Jonathan Franzen’s Crossroads and Gerhard Forde’s Where God Meets Man are two books that have little in common on the surface: the latest novel by one of America’s pre-eminent fiction writers and a fifty-year-old book of Lutheran theology, but there are affinities. Franzen’s novel is set in the early 1970s, mostly in the Midwest, and deals with mainline protestant Christianity. Forde’s is a book of mainline protestant theology written and published in Minnesota in 1972. While Franzen has said that theology was not his concern in Crossroads, the characters of the Hildebrandt Family find themselves repeatedly confronted by God and/or the church. It is this confrontation which is the theme of Forde, who believed that theology is inextricable from its significance for people — that God revealed himself “down to earth.”.

In Crossroads, Franzen set out to write the first volume of a contemporary, 19th century-style family saga. He created the Hildebrandt Family (Russ, Marion, Clem, Becky, Perry, and Judson) of New Prospect, Illinois to juxtapose unchanging human nature against 50 years of rapid cultural upheaval.

Clem, the eldest Hildebrandt sibling, finds himself accused by the kind of law Forde believes to be operative on all people. For Forde, the law is a “‘voice’ which ‘sounds in the heart’ and the ‘conscience,’ a real voice which afflicts man in his isolation from God.” A voice that “can and does arise from anywhere and everywhere.” Any accusation can function as law, whether it be society, family, or friends. When Clem narrowly avoids being drafted, getting a student deferment to attend the University of Illinois instead, he hears the voice of the law. After becoming romantically involved with a young woman whose brother was not so lucky, Clem questions the fairness of it all, especially what it meant for the young man who went in his place. Motivated by guilt, he then decides to truly live by his own “personal ethics.” So Clem drops out of school and informs the draft board that he is once again eligible for service. 

Clem tells his father (Russ, the pastor) of his plans after confronting him about a different indiscretion. They have an argument that Clem expects (and kind of hopes) will further damage their relationship. He expects to hear more law, more accusation. However, the father, Russ, ends the conversation by saying, “You’ve made me so proud that you’re my son. Your kindness — your generosity — your loyalty — your sense of justice — your goodness —” before breaking off, overcome with emotion. Clem is perplexed at this: “Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to Clem that he could be anything but an adversary to his father; that his animosity might not be reciprocated. It seemed unfair to him — intolerable — that his father still loved him.” In this moment, accusation is exchanged for belovedness. The law ends precisely through the revelation of love.

Forde knew that we might think of God in very much the same way that Clem thinks of his father, Russ. The theories we conjure to explain God scare us. This hidden God will only push us further from the truth of His love rather than focusing on the facets of God revealed in His action toward us. 

The kind of speculation about God that Forde warned against equally extends to how Russ speculates about Rick Ambrose, the younger, hipper pastor at his church. Russ has made Rick Ambrose an adversary and come up with all sorts of theories about him rather than understand who Ambrose actually is. Russ hates Ambrose so much that he’s “started hating God!” Russ continues: “I ask myself what did I do to offend Him [God], what kind of abominations I committed, that I deserved the curse of you coming to this church. Or whether it was just His plan when he created me. That I be the bad guy. How am I supposed to love a God like that?” But Ambrose does not rebuke Russ; he washes his feet.

Russ had constructed a “man-centered” faith, to use Forde’s terminology. Russ, however, is also at least slightly aware of his condition: “It was a relief to finally air his feelings, but he was following a familiar pattern. Later on — soon — he would be mortified by everything he’d said. For better or worse, this was who he was.” But rather than letting that insight lead to repentance and compassion, he boomerangs back to what Forde deemed a “ladder theology”: “Shouldn’t his capacity for love, which was the essence of Christ’s gospel, have earned him a modicum of credit with God?” And yet, when Russ is at his worst, Ambrose forgives him. Ambrose showed mercy in an act of unmerited love, which does (at least briefly) get Russ to reconsider his animosity towards Ambrose, and forgive him in return.

Perry, the troubled middle son of the Hildebrandts, struggles with faith. He’s not sure whether he can trust God with his salvation, the kind of God-speculation that Forde believed will cause a person to live “in perpetual fear, anxiety, and dread.” Perry has too much to drink at a Christmas party with the town’s clergy and engages the local rabbi and Lutheran pastor in a conversation.

The set-up sounds like a joke, but it isn’t written for laughs. Perry is earnest, terrified even, and more or less articulates Forde’s thesis, saying: “I suppose what I’m asking…is whether goodness can ever truly be its own reward, or whether, consciously or not, it always serves some personal instrumentality…How do I know if I’m really being good or if I’m just pursuing a sinful advantage?” The Lutheran pastor responds: “By listening to your heart,” and discerning whether your true motive “partakes of Christ…Only faith in Christ redeems us. Without him, we’re lost in a sea of second-guessing our motives.”

It seems this Lutheran pastor hadn’t read Forde’s book; seeking assurance of this kind from within yourself leads only to despair. Perry then understandably asks, “But what if a person isn’t able to have faith?” The pastor responds with more of a riddle than an answer: “not everyone finds faith overnight.” Mysteries wrapped in an enigma. It’s no wonder Perry is so distraught. Only the Rabbi knows better, who counters that he thinks “It’s more a matter of God tracking you down than of you finding God.” Indeed, as Forde contended, “First God acts and his action makes us what we are.” The Rabbi’s wisdom unfortunately doesn’t make an impression on Perry, who sides with the wishy-washy Lutheran. Perry goes on to try to take his fate into his own hands — with disastrous results.

Gerhard Forde ultimately wrote that “the cross and resurrection must be so understood and so preached that they bring about in us as well a death and a new life  …That is the way God gets through to us; that is the radical nature of his action.” The Hildebrandts (except maybe the youngest brother, Judson) all experience something akin to this “radical action” in Franzen’s novel. For both Crossroads and Where God Meets Man, God must barge in and interrupt our lives. In order to flourish, we must be broken out of the trap of self-justification/sin — to experience heartache, setbacks, or tragedies — and experience an undeserved, unconditional, and unexpected love. Whether it’s Clem, Perry, or ourselves, the mystery of God is solved by his arrival.

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