By Joe LaGuardia
Unlike some other leaders, who propose what they will read for the year, I began a habit last year of only noting–and providing a brief review–of the books I actually read. I pray this will enlighten you and perhaps inspire your own habits of reading.
1. Diary, by St. Maria Faustina Kowalska. This diary of a 20th-century saint is difficult to read for two reasons: St. Maria’s unyielding obedience to Jesus, which keeps readers on their toes and invites a pursuit of their own. And, secondly, because the diary, written in real time of young Maria’s entrance and journey into monastic life, reveals the hardships of life in the convents of old. Unlike today, convents back then did not have the benefit of advanced practices that include therapy and spiritual direction, but were quite medieval in their approach to obedience and submission. This pre-Vatican Council 2 memoir is a reminder why so many people are no longer Catholic, not only because of Catholicism’s neglect of the Bible for churchgoers, but because of the harsh realities of life in Catholic churches and private schools.
2. Planning Sabbaticals, by Robert Saler. This short book is authored by the director of the Clergy Renewal Endowment with the Lily Foundation. I read this because of my own plans to take a sabbatical in late 2021, and am shooting for the very grant that Saler directs. I purchased two copies of this book, for me and the church, because of its clear and concise argument of the necessity and meaning of sabbaticals, along with an explanation of what a sabbatical is not. It also answers common questions pertaining to sabbaticals and how to negotiate them in congregational life and leadership.
3. Sabbaticals 101, by Nancy Matthews. Another book on sabbaticals that express the nuts and bolts of planning a sabbatical. It talks about travel, managing a sabbatical project and time, and traversing issues that often arise.
4. Flowers in the Attic and Petals on the Wind, by V.C. Andrews. A controversial book of fiction that captured the hearts of many middle-school girls when I was growing up, including my older sister. My own attraction to the classic series is due to my “guilty pleasure” of reading Gothic horror fiction (Isak Dinesen anyone?), of which the Flowers in the Attic series squarely sits. Although I realize that the first book (Attic) is controversial, the second in the series (Petals) is more so and contains–warning to readers–more than enough violence towards women to turn the stomach. Although it was a bit much, I can’t help but to order and read the next one–these books are page-turners, and I spent more than one evening reading into the wee hours of the morning.
5. The Living Reminder, by Henri Nouwen. Its been a long time since I read something by my favorite author. In this short book, Nouwen explains how ministers are called to embody memory–in echoing the grand story of the Gospel, in recalling God’s Word made flesh, and encouraging others to consider how memory shapes our shared future. The book was so captivating, I proposed in my sabbatical grant (see above) that my project would consider how memory (origins of Christianity, history of our church, etc.) might inform an intentional program of vision-casting for ministry in the future. Good stuff here, and quite powerful.
6. Honor, Shame, and the Rhetoric of 1 Peter, by Barth Campbell. Again, this is something I haven’t done in a while: read a book related to socio-rhetorical criticism. This book came at the right time, too: During the dog days of the coronavirus, in which my heart brought me back to some of my first loves (like Nouwen and, in this case, honor and shame in the Bible); and also for a sermon series on 1 Peter as prescribed by the lectionary.
First Peter is working out well, too! Peter speaks of living in between the times– between Christ’s resurrection and the Second Coming– and applies nicely to this time of COVID 19, which some journalists have begun calling the time of the “Great Pause.” How nicely that fit God’s word as expressed in Peter’s first letter, penned to encourage disoriented and displaced Christians in Asia Minor who faced social distancing of their own.
7. Guidance in Spiritual Direction, by Hugo Doyle. I admit I didn’t finish this book, but I was impressed with the ability of this book to outline a theological program for spiritual direction. It is technical for that very reason, but I assume is a must for practitioners of spiritual direction in more formal circles.
8. For the Living of These Days: the Autobiography of Harry Emerson Fosdick, by H.E. Fosdick. This is my second time reading through Fosdick’s moving account of his upbringing, call to ministry, rocky vocation, and founding of the historic Riverside Church in Manhattan, New York. The biography is attractive for two reasons: It is Fosdick’s apologia for his ministry and theology that defined early 20th-century progressive Christianity, as well as a historic snapshot of the early conflicts in Christianity that led to a splintering of church and the ultimate demise of church attendance and influence. Church splits are not new, but we can blame both fundamentalists and progressives–caught in their own ideological camps–for the mess we are in today. There was, as one movie line has it, a “failure to communicate.”