Rabbit, Run and Paul Ricoeur's Interpretation of Atheism

W h a t e v e r H a p p e n e d T o Jack Eccles? Remember him? He was the broad-minded Episcopal minister who attempted to guide Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom’s spiritual calisthenics in Rabbit, Run. Rabbit, the self-regarding ex-jock, crosses paths with Eccles after he dumps his wife Janice. As the pastor of Janice’s family, Eccles agrees to have a chat with Rabbit. Their first meeting inspires mutual curiosity, which leads to further talks. The book develops around the unfolding of their relationship. With the dedication of a m artyr—a martyr to liberal empathy and understanding, or to social gospel realism—Eccles pins his highest ministerial hopes on his ability to redeem, that is, reform, Rabbit. Rabbit, of course, is flattered by the attention. It is reminiscent of his basketball days. So why does Eccles disappear from John Updike’s Rabbit series without a trace? After all, even Peggy Fosnacht, a neighbor Rabbit casually seduces, merits return in Rabbit Redux and Rabbit is Rich. I want to offer an interpretation of Rabbit, Run that makes sense of Eccles’s disappearance. The crux of my reading revolves around the suggestion that Rabbit, Run is an allegory of the death of God. Unlike the symbolism that points to heaven in Bunyan’s The Pilgrim's Progress, Updike’s figurative world is unconventionally earthbound. Rabbit’s pilgrimage is a rediscovery of his instinctive or animal self, with harsh consequences. One of his human instincts, perhaps the most danger ous one (as Rabbit ascertains with Eccles’s help), is his penchant for fleeing to God. “It’s the strange thing about you mystics,” Eccles remarks with this-worldly wisdom, “how often your little ecstasies wear a skirt” (p. 121). Rabbit’s attempts to overcome irresponsibility