I have been trying to devote the blog to the current book discussion, but this quote is too good to leave in the queue. In Proust Was a Neuroscientist, Jonah Lehrer quotes Henry James:

There is a presence in what is missing (p. 15).

In the context of the book, Lehrer is talking about ‘phantom limb syndrome’ – the strange phenomenon in which amputees sometimes report a sense of presence or pain in a limb that is no longer connected to the body. In James’ original context (in a collection of essays entitled English Hours), he is talking about the present state of an old town.

This quote really captivated my imagination. It led my mind in many directions. First, it made me think of Charles Taylor’s writing on modern culture. Our secular age, cut off from ancient Christendom, cut off, Ecclesiastes-style, from heaven itself (as in ‘the silent planet’) still entertains ghosts of past faith and commitment. There is a presence in what is missing.

Second, it made me think of my own childhood. How the past has shaped me. How my sense of humor and many quirks were shaped in childhood. There is a presence in what is missing.

Third, it made me think of the city in which I live, which was burned during the Civil War. How would the city look had the fires not consumed it? There is a presence in what is missing.

Fourth, it made me think of modern churches, with their desire to break off from the old. The amplified guitars scream out. The praise choruses repeat on. Yet there is a presence in what is missing.

Fifth, it made me think about technology and progress. We’ve added many new gadgets. And we’ve lost a lot along the way. Those of us who question the dizzying pace at which we are moving realize that there is a presence in what is missing. What we’ve lost speaks to us just as much as what we are gaining.

Nate Wilson once quipped, while discussing C.S. Lewis’ treatment of the Medieval cosmos, that the Medievals saw earth as cast down to the depths; like Scrooge looking in through the window of a Christmas dinner. That’s it. Like a ghost looking in on a party that he longs for but can’t attend. He was missing. And he realized that. And there was a presence in what was missing.

All that is another way of stating Lewis’ old take on our collective longing for Paradise. There is a presence in what is missing. It haunts. It stirs up emotion. It stirs up longing. It brings discomfort. It makes us squirm in our seats. It’s like the first Thanksgiving Meal after a grandparent has died. Something is missing, and that absence has a looming presence.

James said that ‘the presence of what is missing’ is an ‘incentive to brood.’ Indeed.