Read two books this week (vacation - isn't it great!). I just finished 2005's Pulitzer prizewinning novel, Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson. I followed that with Blue Like Jazz, Donald Miller's "nonreligious thoughts on Christian spirituality." When I finished the first and started the latter, it was like hearing a performance of Verdi's Aida and then walking into a Willie Nelson concert. Both good, but very different!

Here's my take on each book:

First, Gilead. There is no question in my mind why this is Pulitzer prize-quality literature. The only shocker is that this is a novel soaked in orthodox theology, told in first person by a dying reformed pastor, an "old seed about to drop into the ground", as a series of letters to his seven-year-old son. Since when does a novel this good get the recognition it deserves? Maybe it's reactionary to the rash of pulp apocalyptica that's over-running our Christian bookstore shelves. In any case, this book captivated me; she can express thoughts that we've all had but lack the words to say. How does someone who hasn't died and learned the depths of knowledge from the Creator himself know these things about human nature? A couple of my favorite quotations:

"The sprinkler is a magnificent invention because it exposes raindrops to sunshine. That does occur in nature, but it is rare....you two are dancing around in your iridescent little downpour, whooping and stomping as sane people ought to do when they encounter a thing so miraculous as water."

"In eternity this world will be Troy, I believe, and all that has passed here will be the epic of the universe, the ballad they sing in the streets."

The book is a story about fathers and sons, and grandfathers, and prodigals. It is about their roots to a particular physical place (in Iowa), and their history of sin and repentance, piety and stubbornness.

Then I opened Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz. My first thought was, "Is this whole book just this flaky guy's stream of consciousness? I mean, were there thoughts that he had that he didn't write down?" Blue Like Jazz is Miller's rambling chronicle of thoughts on stuff. Like why the hippies he lived with in the woods felt more alive and accepting than all the churches he'd ever been to. Or how he and his believer friends set up a "confessional booth" on the local leftist college campus at their annual Bacchanal, not to take confessions, but to confess their own shortcomings as Christians to everyone else. Five or ten years ago, I'd have set this book down, rolling my eyes and muttering something about "idealist...hmmm liberal....uh-uh". But some of the things rang so true, pinpointing my own judgmental, unkind, and unloving attitudes, that I kept reading.

And I realized this: both of these books, perhaps providentially, are about what Christ called us to: loving your neighbor as yourself. Loving the argumentative prodigal. Loving the homeless. "And who is my neighbor?"