The kids in the big house
Welcome to Sun Tongue
Friends and family, I am writing to you, first of all. While I hope this newsletter goes far and wide and eventually brings in a little revenue, I consider this journal to be more of a series of private love letters than a public or commercial endeavor.
Secondly, I write for myself. There is a quote that’s often attributed to E. M. Forrester (who popularized it) but should actually be credited to an anonymous young girl who lived in the early twenties. The story is captured by Professor Graham Wallace in his 1926 book, The Art of Thought:
The little girl had the making of a poet in her who, being told to be sure of her meaning before she spoke, said, “How can I know what I think till I see what I say?” A modern professed thinker must, however, sooner or later in the process of thought, make the conscious effort of expression, with all its risks.
I like that phrase, “the conscious effort of expression, with all its risks.” By “risks,” I mean, least of all, risks like cancellation and political backlash as is the subject of so much conversation these days. More on point, “risks” gets me thinking along existential and relational lines: the risk of spending one’s life on a painstaking endeavor that may come to nothing, the risk of letting others into your head, the risk of being “wrong,” the risk of being “right” but ineffective, the risk of unrequited love.
But the main point of the story about the young girl with the clever question is the question itself and not the risk. The question is, “How can I know what I think till I see what I say?” I write for myself inasmuch as I crave clarity of thought, deep understanding, maybe someday wisdom, and I perceive writing as a path to these goals. And isn’t it seeing what you say surprising sometimes? Writing as path to discovery.
Finally, I write for myself in that I have this sense of guilt that won’t be expunged until I create a rule of life in which writing occupies a place of primacy and consistency it currently lacks. Currently, I am a writer like a man who comes home once a month is a husband. But I have considered myself–at a deep layer of identity and calling–a writer since I was 6 years old or so.
Jesus told a story about a man who went on a journey and left his three slaves with three sums of money: 1, 2, and 5 measures of silver, respectively. The unit of money is identified by the Greek term, talenton, which is a specific weight of metal like “ton” and from which we get our English word, “talent.” I don’t think that story is about our talents as we normally understand them so much as it’s about the degree of revelation of God’s Kingdom that we have been given. Importantly, even the slave who was given only one talenton was given as much silver as might take twenty years to earn. When the man came back from his journey he required an account of the slave’s stewardship of the silver they had been entrusted. The slaves received either great reward or great loss based on their stewardship and on the quality of their perception of the master and his character.
I share this parable of Jesus to say two things: First, while I don’t think it’s primarily about “talent,” I do view my talent of writing (whatever its measure) as one I should be more faithful and generative with if I’m to be a good slave of Jesus. And aren’t we all launching our substacks so the Master will be pleased with us when he returns from his journey? Second, I think the parable Jesus tells of the traveling master and his three slaves is about our stewardship of the revelation of the Kingdom such as we have it. And this revelation, such as I have it, is something I want to be more faithful in sharing. Which brings me to what I intend to write about and what you, dear reader, can expect to get out of your subscription.
I’ve spent most of my time here talking about what I hope to get out of this journal but what can you hope for? I can’t promise you a tight focus on a single topic or a consistent format. So I’ll begin answering the question by giving a short list of some themes, topics, and content types I plan to share and discuss over time:
Philosophy, theology, culture, religion and spirituality, the arts
Long and short form essays, poetry, interesting shares from the internet, discursive wanderings, ephemeral musings, book and movie reviews, etc.
Songs. I’ve been much more faithful with my songwriting than any other form of writing over the years. I plan on sharing some home-baked recordings and lyrics from time to time.
Podcast. This is speculative but I foresee a podcast in the Sun Tongue future. Mostly I would love to have some justification for reaching out to schedule a conversation with people who have influenced me or who’s work interests me
But none of this really helps you if you’re looking for the elevator pitch. What is Sun Tongue about? I think the easiest way to sum it up is with a little one-sentence story Jesus tells elsewhere in Matthew’s gospel:
And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been made a disciple to the Kingdom of the heavens is like a master of a house, who brings forth things new and old from his treasury.” - 13:52
This is what I hope we can do together. I hope this whether you are allegiant to Jesus or not. Whatever you believe, I hope we can do this together. I have a picture of us as children exploring a great house full of many rooms which in turn are full of dusty unopened boxes, overstuffed bookshelves, secret passageways, mysterious sounds.
The above may just be a long-winded way of avoiding a simple question but here we go.