In his play Shadowlands Williar Nicholson gives C.S.Lewis that wonderful line: 'We read to know we are not alone' - and I must say I feel like that at times. It's a great moment when you come across something in a book and want to shout out loud: 'I feel that too!'.
So I'm deeply grateful for books. In a way they offer a somewhat solitary pursuit and at times that suits me fine because there are moments when my best thinking, research and 'pondering' is done alone. Yet I'm also - if this isn't too much of a contradiction - deeply grateful for book groups because it has often been my experience that in the discussion I either change my mind about a book or see things in a new light. This has been especially the case with the last two books we've read in the Central Area Ministers' Book Group to which I also belong.
On Tuesday we were discussing The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen. I read it back in 1990 and it was fascinating to see which part I underlined then and what I highlighted this time - not everything coincided - perhaps suggesting that as we grow older books begin to mean different things to us than when we read them in our younger years.
One of my new underlinings came towards the end when Nouwen reflects on the refusal of the older brother to rejoice in the return of the younger son. He writes: Every moment of each day I have the chance to choose between cynicism and joy. Every thought I have can be cynical or joyful. Every word I speak can be cynical or joyful. Every action can be cynical or joyful. Increasingly I am aware of all these possible choices, and increasingly I discover that every choice for joy in turn reveals more joy and offers more reason to make life a true celebration in the house of the Father.
Perhaps an appropriate thought for this fourth Thursday in November, celebrated by our friends from across the Pond as 'Thanksgiving'.
Best wishes,
Ian
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