The Valley of 5 Seconds
What is this fear of nonexistence
that churns the stomach
and grips the intestines with vise-like power
the sweat flooding the pores?
Perhaps it is the Valley of 5 Seconds
the clarity of understanding
blanked by realization
a union of senses and thoughts
filling the void between dimming light and forever darkness
until the eyes roll back…
life and death
All that is known
but not believed is this…
we wish for life
but believe in death
Death is a simple dish
of pain tossed with anguish
mixed with chaos
and wrapped in darkness
Life is a casserole of endless labyrinths
of glimpses of light
with promises of rainbow colors
of smells basking in
swirling and tangled textures
To live
is to travel through divergent pathways
mushrooming, multiplying
exponential possibilities
delighting and deflating
pungent and painful
Death
is but one road
comfortable, sure, and predictable
a given destination yielding
only treasures not
pursued
You don’t live unless you’re living
but you die but once
The blue pill offers
unimaginable pain
The red pill renders
you
comfortably numb
Beware the choice to be made
I am confused
for I wish to find truth
but discover only riddles
I fear death
yet
I am terrified of life
Light frightens me
but
darkness haunts me
In the morning…
every morning
after the sun burns off the mist
there is a fork up ahead…
O Narcissus
O Narcissus what do you see?
a world defined by “me”
of the image of your face
with nose, mouth, and hair
glorifying the heavens
by its mere presence
For what is a work of art?
outside the context of “me”
a snapped photograph
with gray tracings and outlines
of dreary past cultures, of civilizations long lost
thirsting for your likeness
Fear not O Narcissus, you are not alone in your quest
you have friends
from the four corners of somewhere
irrelevant and unknown
for the backgrounds are fuzzy and blurry
and with great relief
for their imago dei
like yours
swallows them whole
The Slavery Class — Italy and the United States
I thought this entry had posted but due to Internet difficulties in Italy and being a newbie in terms of operating a Motorola Atrix cellphone, the post did not stick. The post below was motivated by a speaker — Pietro Pacci — who discussed his counseling experiences with immigrant prostitutes in Italy.
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The emergence of African immigrants to Italy presents problems that are similar to those experienced by the United States. The presence of Hispanic populations in Georgia, for example, present paradoxical ethical problems. The United States is a country whose history is forged by the arrival of immigrants from all corners of the world. As such, the United States cultural should be inclusive of all peoples, welcoming diversity and recognizing the unique contributions each population brings to the overall well-being and functioning of this country. Yet, in difficult economic times, scapegoats are sought. In the State of Georgia, for example, Hispanics are vilified for taking State resources — jobs, education, health — either away from American citizens or by causing them to pay higher taxes for these services. This vilification by politicians has led to campaigns filled with promises to tighten the borders the United States shares with Mexico. The vilification is irrational because Hispanic workers are hired by American companies — usually corporate farms — to perform jobs eschewed by American workers. In Gainesville, Georgia, for example, Hispanic workers perform jobs that allow Gainesville to be the poultry capital of the United States. In other states — such as Florida — Hispanic workers allow the cheap harvesting of fruit, such as oranges. This cheap source of labor — small wages, no benefits — allows food manufacturers to sell food products at competitive prices. Without Hispanic labor, American consumers might be paying a significantly higher percentage of their household incomes on items such as orange juice, fruit, chicken, etc. The need to include Hispanic laborers raises an ethical question, however. The creation of the Hispanic working class in the United States can be seen as cultivating a “slavery class” ironically necessary for Americans from all economic classes to enjoy a wide range of products and services at low cost. The Hispanic working class arguably are slaves because they do not enjoy the same wages, working conditions, and benefits of American workers; moreover, they are portrayed as scapegoats politically. As such, they struggle against a hostile political bureaucracy buoyed by harassment by police forces and citizens seeking a return to a more homogenous America. The hypocracy perpetuated by those in political power should be obvious.
Italy faces a similar paradox. The exploitation of African immigrants as prostitutes parallels the victimization of Hispanic workers in the United States. The cultural themes of machismo and patriarchy fuel Italian men to victimize this population. Italian laws and customs make it difficult for immigrants to achieve access to acceptable occupations, in terms of wages and benefits. That is, being a candidate for employment in Italy requires social connectivity: who you know is more important than what you know. Immigrants are scapegoated, vilified for Italy’s economic problems. They are objectified because they comprise the majority of the prostitution trade. Like the United States, the immigrants are slaves. They do not enjoy the rights and privileges of Italian citizens yet are used by Italian men for sexual exploitation. The immigrants must submit to such occupations as prostitution in order to survive economically. The hypocracy of the Italian government is exhibited by a “tolerance” for prostitution that — coupled with exclusive job hiring practices — nourish this practice of sexual slavery.
For both countries, the practice of scapegoating populations of exploited people is scandalous. The ability of all Americans to enjoy low-cost goods and services requires the exploitation of Hispanic populations. Similarly, the partriarchal cultural of Italy requires exploiting African immigrants to maintain the cultural values of machismo and objectification of women. That is, Italian men could treat their wifes as objects of purity while maintaining their machismo through sexual acts with prostitutes. The maltreatment of Hispanic and African immigrants by the United States and Italy, respectively, reveals cultural dysfunctionality — cultures that require the exploitation and marginalization of specific groups of people in order to flourish.
Pisa and Lucca
We went to see Pisa and Lucca and I found myself resonating to Lucca. I love the quaintness of the town, surrounded by walls. The town appeared as a fortress. Yet, the connectedness of the town in terms of its small size, its architecture, and its pathways that wind themselves throughout the buildings makes Lucca wonderful. The frustrating thing – from an ugly American point of view — is that unless you speak Italian, you find yourself looking at statues and paintings with absolutely no clue who they are, what they represent, and how they obviously are relevant. The people who do speak English…fairly fluently….are the immigrant attempting to sell their wares as you enter cities and other tourist places of interest. Need a Gucci purse or a Rolex watch? No problem…
I had a few fun conversations with some of the immigrant vendors who are quite nice…Had to buy an umbrella because it rained off and on yesterday and we had fun negotiating a price — could have payed 5 Euros before the rain…and ended up paying 8 during…oh well, he wanted 10 so it was fun nontheless…I am still messing around with the Atrix in terms of posting pictures so eventually I will post them. Like I said, however, there won’t be a whole lot of description…
The first day in Italy
The first day was tumultuous as we witnessed an elderly woman experiencing cardiac arrest. At least two, maybe three, doctors on the plane rushed over to her and began administering CPR as did at least one of the airline attendants. Additionally, portable shock packs were used and there was some serious doubt as to whether this woman would survive. After repeatedly administering CPR, the woman finally was revived, although her status is still unknown. We finally exited the plane after the Italian paramedics removed her from the plane.
I took some pictures of the countryside surrounding Casa Cares. We just got done with an introductory meeting and dinner. Big day ahead tomorrow.
Will figure out how to post pictures using the Atrix. I am tired and– after trying to get a cell signal today without success — I am exhausted…
Italy Seminar Prelude
This is my first blogpost using the lapboard with my Motorola Axim attached for Internet access. Pretty wild. Please feel free to visit my other writings in addition to the ones covering the Italy seminar. Right now the hassles associated with figuring out what clothes to wear, what should and should not go with me to Italy, making sure I possess the required documents, somehow get much of the reading accomplished, and on, and on the whining continues. This trip will not only expand my horizons regarding Italian Counseling in comparison to its American counterpart but also will be an experiment in technology. My friends, we are on the precipice of a new era, one in which a cellphone will be your computer. The Motorola Axim is the first of many to come. I will get to experience firsthand how easy or cumbersome, irritating or amazing this technology will be on this trip. By clicking on the YouTube tutorial below, you will see a hands-on account of the technology I am talking about…
A Theology of Atonement
The purpose of the current paper is to outline a theology of atonement in response to a pastoral care encounter. Christian theologies of atonement wrestle with the problem of sin and why Jesus’ death on the cross amends or makes reparations for this sin. Addressing this problem requires two elements: an acknowledgement of the theological world that drives interpretation of sin and atonement and a relational encounter that explores and delineates these issues. According to W. Paul Jones, human beings engage in a search for meaning that results in a theological world that is autobiographical in nature. Yet, this search for meaning exists for individuals in the context of community (W. Paul Jones, p. 13). Acknowledging the diversity of individuals equivocates to theological world pluralism. As such, my theological world colors my perspective of the obsessio or human condition; that is, what uniquely human characteristics allow sinfulness to emerge as a potentially destructive force? Likewise, my theological world shapes my views of how the death of Jesus Christ on the cross is requisite for reparation of this destructiveness. For illustrative purposes, a pastoral care encounter with a dying patient serves as a starting point for fleshing out my own personal theology of atonement.
Working as a chaplain intern at Gwinnett Medical Center allowed me the opportunity to engage with patients suffering from a wide range of illnesses and physical traumas. In fact, only patients suffering physical and/or emotional crises sought my services as a chaplain; patients expecting to be discharged had no need of my services. The pastoral conversations that resonated with me resulted from patients’ spiritual traumas matching my own. From group and individual supervision sessions, my issues revolved around the emotional and psychological separation from my parents. A lifetime of emotional abuse fueled my need to survive psychologically by distancing myself emotionally as well as geographically; my parents lived in Minnesota whereas I pursued the safe haven of academics in Georgia. Although physical separation was achieved, there was a longing by me to be reunited with my family. This tension between the polarities of separation and reunion provides me with my theological lens. According to Jones, “People inhabiting this World are attracted by wholeness and harmony, valuing the inclusiveness of all” (W. Paul Jones, p. 66). Throughout the summer, the verbatims presented by me to the other chaplain interns and my supervisor centered on this theme.
My pastoral conversation with a 60-year-old African American woman named Martha[1] exemplified the tension between separation and reunion. A heavy smoker, Martha was diagnosed three years ago with small cell lung cancer. A “head CT” showed that the lung cancer had metastasized to her brain. Her largest brain lesion – over four centimeters in diameter – was found in her left front lobe. While making rounds on her floor, Martha made eye contact with me as I passed her room. Immediately, I stopped, put my notes down at the nurses’ station, and walked into her room. I noticed that Martha’s head was shaved and that she appeared extremely frail. I also read on Martha’s chart that she was separated from her husband.
After introducing myself, I asked Martha how she was doing. She shifted her body and stated, “I’m okay. . . I think this is the end.” Martha’s statement startled me and all I could do was to repeat what she said, “The end?” She nodded. “I think it’s time for me to go to hospice so everyone can go on with their lives.” At that moment, I believed that Martha was telling me she was going to die. I sensed she wanted to explore death, so I asked her a question that would allow her to enter this topic more easily. “What did you come in here for?” Martha’s face quivered as she whispered, “I am dying of cancer.” Although she acknowledged she was going to die, Martha seemed to be wrestling with another issue. I ventured, “Are you afraid of death?” She firmly responded, “No. I am not afraid of death. I am ready to go . . . (Martha’s eyes begin to fill with tears) I am worried about my 33-year-old son.” Following up on Martha’s disclosure, I asked her what worried her about her son. Crying in earnest while reaching for Kleenex to wipe her eyes Martha responded, “My son and his father don’t get along.” After I asked her why, she shrugged her shoulders responding, “I don’t really know why . . . He is a good man.” Martha’s response puzzled me; there had to a reason why they were estranged from each other. I pressed her, “So your son really doesn’t like his father. Why is that?” My question caused Martha to pause. She cocked her head to the left and responded, “I’m not sure. I think it was too much.” Martha’s voice trailed off. At that point, I attempted to clarify the relationships between Martha, her husband, and her son. “It was too much for your son to lose his mother and have to move in with his father that he doesn’t get along with?” She stopped to wipe her eyes and blow her nose before responding. “Yes . . . I need to talk to him about his father.” I felt that having to have this conversation with her estranged husband would be difficult. I asked Martha what this conversation would look like. She shook her head, “I really don’t know . . . I just hope to have the strength to get through it.” She looked physically exhausted. At that point, I took her hand and said a brief prayer and asked her if she needed a Bible. After retrieving a Bible from the Chaplain’s office, I went to Martha’s room but she was asleep; I laid the Bible on her food tray so she could see it and then I left.
Martha’s suffering emanated from two sources. She obviously suffered from the physical effects of cancer that metastasized throughout her body. Martha was extremely thin and weak; our conversation – short in duration – physically exhausted her. As such, Martha was needy, physiologically. In Suffering: A Test of Theological Method, Arthur McGill noted that underlying all suffering is the inherent neediness of human beings; that is, when needs are not met, suffering results (p. 2). Martha’s physiological neediness left her open to death, a consequence she did not fear. Martha also suffered spiritually, a suffering over which she expressed great fear. Following W. Paul Jones’ “Separation and Reunion” theological world (p. 94), Martha’s suffering emanated from separation; she was separated from her husband and from her son. She and her husband had separated. Her son was not living with her, either. Lastly, her son refused to have anything to do with his father. Martha implied that her son was unable to reconcile his differences with his father given his mother’s terminal illness. The physical and emotional separation of the family members created a sense of isolation for Martha, undoubtedly leaving her feeling abandoned. Her abandonment is a metaphor of Jesus’ experience of God’s forsakenness (Matt 27:46; Mark 15:34).[2] Paraphrasing, Jesus cried out to God at the ninth hour, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus is in anguish because he – God incarnate – is torn away and abandoned by Mysterium Tremendum God (“Moltmann Theology,” p. 2). The son’s separation from his father is puzzling and mysterious to Martha. Even when pressed, she cannot articulate it except through nonverbal emotional suffering. The abandonment by God of his son – Jesus Christ – also, is a mystery culminating in Jesus’ suffering; consequently, he cried out a question framed in estrangement. The expression of suffering by Jesus, arguably, can be viewed as a consequence of his perceived termination of his relationship with the Father (Moltmann, p. 12). Likewise, Martha’s suffering is a consequence of her perceptions of terminated family relationships (Arthur McGill, p. 2).
The separation of relationships, then, lays the groundwork for violence. Walter Wink’s description of Jesus’ confrontation of the existing patriarchal system (p. 4) resonates with Martha’s separation from her husband. Martha’s societal role as a woman, arguably, is diminished because of her medical condition. According to Wink, “Since the rise of the conquest states of Mesopotamia around 3000 B.C.E. . . . social systems became increasingly hierarchical, authoritarian, and patriarchal. Those who held power in a state now subjugated women, children, the weak, the poor, and used violence to do so” (p. 3). The violence applied by Martha’s husband against Martha and her son is separation. Withdrawing economic as well as emotional support renders Martha vulnerable, exploiting her worsening health. Her son – mirroring his father – escalates the separation, accelerating the violence by withholding love from his father as well as a supportive presence from his mother. The family’s disengagement serves to maintain a workable albeit unhealthy equilibrium. This “Myth of Redemptive Violence” is “the belief that violence works…It has become the predominant myth of the modern world” (Wink, p. 3). Separation between family members is justified because it provides the family a sense of order. Given the anger and angst associated with the family being together, confronting the impending death of the mother, equilibrium is valued over chaos.
Separation from her family renders Martha as an orphan or alien (W. Paul Jones, p. 94). She is an orphan because she has been left to die without the presence of her husband or her son. Martha is an alien because she has cancer. Living in a culture that places a premium value on youthful vitality, Martha’s diminished physicality and her diagnosis of terminal cancer leaves her sequestered alone – separated from the culture – in a hospital room. Symbolically, Martha assumes the role of Jesus Christ, the God incarnate on the cross. Her cross is her hospital bed; she lies prostrate, tethered to it via intravenous tubes and monitoring wires. She is weak and is awaiting death. Like Jesus, however, Martha’s vulnerability is her strength. McGill posits,
Jesus exhibits a powerlessness that contradicts all our assumptions about the power. His power appears to us as powerlessness. Therefore the God he represents appears very peculiar and in a fundamental way very ungod-like. God’s power as revealed in Jesus, does not dominate, threaten, or impose violence; it rather serves (p. 3).
The events leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion on the cross illustrate the power of his powerlessness. When Jesus is arrested at the Gethsemane, one of his followers pulls a sword and strikes one of the arresting party cutting off his ear. Jesus immediately stops his follower, telling him, “Put your sword back in its place for all who draw the sword will die by the sword” (Matt 26:52). Likewise, Jesus refuses to defend himself to Pilate (Mark 15:3-5); as such, Jesus is unwilling to participate in the violence of the very crowd condemning him. The confrontive pacifism that Jesus expressed reveals the nature of God. In making himself vulnerable, Jesus reveals the willingness of God to participate in suffering propagated by human beings (J. Denny Weaver, Atonement and Girard). As such, God seeks communion with human beings not separation regardless of their intentions or behavior. In identifying with Jesus Christ, God persuades human beings to reconcile and reunite not separate thereby promoting loving peace instead of vengeful violence. Martha accepts her fate that she is dying of cancer and that she suffers alone. Like Jesus, she refuses to escalate the violence of separation within her family; she does not besiege her son regarding her husband’s flaws or blemishes. Criticizing her husband would only serve to escalate her son’s resentment toward his father. Like Jesus, Martha plans to use persuasion. Her goal is to reunite her son with her husband. She hopes to begin the process of reunion by talking to her son about his father. To that end, she has forgiven her husband, calling him a “good man,” assuming the Christological role of “revealer” for her son (W. Paul Jones, p. 94).
Martha’s death was anticipated and imminent. As previously discussed, the ravages of cancer were not only painful but also rendered her perilously thin and weak. Although no description of Jesus’ physical suffering relevant to the crucifixion exists, he was flogged by the Romans (John 19:1). In examining the physical death of Jesus Christ, William Edwards and his colleagues noted, “Flogging was a legal preliminary to every Roman execution. . . . The usual instrument was a short whip . . . with several single or braided leather thongs of variable lengths, in which small iron balls or sharp pieces of sheep bones were tied at intervals.”[3] Jesus suffered extreme physical abuse as a result of this practice. “As the Roman soldiers repeatedly struck the victim’s back with full force, the iron balls would cause deep contusions, and the leather thongs and sheep bones would cut into the skin and subcutaneous tissues. Then, as the flogging continued, the lacerations would tear into the underlying skeletal muscles and produce quivering ribbons of bleeding flesh.”[4] On the cross, Jesus experienced additional physical suffering associated with five to seven inch nails being driven through his wrists and feet.[5] Waiting for death, arguably, caused psychological suffering. At the time of our pastoral conversation, Martha knew her time was short. Indeed, so did Jesus on the cross. “The length of survival generally ranged from three or four hours to three or four days and appears to have been inversely related to the severity of the scourging.”[6] The flogging of Jesus must have been severe since he died fairly quickly.[7] Both Martha and Jesus experienced excruciating pain; the question becomes, why is this suffering necessary?
To explicate the meaning of suffering for both Jesus and Martha, both spiritual and physical suffering must be examined. Of concern to Jesus was Mysterium Tremendum God’s reaction to those who crucified him. In Luke 23:34, “Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.’” Interpreting this passage offers two possibilities. If Jesus offered this plea to the Mysterium Tremendum God as “Father,” then Jesus is divine in some sense. If Jesus is part of God in the sense a son is part of his father, then theopassianism exists – “the notion that God genuinely suffers” (Ted Peters, p. 207). Yet, another possibility also is true. If Jesus is the Son of God, then patripassianism exists; that is, the notion that “God as Father exists” (Ted Peters, p. 207). In the relationship between Mysterium Tremendum God and Jesus Christ, both are true and both eschew separation by emphasizing unity. Jesus’ plea to God the Father implies a struggle on the part of the divine whether or not to retaliate when confronted with human violence. If retaliation occurs, however, the resulting violence would create a further separation between the divine and humanity. Instead, there is no retribution. The violence ends with the eventual acceptance by Mysterium Tremendum God and Jesus Christ of Jesus’ suffering and death, replaced by forgiveness (e.g., J. B. Metz) borne of unconditional love.
The reunion of the divine and humanity – once split (Gen 3:23-24) – now offers the promise of a new humanity (1 Cor 15:20ff; Rom 5:12-21). Martha’s acceptance of her suffering and impending death allowed her to be open to the possibilities associated with reunion. Possibly tempted to lash out given her painful medical condition, Martha instead confronts the estrangement of her family by promoting forgiveness. As previously discussed, she noted to me that her husband was “a good man” even though they were separated. She also acknowledged her meeting with her son to discuss his reuniting with his father. As with Jesus’ death, the potential reuniting of Martha’s family occurs because of Martha’s suffering and imminent death; the reunion of father and son offers Martha’s husband and son the promise of transformation, a life anew. Martha’s death ultimately offers to end the estrangement of father and son.
Viewing atonement in terms of a separation-reunion theological worldview examines the suffering and death of Jesus Christ as initiating changes in the core of humanity (“Theological Worlds and Models of Atonement,” p. 6). As such, the starting point for this worldview is the meaning of the suffering experienced by the human Jesus. Given that current Christian theological thought rejects Neo-Platonism and assumes a linear eschatology, this worldview is problematic. God’s insertion – in the form of Jesus Christ – into human history seems to negate both problems. As previously discussed, Jesus can be considered divine, both as a part of God or as the Son of God. Jesus’ suffering allows the divine a visceral understanding of the suffering experienced by humanity inherent in the violence of the world, belying neo-platonic views of the immutability of the divine. Not fighting the violence inherent in political systems by using greater violence promotes a divine acceptance of humanity – nonviolently through forgiveness – by the Mysterium Tremendum God and opens humanity to the ultimate reunion with the divine. Jesus’ divinity can be the starting point for Christians assuming that the advent of Jesus acts proleptically in history. Ted Peters argues,
What is true of Jesus is true of God’s relationship to history and vice versa. There is a correlation between his death and resurrection and the eschatological conclusion and transformation of the created order. The renewal of Jesus’ life at Easter participates in the same power and the same reality that will transform the mundane order. In Jesus it has happened ahead of time, proleptically (p. 199).
Martha’s anticipated death from cancer leads her to stop the escalating separation between her son and father; she forgives her husband who separated from her and prepares to talk to her son about him. She seeks an anticipated reunion of father and son, one that holds the potential for the healing of their relationship. In the healing process, the potential for a new life of the father – son relationship is possible. The death of Jesus begins the anticipation of a new humanity (Matt 27:50-52); one that eschews violence, promoting instead life anew, a relationship in complete harmony with the Mysterium Tremendum God.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Edwards, William D., Wesley J. Gabel, and Floyd E. Hosmer. “On the Physical Death of Jesus Christ.“ The Journal of the American Medical Association 255 (March 21, 1986): 1455-1463.
[1] Martha is a fictitious name used to protect the patient’s confidentiality.
[2] All scripture citations are from The New International Version Bible unless otherwise noted.
[3] William D. Edwards, Wesley J. Gabel, and Floyd E. Hosmer, “On the Physical Death of Jesus Christ, “The Journal of the American Medical Association 255 (March 21, 1986): 1457.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid., 1459.
[6] Ibid., 1459-60.
[7] Ibid., 1462.
Stating a question
You won’t understand this
you don’t understand me
you distance yourself
you turn away
hypnotized by movies
silent
no rage or fear
no anguish or sorrow
you frantically push your presets
to anticipate
tunes you can dance to
with lyrics that rhyme
I can’t write to make you understand
my words fail
to fit the jigsaw of your reality
for my words
are not empty calories
thoughtlessly swallowed
with flatulence
soon expelled as sewage
littered with colons and semicolons
plagued with contradictory phrases
and flushed
I can’t compile music to make you understand
my selections
offer no linear pathways
few rainbows
and no blissful endings
no white noise offered
but shades of black and gray
that irritate, anger, and annoy
Perhaps someday you will understand
me
the joy of my pain
the ecstasy of my angst
the companionship of my loneliness
for being alien
to banality
to being comfortably numb
is a lovely agony…
for Crystal
come back, come back
you have been gone
already too long
for us to be right
without you
come back, come back
there is no future
in the desolate cold
in the isolation
of the mountains
come back, come back
we see you, we love you
you are you
we are because you are
come back, come back
be one with us again
for we shine because of you
but pale in your absence
we need you now
more than ever
come back, come back
we cannot breathe if you do not
we cannot feel if you do not
we crave your laughter
the sparkle in your eyes
for if you do not live
we do not…