feet of clay

Hello, my name is Isaac. I am a junior mechanical engineering student. Nice to meet you.

One thing that impressed me during my reading of the novel was the humanity of Paton’s characters. Those you might call the “heroes” of the story, people like Kumalo, Jarvis, and Msimangu; even they were partakers in the worst of human nature.

Kumalo, one dedicated to the service of God, is just as selfish and sinful as any one of us. This is the man who, for the sake of his own vanity, lies about having been to Johannesburg before. Here is a priest who cannot find it in himself to pray because he is overwhelmed by the tragedy of his experience. In one of the novel’s most poignant moments, it is Kumalo, in the very act of trying to speak truth to his brother, who ends up destroying the relationship through his deceitful words.

Yet it is this same man who accomplishes great good in the story. It is he who rescues three children from a life of impoverished hopelessness and brings them into his own home. It is he who the people of Ndotsheni love above all others and for whom they will accept no substitute. It is Kumalo in the end who returns to the God he has served for so long and lays everything before Him in prayer.

Clay feet. Even a statue of iron has feet of clay. Even the best of humanity has the greatest of flaws.

The real truth lies in Msimangu’s statement: “I am not kind. I am a selfish and sinful man, but God put His hands on me, that is all.” (p. 55) It touched a chord in me when Kumalo passed that same message along to Jarvis in their final meeting. At Jarvis’ earnest assertion that he is “no saintly man,” Kumalo replies, “of that I cannot speak, but God put His hands on you.” (p. 308) That is all that can be said of any of us, even the best.

In which other characters in the novel do we see flaws that tarnish yet in some way humanize their image?

Justice Belongs Only to the Just

Hi guys,

I'm Kristen and I'm a senior at JBU double majoring in Spanish and Political Science. I live off campus, but I should be around for orientation, so don't hesitate to ask about anything. Trust me, it can't possibly be as bad as my first week and I still go here, so no worries. Anyway...

Since we're supposed to post a picture, I though I'd show you guys a picture of what a typical neighborhood looks like in South Africa courtesy of my trip there freshmen year. This is the house of some missionary friends in a suburb of Capetown.

" The Judge does not make the Law. It is the People that make the Law. Therefore, if a Law is unjust, and if the Judge judges according to the Law, that is justice, even if it is not just. It is the duty of a Judge to do justice, but it is only the People that can be just." -p 191

Throughout the book, the idea of justice in relation to race is discussed. Each race has its own place in the social hierarchy - English speaking whites, Afrikaans speaking whites, colored people, then blacks who speak Sesotho, Zulu, Xhosa, etc. As the quote above states, it is the people who truly determine justice. How are we to determine who is truly just? To us, it seems abhorrent that races should be ranked in a hierarchy of privilege, but to South Africans, especially whites, it seemed as natural as breathing. The blacks were less educated and more prone to crime, hence their lower status. Yet, Arthur Jarvis, the white activist that Kumalo's son shot, argued that the blacks are only that way because the whites have denied them the opportunity to be anything else.

This raises many questions. Who is right - Jarvis or his father? Can we judge the white South Africans for their treatment of the black South Africans when they felt they were treating them justly and treated even other whites, such as the Afrikaners, badly? I haven't read far enough to see how Absalom's trial ends, but if it does turn out that he is more severely punished for killing a white man, even accidentally, than he would be if he killed a black man, does that make the judgment unjust or just the people? In short, why are we as Christians so certain that racial disparities in the justice system are wrong and what can we do to rectify these problems in our own justice system? Let me know what you think.

Mute Suffering, Deep Fear

Hi, my name is Esther and I will be a sophomore at JBU this school year. I am majoring in journalism. So if you have any questions about life at JBU, feel free to ask :D

Introductions aside….let’s get to the book!

I actually finished reading the book tonight…and I just got it Monday morning – so it’s a fairly easy, good read. I promise there won’t be any spoilers in this post though.

What struck me most at the beginning of the book was the concept (as my title implies) of the mute suffering and the deep fear of the natives. The mute suffering refers to Stephen Kumalo’s wife at the end of chapter 2: “She sat down at his table, and put her head on it, and was silent, with the patient suffering of black women, with the suffering of oxen, with the suffering of any that are mute.” I naturally didn’t like the concept of equating a “black” person with an ox, but I think it is very appropriate for the author to point out how the silencing of natives in South Africa caused them to be seen as not much more than cattle. Paton expands on this idea a little more when he later talks about the natives that came to Johannesburg to work in the mines and other menial jobs.

The bigger issue, for me, was the issue of fear. At the end of chapter 3, Stephen Kumalo’s feelings are described this way: “Deep down the fear for his son. Deep down the fear of a man who lives in a world not made for him, whose own world is slipping away, dying, being destroyed, beyond any recall.” Fear is a larger theme in the book than suffering, although the two are interwoven throughout. In Johannesburg, the white people fear the natives and crime. Out in the tribal areas, the natives fear the big city for the way it tends to steal their loved ones, never to be heard from again.

Both of these, the suffering and the fear, paint a picture of a country devastated by inner turmoil, torn apart by racial/ethnic discrimination.

This picture is what the cover of my version of the book looks like. I would guess that this is the sunrise at the very end of the book, although I do not know for sure. I know, I promised no spoilers – but it will suffice to say that in this scene, the fear and the suffering have come together – and yet in a small way, at the same time there is a glimmer of hope.

Question: What descriptions do you see in the book of people’s (sometimes contradictory) fear, especially of each other?

A New Book Selection

Greetings JBU Community:

For our 2010 freshman summer reading program, the JBU Reads committee selected Alan Paton's Cry, the Beloved Country. It is a beautifully touching story of brokenness and redemption in pre-Apartheid South Africa. We hope that you will enjoy reading the novel while watching World Cup Soccer (South Africa is the host nation).

Please read this blog throughout the summer. Every week, a new student will blog about his or her reading experience. We hope that you will engage the writer in dialogue by leaving lots of comments.

Dr. Jake Stratman

Assistant Professor of English

Coordinator of JBU Reads

The Mind and Faith

The one line from the book that really struck me was Rabbi Saunders lamenting about his son, "Why did he have to be so brilliant?" as if intelligence is somehow an enemy of faith. For me personally, relating to people (or for that matter, God) has been a challenge for me all my life. I know a lot about Christian theology and Christian history. I have some understanding of how Christianity compares to other world religions, in the sense of how "our Truth" compares to "their truth." I have tried desperately to understand what makes Christianity's "One God" and Truth and teachings different from any other mainstream world religion, to develop an open and understanding world view, and it has left me a desperate agnostic. I had a lot of understanding for Rabbi Saunders at the end, talking about why "heart" was such a desperately important thing to have developed, and why an intelligent mind can so easily choke that out.

Foster Alley

Everyone of you is chosen

I know that you will be talking a lot about the major themes of The Chosen in your first bit of time at JBU. So, instead of hashing those out, I want to encourage you to take advantage of this summer reading and really soak in what you’ve read this summer.

I am not a history major, nor am I an English major; so, on the surface The Chosen holds no true appeal to me. However, I chose to study Intercultural Studies and Cinema because I have an ‘obsession’ with humanity. I love to watch humans interact, I love to listen to their stories, and I love to watch them grow into the people they were meant to be. Those factors are what kept me reading this book. I loved watching both Reuven and Danny be brave. They both looked into different ideas and examined each of them. Each new idea, whether accepted or rejected, made them into new people. They grew because they knew and cared about other humans, family, Jews around the world, each other. They understood the connection with other humans that comes with simply living. Reuven and Danny are dealing with the essential questions of people our age: who am I? How do I fit in the environment around me? How does that fit in the world? They are asking these questions with each new lesson they learn.

That is what I love about college. JBU seems like a homogenous group, but in reality, there are countless lessons to be learned from interacting with every student you come across. I encourage you to learn from Danny and Reuven. Be brave, look at ideas outside of your norm. Really step back to see who you are, and put yourself in places to be molded into who God wants you to be. I am not at all the person I was during orientation freshman year. I guess you can say that my “earlocks” have been cut off, and I am walking “bent forward with eagerness and hungry for the future”. I cannot think of anything more exciting than being free to ask questions, find answers--find God. We don’t have to hide out in the library behind shelves like Danny to find out new ideas, we can do that in classrooms, in the dorms, in Walker Student Center.

With each book I read, I gain new insight about myself and the world around me. As you are beginning this journey, be inspired by Danny and Reuven. This is an exciting time, you were chosen by God to be at JBU for a reason, take advantage of it, learn all you can, and most importantly, live it to the fullest.

The Silence of The Chosen - Esther Carey

Silence is a major theme of The Chosen. It occurs in several instances, but most notably between Danny and his father: they only communicated during Talmud quizzes or angry explosions. Danny could never understand his father’s silence. If you have finished the book, you know it was in order to teach Danny compassion that Reb forced him to find the answers within his own soul.
How do these ideas fit with Christianity? Is such silence Biblical?
First of all, we cannot really find truth within ourselves. Only when we look to God can we find true answers to our questions. Looking into oneself alone reveals only confusion.
Secondly, the possible consequences are very serious. When a father refuses to have a relationship with his son, there is no reason why the son should respect him. The son could simply make his own choices, freely disregarding his silent father’s wishes. The soul of such a son would probably become a ruined wreck of anger and bitterness instead of a heart of compassion.
Thankfully, God does not treat us as Reb treated Danny. Rather than forbidding us from hearing His word and leaving us to our own devices, He gives us His truth as the ultimate point of reference and sent His Son to rescue us from ourselves and our own foolishness.
To Danny, Reb Saunders was an impersonal force, there to lay down rules, but not to love and encourage him. The God of Reb seems much the same: “The Master of the Universe,” but not a personal God with whom one may have a relationship. For the Christian, however, God is both. Although He is infinite, He is also a personal God. He has not remained silent, He has spoken to us. Furthermore, He offers us the opportunity to have a close, personal communion with Him through the reconciliation of His Son, Jesus Christ.