The Conference on Christianity & Literature

Journal

Christianity & Literature is devoted to the scholarly exploration of how literature engages Christian thought, experience, and practice. The journal presupposes no particular theological orientation but respects an orthodox understanding of Christianity as a historically defined faith. Contributions appropriate for submission should demonstrate a keen awareness of the author's own critical assumptions in addressing significant issues of literary history, interpretation, and theory.

The journal is sponsored by the Conference on Christianity and Literature, a national organization interested in the relationship of Christianity and literature and dedicated to both scholarly excellence and collegial exchange. It is a member of CELJ, the Council of Editors of Learned Journals. Each issue of the journal, which has been published for more than 50 years, contains peer-reviewed scholarly articles, book reviews, poetry, and news and announcements of interest to CCL members.

See  Archives for the titles and names of authors of articles published in Christianity and Literature since 1985.  One poem from the most recent journal issue will be featured on this site. For examples of  poetry published in the journal and featured on this site, see  recent poetry.

For more information about submissions or subscriptions, see the appropriate link below.

For other inquiries, please contact Tammy Ditmore, Managing Editor, at tammy.ditmore@pepperdine.edu.

Questions to Tammy Ditmore (tammy.ditmore@pepperdine.edu)

 

In the Latest  Issue of Christianity & Literature:

  Thoughts
     on the
    Afterlife

            John Ruff  

Driving home Friday I
   pass a man
mowing the grass
in front of a small
   blue house
just north of
    the morturary--

a dead ringer for
   my dead
colleague, David,
   professor
and fomer chair
of the department
   of theology.

By the time I turn
   down Evans
I'm wondering what
   if it were
really him, an
   eminent liturgist
spirited back one
   hot afternoon

in August to be a
   procession
onto himself, straight
   row up
and straight row back,
   no music
but from the mower,
   no incense

but the smell of
   fresh-cut grass.
What a blessing
   it would be
to break a sweat again-
to dwell again in
   the ringing

of that inaudible
   bell when
the mower quits--
   it makes me
think the afterlife
   might not be
so bad if once in
   a while they

send us back do do
   some odd job.
Then I remember
   those refugees
from high school
   who come back
to watch the
   homecoming game

they starred in the
   previous year--
how lost they look
   in the twilight
beyond the end zone
   with no where
else they'd rather be.

     Winter 2008