Life Is A Miracle
I recently read an essay entitled Life
is a Miracle by Wendell Berry, Kentucky farmer, novelist,
poet and champion of responsible living. He confesses that he
writes essays to see what he can find in himself to answer "the
terrifying fact of the human destructiveness of good things."
What he finds in himself, his experiences and beliefs, are the
fruits of his cultural inheritance: agrarianism, democracy, and
Christianity. Berry is a person who would feel at home in
Coshocton County.
In Life is a Miracle, Berry uses his
Christian belief to encourage an attitude of respect for all
life. He believes "that every thing that exists is a divine
gift, which places us in a position of extreme danger, solvable
only by love for everything that exists, including our
enemies." His point is that since life is a divine gift, one
should be grateful for it and care for it. Berry calls this
divine gift a miracle, proposing that since it is a miracle we
don't own it, can't understand it and aren't superior to it.
What, instead, should our relation to life be? Deference,
humility, care and good art.
Good art? "Art" here is understood in its
broadest sense--a way of making--not only works of fine art but
also works of food, shelter and clothing. Good art requires not
only skillful artistry but also an understanding of the culture,
economy, religion, politics, etc. It is understanding place and
time. Bad art implies reckless work and slipshod thinking.
It's bulldozing a natural spring to build a house with a
basement, putting up a neon sign in a quaint village, making a
shovel out of tin, raising export crops like coffee or cocoa
where people don't have enough to eat.
Good art is the fruit of people considering
their local environment—the life around them--before doing their
art in a competent manner. This good art is all around us.
Think of a field of corn in late summer, the Coshocton
Courthouse, Roscoe Village's gardens, Fender's fish hatchery.
We find joy in seeing these things, just like we do when we view
a Matt Clark painting or the newly erected statue at the
library. Unlike these objects of fine art, artful works from
responsible living require more thought on our part just to
perceive them. I always told my children it was a sin of
ingratitude to cross over the Tuscarawas River without looking
at its changing beauty. I wanted to train their eyes to see and
then appreciate the natural beauty around them. I’ve tried to
do the same as we pass artful works of living: green tractors
working the fields, houses with inviting front porches, a red
fire truck, and those wonderful brick buildings on Main Street
like the one that houses Linnet’s Flowers on the Square.
Museums like ours display these
artful works of living. Consider an Apache water basket, a
Paleo Indian fluted point, a 19th c. quilt or a
Samurai sword. Hopefully we are filling our homes with their
contemporary counterparts, objects thoughtfully and skillfully
made. If life is a gift, then certainly it is our
responsibility to receive it with gratitude and treat it with
respect and care. Today and everyday, enjoy and do good art.
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