I’ve been feeling guilty about the supposed non-usefulness of the artistic and intellectual gifts I’ve been given. Teaching makes sense to me — it’s clearly a service and a sacrifice. But writing, reading, and contemplation are hard for me to justify, possibly because I love them so much. Does society really need another writer, another intellectual, another creative person? What do creative people do for the community? What justifies their existence?
Well, there are a lot of answers to that, but here’s one I found by Divine Providence on a retreat this weekend.
In a “free books” pile, I picked up the June 2012 issue of The American Benedictine Review after reading this intriguing title on the cover: “Nimble as the Pen of a Scribe: Toward a Theology of Writing.”
Hmmm!
It’s a fascinating read so far, but a couple of related quotes are especially relevant to my purpose here. Drawing on the work of another sister, Sister Hilda Kleiman, O. S. B., writes:
Like the work of any community member, the artist takes in the entire life of the community, its work, its prayer, and all of the stories that are told in and among the two, and offers them back to the community and the world. (183)
And then, with an allusion to the end of the Gospel of John,
For the writer who understands her work through the Paschal Mystery, the communion made possible by and that extends beyond her writing makes her joy complete. (183)
I’ve heard something similar before, and these quotes speak it again in language that helps me see it through the eyes of faith. The artist sees something, the artist reflects that something back to the community in her work, the community sees what the artist sees, a kind of communion is achieved (whether strong or fragile), and — if that something is true and good and beautiful — joy results.
What a beautiful vocation.
