Every once and a while a strange but wonderful happenstance takes place in my office here at the University of Aberdeen. All three of us (myself and two officemates) spontaneously look up from our systematic theology books, economic charts of the Irish economy, and ancient Greek manuscripts to take part in a momentary reprieve from the intense study that will probably someday result in a PhD thesis. And, in a state of mutual recognition of each other’s need for human interaction, we find ourselves discussing all sorts of eclectic topics. These chats range anywhere from discussion of intense theological concepts having to do with the practical life of the church to the multitude of economic inconsistencies in the history of Irish banking. A name that consistently creeps its way into the conversation is one Stanley Hauerwas.
Having buried myself in 1st century historical thought, I had not heard much about this evidently prolific thinker. So in an endeavour to help my poor office mates who are mired in the philosophical meanderings of Systematic Theology, I borrowed Hauerwas’ memoirs (entitled Hanna’s Child) to see what this guy was all about.
I recently finished the book and it is not my intention to provide any sort of review here. Rather, reading through someone’s life as seen through their own eyes and memory got me thinking. What is the purpose of such an exercise? Why write a memoir? Is engaging in such a task a colossal sign of arrogance? Can it be construed as a form of discipleship?
I once sat under the mentorship of a man who I would have purchased his memoirs in a millisecond. But alas, when I asked him about it, he was not interested in such an endeavor. In fact, he thought writing a memoir was a bit of an arrogant task. I’m not so sure I agree with him. Sure, there are the Julius Caesars out there whose Conquest of Gaul served as a propaganda piece. Or even the Benny Hinns out there who might write (or have someone else write) an autobiography as a form of aggrandized self-indulgence. But, I think there is something to consider when we encounter an autobiography or memoir of someone who uses this process as an exercise in order to take a contemplative look at his/her own life. There is a sense of raw honesty that comes across in such works, an honesty that forces a person to encounter him/herself in all their mess. Could this honesty be a discipleship tool? I think so.
Anyway, I have had a lot of crazy things that have happened to me and I am only in my mid-thirties. God has pulled me through some interesting experiences and worked out things in my life in ways I never anticipated. Maybe I’ll write a memoir someday. It would have to have a fancy but thoughtful title that represents my outlook on life. Something like Formed in Silly Putty: A Biblical Theologian’s Spiritual Journey. Thoughts?
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