Flannery O’Connor Caught Glimpses of God’s Grace in Nature
Flannery O’Connor, who died 60 years ago Aug. 3, has a sparkling reputation for creating intriguing fictional characters who struggled with the effects of original sin. From her pen proceeded the unforgettably smug Ruby Turpin, who has her comeuppance in a doctor’s waiting room, when a girl hurls a book at her and calls her a warthog from hell. Then there was the escaped convict who discussed the meaning of Christ’s appearance in the world with a terrified grandmother before shooting her on the roadside.
Many people simply couldn’t comprehend why O’Connor’s characters were so grotesque and her plots so laced with violence. She defended herself by pointing out she was writing for an audience that no longer believed in much of anything, so “to the hard of hearing you shout and for the almost blind you draw large and startling figures.”
Her stories are sometimes explored without reference to the underpinnings of her Catholic faith, even though she emphasized, “I write the way I do because and only because I am a Catholic.” She deftly created grotesque characters such as a one-armed man, a one-legged woman, a fellow covered in tattoos and a man who blinded himself. These figures fit neatly into her plots that showed the ugliness of sins like pride, lust, greed and cruelty.
Still, O’Connor’s stories also reveal the workings of God’s grace, which could turn someone’s life around, even in the worst of circumstances, assuming the person exerted the strength to live differently.
She wrote, “All human nature vigorously resists grace because grace changes us and the change is painful.” Her own life overflowed with God’s grace, which helped her remain joyful despite being stricken with lupus at age 25.
She glimpsed God’s gracious handiwork in the natural world, especially in the antics of the birds and beasts at Andalusia Farm in Georgia, where she lived. One of her favorite poets, Gerard Manley Hopkins, had written the unforgettable line, “The world is charged with the glory of God.”
O’Connor’s enjoyment of the natural world, despite the terribly debilitating disease she suffered from, was in keeping with her philosophy of life. As a Catholic, she knew suffering never has the final word; the Crucifixion led to the Resurrection. Even as the symptoms of her illness worsened, she could remain upbeat: “I can with one eye squinted take it all as a blessing.”
