REVIEW: A Way Other Than Our Own, by Walter Brueggemann
4 Stars
I have more books — around 20 — by Walter Brueggemann than by any other author.
In undergrad, I read The Prophetic Imagination, and it changed the way I thought about God and God’s ways in the world. Over the past 20+ years, I’ve re-read it multiple times.
Each time Brueggemann has come to town, I’ve gone to hear him speak. Also, whenever I find one of his book at the local used bookstore, I pick it up.
In recent years, he’s started writing devotional books. He wrote a book of devotions using the daily lectionary readings that is fantastic. And then he wrote a couple of smaller volumes for holy seasons of the church, one for Advent and one for Lent.
Back in January, I wrote about Brueggemann’s Advent devotional book, Celebrating Abundance, which I had just read again. And I just re-read his Lenten devotional book, A Way Other Than Our Own, during the forty-day season that ended last week with Holy Week and Easter.
Each day begins with a short passage from scripture, followed by a reflection on the passage that’s about a page and a half. Then, each day closes with a short prayer.
The book opens with Ash Wednesday, which uses Isaiah 55 as its text. “The face of God shown here,” writes Brueggemann, “is of a Lord near at hand, ready to forgive, a God of grace. But this is a God to whom a turn must be made, a God of demand, a God of demand ready to be a God of grace.” He continues: “But this is not about generic repentance for generic sin.” Brueggemann names the specific sin of Israel, according to the prophet Isaiah, as the forfeiting of its fundamental identity in the desire to be like Babylon. And that remains the sin of the church in American, which has “giv[en] up on the faith and discipline of our Christian baptism and settl[ed] for a common, generic U.S. identity that is part patriotism, part consumerism, part violence, and part affluence.” But Lent is about reclaiming our baptism. And “God’s face of pardon and mercy is turned exactly to the ones who reengage an identity of faith.”
On the Second Friday of Lent, reflecting on Luke 6, Brueggemann talks about “the ‘laugh now’ party,” which he defines as “those who celebrate the way things are, who benefit from the way things are.” And Jesus says to them, “You will have your laughter silenced. …because the Empire of Rome, like every empire, will pass away soon.” Then, Brueggemann asks: “What if the church is the place in town that refuses to participate in the ‘laugh now’ movement of buoyancy, prosperity, and sureness? What if the church becomes the venue for processing loss and acknowledging grief for a world that is gone?” And then the kicker: “It is precisely such processing of grief that permits hope.”
The Third Sunday of Lent reflects on Isaiah 42, and Brueggemann asks: “Can you imagine writing this poem and singing this song in exile? Can you imagine defying the empire by sketching out this daring alternative? Can you dare to sing this song, under the very nose of Babylonian soldiers, about a new reality that counters the empire?” And he calls us today to reject the status quo, to imagine a new reality, and to sing a new song in the midst of the exile that is America.
Brueggemann turns to Mark 6, to miracle of the loaves and the fish, to “Scarcity and Plenty,” on the Fourth Saturday of Lent. And he writes thusly: “The story we tell about scarcity is a fantasy. It is not a true story. It is a story invented by those who have too much to justify getting more. It is a story accepted by those who have nothing in order to explain why they have nothing.” However, “[t]hat story is not true, because the world belongs to God and God is the creator of abundant life.” And he then invites us into that story, into that life.
But on the Sixth Thursday of Lent, Brueggemann turns to the story of Daniel, “about Jews trying to maintain their acute faith identity in a complicated social environment where they had to deal with real worldly power.” King Nebuchadnezzar “wined and dined” his recruits “on the best food and drink the empire can pay for.” But Daniel “resisted the rich food of the empire that would erode his Jewish identity,” insisting on drinking water only and eating a vegetarian diet. It’s a good story for Lent.
Holy Saturday is the most powerful reflection in the book. “Nobody knew how long Saturday would last,” observes Brueggemann. “Nobody knew if Saturday would ever end.” It is the day after Jesus is killed — and the day before he is raised. But here’s the kicker: “So it is now as well.” And yet Saturday is not a time for despair “because it is clear that the old narratives of money and power and violence and control have failed.” And so “[t]here is among us a wonderment about another way in the world.” Brueggemann closes: “We are not sure, but we are haunted by the thought of it.”
I could continue, but I think these examples suffice to show how Brueggemann uses rhetorical analysis to read scripture. He reads the text as an exercise in expanding the imagination, pushing us to see beyond the world that is to the world that could be.
I give the book 4 Stars mainly because it was not written as a Lenten book but was, rather, compiled from previous writings. As a result, it doesn’t quite flow the way it otherwise might. But Brueggemann’s voice is strong enough to connect the pieces regardless.
You should definitely get a copy of A Way Other Than Our Own to read next year during Lent. It would make a good gift as well.
If you are like me, someone who did not grow up observing Lent, it’s a good entry into that world. Brueggemann doesn’t talk about giving up chocolate or anything like that. Instead, the message throughout the book is about reclaiming your baptism.