In a conversation about writing papers, I was once reminiscing on a particular paper I wrote in college that was especially easy to write. I said, “That paper just came right out of me.” And the person I was talking to (feeling a little silly) said, “Like a fart? … [laughter] … Well, you said it came right out of you.” She explained her writing process: “For me, writing papers is like giving birth. Papers come out of me like babies.” I’m a little uncomfortable stealing that metaphor as a man, but for me, I feel like papers are more often babies than farts.
That paper in college was an exception. It was a twenty-pager on Thomas Merton for a Christian Spirituality course. I had just spent the past year reading Merton and journaling my reflections about his work. I had even spent a weekend at his monastery in Kentucky, taking solace from the monastic life where “silence is spoken here,” as well as interviewing people who knew Merton. The paper had become a part of me. Long before I registered for the class, I knew that I would choose Merton for that assignment.
Nowadays, while I love to do research, papers are tedious to craft and give birth to, so to speak. And yet, when I’m done, especially for a lengthy paper, I feel like that paper is my baby . . . unless I wasn’t able to articulate exactly what I wanted.
Reflecting on my Merton paper experience, I wonder if someday I will get to a point where some area of NT studies will just flow out of me, like it is a part of me. I kind of imagine that is what it’s like for the big names in scholarship who’ve been in it for so long. They have lived it. I’m just a beginner, learning how things work, trying to figure out the theories. I feel like it will take awhile to get to a point where I don’t have to think about the theories and how to articulate them. It’s encouraging to think that maybe someday it’ll get easier. Maybe keeping at this blog will help the material become more a part of me. I guess we’ll see.
