c. 2006 Religion News Service
(UNDATED) Another Sept. 11 got me thinking about author Willa Cather, who wrote a century ago.
On Cather’s prairie, European immigrants subdued the harsh Nebraska land, lived in meager houses, had little time for romance, revealed their character by facing or fleeing hardship and raised sturdy children.
Town life seemed both alluring and yet soft and indulgent, as Cather painted it, and those who profited from others’ toil, like the grain buyer, seemed not quite trustworthy.
When Jim Burden, Cather’s narrator in “My Antonia,” escapes farm life, moves to town, then to college and New York City _ mirroring the author’s own journey _ he becomes dreamy and irrelevant, smart enough to navigate urban life, and yet uninteresting and shallow. He senses this about himself when he visits his childhood friend Antonia, a Bohemian (Czech) who stayed on the land and, to his surprise, now seems significant and substantial.
Even though Cather describes Antonia as heavy of body and middling of mind, the author seems to see America as being built by these immigrant pioneers, not by the soft and indulgent. Without idealizing anyone, Cather sets a contrast between sturdiness and softness.
Cather saw that the land doesn’t make every farmer strong and noble; some turn cruel and lazy. Nor are town folk inherently weak; some forge community and equitable commerce. The one-time teacher in Cather isn’t opposed to ideas or intellect.
But her contrast _ effort vs. laziness, endurance vs. escape, loyalty vs. appetite, honesty vs. deceit, acceptance vs. prejudice, quiet faith vs. showy religion, _ yields a stark insight into modern times.
Today, “toughness” is a pose: moral perfectionists condemn other people, politicians unleash profanity, impatient drivers glare, vigilantes chase down desperate Mexicans, lawyers bash victims. Jihad advocates of all stripes turn religion into a cause macabre and have no investment in building a sustainable and just world.
Real sturdiness means something else.
My enduring memory of 9/11 was of emergency workers rushing toward danger, medical workers volunteering at Ground Zero, and Christians and Jews deliberately worshipping with their Muslim neighbors and helping to protect mosques. That’s sturdiness. Politicians posing as tough guys simply made matters worse.
I think of military personnel, who, despite grave misgivings about the stated reasons for their sacrifice, believe in serving when called. I think of their families, left to worry and wait, while stranded in poverty. That’s sturdiness.
I think of today’s immigrants, many of them Muslims, who endure great hardship to get here, enter resolutely into American life, and endure the same “America for Americans!” nativism that greeted Willa Cather’s immigrants.
I think of faith communities that do the hard work of healing the sick, clothing the naked and feeding the hungry, while others celebrate the prosperous and egg on the fearful.
I think of parents who raise children to work hard and to accept responsibility, and partners who remain steadfast. I think of teachers who strive to convey knowledge and to light sparks. I think of the many workers who give full measure, even as inherited wealth smugly enjoys itself.
Sturdiness hasn’t vanished along with sod houses. But it does require intentionality and discernment. Cather-like sturdiness knows hardship as a fact of life, not a failure to win. It understands sacrifice and self-denial as essential to community. It values loyalty, tolerance, and patience.
When the next terrorist attacks occur, our nation will need sturdiness among its citizens, not tough-guy poseurs.
KRE/JL END EHRICH
(Tom Ehrich is a writer, consultant and leader of workshops. His book, “Just Wondering, Jesus: 100 Questions People Want to Ask,” was published by Morehouse Publishing. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C. His Web site is http://www.onajourney.org)
To find a photo of this columnist, go to the RNS Web site at https://religionnews.com. On the lower right, click on “photos,” then search by last name.
