My Bright Abyss

My Bright Abyss: Meditation of a Modern Believer
By Christian Wiman (178 pages)
Published by Farrar, Straus & Giroux
Bookish rating: 5

Despite only 178 pages in length, this book takes considerable time to get through--the writing is dense, poetic (literally---but can "poetic" BE literal? a question for another day), and theologically and philosophical and literarily packed. Speeding through is a waste of time. One must absorb this book slowly.

In the face of death, as Wiman dealt with a severe and weird and unpredictable cancer, Wiman's meditations explore the holes of faith, the edge of meaning, the terror of nothingness. He is unsentimental as he does this task; no feel-good fluff here, which I found liberating and interesting. He uses poetry--his own and others'--to make particular points about faith (or lack thereof), and I absolutely adored this marriage of literary art and theology--or, philosophy. Or . . . whatever. You get my point.

Very much aware of the body, ill as he is, Wiman brilliantly toys with the physicality of reality, arguing that Christ "speaks the language of reality--speaks in terms of the physical world--because he is reality's culmination and key" (p. 90). Chew on THAT for a bit!

A good 100 pages in or so, I was pondering Wiman's writings and expounding on his brilliance to Chris, who politely listened as he tossed a frozen pizza into the oven. "The focus on the physical aspect of faith--it's genius and, I think, accurate. But you know what?"

"What?" Chris asked.

"Since forever, women have always been associated with the body, with the physical--and that has been deemed LOWER than the mind, than God. Like, since people could think or make art or tell stories."

"Uh huh."

"And does Wiman make that connection? NO. No, he does not, because HE'S A DUDE."

I should have read further. I was utterly schooled on page 153. There, Wiman secured his genius status, which, admittedly, he had probably already obtained when Farrar, Straus & Giroux decided to publish him. FSG doesn't publish idiots. Anyway, page 153. Wiman writes:

"...if this consciousness I'm describing is gendered (and I think it is), it is clearly feminine. The single most damaging and distorting thing that religion has done to faith involves overlooking, undervaluing, and even outright suppressing this interior, ulterior kind of consciousness . . . In neglecting the voices of women, who are more attuned to the immanent nature of divinity, who feel that eruption in their very bodies, theology has silenced a powerful--perhaps the most powerful--side of God."

Read that paragraph again. Let it sink in. I'll wait.

Obviously, that passage floored me. BECAUSE IT'S ENTIRELY TRUE and brilliantly written.

Beyond my inner feminist jumping up and down in delight, I loved Wiman's exploration of meaning. He's a poet, so he articulates the limiting nature of language and symbol in a poignant, topsy-turvy way that pushes language and words and grammar to their very limit, mimicking the mind's inevitable circumscription--it can only go so far, understand so much.

Finally? Let's end on this little nugget: "Faith is the word 'faith' decaying into pure meaning" (p. 139).

Artistically, intellectually, and spiritually satisfying--wholeheartedly recommended.