Starkville

We all live in Starkville. It's the setting of all good stories-- perhaps my novel. Stark contrasts. Stark reality. Grim and absolute are the thesaurus categories that "stark" falls under. All good stories-- anything true-- has to deal with the stark contrast of humans (the generosity and greed, the good and evil, the sacrifice and violence, etc.). In Art, the term for the contrast between dark and light is "chiaroscuro" (Italian for light-dark). Art, Music, Theology, Story and Politics have to deal with this chiaroscuro in the human condition.

Sometimes I let this stark contrast fade into gray; I grow numb to the brightness of the light and chill of the dark. But, Art always manages to wake the part of the soul that grows weary at the profundity of light and dark. The two latest pieces of art to jar me happened this weekend: Annie Dillard's "Holy the Firm" and "Slumdog Millionare".

"Holy the Firm" has earned a place next to Wendell Berry on my bookshelf. Wow. I'm going to come back to this brief piece again and again. She explores questions that beg to be asked about a God that purports to be good. She writes with force, dexterity and humor about Julie Norwich and a dying moth that frame the abstract more purely than any abstraction. She avoids all things trite. She delves into the stark contrast between natural beauty and human suffering.

At one level, how can our language contain the word "mundane"? I should ache all the time from the beautiful, the miraculous, the adventurous, the funny. And, I should ache constantly from the evil, the callous, the cruel. Instead, I complain about the routine and rut of my life-- as if I've somehow "mastered" this period of my life. I complain about God's cruel sense of humor in lieu of revelling in his grace and mercy. Dillard's thoughts and writing jolted me into the richness, the complexity of my daily routine. Ah, that's why I read poetry... coffee for the soul.

I had an acquaintance talk about the "extravagance of dreaming". Honestly, it pissed me off. I wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her until some sense settled in her head. To call dreams and hope extravagant is analagous to categorizing air in the wants (versus needs) column. Dreams are the fumes that fuel our souls. If there were a mere one-to-one correlation between the reality of our lives and our perception of our lives would lead to the extinction of the human race. We have enough evidence of things unseen, things intangible that we can exist with hope. God help us if we were refused a dream.

As a Christian, I believe in Jesus and the Kingdom coming. I believe in transformation on both the micro and macro levels. "Slumdog Millionare" dealt with chiaroscuro and hope. The protagonist's identity rest in loving the "third muskateer". His character had a softness and truthfulness that provided light to the darkness of his brother's pragmatism and survival instinct. Ah, it was complex and disturbing, but ultimately redeeming. It was good. The violence and the cruelty were not gratuitous but central to the plot and characterization. The story was so complete that it engendered the rough reality with hope. The tightness of the story reminded me of the "all is grist". The form served the content. God is a good, thoughtful author; all the details, all the subplots aren't wasted or lost. I'm becoming a worthy protagonist and the climax is yet to come.

I recommend these two pieces of art as guides and reminders of the chiaroscuro in Starkville.