Teaching a Stone to Talk

This book was one of my favorites of this semester, though I found it hard to read. I wasn't surprised that a lot of other students didn't care for it as much as I did. I think there are certain times when a book resonates with you because of where you've been and what you've experienced and what you are open to thinking about. When I was younger I didn't care much about spiritual things and over time my understanding of spirituality and God has become increasingly complex.

That is the beauty of Annie Dillard's writing, in my opinion. She reminds me of Flannery O'Connor, in the way they both have of examining a God who is awe-striking, glorious, and terrifying. For example, the excerpt we studied in class shows a supreme being that is not discussed in Sunday sermons or hymn books. She asks, "What do we make of a god who has created a giant bug that liquifies other animals and then sucks them dry?"

Sometimes her essays took a lot of detours, so it was hard to follow the point to the end. She made me laugh out loud at her image of all us church worshippers as dog-and-pony acts, circus performers, trying to get God's attention, trying to please him with our contortions and exhortations. Mainstream Christianity likes to portray Jesus as our divine buddy, but in reality we are probably more like the wasp bumbling around the room not finding the open doors and windows. She writes of the divine as something we may strain to understand but is so much more complex and rough-edged than we want to make it.

One part of the essay "Teaching a Stone to Talk" moved me to tears. It is when she says, “It is difficult to undo our own damage, and to recall to our presence that which we have asked to leave. It is hard to desecrate a grove and change your mind. The very holy mountains are keeping mum. We doused the burning bush and cannot rekindle it; we are lighting matches in vain under every green tree.” I think that when one has had an intimate, personal encounter with the Divine and then turned away, there is that longing and loss that she describes. She also writes, “I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there is no refuge. For you meant only love, and love, and I felt only fear, and pain. So once in Israel love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway between two worlds, and we were all afraid.”   There are so many moments like that in life.

After saying all that, there were a few moments that put me off. She certainly seems wary of human interaction and doesn't come across as warm but rather as tough and hard. These are good qualities for some parts of life, but don't draw the reader quite so warmly into her world.