I
received a frantic call from my mother in the early morning hours of
July 29, 2007. My grandfather, who never complains of anything, was
being taken to the hospital for severe back pain. Being half asleep,
I didn't really think much of it. I simply hung up the phone, said a
quick prayer and snuggled back into bed. A few hours later my mother
called again, this time to let my know that my Pawpaw has passed
away. I became numb.
I
tell the above story because that was the start of my down hill
emotional roller coaster. Shortly after my grandfather's death I
became pregnant with our second child. At 5 months pregnant I woke up
in a puddle of my own blood. My placenta had abrupted. I was sent to
the hospital where I was told that the outcome did not look good and
because of this I would be on bed rest for as long as they could keep
me from going into labor. I was confined to a private hospital room
and given strict orders to “be still.”
Over
the months I had plenty of time to think. Most of my days were filled
with mindless reading, late night discussions with my husband, and
phone conversations with my parents, in-laws, and friends. At one
point my husband reminded me of a Wendell Berry novel that I had read
during college, Hannah Coulter, which sparked my desire to read more
of his fiction.
When
I first read Wendell Berry's The Memory of Old Jack it was less from
a theological point of view, I wasn't even thinking of seminary at
the time. I read the novel from the point of view of a grandchild
grieving the loss of her grandfather. The character Old Jack reminded
me of my Pawpaw and the town in which he lived, the people that he
was surrounded by. More than anything Wendell Berry's fictional town
of Port William reminded me of my hometown and the Thacker Family
Farm I grew up on. Never before had I come across a book that
described rural Kentucky life the way that I experienced it;
beautiful, simple, and simply beautiful.
Years
before my Grandfather passed away he would jokingly say as he patted
and stretched the wrinkled skin on his left arm. “You know, this is
just a shell. When I die I wont be in this old body. I'll be in
heaven. I don't care what you do with this old shell. Just go throw
it in one of those sink holes over there in the field.” I thought
of that when I read page 157 in which Jack's nephew, Matt, after
hearing of old Jack's death, ponders how Jack would demand to have
his funeral if the dead man had any say.
“He would be taken in secret to a place at
the edge of one of his fields, and only the few who loved him best
would be permitted to go that far with him. They would dig a grave
there and lay him in. They would say such words as might come to
them, or say nothing. They would cover him and leave him there where
he had belonged from birth. They would leave no stone or marker.
They would level the grave with the ground. When the last of them who
knew its place had died, Old Jack's return would be complete. He
would be lost to memory in that field, silently possessed by the
earth on which once established the work of his hands.”
In
Wendell Berry's The Memory of Old Jack, we are introduced to many
characters within the the fictional town of Port William. The tension
that is the focus of the book is between a materialistic life and a
life of holy simplicity. Jack is a simple farmer who wants for
nothing he doesn't have. He marries a woman, Ruth, who desires social
ambition. As you can imagine, the two clash. Ruth tries to convince
Jack that his main goal in life should be to acquires more land in
order to gain more respect amongst his fellow human beings and enough
money to be able to move into town. The problem is that Jack loves
his work, his little farm, his old run down house, and has no desire
to move into town. But, like any man in love with a woman, he slowly
begins to purchase more property.
With the accumulation of more land came more work than
Old Jack could handle. He was forced to hire on a farm hand to help
with the labor. As a result “[...] he had destroyed his old
independence” (p.58) As the work increased, the joy of the labor
decreased. He found himself succumb by a new desire, a desire that
was, before Ruth, unknown to him. He began to want more than what he
had.
As the story goes on we learn that Old Jack starts to
have money problems, and ends up losing all that he had acquired
after marrying Ruth. He, in the end,is back at his starting point
with the small farm and old house. However, with his loss comes a
knew found knowledge and appreciation. Jack discovers his place in
the world, discovers that his joy comes from his labor and the people
that are around him. His joy does not come from what the world deems
as successful or what the world thinks of him, or whether or not he
has ambitions. His joy comes from “[being] faithful to what he
belonged to” p.140. He belonged to the land, to the people within
his community
.
Being from a small farming town, I went away to college
seeking to, as the characters in the book say, “better myself.” I
fought through years of over work, and mental and physical
exhaustion, in order to receive a bachelors degree from a good
liberal arts school. I was going to make something of myself. I was
going to go places. But that all began to change as I sat for days
upon days in a single occupancy hospital room wondering whether or
not I would be planning a funeral for the child whom I had yet to
meet.
The Memory of Old Jack, along with other books that I
was able to read on my little hospital sabbatical, touched something
in me that got my mind and soul working together. I slowly began to
see that there was more to life than social ambition.
Through the years I have found myself freed from the
worldly bondage of success. Like Old Jack, I am content with where I
am. I desire for nothing that I do not have. Like Old Jack, I look
around at this old house that I share with my little family, and see
things that need to be fixed or tended to, but I know, like Old Jack,
I will find great satisfaction in tending to them.
As Christians I believe that we are called to holy
simplicity. We are made aware that this earth is not forever and the
things that we have can not be taken with us. Like Wendell Berry
shows through his character of Old Jack, we Christians should be good
stewards of what we have been given. We should be faithful to the
community in which we have been placed. And most of all, we should
not desire what is not ours and be content with what we have. The
Memory of Old Jack allows the reader to step back from the world for
a bit in order to see the silliness that is the American Dream.
Through the character of Old Jack, Wendell Berry shines a light on
the darkness that has consumed our culture. In doing so, we, the
readers, are given the great gift of reexamination.
