geography is a delightfully raw and reflective book of the people and culture of western North and South Dakotas. Overlooked among the vast population demographics in the United States, the people of the Dakotas–with their seemingly “rough edges”–are often misunderstood by other people groups.

Norris writes in a soothing, meditative style. (The vast and barren geography Dakotas, after all, impose reflective sabbath on those who stay any length of time.) However, she reveals the underlying tension of change and stability, of hospitality and insularity, of hope and despair, between open hearts and closed minds which plagues many rural communities. Norris is careful to not “tell” the reader about the Dakotas. Rather, she “shows” via stories of people and places to help the reader identify and understand this culture and people group.

Dakota was chosen by a member of my book club. Norris visited my workplace (a private, liberal arts college in northwest Iowa) a few weeks ago. Living near the Dakotas and having traveled to small rural communities in western Dakotas and eastern Montana, I resonated with Norris’ premise to appreciate and value the quirks and imperfections of the places I grew up and where I now live. I really enjoyed this book.

What’s your season?

I am part of a generation and, arguably, a broader culture which desires no work, all play. We expect our days to be mountain peek experiences–we forever want to laugh, never to cry; we want always peace, never war. When we find ourselves (or others) in the valleys of life, our response is to exit as quickly as possible. We are uncomfortable with the low points of life. We prefer to impose our own expectations on what our lives should be–often creating, never deconstructing.

I’m not suggesting we should seek out opportunities for depression or suppression, or even that we should gratefully embrace these moments. But by quickly dismissing the weighty days of life, we give little consideration to the circumstances which found us in such a situation. We undermine the value of being still in those moments and what we can learn from them.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time.
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, 10-11a)

I’m reading Dakota by Kathleen Norris. I’ll write more about the book later as part of a book review. For now, I’m contemplating a question which for a time plagued her: what is sin?

It may seem like an easy answer. Perhaps you’re starting to formulate a qualifying list in your mind. Perhaps you’re reviewing the Ten Commandments given Moses in Genesis. Either way, it seems that you would never achieve an exhaustive list or definition of sin. Christians are generally careful to not commit self-described “big” sins, though sinful human nature is forever present.

Merriam-Webster defines sin as:
(1) an offense against religious or moral law;
(2) an action that is or is felt to be highly reprehensible <it’s a sin to waste food>
(3) an often serious shortcoming
(4) a transgression of the law of God
(5) a vitiated state of human nature in which the self is estranged from God

A wise, contemplative person once told me, “Sin is anything which steals glory from God.”
A Benedictine friend of Norris’ suggested, “Sin, in the New Testament, is the failure to do concrete acts of love.”
As a child Norris recalls sin as ‘breaking the rules’.
Gregory of Nyssa, a fourth-century theologian, identified sin as ‘the failure to grow’.

If we desire to commune with a God who is without sin, shouldn’t we root out an understanding of sin which is not limited to our own finite, fundamental list of don’ts?

cheese update–take 2

Over the weekend, I enticed my dh (dear husband) to assist me with the second attempt at mozzarella. I also selected a different brand of milk since I had no success in getting the hormone-free brand to curdle last time. The joint effort in the kitchen gave my dh & I time to talk about prioritizing our food supply and resources. Overall, I think we’re on the same page. One source of contention: school lunches (which by August, I figure I’ll have worn him down to my way of thinking).

Getting the milk to curddle took longer than the instructions indicated. We waited 8 minutes of the 5-8 minutes required. We should have probably waited longer. The curds were soft (as they were supposed to be), but perhaps too soft. Our yield was only about 4 ropes of string cheese.

The cheese is really hot to handle. It must be stretched like taffy at about 130 degrees. Next time I’ll need to invest in some good kitchen gloves.

We salvaged the rest of the curds and whey by making ricotta of what was left. We’ll use it in lasagne latter this week. The kids really liked the string cheese which (yes) did taste just like mozzarella. While this second attempt wasn’t perfected, we’re certainly on our way. Two trials down, 28 more batches of mozzarella to go.

What am I offering?

Growing up in a rural evangelical church, I recall hearing a sermon at a very young age during which the preacher correlated the number of souls we lead to the Lord with the number of jewels in our heavenly crowns. The significance of this prize was not lost on me. Certainly I did not want to be judged by others with their crowns full of gems as having not pulled my spiritual weight. I decided that one convert each year would provide me an enviable heavenly crown. Around first grade, I converted my four-year old brother (a bit surprised no one else had thought of this easy target.) But by second grade my tally had not kept pace.

I carefully considered my next convert. I selected my classmate Travis B., probably because I didn’t think his family went to church. And, I had once heard him curse on the playground which, for me, served as a window into his lost soul. When I found him alone on the uneven bars at recess one day, I considered it a divine moment. I walked up to him and slipped him a tract I had received from my Sunday School teacher.

Needless to say, 8-year old Travis was confused. I looked at him with pity (the poor, lost soul) and said, “Just read it.” To give him some space, I headed for the slides. Upon returning to the bars, I discovered several other classmates climbing, swinging and dangling around Travis. I pulled him aside.

He seemed more confused–and a bit annoyed. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
I was nervous. “Did you have any questions about it?”
“No.” And that’s how we left it…with me not knowing if I had earned another jewel.

Now, many years later, I wonder what it is I was actually trying to sell to Travis B. In my approach, I wasn’t offering eternal salvation (though the tract was very clear about that.) I think I was trying to offer him a prayer…a few lines which read and said would sanctify him from the gates of Hell. I wasn’t offering faith. I was peddling religion.

At six years old, when I, myself, repeated those words at vacation Bible school, I didn’t really buy it. I didn’t feel differently; I wasn’t closer to God that afternoon than I was earlier that morning, while still a sinner. So, the next day, I answered the alter call again. The preacher took me aside following that session and asked me why I came back. He assured me that my salvation was secure. When you’re six years old, you believe you’ll live forever anyway, so I wasn’t sure what this whole prayer was about. Well, that was it–a newborn Christian. Now what?

Over the years, I’ve come to realize that faith is more than reciting a prayer. It is not a count for souls. It is a process, a journey on which we will never reach our destination. Too often, I think Christians focus on conversion, but not enough on growing the faith which follows. Now, as a mother of two grade schoolers, I desire to offer them faith, not a religious conversion. Though they are only 5 and 7 years old, I don’t want to water down their faith. I also don’t want them to confuse faith with religion.

While frequent “God” conversations at our house are contemplative and honest, I’m not concerned with knowing a specific date of their repentance (as though it is some task on the to-do list of faith which must be checked off.) I want them to have roots which run deep in asking questions about who God is and what that personally means for them. I want my kids to forever run after them–this triune God, to never settle for tidy, safe answers and to never become stagnant in their pursuit.