Festival Preparations
This week, we’ve finally left behind the 973 interminable days of January. It’s been so frigid and snowy in our corner of the country that Sunday’s sunny day of 20 degrees felt like spring breaking out. But, I’ll be honest, I don’t mind the cold: it’s a wonderful excuse to stay inside and read another book!
Because it’s all about the books, right? We’re now ten weeks away from the Festival of Faith & Writing, so we’re working at a fever pitch here in the office as we move towards our literary extravaganza on April 16-18.
Part of that preparation is doing the final rounds of publicity for the event. For example, on Tuesday, we began a four-week Festival preview class for our friends at the Calvin Academy of Lifelong Learning. Before we turned to our book discussion, I presented a short history of the Festival and the Calvin Center for Faith & Writing (CCFW). And I must say that it felt right, in this month when we celebrate love, to reflect again on the unending devotion that has built and sustained this work for now more than thirty-five years.
We need to say it: long-running events don’t just happen—they exist because people have invested in the hard work of creating and maintaining them. That takes a large amount of commitment and courage.
To tell our story, then, is to narrate how this cultivation of conversations about faith and culture is the work of so many hands over the years, including stalwart faculty in the English department, dedicated staff members, steadfast folks in offices around campus, and generations of incredible students who have been a vital part of every single Festival since 1990.
Then, too, I’m exceedingly grateful for my current CCFW team. They resist every spotlight and want nothing more than to do their work without any fanfare, but their daily excellences truly make everything better and my own life, a joy. You’re really going to enjoy the party they’ve been preparing for you.
Of course, that party is never complete without you—our speakers, exhibitors, and attendees. Indeed, your belief in this enterprise is what makes our gatherings so special. What a delight to see the sense of ownership that our community brings unwaveringly to the ideals of generous listening and hospitable dialogue—ideals under attack so many other places.
This decades-long faithfulness by so many reminds me of poet Rabindranath Tagore’s observation: “The one who plants trees, knowing that he will never sit in their shade, has at least started to understand the meaning of life.” It’s clear: over the years, our community has planted a forest together.
I’m deeply obligated to those who stewarded this work before me—and with all of your help, we’ll continue to care for it well during this our season for all those yet to come, for all the hands who will continue the work after we’re gone.
