Authors: Madeleine L'engle
The impossible still happens to us, often during the work, sometimes when we are so tired that inadvertently we let down all the barriers we have built up. We lose our adult scepticism and become once again children who can walk down their grandmother's winding stairs without touching.
Last spring I was giving a series of talks at the Cathedral of St. Peter, in St. Petersburg, Florida, and was staying with parishioners who had a house right by the water. I was unusually tired; into an already overcrowded schedule I'd had to interject trips to England and to Jerusalem, and in Jerusalem I'd fallen and bashed in my ribs (“You've
wrinkled
your ribs,” the doctor reading the X-rays told me), and I was strapped up and in considerable pain. One afternoon I had a couple of hours to myself, and so I limped to the sea wall and stretched out and closed my eyes and tried to let go all my aches and pains and tiredness, to let go and simply
be.
And while I was lying there, eased by the cool breezes, the warm sun, bursts of bird song, I heard feet coming to me across the water. It was a sound I recognized, a familiar sound: the feet of Jesus coming towards me.
And then another noise broke in, and I was back in an aching body. But I had heard. For a moment in that hearing I was freed from the dirty devices of this world. I was more than I am. I was healed.
It is one of those impossibilities I believe in; and in believing, my own feet touch the surface of the lake, and I go to meet him, like Peter, walking on water.
But only if I die first, only if I am willing to die. I am mortal, flawed, trapped in my own skin, my own barely used brain, I do not understand this death, but I am learning to trust it. Only through this death can come the glory of resurrection; only through this death can come birth.
And I cannot do it myself. It is not easy to think of any kind of death as a gift, but it is prefigured for us in the mighty acts of Creation and Incarnation; in Crucifixion and Resurrection.
You are my helper and redeemer; make no long tarrying, O my God.
Crosswicks
June 1980
1.
When defined as a “Christian artist,” L'Engle admits she feels rebellious against the title and is reluctant to discuss Christian creativity. Do you understand her reservations? Why or why not?
2.
When she says, “If it's bad art, it's bad religion, no matter how pious the subject,” do you agree? Discuss some examples of “bad” art. Can you think of examples of art that is pious in subject but poorly executed artistically? Do these examples offend you? Amuse you? Disgust you? Inspire you? Why or why not?
3.
L'Engle says that “my feelings about art and my feelings about the Creator of the Universe are inseparableâ¦it means attempting to share the meaning of my life, what gives it, for me, its tragedy and its glory.” Do you feel this way? Have you ever attempted to understand and share the meaning of your life? Try to do so now, either in discussion or in writing. What gives your life “its tragedy and its glory”? How do these things affect your art and your faith?
4.
“One does not have to understand to be obedient. Instead of understandingâthat intellectual understanding which we are so fond ofâthere is a feeling of rightness, of knowing, knowing things which we are not yet able to understand.” Have you experienced this kind of understanding? Discuss a time in your life when you did something you didn't necessarily understand just because it “felt right.” Was it, in the end, the right decision? Why or why not? What did you learn from this experience?
5.
There is great value placed on the correlation between
working
and
listening.
L'Engle asserts the importance of each in an artist's and in a Christian's life. What do you think she means when she says an artist must “listen to the work”? Is this, to you, similar to listening to God? Do you think the creative process is similar to the act of prayer? How so?
1.
L'Engle argues that being an artist is a religious activity, regardless of whether the artist believes in God personally, because “all true art is incarnational, and therefore âreligious.'â” What does she mean by this statement? Do you agree that artâtrue artâis a religious act, no matter the artist's personal beliefs or intent? Does art transcend the artist in this way? Or do you think art is defined by the artist's intentions?
2.
L'Engle argues that all artists want to be noticed and have their art recognized. “Art is communication,” she says, “and if there is no communication it is as though the work has been stillborn.” Is this true for you? Do you desire your art to be seen and heard and understood, or are you ultimately content to create without recognition? Why is recognition important? What do you hope is being communicated through your art?
3.
Do you agree with L'Engle when she says, “When language becomes exhausted, our freedom dwindlesâwe cannot think; we do not recognize danger; injustice strikes us as no more than âthe way things are.'â”? In what ways do you see this happening in the world today, if at all? Is language being diminished with current trends and influences, or do you think the changes are natural or even progressive?
4.
Do you think that “what makes us human,” as L'Engle argues, is that “terrible gift of free will”? Is there anything else that defines humanity aside from free will? What does she mean by “terrible gift”? How is humanity's ability to choose, to “help write our own story,” important to an artist and to a Christian? How is it important to you?
5.
Do you find this statement challenging: “Christ has always worked in ways which have seemed peculiar to many men, even his closest followers. Frequently the disciples failed to understand him. So we need not feel that we have to understand how he works through artists who do not consciously recognize him. Neither should our lack of understanding cause us to assume that he cannot be present in their work”? Do you agree with this? Is an artist's personal faith, or lack thereof, relevant to the message of Christ in his or her work? Why or why not?
1.
The opening line of chapter 3 claims that “all children are artists.” A few sentences later, the author asks, “Why do we lose our wonderful, rackety creativity? What corrupts us?” Take some time to discuss this question in a group or reflect on it personally. Do you feel you've lost your “wonderful, rackety creativity,” either in general or during specific times in your life? If so, what do you think has caused this? Were you able to get it back? How? If not, what do you think is preventing you from it? Do you agree with the author that a loss of creativity is the result of corruption?
2.
The vessel of L'Engle's creativityâstoryâis what helped her “to learn to live.” She says that story enabled her to make some sense of the difficulties of life. What helps you to learn to live? Think back to when you were a child. How did you express your creativity then? Is it similar to what you do now? Do you feel you've lost something, or that your creativity has grown with you? How does an act of creation help you to make sense of the difficulties of life?
3.
“The artist who is a Christian, like any other Christian, is required to be
in
this world, but not
of
it. We are to be in this world as healers, as listeners, and as servants. In art we are once again able to do all the things we have forgotten; we are able to walk on water; we speak to the angels who call us; we move, unfettered, among the stars.” Discuss this quote as a group, or reflect on it personally. Do you agree with it? Have you experienced the freedom to “do all the things we have forgotten” in your own art? What does the author mean by this?
4.
L'Engle offers what may be read as a harsh criticism of modern Christians when she says, “Christians have given Christianity a bad name. They have let their lights flicker and grow dim. They have confused piosity with piety, smugness with joy.” Do you think this is true? Why or why not?
5.
She moves on from her critique of Christians when she says she came back to her faith because “through God's loving grace, I did meet enough people who showed me that light of love which the darkness cannot extinguish.” Do you feel you've had a similar experience? Share an example of someone who showed you the “light of love which the darkness cannot extinguish.” Have you ever experienced it through an unlikely source?
6.
Pain is a reality we must all face, and L'Engle does not deny this. In fact, she asserts that without pain, we do not grow. Is this true? How has your relationship with God been grown through times of pain? Has pain changed your approach to your art? Do you feel closer to or farther from God during difficult seasons? Have you ever been tempted to draw back from suffering? Do you agree with L'Engle when she says, “The artist cannot hold back; it is impossible, because writing or any other discipline of art, involves participation in suffering”?
1.
Do you think writingâor creating art in generalâis dangerous? Do you think it takes courage to create? Is it the act of creation that takes courage, or the sharing of your creation?
2.
Consider L'Engle's claim: “When I was a child my parents loved me not because I was good but because I was Madeleine, their child.” Now think about people in your life who love you simply because you are you, whether it is your parents, your spouse, your children, or someone else. Is there some part of you that thinks you have to earn their love? Or do you truly feel freedom in their love, trusting that they love you because you
are
?
3.
What is “wholeness” to you? Multiple times, L'Engle connects the idea of creation and wholeness. She says, “The discipline of creation, be it to paint, compose, write, is an effort toward wholeness.” Do you agree? How has your creative life helped you toward wholeness?
4.
“Creative scientists and saints expect revelation and do not fear it. Neither do children. But as we grow up and we are hurt, we learn not to trust, and that lack of trust is a wound as grievous as whatever caused it.” Is this true for you? How has your trust been shaken in your relationships with other? Your relationship with God? Your relationship with yourself? Have these wounds been healed or are they still fresh?
5.
What do you think L'Engle means when she says, “I am not an isolated, chronological numerical statistic. I am sixty-one, and I am also four, and twelve, and fifteen, and twenty-three, and thirty-one, and forty-five, andâ¦andâ¦and⦔? Is this true for you? What role does four-year-old you have in your life today? Is there a certain age you've been that influences you more than others? What is it and why?
1.
What does L'Engle mean when she says, “the imaginary work must have such an effect on us that it enlarges our own sense of reality”? Have you experienced this? Discuss some works of imagination that have enlarged your sense of reality. Why do you think this is important?
2.
L'Engle, whose most famous work (
A Wrinkle in Time
) explores the fluidity of time and space, challenges the artist and the Christian to be unfettered from the limitations of time. She discusses the Transfiguration, noting that when she was a child hearing the story, she never thought it odd that Jesus was able to talk with Moses and Elijah, despite the fact that centuries separated their earthly timelines. “Time is no longer a barrier,” she says, citing this fact as a “tremendous Christian mystery.” What do you think about L'Engle's ideas on time in this chapter?
3.
L'Engle discusses the theologians and mystics to whom she turns when her faith and creativity need to be stimulated. To what or whom do you turn when you need a jolt of inspiration? Would you ever consider turning to what might be considered an unlikely source, such as the cellular biologists and astrophysicists to whom L'Engle turned, for spiritual enlightenment? Should you?
4.
Chapter 5 is bursting with bold statements on creative living, including the following:
“But unless we are creators, we are not fully alive.”
“Creativity is a way of living life, no matter what our vocation or how we earn our living.”
“Our freedom to be creators is far less limited than some people would think.”
Discuss these quotes, and any others that strike you from the text. What do they mean to you? Can you think of an example of someone who is living creatively, regardless of their vocation?
5.
L'Engle frequently discusses the etymology of common vocabulary in our culture and faith. Review her thoughts on the two words for “power” that are found in “so-called primitive societies.” Do you find it interesting, as the author does, that our modern society retains the word for dangerous power but not the word for benign power? Why do you think this is? Discuss some examples of power, aside from the ones in the text, that can transition from
mana
power to
taboo
power. Now consider your own power, both creatively and spiritually. In what ways can or has your power crossed from
mana
to
taboo
?
1.
Review the definitions of
chronos
and
kairos
time at the beginning of the chapter. Have you ever had a
kairos
experience? What was it? Why did it feel like
kairos
and not
chronos
? L'Engle states that, though we live by a moderately consistent chronology, we each have our own interior clock that governs us. For example, she asks, “How long is a toothache? How long is a wonderful time?” Think about this interior clock for a moment and how it affects your art. When you are in a time of deep creativity, how does your chronological time compete with or complement your interior clock? When were you last surprised by the passing of time, be it slowly or quickly? What were you doing, and why do you think time's passage seemed to change?
2.
What is the difference between wasting time and
be
ing time? How do you take time to
be
? How does
be
ing help your creativity?
3.
What do you think the author means when she says, “If we are close to our angels, the dream world and the waking world will not be far apart”? Do you take your dreams seriously to some degree? Why or why not?
4.
Have you ever been ridiculed for your creative work? Discuss a time when you were faced with ridicule to some degree and how you dealt with it. Do you agree with L'Engle that “ridicule is a terrible witherer of the flower of imagination. It binds us where we should be free”?
5.
When the author is asked how her faith affects her art, she replies that “surely it is the other way around; my stories affect my Christianity.” Is this true for you? Why or why not? How does your art draw you closer to God? How does God draw you closer to your art?