February & March 2021 Reading Reflections
I finished four books in February and March:
Norwegian Wood by Hakuri Murakami (Random House, 2000)
This was the first work of fiction I completed this year; a story about a college student making his way through interconnected relationships with peers and figuring out who he is amidst it all. It was a little slow to start but the pace picked up (or maybe I just started keeping better track of all the different characters) halfway through.
How to Astronaut by Terry Virts (Workman, 2020)
Knowing my interest in all things outer space, Naomi picked this up for me from the new release display at our local public library. NASA astronaut Terry Virts provides a real-life view of various aspects of life aboard the International Space Station and related aspects of space travel, as well as his thoughts and musings on the future of space exploration. It was a fun read, and by Virts’ own admission (with which I agree) not overly technical. Available at various retailers as listed on Virts' website.
Highest Duty: My Search for What Really Matters by Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger (HarperCollins, 2009)
From the captain of January 2009’s US Airways 1549 that successfully made an emergency water landing in the Hudson River, reflections on life and leadership interspersed with his recollections of the flight and the aftermath. Available on Amazon.
Prayer in the Night: For Those Who Work or Watch or Weep by Tish Harrison Warren (InterVarsity, 2021)
Warren, a priest in the Anglican Church of North America, is easily one of my favorite writers since I read her first book, Liturgy of the Ordinary, a few years ago. I was excited to get my copy of Prayer in the Night not long after publication and read through it quickly. Warren takes one chapter to explore each line of the prescribed prayer for Compline, the nighttime prayer service. Available on Amazon. A few extracts that I re-share in full:
Reflecting on the line those who work:
Taken together, working and watching and weeping are a way to endure the mystery of theodicy. They are a faithful response to our shared human tragedy -- but only when we hold all three together, giving space and energy to each, both as individuals and as a church.
If in the face of loss or failure, we launch immediately into work -- into solutions, activity, programs, and plans -- without leaving space for grief or attentiveness to God, our work will be compulsive, frenzied, and vain. If we watch for God’s restoration without also mourning and laboring, we minimize the urgent needs of the world and become sentimental, apathetic, or passive. If we weep without watching for the coming kingdom and participating in God’s work, we fall into despair. To take up the practices of weeping and watching compels us to work, and our work is shaped and sanctified by being people who, through embodied and habitual practices, have learned to weep and to watch.
Reflecting on the line pity the afflicted:
As a church, we seek to be a people of active compassion toward the afflicted, knowing that God identifies with them in their affliction. We will not set everything right -- not nearly. Not all suffering will end. We will not bring heaven to earth. But we can and must push back against the darkness, even as we wait the dawn.
