Let the Whole Earth Sing Praise

Let the Whole Earth Sing Praise
Tomie DePaola
Putnam Juvenile, 2011

This Christmas my daughter was given a copy of one of Tomie DePaola’s most recent books, called Let the Whole Earth Sing Praise, and after a single reading I knew I wanted to review it here.  It’s a wonder that we haven’t reviewed more of DePaola’s books, actually: he’s written dozens of great books in both theological and non-theological genres.

Let the Whole Earth Sing Praise is a simple, Scripture-inspired book that calls for all of creation, from the sun and moon to people everywhere, to praise the Lord.  Thematically, we’ve already reviewed quite a few books that are similar.  What strikes me about DePaola’s version, though, is how well it would work with a very young child.   The words and illustrations are both simple (though profoundly meaningful) and when you turn the last page you can hardly keep from following the book’s advice and bursting into praise.  In fact, I think that perhaps the ideal reading of this book would be as a final bedtime story for a 2-3 year old, followed by the Doxology or a favorite hymn.

I can’t imagine that most of you aren’t already well acquainted with DePaola’s works of kidlit fiction and theology, but if you’re not – oh my!  Head straight to the nearest library and do yourself a favor by checking out whatever they have, including this one.

Liturgy and literature

Being a disciple of Jesus is not primarily a matter of getting the right ideas and doctrines and beliefs into your head in order to guarantee proper behavior; rather, it is a matter of being the kind of person who loves rightly – who loves God and neighbor and is oriented to the world by the primacy of that love.

I’ve been reading, off and on for awhile now, a fabulous book by James K.A. Smith: Desiring the Kingdom: Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation. It is fantastic, and I’m going to do it all sorts of violence by oversimplifying. My apologies to Dr. Smith. But he has me thinking a lot about our project here at Aslan’s Library, and I thought I’d invite you in to my reflections.

Short and sweet: he is arguing that what we love is more important than what we know (or think we know).  And the way our love is formed – the way our hearts are won – is through liturgy, embodied worship.

Not so short and sweet:

Liturgy, to some of us evangelical Protestants, sounds suspicious. Rote, right? Religion, not relationship! But really, there’s no such thing as a non-liturgical Christianity. Or even a non-liturgical person! Liturgy is the “order of service,” the motions through which we put our bodies in worship. And no one said it better than Dylan: “You’ve gotta serve somebody.” Whenever we’re acting, whatever we’re doing, we’re serving some vision of the good life we hope to more fully inhabit. We’ve all got a god, or gods, that we serve  in the minutiae of our daily dealings. That’s the force that gets us out of bed and that keeps us in motion. Usually it’s without any conscious reflection. Our hearts are in thrall to something, and we move through our days in its pursuit.

If that’s true, then what we look at, listen to, make, and walk through actually shapes us more deeply than the ideas we intellectually accept. And according to Smith, there are rival liturgies seeking our hearts: the liturgies of shopping and sporting events and contemporary political life.

(Lest you doubt, consider my own personal “liturgy of Target”: my visits there are as routine as any worship service. Get kids settled in cart with snacks. Stop at in-store Starbucks for a latte. Visually scan the brilliantly placed women’s clothing department immediately at the entrance. Angle over to baby department. Find that I have to trek through the home goods department to get to groceries; get distracted by whether or not I need a new shower curtain. Pick up groceries. Check to see if King Arthur flour is still cheaper than at Lucky. Finally get to the personal care stuff — contact solution, vitamins — that I initially planned the trip for. Pick up a diet Coke at the checkout. Pay.

Without fail, this is how the trip unfolds. And I bet most of us have similar routines for groceries, shopping at the mall, even shopping online. What Smith is asking – brilliantly, I think – is how are we being formed by these myriad little liturgies? Who and what are we serving at Target/Nordstrom/the Twins game?  What desires are we cultivating? Which liturgies have the power in our lives? Which truly own our hearts?)

So : short and sweet again.

Being a disciple is the process of becoming a person who  increasingly loves God and neighbor. Not the sort of person who increasingly knows she ought to love God and neighbor. And what we do with our bodies every day shapes the directions in which our love is aimed. What does any of this have to do with Aslan’s Library and theological kidlit?

Well, the best children’s literature doesn’t explain. It doesn’t try to impart information. Like Scripture, it is spacious. It invites us in. It invites us to identify with heroes and heroines, to reject villains, to long for a good (not necessarily a happy!) ending. It invites us to imitate what is good, to love what is worthy. And it does this by appealing to our imaginations and our hearts.

Smith writes, “Our worldview is more a matter of the imagination than the intellect, and the imagination  runs off the fuel of images that are channeled by the senses.” Literature powerfully attracts, entrances, and shapes our imaginations. Shallow, boring, or cheap literature is going to cultivate shallow, boring, cheap imagination. Rich, complex, charitable literature helps nudge us in those directions.

I’m trying to keep all of these reflections bouncing around as I read and choose books to review. I have to get beyond asking, “Do I like this book?” or “Does it hit all my little theological buttons?” We’re looking for books that are rich, that are beautiful and true and good (those words again!), and that are winsome. Because literature matters. It matters for joy, for pleasure, for the formation of imagination, for Christian education. And for discipleship.

We Three Kings

We Three Kings
Gennady Spirin
Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2007

As Sarah wrote last week, Epiphany is the season between Christmas and Lent in which Christians through the ages have traditionally pondered Christ’s identity and mission.  So, while I did intend to review this particular book two weeks ago (oops), I gave myself permission to go ahead and review it today because because Epiphany does officially last for another entire month!

So as I was saying… Epiphany is a season in which we are invited to think deeply about Jesus’ identity and mission.  The story of the wise men is one of the traditional texts used as a launching pad for those themes.  And no wonder!  From the wise men, who were certainly Gentiles and probably Arabs, we learn that the good news is for all people everywhere.  From the gifts that they offered to the Christ child, we catch a glimpse of who Jesus is and what the ultimate purpose of the Incarnation is.

We Three Kings is the first true Epiphany book that we’ve shared here on the blog, and let me just say how happy I was to find one that I really like!  I am rather particular about not wanting authors to add non-Biblical details when they write about Biblical stories, and oh boy, books about Epiphany are often driven by such details.  You can imagine my delight when I came across Gennady Spirin’s take on the classic Epiphany carol.  It combines beautiful illustrations with familiar text that actually does a pretty good job of explaining, but not going beyond, the account of the wise men from Matthew 2.  The artwork is perfect for the carol’s text, and I love how the verses explain the meaning of the wise men’s gifts (gold points to Christ’s kingship, frankincense to his deity, and myrrh to his coming sacrificial death).  The last verse, displayed on the final pages of the book, is a fantastic bridge between Christmas and Easter.  There is much here to be pondered, discussed, and just plain enjoyed.

Once upon a time I didn’t like books based on hymn lyrics, but after finding several outstanding examples of them I now deeply appreciate them.  They’re fun to sing together, they give the artwork a chance to really shine, and often there is a richness of language and message that’s absent in other author-created books.  I love that this one includes the refrain after every verse instead of just once; we all know that little kids love repetition and I found that the chorus pages were my daughter’s favorites.  Yes, the angel illustrations (as usual) drive me batty, but you can’t have it all, right?  If you’re weary of Epiphany tales that focus too much on stars or camels, I encourage you to check out We Three Kings.

Embodying Epiphany

photo courtesy of the resident 5-year-old photographer

I grew up in the Christian church, but my first conscious encounter with the word epiphany was in AP English my senior year, after reading James Joyce’s short story “The Dead.” I wrote a paper about the function of epiphany in the story, turned it in with fear and trembling (this was a teacher who was known to write “yuck!” in the margins or cross out whole paragraphs with a dismissive “verbose!”), and was elated when it came back with an A+ and some questions for further investigation. The experience itself was something of an epiphany to me: I had learned how to see something in a piece of literature that explained not just the story, but something about life itself.

In consequence, in that way that only a seventeen-year-old can, I fell in love with the word. It seemed there were epiphanies to be had everywhere – about myself, my friends, the meaning of life itself. The realization of something hidden: isn’t that the ancient dream of philosophy itself, and the hope most of us harbor about the mundane dailiness of existence?

I had no idea that the word had anything to do with the Christian church until later, in college, when I started attending an Episcopal parish. But the discovery that there is an entire season devoted to revelation and illumination somehow failed to capture my imagination quite the way Joyce’s story did. Maybe it’s because Epiphany is often overshadowed by those flashier pairs of seasons: Advent-Christmas, Lent-Easter. Maybe it’s because it overlaps with our secular New Year celebrations, in which we focus on self-improvement, organizational schemes, and personal enlightenment. We wind up forgetting that we were a people walking in darkness who have seen a great light. And maybe most of us have exhausted ourselves with Christmas celebrations and are just plain holiday-ed out. Give us some good old ordinary time, please.

But for those of us who are Gentiles by birth and who take the biblical narrative seriously, Epiphany is a Big Deal. It marks the revelation of Jesus as the promised Messiah for Israel and the nations. That’s us. Epiphany is the revelation of the Light we didn’t even know we needed; of the darkness and emptiness we had been pursuing; and the joy and rest that comes with adoption into God’s family. It’s also a time to recognize that much of the world is still lost, pursuing those things which cannot save and which do not bring rest. And that as recipients of the Light, we are also its bearers.

That being the case, though, I feel terribly impoverished when it comes to ideas for celebrating this season as a family. I’d like to give my kids a more concrete way to meditate upon and reflect the Light of Christ. Right now, I’ve gotten stuck with reading the Epiphany scriptures and then just talking about it a lot – which is a good enough start, I guess, but isn’t enough. Most of us have lots of traditions around Advent and Christmas which help us embody those seasons, and our churches help out too: we make Advent wreaths together, deliver gifts, sing the same songs. Likewise for Lent and Easter. I’d like some of that for Epiphany!

Bobby Gross has some great devotional materials and suggestions for grownups in Living the Church Year. I’d like to know if any of you have Epiphany traditions, ideas, or suggestions for marking this season of light, especially with children. Haley and I will brainstorm the book side of it! Do let me know your thoughts.

Brother Sun, Sister Moon

Brother Sun, Sister Moon
Katherine Paterson and Pamela Dalton
Handprint Books, 2011

According to tradition, Francis of Assisi composed The Canticle of the Sun (or Laudes Creaturarum, “praise of the creatures”) toward the end of his life, around 1224. Written in the Umbrian dialect – rather than church Latin – it is a beautiful song praise to God for the glory of his creation. Its simple, earthy images drawn in a common language are a reminder that regardless of social station, we all are created beings, dependent like the rest of nature on the care of a good and loving God.

Brother Sun, Sister Moon is a “reimagining” of Francis’ song by Katherine Paterson, illustrated with absolutely gorgeous cut-paper images by Pamela Dalton. Seriously: these may be my favorite illustrations yet for a book we’ve reviewed on this blog. They are rich in detail, warm, peaceful, and inviting. Somehow they capture the song’s vision of humans living in bountiful harmony with nature, husbanding it together for the common good as we were created to do.

The song itself, as rendered by Ms. Paterson, praises God for our “brothers” and “sisters” in the created order: the sun, moon, stars, wind, water, fire and earth, as well as for human beings who live as peacemakers and grace-givers. Each of these reveals something about God himself, and bears his image stamped on its created being. It is a marvelous example as theology-in-prayer: Francis sees God revealed in nature, praises him for it, and in that prayer teaches us about God, too. My favorite passage in this vein, then:

We praise you for Sister Water, who fills the seas and rushes down the rivers – who wells up from the earth and falls down from heaven – who gives herself that all living things may grow and be nourished.

On the same page, the picture is framed by two large trees planted by streams of water (Psalm 1): as we see the trees nourished by the gift of water, we understand that we too are nourished by a self-giving God who poured himself out like water — and we are able to praise him for his gift of self and water with greater thankfulness. It is this sort of simple yet deeply rich imagery that makes this book a valuable piece of theological literature.

The last gift for which Francis thanks God – and which, according to legend, he added to the song on his deathbed – is for “our Sister Death, who will usher us at last into your loving presence, where we will know and love you as you have always known and loved us.” Now it’s true, theologically, that death is an enemy destroyed by Christ and a punishment for sin: so what’s with the Sister imagery? Well, for the Christian, death is no longer something to be feared; though intended for our destruction, it too has become God’s handmaiden, delivering the faithful safely into the presence of Christ. And again, the illustrations! On this page, a small boy and girl sorrowfully bury a small pet, surrounded by an explosion of butterflies – that ancient symbol of resurrection. Again, we are reminded that for the believer, death is nothing but the doorway to true life.

Lastly, some readers may find Paterson’s rendering of the final lines of prayer off-putting: “For this life and the life to come, we sing our praise to you, O Lord, the Father and Mother of all creation.” Taken in context, this is no denial of God’s Fatherhood; it is the simple recognition of God as the Parent of all creation and the image of all created fatherly and motherly care. The Old Testament uses both images to talk about God’s providential care, and it’s a lovely acknowledgement of just how deeply encompassing that love is.

This is a simply lovely book, suitable for reading aloud as a family or for individual poring over. If your child has a quiet corner or space where you keep devotional books, this would be a worthy addition. I think it will be appearing at our house on one of the twelve days of Christmas this year!

Books for the New Year

Happy 2012!  We’ll be back into the swing of things here on the blog next Monday, so please stop by then.  In the meantime I wanted to pass on the link for the CYBILS 2011 finalists.  If you haven’t discovered the CYBILS children’s book awards yet, you’re truly missing out!  This is their sixth year of giving out book awards and as I’ve read through their picture book recommendations I’ve rarely read one of their finalists that I didn’t love.  They have lots of categories to include the full spectrum of children’s literature, so whatever your favorite age group or sub-genre they’re bound to have a list for you and your children.  I just added all of the 2011 picture book finalists to my library list and can’t wait to get my hands on them!

Anyone else want to chime in on what you plan to read (by yourself or with the children in your life) in the new year?  I’d love to hear!

Back Soon!

This is just a quick note to say that Sarah and I are taking a couple of weeks off from blogging so we can focus on observing the last week of Advent and then celebrating the birth of our Savior.  We hope that you all have wonderful Christmas celebrations planned and that you’ll join us back here in the new year.  We already have several great books lined up to share with you in 2012!

Songs for Advent

We Americans tend to jump straight to the celebration of Christmas without spending time waiting and preparing during Advent.  Here’s the drawback: just as observing Lent helps us understand Easter, inhabiting Advent is incredibly helpful for gaining a fuller understanding of the meaning of Christmas.

This season is a time to remember that the people of Israel waited for a savior for centuries, that Jesus didn’t just show up the first time someone asked for The Messiah.  We should learn from their persistent longing and faithful prayers, especially because Advent is also a time to focus on longing for Christ’s second coming.  As we think of the saints of old who waited with hope and of God’s faithfulness to keep his promise of a Savior, we will be encouraged to wait with hope for that Savior’s return in glory.

There are many good ways to observe Advent, but this year my family is making a concerted effort to listen to uniquely Advent songs until December 24th.  We’ll switch to Christmas songs for 12 days and then switch again to Epiphany songs on January 6th.  The list below reflects my effort (with the help of old church bulletins and posts at Cardiphonia and This Classical Life) to find songs for Advent that focus on the waiting and longing that preceded the first Christmas and the waiting and longing that are currently preceding Christ’s second coming.  Let me know what I’ve left out!

Songs for Advent

• All Things New
• Come All Ye Pining
• Come, Lord, and Tarry Not
• Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus
• Comfort, Comfort All My People
• Creator of the Stars of Night
• Deliver Us
• Everlasting God
• Gabriel’s Message
• Handel’s Messiah (up to “For Unto Us a Child Is Born”)
• Hark, A Thrilling Voice Is Sounding
• Jesus Is Coming
• The King Shall Come When Morning Dawns
• Let All Mortal Flesh
• Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty Gates
• Lo He Comes
• Mary’s Song
• Matthew’s Begats
• A New Jerusalem
• O Come, O Come Emmanuel
• Of the Father’s Love Begotten
• O Savior, Rend the Heavens Wide
• Savior of the Nations, Come
• So Long, Moses
• To Us a Child of Hope is Born
• Zechariah and the Least Expected Places
• Zechariah’s Song

The Nativity

The Nativity
Julie Vivas
Gulliver Books, 1988

I’ve been thumbing through a handful of nativity story books for the past few weeks, agonizing over which one to review first.  It’s a tough decision (they really are all quite good), but I finally decided on Julie Vivas’ excellent book, The Nativity.

Many nativity books seem to use excerpts of Scripture (usually KJV) as their text, so what sets them apart (or not) is their illustrations.  The Nativity is no exception – Passages from Matthew and Luke form the text and Vivas’ artwork is wonderful!  There are so many different ways to visually represent the Christmas story that I don’t mind having quite a few of them in our collection, but this version is one of my very favorites.

One of the things I love most about this book is how the characters seem so real.  They’re down-to-earth human beings, not people who come across as so entirely different from you and me that we end up having a hard time relating to them.  For instance, Mary looks very large and uncomfortable when she’s 9 months pregnant, and right after she’s given birth she looks like she really needs a nap.

Am I just appreciating those aspects of the book because I happen to be with child at the moment?  Well, maybe.  But even my non-pregnant self would love how Vivas captures the fact that the miracle of the nativity story took place among men and women just like us.  Books like this (as opposed to, say, books where Mary is oddly serene and the shepherds are quintessentially quaint) make me enter into and wonder about the story in a new way.  It points us back to the glory of Emmanuel, God with us.  Us, ordinary people that we are.

Alrighty, now for a few cautions.  First, I do feel the need to mention that baby Jesus is depicted in his full birthday suit on one page, should that bother any potential readers.  I’m also not thrilled with Mary being called Joseph’s wife instead of his betrothed or espoused wife.  And have I mentioned before that I tend to have issues with how angels are illustrated?  I do.  It may just be my own idiosyncrasies coming through, but as much as I like Mary and Joseph being depicted as down-to-earth I’d prefer that angels look a bit more, I don’t know, majestic or something.  No book is perfect, though!  What I love about The Nativity definitely outweighs these few issues, so if you’re looking for a new nativity story to share with your children this is a great one to consider.

Bookish Gifts for Grown-Ups

You’ve probably figured it out by now: Haley and I are both inveterate listmakers. And one of my favorite things about Christmas is the excuse to make lots and lots of lists. Gifts I want to give. Gifts I’m going to give. Gifts that I would give if I could afford them. Gifts that would be perfect for teachers, friends, and my kids in a few years. And for you: some bookish gifts for grownups!

This isn’t a “best books” list; it’s much more idiosyncratic. Whenever I finish a book I’ve loved, I immediately begin casting about for someone to give it to. Think of this as an odd collection of notes that either or Haley and I have jotted down, over the year, when we’ve read something and enjoyed it. Maybe one of these would bring some joy to someone you love, too.

Fiction

• The Brothers K: Baseball. Family. Religion. A shout out to Dostoevsky. Baseball. What more could a novel-lover want? (And if you don’t think baseball is novelistic – please, please, reconsider this position.)
• Excellent Women, Barbara Pym. “I was so astonished that I could think of nothing to say, but wondered irrelevantly if I was to be caught with a teapot in my hand on every dramatic occasion.”
• Peace Like a River, Leif Enger. If you haven’t read it yourself, put it on your list. If you know anyone who loves a good story, put it on theirs.
• Sense and Sensibility - pair it with this amazing movie version. Because, really – Jane Austen is always, always appropriate.
• That Distant Land, Wendell Berry. Introduce someone you love to Port William. Only, watch out: they may not want to come back.
• Kristin Lavransdatter, Sigrid Undset. Fourteenth century Norway. But a universal story. For some of us, this has been a life-changing trilogy.
• Black Lamb and Grey Falcon, Rebecca West. If you have a travel or history buff on your list, this book is the best of both. And actually, it’s a classic of English letters. History, politics, culture, theology, music, art – it’s all there. In an intelligent, penetrating voice.

Non-Fiction

• Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy, Eric Metaxas. We reviewed it already. It’s a fabulous, inspiring, deeply historical and theological read.
• Desiring the Kingdom, James K.A. Smith. An academic look at how desire is formed, and how we can educate so that students desire the Kingdom of God.
• The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction, Alan Jacobs. A book club delight! Fun to read, and a lovely encouragement to read for joy.
• A Reader’s Delight - he has a volume on kids’ novels, too. Essays by a Dartmouth professor on the books you missed. For the friend who has “run out of Jane Austen novels”!
• Real Love for Real Life, Andi Ashworth. Haley told me a few weeks ago that I needed to read this book about caregiving as a vocation. It’s on my own Amazon wishlist. You know, in case you were wondering.
• Simplicity Parenting, Kim John Payne. “A manifesto for protecting the grace of childhood.” A lovely gift for anyone with a child in their life.

Non-Book Gifts

• Christian Seasons Calendar Haley and I both have one. The art is gorgeous. And I love being reminded what time it is, not as the world measures time, but as God’s people do.
• Book Embosser For anyone who needs to channel that inner librarian. Plus it gives the reader in your life a good excuse to buy more paper books!
• Framed Literary Quotation I want one! ASAP! Also, one of these. And some Shakespeare hairpins in my stocking wouldn’t go amiss, either.
• eBook Cover For the loved one who has made the digital leap.
• Books & Culture subscription Anyone who loves books, loves ideas, and is interested in an intelligent Christian literary review. I have about 8 years’ worth of past issues sitting in my attic.
• Image Journal subscription A beautiful journal of the arts. Literature, visual arts, essays, and interviews. Again, boxes of past issues are weighing down my attic. They’re so beautifully produced, I can’t part with them.
• Moleskine journals. For starting a commonplace book!
• Donation to International Justice Mission. It’s not bookish. But it is an amazing organization, and a cause close to the Lord’s heart.