In the Shelter: Finding a home in the world by Padraig O'Tuama - A Review

Padraig O'Tuama

I already had deep respect for Padriag O’Tuama because of his poetry and involvement with the On Being podcast.

So, on one level, reading In the Shelter: Finding a home in the World, his spiritual autobiography, was like continuing a conversation with a friend.

O’Tuama is inviting, witty, and extraordinarily intelligent (in all of its myriad forms), but most of all he makes himself accessible. Which, considering that theology is one of his life’s passions, is very helpful.

He offers a few of his poems throughout the book, and this one, towards the beginning, seems to set the tone:

And I said to him:
Are there answers to all of this?

And he said:
The answer is in a story
and the story is being told.

And I said:
But there is so much pain
And she answered, plainly:
Pain will happen.

Then I said:
Will I ever find meaning?
And they said:
You will find meaning

Where you give meaning.

The answer is in a story
and the story isn’t finished.

O’Tuama describes his prayer life, which at one point, was in serious need of a jumpstart. He remembered reading a story in National Geographic about a photojournalist who returned to Papua New Guinea where she had lived as a child. “She recalled the language of her youth, a language she had learned from her friends. There was no word for ‘hello’ in this local language… Instead, upon seeing someone, one simply said ‘You are here.’ The answer, as I recall it, was equally straightforward: ‘Yes, I am.’

Whether by fact or fiction, it remains that for decades I have thought of the words ‘You are here’ and “Yes I am’ as good places to begin something that might be called prayer.”

O’Tuama is a lover of words, and so it’s fitting that In the Shelter contains some wonderful discussion about their meaning. For instance: “The word repentance has become known as strong language. It has been used as a bludgeon or a burden on so many for so long that its original richness may be in danger of being lost – if it hasn’t already. The Greek word translated into English as repentance is metanoia. The prefix meta means ‘beyond,’… The word noia means ‘thought’ or ‘mind.’

“Technically, then, this should mean that the Christian faith is a faith that is adapted to change, a faith that is not undone by realizing that its precepts or propositions are incorrect. It should mean that the joy of repentance is evidenced – over and over and over and over – by those who practice the Christian faith.”

Which causes me to wonder, why do Christians associate repentance with a negative connotation?

O’Tuama continues, writing about another word commonly used by Christians. “A Greek word for ‘sin’ is hamartia, which means ‘to miss the mark.’ So when we discover that we are missing the mark, we re-orient our direction.”

Which causes me to wonder, why do Christians associate sin primarily with evil, instead of an opportunity to change?

Taking the idea of repentance and sin together, O’Tuama makes the point that “Repentance acts as an antidote to childishness. It asks for action and is not satisfied with sorrow. You can be sorry all you like, but change is the fruit of responsibility.”

Those who are familiar with O’Tuama know that he is gay. And he has a grand time writing about a few instances where well-meaning clergy, and others, try to reach out in ways that are probably self-serving.

“I needed to tell him [a priest] that his presence was less welcome at the table of the excluded than he’d hope, because some people feared his firing power, and others feared his preaching tongue, and others feared his descriptions of our intrinsic moral disorders from the pulpit… What we need to see, I told him, was less his kind words round the privacy of a table, and more his public words in the halls of the powerful.”

And O’Tuama writes about the power of naming, of tagging a group or a group member with your own definition. “By giving another group a new name we land on a power over them, especially, especially, especially, if we can get the group to replace their name for them with our name for them.”

He explains that the Liechty and Clegg scale of sectarianism has “three elements that deal with the power of naming. The first of these three indicates that ‘you are a less adequate version of what we are.’ The next says ‘You are not what you say you are’ and the final in this sequence declares: ‘We are in fact what you say you are.’”

O’Tuama goes on to say that “The Gospel stories are the antidote to what Liechty and Clegg note. When we say ‘You are a less adequate version of what we are’ we are often willfully ignorant of our own perpetrations even while those who are the victims of our words are demonstrating courage, virtue and graciousness.”

And he sums up this portion of In the Shelter like this: “Then, as now, the easiest way to silence those who wish to tell other stories is to shut them up, and not only to shut them up, but to disgrace their name before you shut them up. A spirituality that cannot bear witness to itself in the face of power is not a spirituality that I am interested in.”

Towards the end of In the Shelter O’Tuama offers insight as to the power of storytelling.

“What is clear from our human storytelling is that over and over the most powerful stories emerge from those who have survived the most powerful abdication of responsibility.”

And he is quick to add: “Just because this is true doesn’t mean we should depend upon it. Hello to the need to learn.”

Finally, there is O’Tuama’s understanding of Jesus’ response to the woman who anointed his feet with expensive perfume and dried his feet with her hair, during a dinner at Simon’s home.

O’Tuama notes that Simon and most of the others around the table don’t see her.

But, “Jesus speaks about her, and honors her… He proclaims forgiveness to her – but as a response to, not as a precursor for, her love. It seems that the story of the economy of love and forgiveness told by Jesus has, too, been moved by being turned towards her. She is not worthy of mere inclusion. She is the site of learning and change. Do you see this woman? If not, then what do you see between you and whoever it is you don’t see?”

Using this example, O’Tuama identifies an important pattern of how Jesus related to others.

“It seems that Jesus responded most generously to people who were aware of their own need. To those who came knowing what they wanted and not playing games, Jesus’ answers were at least straight-forward, if not satisfactory. To those who came with agendas and traps, the engagement seems to be oriented towards the jugular of power…”

“Jesus of Nazareth was not a powerless man. I don’t believe that for a second. I don’t even believe he played games of powerlessness, because those games are a luxury afforded to those whose agency is often unquestioned… I believe Jesus knew exactly what he was doing, and he just used a different kind of power.”

The beauty of In the Shelter: Finding a home in the world is that O’Tuama offers his own life experience as he folds it into the context of the life of Jesus. And he does this with wit, wisdom and grace.