Lila by Marilynne Robinson
I’ve been thinking lately about why I like to write about books. This week, re-reading an old favorite gave me one of my answers.
Lila is the prequel to Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead, which centers on Reverend John Ames, an elderly man who is newly married to a much younger woman and has newly fathered a son. It’s written as a narrative for his son; as the Reverend is old, he knows he will miss much of his son’s life, and so he writes down what turns into his own exploration of forgiveness, faith, family, and life. It’s a quiet but lovely book, and in the background is the shadow of mystery--who is this wife, and how did they come to be together?
Lila is the answer to those questions.
Lila’s life has been great hardship and intense loneliness and a longing for the deep beauty of which she has had glimpses. In the town of Gilead and in Reverend Ames, she learns slowly what it is to love, to trust, and to rest in comfort, both in her husband and in his God.
The love story in this book is tender, sweet, and beautiful, and is a gorgeous metaphor for how Christ loves the church. I’ve read the whole thing a couple of times and then run back through my favorite parts several more to enjoy the writing and to watch Lila’s gradual transformation as she learns to trust and to return love in the gentle arms of the Reverend Ames.
I picked up Lila again yesterday when I was having a really bad couple of days. I felt sadness like a weighted blanket on my spirits, and I felt sluggish when I moved. It took two cups of coffee for me to feel a spark of life, and then it was only a feeble one.
I wasn’t reading another novel at the moment, so I pulled Lila off the shelf after work and skimmed over the beginning, through Doll’s taking Lila when she was a child and Lila sitting on the porch waiting for the Reverend to get home from church, telling him abruptly that she thought there would be a baby.
My sadness and worry melted as I watched what constant, consistent, unconditional love brought in Lila, and I wondered again at how Christ loves us, at how I push that love away and refuse to feel it. Lila’s questions about faith are not all answered any more than mine are, but she slowly learns to trust that love, even when it doesn’t make sense.
My sadness and worry are often rooted in fear, and although I believe God, my fear can block his grace. This book felt like a swim in the total pool of that grace. Immersed in the book, I read long into the night, and when I got up this morning, I was still surrounded by the story and felt myself to be in the gentle arms of God.
The whole day was different.
Novels that tell the truth change the world, one reader at a time.
