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The Performer
He couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong . . .
His act remained the same . . .
He drew gasps of admiration
Provoking envious gales of laughter,
even with a bad act, a performance filled
with pissed off passion and heartfelt arrogance
conjured up respect
often grudgingly…
He was vital after all . . .
his schtick
his act
his guile
his performance
His troupe needed him . . .
He saved them once, actually more than once . . .
He remembered
instances
where they could have died
complete, final
deaths
suffocating, anguishing, tormented deaths
moment by moment
piece by piece
visceral
spiritual
deaths by angst
They were unable to move
he thought,
barely covered by
the flesh of dignity
picked at
chewed on
torn away in chunks
by a consumptive
omnipresent
beast
hungry for a
soul of its own . . .
I protected us, he reflected
I distracted the beast,
Showing flashes, shiny moments,
glimpses of what it wanted to see
I fooled the beast, he thought
It thought it was me
achieving
successful
entertaining
respected
liked . . .
That he knew for sure
Yet, he knew his curtain was making its way downward
The flesh
wasn’t flesh at all
but another disguise
a veil
He always thought of himself as valiant
a knight in shining armor
But the armor became suffocating
sucking the breath
out of the troup
rendering it something that it was not . . .
And so it goes . . .
The death of the performer
birthing
or better yet
resurrecting
a fragile being
not so eager
or deft
or persuasive
or beguiling
or pleasing
and definitely not entertaining
or popular . . .
but real . . .
unrecognizable,
feeling,
disturbing
and threatening . . .
but real . . .
I smell old …
I smell old . . .
the smell of the
same clothes
the same undershirt
the same underwear
the same socks
the same shirt and pants . . .
I smell old . . .
my nostrils flare
violently in disgust
blowing does not rid
me of the stench,
the bellhop
of death . . .
I smell old . . .
Is it me?
My spirit is willing
my flesh becoming
weaker by the moment
by the day
running out of years . . .
I smell old . . .
or
could it be . . .
fear reeking
the horror of
inheriting
the weakness
the spineless
the gutless swallowing
of a toxic
insanity
defecating on
the light
of hopes and dreams?
I smell old . . .
the decaying predator’s
stomach
still bilious
from the carcass
of prey
dead before its time . . .
The claws
shake
the snarled beak
quivers
but the poison
of death,
its perfume
of despair
permeates
desecrating the air.
I smell old . . .
The Funeral
I was empty . . .
And he was gone
swallowed up in a sea of white stones
The ripple bearing his name declared him a corporal
an identity worn, torn, and faded . . .
A buzzard peered over this sea
motionless . . .
Gripping a triangle with unsteady talons that
quivered and shook
Motionless . . .
because . . .
It could no longer fly, circle, pounce, and kill
but . . .
Could only spew venom
hoping to find a target
It was mere minutes before the buzzard sighed . . .
nary a tear at her lost prey
The prey who at her beckoned call
fed her . . .
Not only with his flesh but with his soul as well…
It was finished
And . . .
I was empty . . .
A little less golden
I am
a rainbow of emotions
from excruciating sadness pulling
on my chest
and tugging at my soul
to
tearful and transcending joy at
breaking free
from
past chains
and captive prisons
and
all the colors in between . . .
I am
flummoxed, discovering on my last day
a coffee cup planter
on the table
where we have group
next to where I always sit
camouflaged
in the open space by my internal world
I am
told
advised
consoled
encouraged
that other opportunities emerge
dressed in a different color
maybe lavender, possibly chartreuse, hopefully shamrock
but God forbid, gray
but . . .
although . . .
however, and in retrospect
they will be
a little less golden . . .
A Theology of Care
My theology of pastoral care focuses on transformation; that is, the change from a state of “brokenness” to a “healing” state of being. All humans from the day they are born are broken. Psychologist Abraham Maslow, for example, identifies physiological, psychological, and spiritual limitations humans need to address in order to survive. The ultimate human limitation is death. In the OT – because of humanity’s disobedience – God removes the choice of eternal life. According to Genesis 3:23-24, “So the Lord God banished him from the Garden of Eden to work the ground from which he had been taken. After he drove the man out, he placed on the east side of the Garden of Eden cherubim and a flaming sword flashing back and forth to guard the way to the tree of life.” As such, God makes death the end of life.
For humanity, this awareness or “shadow” of death brings about suffering. The suffering of Jesus Christ – depicted in Matthew 27 – portrays the dehumanization of Jesus associated with the Roman soldiers and prominent Jewish religious figures dividing up his few possessions (35), insulting him (37-40), and / or physically abusing him (30). If the body of Christ represents humanity, then people suffer from not being fully human. The imagery associated with an extremely frightened and diminutive woman, praying, begging God for her life within the vast cavity of a hospital’s pre-op facility magnified her helplessness, compromising her ability to be fully human. Christ crying out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34; Matt 27:46; Psalm 22:1) vividly underscores this imagery.
As such, transformation seems to require suffering. When performing pastoral care, patients possessing physical problems with predictable positive outcomes not only experience little suffering, they seldom require pastoral care. The specter of their death remains dormant and out of their awareness. These patients barely see me, looking past me for the last doctor or procedure prior to their discharge. Conversely, suffering patients, consciously or unconsciously, seem to search for transformation, seeking a shift from being broken to becoming healed. This search emanates from the inherent presence of a divine spark — discussed throughout this blog — found in humans and in all of God’s creation.
Because suffering extends beyond the physiological, it connected patients to me both emotionally and intellectually. In Acts 2, the Holy Spirit creates this connection mysteriously by uniting the disciples with those who spoke in different languages and enabling them to prophesy. Six of my conversations with patients stood out, for reasons that often was mysterious, based on something in the conversations that “struck me as unusual.” After the first few conversations, I began noticing the diversity of metaphors popping up in the conversations that resonated with my own emotional and psychological issues. One particular woman patient, for example, connected with me emotionally regarding the suffocating limitations of playing the role of “performer” and the transformation from the victimization associated with such a role to the freedom associated with writing poetry. As such, the Holy Spirit’s influence seems dynamic, bringing hurting souls together yet simultaneously providing valuable instruction (see John 14:26; 1 Cor 2:10-11) for both patients and chaplains.
Yet, transformation also requires death in a different sense than previously discussed. Death of the saliency of restrictive and toxic roles is necessary for human beings to begin to heal. Problematic interactions between family members often create maladaptive family systems. The growing conflict and disassociation between my parents, for example, forced me to adopt unhealthy personas. As a child, I adopted the role of “comedian” to dissipate any lurking tension in our home. A more problematic persona, for me, became the role of “standard bearer” for the family. A growing anxiety attached itself to this role as both my parents declared their despair and disdain for each other. To keep the family together, I felt I had to achieve. These and other personas coalesced into my role as “performer.” Through interaction with patients, this role cast me as “victim,” passive and responsive to my parents’ expectations, ambitions, and goals for my life.
Resurrection represents the culmination of transformation, the creation of life anew. In contrast to the brokenness of humans discussed earlier, Jesus declares himself to be the resurrection and the life (John 11:25). Where God once guarded eternal life, God (incarnate, a transformation as well) now makes eternal life available for humanity. God transforms as humanity transforms, by mutually interacting with each other.
Yet, resurrection does not completely erase the lessons of suffering. Responding to Thomas (John 20:25-28), Jesus shows his wounds from his crucifixion to Thomas, and has him touch them. The wounds of suffering were real for both patients and me, informing us in the transformative process. In providing pastoral care, for example, it becomes necessary to be cognizant of patient issues that may obstruct “being present” with patients. For me, for example, elderly women presenting as “motherly” – both positive and negative presentations – potentially “press my emotional buttons,” in response to the suffering I experienced interacting with my mother. If I am unaware of these issues, I potentially compromise my pastoral care with these patients. Moreover, these issues never completely leave.
In conclusion, my theology of care accentuates the role of transformation in achieving a shift from “brokenness” to “healing.” This shift does not occur in isolation but requires reciprocal interactions. Jesus Christ’s suffering, death, and ultimate resurrection provides a metaphorical understanding for presenting my theology. People of different faiths (e.g., Islam), however, would experience difficulties with Jesus Christ as a metaphor. For other faiths, different metaphors for transformation exist. For Islam, such a metaphor would be the “Day of Resurrection.” Muslims believe that God preordains the Day of Resurrection albeit unknown to humanity. The Qur’an describes the suffering preceding and occurring during the Day of Resurrection and emphasizes bodily resurrection; the Qur’an proposes that the gathering of humankind follows resurrection, culminating in their judgment by God. For Islam, then, the transformation is collective not individual.
I am a loser…
I am a loser…
I got lost, trying to find him in this damn place…
I am a loser…
I lost my life a long time ago and now he is losing his…
I am a loser…
I lost his middle name; dammit, quit asking me questions…
I am a loser…
I lost my cool when he lost his clothes…
I am a loser…
He loses his heartbeat as my heart stops…
I lost my breath as he loses his…
I am a loser…
I search my bible for a meaning I know is there, but now is lost…
I am a loser…
I am frantic and he is lost…
gone…
forever…
I am a loser…
I have lost…
my love…
my friend…
and my life continues…
I am a loser…
Personal Lamentation: Who is transforming?
I am tired of you
I grow weary of our conversations
that cycle endlessly
in their toxic accusations and in the endless necessity
of weeding out your insanity
I become fatigued at the thought
of still having to deal with you;
your need for demonstration, proclamation, and examination
You have hurt me
and yet…
and yet…
and yet…
You clutch at me, still questioning,
still doubting,
still manipulating
and yet…
and yet…
and yet…
I still see you;
I see glimpses, mere specks of light
I see you reading to me as a child
I see you endlessly rubbing my foot after knee surgery when my leg throbbed in pain
I see you inquiring about my life as it has journeyed away from yours…
I see you now, in your last days, transforming, forging your own path instead of clinging to mine…
Examples of Evil: Forseen and Unforseen
Unlike sin, evil is alarming. It is alarming because it emerges unexpectedly in unanticipated ways and from unforeseen people. The post I present is a paper representing a potential part of a sermon. The practitioners of evil range from those guilty of genocide in Rwanda and the world community allowing the genocide to happen, to Pontius Pilate allowing the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, to Martin Luther, the primary initiator of the Protestant Reformation of the 16th century. Evidently, evil knows no boundaries.
—
In 1994, the world community experienced the horrors associated with genocide. Over a span of one hundred days, the Hutus slaughtered a minimum of 500,000 Tutsis and Hutu political moderates, sympathizers, and suspects in Rwanda, with estimates as high as one million; if the later estimate is correct, the Hutus murdered 20% of the total Rwandan population.[1] In response to this horror, the developed nations of the world – including the United States – sat by in silence. Why this response? General Romeo Dallaire was commander of the United Nations forces sent to Rwanda in 1993 to keep the peace with few troops and minimal resources.[2] His insights concerning the genocide are revealing. The United Nations refused to intervene because of fear of casualties to their own troops. In a Machiavellian fashion, the powerful nations viewed Rwanda – having “no strategic value or resources”[3] – as politically and economically not worth saving. As Christians, how did we allow this tragedy to occur?
The answer seems to originate in defining our “neighbors.” In response to a lawyer, Jesus tells the parable of the “Good Samaritan” (Luke 10:29-37).[4] In this parable, a man traveling, from Jerusalem to Jericho, falls victim to bandits, beaten, and left for dead. The religiously connected people pass the beaten man; that is, the priest responsible for administering God’s laws as well as the Levite responsible for upholding God’s laws both pass by the beaten man. However, the Samaritan – a man belonging to a people rejected by the Judeans[5] — feels compassion for the man, tends to his wounds, puts him up in an inn, and pays the innkeeper to look after the man using his own money. The answer to the lawyer’s question becomes obvious; the “real” neighbor to the beaten and penniless man was the man that helped him. Altruistic action not religious doctrine or practices were important to Jesus.
Unfortunately, Christians throughout history failed to take Jesus’ parable to heart. One of the most “famous” Christians failing to be the Good Samaritan was Martin Luther, arguably the igniter of the Great Reformation of the sixteenth century. In 1524, a rebellion involving German peasants erupted. The rebellion originated out of dire economic circumstances. Because of a declining population due to disease and hunger, landlords extorted even higher taxes – among other harsh measures – on peasants to make up for lost revenue.[6] As such, a poor population became poorer and more desperate. The peasants tied religion to their economic demands in creating their “Twelve Articles; that is, the peasants based their claims on scripture.”[7] Justo Gonzalez, a Christian historian, allows that Luther initially attempted to broker peace with the German princes. “When he first read the Twelve Articles, he addressed the German princes, telling them that was demanded in them was just, for the peasants were sorely oppressed.”[8] Yet, when the peasants rebel, Luther’s sympathy turns to rage. James Kittelson, a Reformation scholar, notes that in Luther’s writing of Against the Murderous and Thieving Hordes of Peasants, Luther urges the German princes to kill the peasants while informing them of the evils of rebellion.[9] Luther’s refusal to stand with the peasants – especially given his influence with the German princes – costs thousands of peasants their lives. According to Gonzalez, “more than 100,000 peasants were killed.”[10] How do we as Christians break our recycling of indifference and scorn concerning politically and economically oppressed populations so as to prevent future tragedy?
Christians expand their boundaries, including those who differ from them both politically and religiously. Jesus, himself, was victim of a political figure making a “safe” choice. Pontius Pilate, the Prefect of Judaea,[11] had no desire to convict Jesus, especially given the lack of evidence against him (Luke 23:14-23; John 18:38). Yet, Pilate refused to take a stand against injustice; the “practicalities” associated with a potential riot influenced his actions (Mark 15:15; Matt 27:24). Jesus Christ, then, is the example. Matthew 25:31-46 chronicles Jesus’ role in the final judgment. In welcoming those on his right hand, Jesus proclaimed, “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you made me welcome, lacking clothes and you clothed me, sick and you visited me, in prison and you came to see me” (Matt 25:35-37). Christians must see Jesus in people of divergent faiths, creeds, colors, incomes, and sexual orientations. Actions for the benefit of others outweighs any value assessed using political and social measures.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Africa Program. “The International Response to the Rwandan Genocide: A Failure of Humanity.” Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. Online: http://www.wilsoncenter.org/index.cfm?event_id=68205&fuseaction=topics.event_summary&topic_id=1417 (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
Frontline. “Interview: General Romeo Dallaire.” Frontline: Ghosts of Rwanda. Online: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/ghosts/interviews/dallaire.html (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
Gonzalez, Justo L. The Story of Christianity, Volume 2: The Reformation to the Present Day. New York: HarperCollins, 1985.
Kittelson, James M. Luther the Reformer: The Story of the Man and His Career. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003.
Wikipedia. “Pontius Pilate.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pontius_Pilate (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
Wikipedia. “Rwandan Genocide.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rwandan_Genocide (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
Wikipedia. “Samaritan.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samaritan#Rejection_by_Judeans (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
[1] Wikipedia, “Rwandan Genocide,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rwandan_Genocide (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
[2] Frontline, “Interview: General Romeo Dallaire,” Frontline: Ghosts of Rwanda, online: http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/ghosts/interviews/dallaire.html (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
[3] Africa Program, “The International Response to the Rwandan Genocide: A Failure of Humanity,” Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, online: http://www.wilsoncenter.org/index.cfm?event_id=68205&fuseaction=topics.event_summary&topic_id=1417 (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
[4] All scripture citations are from The New Jerusalem Bible unless otherwise noted.
[5] Wikipedia, “Samaritan,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samaritan#Rejection_by_Judeans (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
[6] James M. Kittelson, Luther the Reformer: The Story of the Man and His Career (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), 190.
[7] Justo L. Gonzalez, The Story of Christianity, Volume 2: The Reformation to the Present Day (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1985), 41.
[8] Ibid., 41.
[9] Kittelson, 191.
[10] Gonzalez, 42.
[11] Wikipedia, “Pontius Pilate,” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pontius_Pilate (accessed 19 Apr 2009).
Sin Versus Evil
Sin and evil arguably remain the most complex aspects of theology to flesh out. In my opinion, clergy use the two interchangeably, which I believe is a mistake. In a theology of the divine spark, I attempt to differentiate sin from evil. This differentiation results from a basic premise: all people are sinful whereas a subset designate as “evil.” Sinfulness equivocates to the human condition and all its inherent physiological and psychological survival needs. When these needs are not met, human beings suffer the culmination of their limitations or sinfulness; they die. In a previous posting, I argue that Jesus Christ inherited this sinfulness because he was a human being. The ultimate grace of God and gift of Jesus Christ was the resurrection, a transcending of the ultimate human sin — death — and realization and transformation of life. Conversely, Evil is a turning away from God; a choice if you will. This view is consonant with Arminianism, in some respects. Human beings can reject God’s grace. Just watch and listen to Bill Maher on HBO. Salvation also can be lost; that is, human beings must pursue God as God pursues them. This reciprocity, in my opinion, is required to establish a requisite relationship with God. For example, in Matthew 7, Jesus says:
21“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?’ 23Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers (Matthew 7:21-23)!”
In previous postings, I write a polemic concerning the dangers of the “saved” litmus test. Believing to be “saved” equivocates to being part of an “elect,” those individuals whose salvation is guaranteed. Why is this relevant? More “evil” has been done by those who consider themselves to be “elect.” Currently, those elect promoting legal oppression and/or physical violence against Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) individuals advocate bigotry. Is bigotry God’s will? No. Other examples include selective ignorance of issues adversely affecting humankind. The American public’s indifference to the situation in Rwanda, arguably, enables the effective genocide of a major proportion of its people.
Sin
In previous postings, I conceptualize “sin” as limitation; that is, human qualities that prevent us from being God or even “god-like.” What are these qualities? Studying Maslow’s “Hierarchy of Needs” sheds light on this issue. Viewing the image below reveals that human beings require sets of needs for physiological and psychological survival, ultimately arriving at “self actualization.” Unfortunately, few individuals ever attain a self-actualized state, except in brief moments.
The conceptualization of “sin” as “limitation” resolves a few difficult theological issues. There is no hierarchy of sin. All human beings inherently possess these limitations, all progress through these stages. Moreover, it views sin contextually. Much — if not most — human behavior results from a given level of needs not being met. Similarly, Lawrence Kohlberg posited stages of moral development based on person’s level of cognitive development, borrowing — to some degree — from Jean Piaget. To illustrate this development, Kohlberg posed the “Heinz Dilemma.” The higher the level of cognitive development, the more sophisticated the resolutions generated. Both of these conceptualizations — applied to the question of sin — imply that it is a limitation, both physiologically and psychologically. In context, sin becomes behavior exercised on the basis of a relative lack of physiological or cognitive resources. As such, sin requires a human context to render it as a meaningful theological concept.
Evil
Evil, also, must be considered in context. For me, evil represents a purposeful, turning away from God. The phrase “turning away” emphasizes “choice”; that is, I believe that evil emanates from a human choice to turn away from God. Evil, as such, is the responsibility of humans. It is one result of God’s gift of “choice” to human beings. The problem becomes, “what is turning away?” Purposeful implies a state of knowledge, acknowledging this state, then rejecting it, knowing the consequences of such rejection. Identifying the Adolf Hitler’s of the world is easy. The uncovering of the wolves in sheep’s clothing is difficult. The people who blithely ignore genocide, the companies who promote themselves as stores for working people while economically oppressing their employees, and the insurance companies refusing to cover individuals based on their sexual orientation leaving them with little or no “safety net” are some concrete examples of these wolves. We should all be alarmed. For the essence or potential for evil is within each of us. Evil, unlike sin that is a physiological and psychological given, resembles a bell curve with rarities of no evil to much evil representing the tails and most people expressing or being guilty of some evil. This is why pursuing God is a necessity; that is, we need to pursue God, constantly. As Matthew 7:21-23 notes, for Jesus to know us, God’s will must be done. Of course, this is not easy. What is God’s will? That is exactly why pursuing God, contemplating God, meditating about God, through understanding ourselves and others is requisite. It is a journey not a light switch. How does a pursuit of God initiate?
Currently, I am reading Barbara Bradley Hagerty’s, Fingerprints of God to examine the possibilities she describes. Some of the book’s content seems to suggest certain people receive certain experiences. Yet, it seems to be more related to being able to see, a view I espoused in an earlier posting. What is fascinating about this book is that it proposes transformation; a reciprocal event that changes a person on a “cellular” level. Moreover, this transformation is not easy, causing the loss of old jobs, relationships, etc., in pursuit of God. I believe what is essentially lost is the veneer of meaninglessness in lieu of the meaningfulness of God. We shall see.