Showing posts with label Philip Yancey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philip Yancey. Show all posts

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Cite your sources, please

Today I was reading a passage about Leo Tolstoy in the book A Faith and Culture Devotional. Parts of the book are used in an on-line guide, so this link is to that. I have the print copy. (It's a wonderful book in case you're looking for Christmas ideas.)

The passage about Tolstoy’s treatment of his wife Sophia and their children was used to show how a quest for holiness and perfection may backfire in the lives of those nearest and dearest.
    “There is so little genuine warmth about him; his kindness does not come from his heart, but merely from his principles.… no one will ever know that he never gave his wife a rest and never—in all these 32 years—gave his child a drink of water or spent five minutes by his bedside.”
But Philip Yancey, the author of the essay on Tolstoy, provides no citation. Yancey is an editor of Christianity Today and should know better. Oh well, now we have the internet and it shouldn’t be that tough to track down, right? Wrong. I spent about 45 minutes (it was an interesting search) and still don't have the exact source. I did find a wonderful source at NPR with photos of Sophia and a new book about the family, but not that passage. However, I kept finding this same quote in numerous sources, all without a citation. It was like trying to track one of those viral e-mails or an urban legend.

Eventually I revised my search and found a partially scanned copy of Sophia’s autobiography with extensive notes at the end about the battle of the diaries. I looked through it quickly, and I’m guessing this popular legend about Tolstoy's family life came from her book, translated and published in 1922. Autobiography of Countess Tolstoy [Sophie Andreevna Tolstoy] By Sofʹi︠a︡ Andreevna Tolstai︠a︡, translated by S. Koteliansky and Leonard Woolf. 1922.

However, in reading the extensive notes at the end (more interesting and complicated than my original quest), it is easy to see that wives of famous people (Mary Lincoln comes to mind) don’t fare well at the hands of male historians and biographers. They seem to grasp that although she was caring for 9 children when Lev decided to go on his spiritual quest and give away all their wealth and possessions, and that several of her 13 children died, and there were family squabbles enough to populate several large Russian estates, she was the one who was crazy. Go figure.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Just git-er done

At my church blog I’ve written about my frustration with Philip Yancey’s book on prayer. I’m reading my less-than- favorite author because I really enjoy the group that has chosen it. However, I’m now in chapter 12 and have really appreciated this part of his message, because he seems much more sure of himself and less full of angst, remorse, and questions. (You may have noticed I easily become frustrated with people who are constantly taking their emotional temperature or licking a finger to see which way the wind is blowing.) Also, he really speaks to my own lack of both athleticism and persistence in prayer.

Although the Old Testament doesn’t say anything about athletic games, Paul in the New Testament, being a Roman citizen in a Hellenized world, is quite familiar with the discipline of mastering a sport. And so Yancey writes about how he became a runner 30 years ago, and likens it to prayer discipline. He had met Peter Jenkins, the writer of A Walk Across America and agreed to walk with him. He was not athletic at all and realized he had only a short time to prepare to walk across Texas in July.
    “As our agreed-upon time approached, I realized that if I planned to walk through Texas in July with a sixty-pound pack on my back, I had better get into shape. I bought some cheap running shoes, stepped out the door, and sprinted down the driveway, expecting to run a few miles. At the end of the block I pulled up, gasping and wheezing, with an abrupt lesson in physical fitness. Lay off exercise for a decade or more, and the body no longer responds.

    I ran as far as I could that day--one block--then walked a block, ran another block, and limped home humiliated. The next day I ran two blocks, kept walking, and ran some more. Within six weeks, just in time for my Texas assignment, I was running seven miles without stopping. That began a routine of aerobic exercise that continues to this day. My body has become so accustomed to the regimen that if I have to skip a few days because of injury or illness I feel edgy and restless.

    I learned early on never to ask myself, “Do you feel like running today?” I just do it. Why? I can think of many reasons. Regular exercise allows me to eat what I want without worrying about weight gain. It does long-term good for my heart and lungs. It allows me to do other activities, such as skiing and mountain climbing. All these benefits represent the kind of “deferred gratification” [that regular prayer brings].

    As with physical exercise, much of the benefit of prayer comes as a result of consistency, the simple act of showing up.”