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"Grace is not so poor a thing that it cannot present itself in any number of ways.” A clue to me from the novel that a decent response to your
questions just might be richly multifaceted.
Marilynne Robinson has suggested that the town of Gilead is an expression of “planted” grace, of healing balm. John Ames recalls in his letter that
it was within “striking distance of Kansas” and became a retreat for those who fought slavery and “became a place to fall back on when they needed
to heal and rest.” Balm, indeed. And, in its inherent nature as a small rural town, it afforded peace. John Ames says, “To play catch of an evening,
to smell the river, to hear the train pass. These little towns were once the bold ramparts meant to shelter jut such peace.” And it provided hope
“that a harmless life could be lived here unmolested.” Balm, grace, peace.
Where is the irony? For John Ames, the preacher (parsed into the prophet as he writes) asks, “What is the purpose of a prophet except to find meaning in trouble?” and states that what will exactly be required is that God “will wipe the tears from all faces.” And young Boughton who “felt a
sense of irony at having invested hope in this sad old place, and also the cost to him of relinquishing it.”
Early on I read another lovely statement that seemed a clue to the trouble and the struggle. John Ames says that “love is holy because it is like
grace - the worthiness of its object is never really what matters.” Balm was not physically present as John Ames placed his hand on the brow of
young Boughton but healing nevertheless occurred. Not that all was well. Young Boughton had to leave Gilead, the place of blessing without full
restoration of relationship with his father and family but lifelong prayer was answered as John Ames speaks to old Boughton:
“I love him as much as you meant me to - So certain of your prayers are finally answerd, old fellow. And mine too, mine too. We had to wait a long
time, didn’t we?”
And - this was curious to me - John Ames states at an earlier stage of his life: “I didn’t feel very much at home in the world, that was a fact. Now
I do.” Finding unfathomable grace in the voice of his wife, writing an honest letter to his young son, to give blessings of honor to those he loves,
to have been useful,
that may well be the balm of Robinson’s Gilead.
Thanks for the good questions Jennifer.
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