All Is Grace -- Review
ALL IS GRACE: A Ragamuffin Memoir. By Brennan Manning with John Blasé. Colorado Springs: David C. Cook, 2011. 232 pages.
[Advanced Readers Copy]
To
write a memoir is to tell your life story.
We all have stories to tell, but most of us either don’t have the
facility to write out our life-stories or we’d rather keep some things private. The most compelling memoirs generally take us
deeper into the psyche of the individual than most of us are willing to reveal
to the public. Some life stories seem to
be more compelling than others, though in recent years we’ve discovered that
some writers, knowing our desire to read the sensational have embellished their
stories.
As
a reader, I enjoy reading memoirs because they help me understand the psyche of
people I either admire or am simply intrigued with. Thus, even though I’m not a big Hauerwas fan,
I was drawn into the complexity of his life story, which made what I knew of
his theology more understandable.
All is Grace is Brennan Manning’s life
story. I’ve heard of Manning for some
years, but only recently did I get introduced to his writings – through his
most recent works, which I was asked to review.
Now, I know much more about him, about this Catholic priest who left the
priesthood and developed a following among evangelicals. I’d heard of his “Ragamuffin Gospel,” but I
didn’t really know what that meant. A “ragamuffin” is something of a sinner who
has experienced divine grace, and such is the story of his life – a story of
radical grace. But, at the end of the
story (he’s still alive so the story has yet to fully end) there are questions
to be considered about the nature of this grace.
In the
course of a rather brief and gently flowing book, we are introduced to this man
who was born in to a lower class, Brooklynite, Irish Catholic family. Born Richard Manning, he was the second of
three children, his family life was less than ideal. His mother was hard working, but also cold
and demanding. His father was an
alcoholic who struggled to keep a job. The
sense he got of himself from his parents, especially his mother, was that he
was a nuisance, a disappointment. There
is little discussion of his younger sister, but there is a grudging respect and
love for his older brother, Rob, whom he describes as being “tough.” The one saving grace was his grandmother, who
was often able to defuse potentially violent situations.
His
was a difficult life, but it also helped form the person who he became, a
person that was always striving for love and acceptance. His mother believed he was but a dreamer and
thus wouldn’t amount to much, but he did have gifts and talents – one of which
was the gift of writing, something discovered and encouraged by his teachers at
the Catholic school he attended.
Gifted as he was as a
writer and a communicator, part of his pathway in life was established. But there was another trajectory that was
embedded within him early on, and that was the desire and need to be loved and
appreciated. There is a phrase that
pops up throughout the book, which first appears as he describes his first real
friendship. His hope and dream was that
someone, early on another boy who would be a friend, would come up to him and
say “I like you, can we play together?”
(p. 57). This sentence is really
central, for it expresses his deep-seated insecurity (something many of us also
know so well in our own lives). It can
be the seed of doing important things, but it can also lead to danger. That prayer was eventually answered in the
person of Joey Keegan, his first friend.
Unfortunately, that friendship ended early as his young friend died
suddenly, leaving him grief-stricken and alone in the world.
His life journey takes
him through Catholic high school to St. John’s University in Queens, where he
planned to major in journalism. But
college life soon gave way to a stay in the Marines at the tail end of the Korean
War. He would eventually find himself in
Japan, where among other things he served as a correspondent for the military newspaper. After an early discharge from the Marines he
chose to attend the University of Missouri, with the aim of studying
journalism, but again this course of education was cut short. This time it was an apparent call to the
priesthood. He chose the Franciscans and
entered seminary, and finally, with some difficulty is ordained, all in search
of some simplicity and meaning in his life. It is at this point that Richard Manning
becomes Brennan Manning.
But the wandering
nature of Manning’s life continues – he takes a leave of absence from the
Franciscans to join the Little Brothers of Jesus, where he found structure and
simplicity in a life of service and prayer.
This time seems to have been especially valuable to him. There he says
he learned that “many of the burning, theological issues in the church were neither
burning nor theological.” There he
learned that Jesus was asking for “personal renewal, fidelity to the gospel,
and creative conduct” (p. 95). But again he grew restless, in part due to the
message he received as a child – “you’ll never amount to anything.” From the Little Brothers he went back to the
Franciscans and campus ministry. And,
alcoholism began to take hold of him. He
would be in and out of rehab, and a refusal to own up to this reality. But, he confesses that he was not only a
dreamer, but a survivor, and so on he went.
After spending time in
the Hazelden Rehabilitation Center he began a speaking career, in which he
would make his name. His topic was his
alcoholism and God’s unconditional grace, a topic that was welcomed by
many. It was during this period that he
met and began a relationship with Roslyn.
They, according to his recollection here, dated, in secret, for about
seven years before marrying, eventuating his need to leave the priesthood. It is here that I have some trouble. I too embrace God’s radical grace and I too
have had need of that grace, and I too on occasion have crossed boundaries – if
we’re honest, we’ve all done this – but there is in this relationship a rather
lengthy crossing of boundaries that needs to be addressed. The relationship began as a pastoral one and
then developed into a very personal one.
The marriage ends badly, in part
because of Manning’s alcoholism and because of his own personal demons. His employment as a priest ended, as did his
speaking engagements. But it wasn’t long
before a new set of engagements emerged, and he began speaking to groups such
as Young Life (an evangelical youth ministry).
It is during this post-divorce era that he began to develop new
friendships, including one with a group of men, mostly evangelicals, called the
“Notorious Sinners,” among whose number included Youth Specialties founder Mike Yaconelli. While the journey and
the battles with alcoholism, self-doubt, and narcissism continued, all in the
midst of a realization that grace held the key to something new. He also expanded his social connections into the Protestant, especially evangelical world. Now, having reached older adulthood,
suffering in some ways the effects of his battle with alcoholism, he is ready
to tell his own story – as they say “warts and all.”
Manning’s memoir is
instructive in many ways. It gives
context to his writings. We who have
heard the message “you’ll never amount to anything” can recognize parts of
ourselves in his story. It is a reminder
that grace is sufficient, but there are questions to be raised about integrity
as well. Ultimately the value in reading
memoirs like this one is to see if it shines a mirror back. What is it about this life that speaks to my
life? If you wish to go down that path
of self-reflection then this will be a most useful book. If you are in need of a message of divine
grace, then again this is a book for you.
Since Manning is a natural story-teller, the book flows nicely, the
prose is elegant, it is from that standpoint a pleasure to read. But, it will take you into the depths of
human experience, which isn’t always pleasant.
Of course, the message is “all is grace” and that has to be remembered.
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