A question is asked among bibliomaniacs that seems to be some rite of passage—bookstores constantly ring with these particular words. Your answer can instantly describe a good deal of your character and will get you instantly categorized. That question is, of course, “Who is your favorite author?”
I’ve never felt adequate just giving a one-name answer—it would be like choosing your favorite family member, or which child you love the most. So when I’m asked this question, two names always spring to my tongue before all others, one of which is C.S. Lewis, a brilliant writer in his own regard.
The other is Frederick Buechner.
Like Lewis, Buechner is an absolute master of both literature and theology, a man whose imagination is as expansive as his intellect. He is an incredible painter, though in lieu of portraits he paints stories. But the reason I love him most is this: when I look at things through Buechner’s eyes, I usually see them as they really are.
Buechner’s aim in his book “Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairy Tale” (HarperOne, hardcover, 112 pages, $17.99) is to explain how to see the Gospel in the right light. In the book, he communicates that instead of being sterile, lukewarm accounts of irrelevance, the accounts of Jesus’ life—when seen through clear eyes—are actually reflections of everyday reality. The beautiful way he describes this vision is having, “…more than eyes to see with.”
If you don’t see deep pain, frustration, boredom, friendship, adventure, and wonder in either the Gospel or your own daily life, you are probably looking at one—or both of them—with the limited vision.
He sees the story of Jesus as saturated with the tragedy of human failure, the comedy of being loved overwhelmingly by God despite that failure, and the fairy tale of transformation through that love. Specifically, he pushes teachers of the gospels to teach them in light of these categories.
Buechner begins, as most good tales do, with tragedy—also known by its close cousin, conflict. He writes that, “The Gospel is bad news before it is good news.” Jesus says at one point, “Come unto me all who labor and are heavy laden…”
Now, there is, of course, more to that saying. But before it can be read, Buechner suggests that we need to dwell within those first words of tragedy. They succinctly explain life as it truly is. We are all stressed under the burden of our own lives. We are all frustrated and crushed under our mistakes and boredoms. Buechner sees the tragedy in these words of Jesus. “All you,” Jesus says. This is a tragedy that affects us all.
But out of this tragedy, comedy quietly arises. In Genesis an angel approaches Abraham and Sarah’s tent to bring news of their impending pregnancy, in lieu of the fact that each is pushing 100 years of age. Buechner sees the sheer comedy of the announcement. He vividly writes how slowly out of silence, a soft giggle began to build in each of the elderly couple. First a light chuckle, which soon developed into an uncontrollable smile, and finally climaxed into a deep, bellowing laugh from the depths of their beings.
They laughed because the pronouncement was ridiculous. Though God said it was going to happen, it sounded so overwhelmingly foolish, so illogical, that they couldn’t do anything but laugh. That is comedy; God is ridiculously loving despite our many failures.
This isn’t the comedy we see in today’s TV sitcoms. Instead of low-brow, simple one-liners, this type of comedy comes from the amusing, absurd, and overwhelming love that God has given throughout history.
It is here that the previous verse is finished, for when Jesus calls to all who labor and are heavy laden, he offers them rest. All of them.
Buechner sees this absurd love in David stripping down and dancing like a madman in front of the ark of the Lord because, “more than most he got the wonderful joke of it.” He describes the scene in the tent by saying, “…they are laughing at the idea of a baby being born in the geriatric ward and Medicare picking up the tab.”
Buechner sees the comedy of Jesus’ parables when he says things like, “…it is harder for a rich person to enter Paradise than for a Mercedes to get through a revolving door, harder for a rich person to enter Paradise than for Nelson Rockefeller to get through the night deposit slot of the First National City Bank.” Yet somehow we feel as if God can do it anyways, and it is this ludicrousness that forms the comedy.
But, he explains, you must have the right eyes to see this comedy of God; essentially, you must be humble and lighthearted enough to “get the joke”. Buechner sees in the well-known parable of the prodigal son the comedy of the father’s love for his returning son, but he also notes the comedic blindness of the older brother. The older brother can’t see the wonderful absurdity of his father’s love because he is, “…trapped by [his] own seriousness.”
Finally, Buechner moves into the realm of fairy tale. He sees in all great stories the reoccurring storyline of character transformation, specifically characters transforming into what they truly are. He claims that the comedy arising out of tragedy is ultimate what transforms us. Buechner pictures Jesus transforming us into the truest form of ourselves, much like the Beast is transformed back into a human being in “Beauty and the Beast”.
Also, he points out the joy amidst the darkness of life that is present in most fairy tales and lurks even in our own. In the middle of a monotonous life, glimpses of beauty arise—the smell of rain, the dazzle of the sun. Like Buechner, I see these glimpses of joy as echoes—memories—of the original fairy tale we were designed to live in, what the Bible calls Eden.
Overall, this short book—less than 100 pages—is a fairly quick read, but one that has left me chomping at the bit to go deeper. It has had a transformative effect on me. It’s almost as if I once saw the world in black and white, but then was healed and able to see in color; I now want to look back at everything I’ve seen in my life, but with these new eyes.
Since finishing this book I’ve gone back and read some of the familiar stories of Jesus. I now see them quite differently. I see them not as barren, mundane moral statements but instead as living, dramatic scenes that share the same themes of my own daily life. Each scene in the Gospel is a reflection of a scene in my own life as well as the scenes of all the great stories and tales. It’s pretty rare for me to want to reread a book as soon as I finish it, but after closing the cover of Buechner’s book I feel there is much more I missed that is waiting to be discovered.
Besides being a favorite writer, I now claim Frederick Buechner as one of my favorite tour guides. He has led me through the Gospel, pointing out tragedy, comedy, and fairy tale wherever they lie. He is one writer—one painter—who is always enjoyable to read, and the next time I’m asked the ‘favorite-author’ question, his name will surely come from my lips.