Grace and the grotesque :: Flannery O'Connor's birthday today

Flannery O'Connor
1925 - 1964
It's her birthday today.
She died when she was 39.

Recently I was asked to describe "grace." It was in a group setting, an important moment to sound good. I should have known they'd ask that question.

The answer I gave was really dumb. Beyond stupid. So bad I can't bear to paraphrase it here. That's probably why they never called me back.

Last night I finally read Flannery O'Connor's short story "The Artificial Nigger" as suggested by an MFA buddy who specializes in Flannery O'Connor. (I pulled the book out without realizing that today is O'Connor's birthday.) I wished I'd read that story before being called upon to describe grace because I would've had material to draw from. I would've remembered to understand grace is to see the grotesquery. (Not sure if that's really a word, but its one I like, and one I borrow from my MFA buddy.) And what makes grace so amazing is that the grotesque is so ugly.

Grotesque literature in the style of Flannery O'Connor is not overtly ugly. It's not literally ugly. It's not like those scary bat-like gargoyles that guard grand old cathedrals in Paris (which is what I first thought). Grotesque literature points to the hideous parts of our human nature that often come disguised as something caring, good, and nurturing:

A grandfather who denies his grandson.
A protector who degrades the kitchen help.
A religion that promotes bigotry.
A neighborhood watch who kills a kid in cold blood.
A mother who tells her child she's going to hell because she's gay.
A Bible study group who discusses benefits of the death penalty.
A living human being who can't describe grace.

So I botched up my response to "describe grace" really badly. And yet, why should I figure out how to describe it when Flannery O'Connor already did so supremely? If I'd only known.

Thanks much for coming over to the Charmer Blog. Wishing you all a lovely spring day.

With love, T