"you know, you're right"
this statement reveals far more than merely the correctness of one position over that of another
it can be both a geographical location
or
the designation of a particular political ideology
it can free
or it can enslave
depending on how its said it can be
good
bad
or even ugly...
words are funny that way
it's almost as if they have more in common with stand ins...rather than the ones for whom they're holding a space
because depending on how you speak them
the emphasis
the articulation
the force
the glance or the glare behind and around the word
changes the meaning, the point of what we're uttering
how else can bad be good?
or good, bad?
how else can "i love you" mean anything but...love
perhaps in these instances what's important isn't the word, the place holder if you will, but rather who's doing the word-ing
in high school i had several friends who, for lack of a better "word", referred to one another as (insert the "n word")
how can a word with so much history, pain, degradation, shame, politic, and well, baggage, be spoken with such ease
such warmth
such grace?
so, being inquisitive, i asked what would happen if i were to use this moniker to address them:
in a word...pain
maybe it's always been about who's doing the speaking, and where they're speaking from...rather than what's being spoken
and maybe in the case of "right", and even "wrong"...it isn't the accuracy of these phrases, or even the baggage they carry with them that makes them so offensive
or so liberative
maybe its the baggage of who's doing the saying
of who's doing the "righting" and the "wronging"
that gives them their punch
or their pleasure
how else can "right" condemn, connote, criticize, or even create...
"you know what, you're right"
"i'm right"
"you're wrong...admit it"
i recently uttered and had these uttered to me as a result of, ironically enough, other words: and in light of this experience i came to some conclusions:
sometimes "i'm right" doesn't seem quite as impactful coming from clenched fists, red faces, and angry stares
sometimes "you're wrong" doesn't quite land how one might intend when spoken between rolled eyes, and huffs not seen since middle school.
sometimes "i'm a christian" isn't very freeing when everyone who's not is afraid to tell you
sometimes "Jesus is the only way" doesn't seem all that true when we say it with fingers in our ears, and eyes closed tight to the responses of those with whom we're speaking
maybe "you're right"
and
maybe "i'm wrong"
but maybe the fact that you're arms are crossed and there's spittle on your lip says far more than your angry stammerings are attempting to explain
some responses:
"the mediums change, but the message stays the same"
"it's not about how or who...it's about what"
"truth is truth; right is right; wrong is wrong"
sure
except, of course, when how we say something, when how we look, how we live, how we act, how we move, and where we speak changes the meaning of our words for those on the receiving end of..
our truth
our way
our life
"truth is offensive"
"the gospel is offensive"
sure
but why are you yelling at me?
all these words beg the writing of just a few more:
"why do we speak?"
for the sake of the message or its recipient? or better yet:
for the sake of the messenger?
maybe, in order to avoid or eliminate these incongruities, we should eliminate the mediums
like reading emails or letters
but maybe you respond to these like i do:
"what are they trying to say?"
"is that sarcasm, or are they legitimately angry?"
"did they mean to put that in ALL CAPS, and if so WHY ARE THEY YELLING AT ME?"
or maybe we were always meant to be the meaning of our words
because "love"; "right"; "wrong"; even "God" just don't mean the same without the medium
without eyes
without hands
and
without feet
so maybe we should stop asking what...and instead start asking how
or better yet,
who?
Friday, August 14, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
lost in the weeds...
on fuller's campus there are two "social clubs"
one being the pasadena university club
and the other being the pasadena women's club
awesome is the word you're looking for
nothing says i'm in graduate school quite like almost getting hit by cars that cost more than you'll make in a lifetime on your way to a school that owns most if not all of your soul
the women's club shares a front lawn with fuller, as it is right between the school of psychology and faculty offices
the other day as i was walking to work i noticed that the women's club had constructed a white picket fence all the way around their patch of grass...that upon further glance doesn't look any different from the rest of the grass they had ceded from
the only difference was that it was "theirs"
and that the rest of the grass belonged to us plebians
again...awesome is the only articulation for this experience
now as i passed by this fence 2 or 3 times i kept wondering to myself...
does wilson from dennis the menace run the women's city club?
or
perhaps the club is just filled with truly desperate housewives
or
maybe they just needed to be right, to be different, to be better. and many times the best way to do this to build a fence
and if that's the case can i really fault them?
for fencing themselves in?
for separating?
for isolating?
fences keep dogs, cats, even dissent at bay
sometimes our fences become so tall that we have hard time remembering what it was like on the outside
kind of like prison
maybe the goal is to forget the things that linked you to the rest of the world, to root out those tendencies, those reminders of where you came from, and who you were.
i guess that's why we work so hard to protect and defend our answers
building the fence higher and higher so that once you've finally climbed to the top
once you've put in the work
the effort
once you've learned the vocabulary, not to mention the answers
because once you can finally see down the other side of the fence the strange realization rises inside of you: that you've seen this grass before
but you've put in all that work
you've climbed, and thought, and worked, and struggled to get over the fence and now that you have
it has to be different, it has to be better, we have to better
to make it worth the climb
worth the effort
"our faith is stronger"
"our book is true-er"
"our god is bigger"
...but unfortunately the only way that we've learned how to be right is to rope off
segregate
and prove others wrong
because if they're like us
if they're the same
and they didn't work,
didn't struggle up the fence...how can we be right, how can we be different, how can we be better?
how can any of this be worth it?
when faced with this dilemma we have two options:
one is to write off all dissenting opinion, in essence to remember why you built the fence the first place...to protect our grass
the other is to reject our effort, the fence, and most times, even the grass (even though we continue to be surrounded by it's presence)
but neither of these options really seems to satisfy, i guess that's why some call the resurrection the great, divine "neither"
what if, when posed with this either/or we simply answered "yes"
"that grass is the same as ours"...yes
"there's a reason i worked so hard to get here"...yes
instead of building
roping off
demarcating the boundaries
what if we expanded
encompassed
and with the spirit of this "neither" merely posed another question
not "who's in and who's out"
not "who's right and who's wrong"
not "where are you?"
but rather "where are you not?"
because from our vantage point, the grass all seems to look the same and maybe that's okay
maybe our job isn't to convince others that our grass is really inherently any better than theirs
maybe its more about showing that their grass
our grass
everyone's grass is really your grass
and that some are open to that more than others
ultimately when we embrace this kind of spirit we're okay with not knowing where the edges,
the boundaries, or
the fences are.
because we realize that's not our job...it's yours
and when you free us from trying to be or create you
we start to find and to see you in the strangest of places
in others
in ourselves
and
...even the pasadena women's club
one being the pasadena university club
and the other being the pasadena women's club
awesome is the word you're looking for
nothing says i'm in graduate school quite like almost getting hit by cars that cost more than you'll make in a lifetime on your way to a school that owns most if not all of your soul
the women's club shares a front lawn with fuller, as it is right between the school of psychology and faculty offices
the other day as i was walking to work i noticed that the women's club had constructed a white picket fence all the way around their patch of grass...that upon further glance doesn't look any different from the rest of the grass they had ceded from
the only difference was that it was "theirs"
and that the rest of the grass belonged to us plebians
again...awesome is the only articulation for this experience
now as i passed by this fence 2 or 3 times i kept wondering to myself...
does wilson from dennis the menace run the women's city club?
or
perhaps the club is just filled with truly desperate housewives
or
maybe they just needed to be right, to be different, to be better. and many times the best way to do this to build a fence
and if that's the case can i really fault them?
for fencing themselves in?
for separating?
for isolating?
fences keep dogs, cats, even dissent at bay
sometimes our fences become so tall that we have hard time remembering what it was like on the outside
kind of like prison
maybe the goal is to forget the things that linked you to the rest of the world, to root out those tendencies, those reminders of where you came from, and who you were.
i guess that's why we work so hard to protect and defend our answers
building the fence higher and higher so that once you've finally climbed to the top
once you've put in the work
the effort
once you've learned the vocabulary, not to mention the answers
because once you can finally see down the other side of the fence the strange realization rises inside of you: that you've seen this grass before
but you've put in all that work
you've climbed, and thought, and worked, and struggled to get over the fence and now that you have
it has to be different, it has to be better, we have to better
to make it worth the climb
worth the effort
"our faith is stronger"
"our book is true-er"
"our god is bigger"
...but unfortunately the only way that we've learned how to be right is to rope off
segregate
and prove others wrong
because if they're like us
if they're the same
and they didn't work,
didn't struggle up the fence...how can we be right, how can we be different, how can we be better?
how can any of this be worth it?
when faced with this dilemma we have two options:
one is to write off all dissenting opinion, in essence to remember why you built the fence the first place...to protect our grass
the other is to reject our effort, the fence, and most times, even the grass (even though we continue to be surrounded by it's presence)
but neither of these options really seems to satisfy, i guess that's why some call the resurrection the great, divine "neither"
what if, when posed with this either/or we simply answered "yes"
"that grass is the same as ours"...yes
"there's a reason i worked so hard to get here"...yes
instead of building
roping off
demarcating the boundaries
what if we expanded
encompassed
and with the spirit of this "neither" merely posed another question
not "who's in and who's out"
not "who's right and who's wrong"
not "where are you?"
but rather "where are you not?"
because from our vantage point, the grass all seems to look the same and maybe that's okay
maybe our job isn't to convince others that our grass is really inherently any better than theirs
maybe its more about showing that their grass
our grass
everyone's grass is really your grass
and that some are open to that more than others
ultimately when we embrace this kind of spirit we're okay with not knowing where the edges,
the boundaries, or
the fences are.
because we realize that's not our job...it's yours
and when you free us from trying to be or create you
we start to find and to see you in the strangest of places
in others
in ourselves
and
...even the pasadena women's club
Thursday, April 9, 2009
the family business...
my dad's a salesman
he's been one his whole life
his dad was a salesman
was one for most of his life
door to door
city to city
state to state
it's the family business
some of you are doctors
lawyers
accountants
teachers
coaches
and so were your moms and dads
once its in your blood
your DNA
it's almost as if anything you try to do to fight against the impulse
the urge
the pull...only wears you out
enabling the current to pull you out to sea
this is all we know...so we acquire the appropriate words
sentences
even feelings for our impending fate
"it's who we are"
"it's easier"
"it's safer"
"the path's well worn"
all the while we wonder if there was something else
something more?
"only the young have energy for thoughts like these"
and by thoughts you could probably just as well insert "imaginative frivolity"
so we buckle down
we focus
and we work
when we finally have time to pause and lift up our heads we discover...
that we're much older these days
that it hurts when we run
that the term "holding pattern" has been replaced with "career"
...that we look a lot like our parents
for some of us this realization is what we always wanted
that is to become the one we could never please
because maybe they might finally approve of what they see in us...themselves
for others the feeling more closely resembles what happens when elevators quickly rise without warning
...causing us to lose our stomachs again, and again, and again
it's in these moments that we truly define who it is that we are
for me i never wanted to go door to door or state to state
i never wanted to create need in another
i never wanted to sell myself
i never wanted to work on commission
i never wanted to convince
coerce
or cajole...anything
but when i look at myself in the mirror these days the questions rise up from the sink again
and again
and again
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
"let me tell you what you need..."
"god has a wonderful plan for your life..."
"you know that guilt you're feeling, well that's sin..."
"we've decided to go ahead with this building project so we'll ask you to faithfully give over and above what you're already committed to..."
"join..."
"decide..."
"confess..."
again
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
maybe...
but its these bathroom mirror moments that define us
...not yet
he's been one his whole life
his dad was a salesman
was one for most of his life
door to door
city to city
state to state
it's the family business
some of you are doctors
lawyers
accountants
teachers
coaches
and so were your moms and dads
once its in your blood
your DNA
it's almost as if anything you try to do to fight against the impulse
the urge
the pull...only wears you out
enabling the current to pull you out to sea
this is all we know...so we acquire the appropriate words
sentences
even feelings for our impending fate
"it's who we are"
"it's easier"
"it's safer"
"the path's well worn"
all the while we wonder if there was something else
something more?
"only the young have energy for thoughts like these"
and by thoughts you could probably just as well insert "imaginative frivolity"
so we buckle down
we focus
and we work
when we finally have time to pause and lift up our heads we discover...
that we're much older these days
that it hurts when we run
that the term "holding pattern" has been replaced with "career"
...that we look a lot like our parents
for some of us this realization is what we always wanted
that is to become the one we could never please
because maybe they might finally approve of what they see in us...themselves
for others the feeling more closely resembles what happens when elevators quickly rise without warning
...causing us to lose our stomachs again, and again, and again
it's in these moments that we truly define who it is that we are
for me i never wanted to go door to door or state to state
i never wanted to create need in another
i never wanted to sell myself
i never wanted to work on commission
i never wanted to convince
coerce
or cajole...anything
but when i look at myself in the mirror these days the questions rise up from the sink again
and again
and again
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
"let me tell you what you need..."
"god has a wonderful plan for your life..."
"you know that guilt you're feeling, well that's sin..."
"we've decided to go ahead with this building project so we'll ask you to faithfully give over and above what you're already committed to..."
"join..."
"decide..."
"confess..."
again
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
"am i a salesman?"
maybe...
but its these bathroom mirror moments that define us
...not yet
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
texas forever...
i visited texas recently to see some friends and a wedding
not only did i see things blue and borrowed
but also longhorns on city streets, trucks with step ladders, and cigarette smoke...everywhere
i also ate mexican (twice), slept on a pull out sofa, and went to church
now i already have a hard enough time going to church these days...but texas?
two words...jim bakker
i just can't seem to get fired up for it anymore, church that is
maybe its the way it smells...like burnt coffee and hairspray
or the way it looks...like a castle or a business park
or even the way it feels...like a bad concert where everyone loves the band...but me or like those first few days of class in undergrad where they spend the full hour talking about the scientific method
or maybe i've just been having trouble with the fact that church these days ends up coming off more like a pyramid scheme where everyone's already invested too much to pull out...desperation rather than inspiration
lately it just seems to me that we're all keeping at it in hopes that maybe we'll mean it one day
or that we'll feel it
or even that we'll smell it
sometimes it feels like we're trying so hard that it doesn't matter what happens
and that it doesn't even matter that nothing we're doing or feeling is normal (maybe the absence of feeling is more accurate)
so to avoid these types of moments we spend more
we shut our eyes tighter, raise our hands higher, we might even take our shoes off in an effort to rekindle the fire
the flame
the feeling
and it struck me as I was sitting there in a texas church that looked more john eldridge than st. john
and listening to a pastor i didn't agree with do what i've accused more pastors of these days than i care to admit...that being: "violence to everything i believe in."
being cynical is always a lot of fun...
it's kind of like the time i watched dodgeball the movie with several of my friends
and as they sat there laughing all i could think was "these people are the reason that America's Funniest Home Videos is still on the air"
now you might say "i like that movie"
"ben stiller is hilarious"
obviously you're wrong...so were my friends
maybe all those afv voters laughing hysterically around me just understand good comedy...i doubt it
maybe i'm too serious to admit it...closer
maybe i'm too smart for my own good...or maybe (in reality) i'm not that smart to begin with
and maybe all those people filing into those castles and business parks on sunday know something i never will
maybe they mean it
maybe they feel it
maybe they even smell it...although it's hard not to, burnt coffee smells like someone shoved a cat into a toaster
and maybe i'm the only one getting duped
but i just can't seem to mean it
to feel it
to know it
so i cross my arms and roll my eyes...waiting on divine conclusion to yet another disappointing sunday
but then a smile creeps in as i watch them laugh (for the record ben stiller isn't funny...this is a metaphor)
i smile a little more (why is he throwing wrenches?)
i even start to laugh a little bit...but instantly judgment creeps in
"this isn't funny"
"these people don't know comedy"
"the royal tenebaums, now that's comedy"
but why is it that these people all seem like they're having a lot of fun...whereas i look like i have to go to the bathroom on an airplane
so i let go, if only for a moment:
and i laugh, and laugh, and laugh
and i overlook the cliches, and the cheesy delivery, and the overplayed soundtrack
...even the big hair
and in doing so i start to realize that i always did like movies like these
and that the audience is made up mostly of people i consider my friends
i'm glad it took a trip to dallas (the city not the soap opera) for me to discover that maybe i'm the one whose boring
or fake
or trying too hard
...now that's comedy
not only did i see things blue and borrowed
but also longhorns on city streets, trucks with step ladders, and cigarette smoke...everywhere
i also ate mexican (twice), slept on a pull out sofa, and went to church
now i already have a hard enough time going to church these days...but texas?
two words...jim bakker
i just can't seem to get fired up for it anymore, church that is
maybe its the way it smells...like burnt coffee and hairspray
or the way it looks...like a castle or a business park
or even the way it feels...like a bad concert where everyone loves the band...but me or like those first few days of class in undergrad where they spend the full hour talking about the scientific method
or maybe i've just been having trouble with the fact that church these days ends up coming off more like a pyramid scheme where everyone's already invested too much to pull out...desperation rather than inspiration
lately it just seems to me that we're all keeping at it in hopes that maybe we'll mean it one day
or that we'll feel it
or even that we'll smell it
sometimes it feels like we're trying so hard that it doesn't matter what happens
and that it doesn't even matter that nothing we're doing or feeling is normal (maybe the absence of feeling is more accurate)
so to avoid these types of moments we spend more
we shut our eyes tighter, raise our hands higher, we might even take our shoes off in an effort to rekindle the fire
the flame
the feeling
and it struck me as I was sitting there in a texas church that looked more john eldridge than st. john
and listening to a pastor i didn't agree with do what i've accused more pastors of these days than i care to admit...that being: "violence to everything i believe in."
being cynical is always a lot of fun...
it's kind of like the time i watched dodgeball the movie with several of my friends
and as they sat there laughing all i could think was "these people are the reason that America's Funniest Home Videos is still on the air"
now you might say "i like that movie"
"ben stiller is hilarious"
obviously you're wrong...so were my friends
maybe all those afv voters laughing hysterically around me just understand good comedy...i doubt it
maybe i'm too serious to admit it...closer
maybe i'm too smart for my own good...or maybe (in reality) i'm not that smart to begin with
and maybe all those people filing into those castles and business parks on sunday know something i never will
maybe they mean it
maybe they feel it
maybe they even smell it...although it's hard not to, burnt coffee smells like someone shoved a cat into a toaster
and maybe i'm the only one getting duped
but i just can't seem to mean it
to feel it
to know it
so i cross my arms and roll my eyes...waiting on divine conclusion to yet another disappointing sunday
but then a smile creeps in as i watch them laugh (for the record ben stiller isn't funny...this is a metaphor)
i smile a little more (why is he throwing wrenches?)
i even start to laugh a little bit...but instantly judgment creeps in
"this isn't funny"
"these people don't know comedy"
"the royal tenebaums, now that's comedy"
but why is it that these people all seem like they're having a lot of fun...whereas i look like i have to go to the bathroom on an airplane
so i let go, if only for a moment:
and i laugh, and laugh, and laugh
and i overlook the cliches, and the cheesy delivery, and the overplayed soundtrack
...even the big hair
and in doing so i start to realize that i always did like movies like these
and that the audience is made up mostly of people i consider my friends
i'm glad it took a trip to dallas (the city not the soap opera) for me to discover that maybe i'm the one whose boring
or fake
or trying too hard
...now that's comedy
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
"2 coffee cakes...but hold the oatmeal"
dependency has many faces
ones that seem functional
ones with 5 day stubble
ones with 3 kids, 1 shoe, and no bed
ones that when serving them biscuits and gravy ask you for "2 of the coffee cakes, but without all the oatmeal on top."
ones who eat off of trays long after high school...and ones who hand them out
seeing these faces is like reading the spines of books on a library shelf...passing over some, lingering on others
once one's been chosen you, somewhat disappointed, discover that the thesis is strangely familiar
maybe in different garb, but the same foil
the same plot
the same ending....
plastic trays
plastic spoons
if these stories are all the same
if these books have all been written
is there anything left for us to read?
to learn?
to try?
"i've heard this before"
"i've seen these faces"
"i've read these pages"
"i just couldn't quit..."
"and then she took my kids away..."
"i had nowhere else to go..."
"i'm blessed..."
wait.
flip the page back over
"i'm blessed..."
that's what i thought i saw
you eat your meals in segregated plastic cells containing applesauce, biscuit, gravy, and sugar
quite a skid row of breakfast foods
you won't sleep inside tonight, even though its raining
you haven't seen your wife and kids in 2 or 3 years
"i'm blessed..."
we can explain this
we can keep flipping through the pages
we can skip this paragraph
we know the ending
"of course you're blessed, you were starving, and now you aren't"
"once you eat, and shower, you'll read the end of this story and choose the appropriate emotions to fit the conclusion"
despondent
broken
quiet
angry
happy simply to eat and return to these responses
like, the biblical text says, a dog to its vomit
its strange, when our eyes pass over these spines, and we flip to the back we ultimately find an ending
but not to the story we expected
"i'm blessed"
not theirs
"_________"
ours..."i've heard this one before"
the same foil, but maybe in different garb
"i just graduated"
"i just got married"
"i just bought a house"
"i just had to follow my heart"
"i'm sorry"
"i had to work late"
"she just understands me better"
"it's not your fault"
"i don't have any change"
we flip back through the few pages that make up this strangely familiar story
looking
searching
hoping to see it
"__________"
maybe when i look out from behind the lunch counter glass at all the books dusty and used
they see the same thing i do
a written ending
a tired plot
a decided life
and responses to fit these conclusions
anxious
arrogant
maybe even a bit delusional
they might even be looking for the same book we are
searching for a new word
a new story
a new way
a new truth
maybe even a new life
"i'm blessed"
"i'm blessed"
"i'm blessed"
and maybe as we refuse our own endings
our own conclusions
our own vomit
we allow and invite others to do the same, even though their stories might not start from the same place ours do
so as we hand trays out
or eat off of them
as we sleep in beds
or in streets
"we're blessed"
"we're blessed"
"we're blessed"
and ultimately because we are...so are you
i guess that's an ending of sorts
a conclusion...or maybe just a hanging preposition to...
something new
ones that seem functional
ones with 5 day stubble
ones with 3 kids, 1 shoe, and no bed
ones that when serving them biscuits and gravy ask you for "2 of the coffee cakes, but without all the oatmeal on top."
ones who eat off of trays long after high school...and ones who hand them out
seeing these faces is like reading the spines of books on a library shelf...passing over some, lingering on others
once one's been chosen you, somewhat disappointed, discover that the thesis is strangely familiar
maybe in different garb, but the same foil
the same plot
the same ending....
plastic trays
plastic spoons
if these stories are all the same
if these books have all been written
is there anything left for us to read?
to learn?
to try?
"i've heard this before"
"i've seen these faces"
"i've read these pages"
"i just couldn't quit..."
"and then she took my kids away..."
"i had nowhere else to go..."
"i'm blessed..."
wait.
flip the page back over
"i'm blessed..."
that's what i thought i saw
you eat your meals in segregated plastic cells containing applesauce, biscuit, gravy, and sugar
quite a skid row of breakfast foods
you won't sleep inside tonight, even though its raining
you haven't seen your wife and kids in 2 or 3 years
"i'm blessed..."
we can explain this
we can keep flipping through the pages
we can skip this paragraph
we know the ending
"of course you're blessed, you were starving, and now you aren't"
"once you eat, and shower, you'll read the end of this story and choose the appropriate emotions to fit the conclusion"
despondent
broken
quiet
angry
happy simply to eat and return to these responses
like, the biblical text says, a dog to its vomit
its strange, when our eyes pass over these spines, and we flip to the back we ultimately find an ending
but not to the story we expected
"i'm blessed"
not theirs
"_________"
ours..."i've heard this one before"
the same foil, but maybe in different garb
"i just graduated"
"i just got married"
"i just bought a house"
"i just had to follow my heart"
"i'm sorry"
"i had to work late"
"she just understands me better"
"it's not your fault"
"i don't have any change"
we flip back through the few pages that make up this strangely familiar story
looking
searching
hoping to see it
"__________"
maybe when i look out from behind the lunch counter glass at all the books dusty and used
they see the same thing i do
a written ending
a tired plot
a decided life
and responses to fit these conclusions
anxious
arrogant
maybe even a bit delusional
they might even be looking for the same book we are
searching for a new word
a new story
a new way
a new truth
maybe even a new life
"i'm blessed"
"i'm blessed"
"i'm blessed"
and maybe as we refuse our own endings
our own conclusions
our own vomit
we allow and invite others to do the same, even though their stories might not start from the same place ours do
so as we hand trays out
or eat off of them
as we sleep in beds
or in streets
"we're blessed"
"we're blessed"
"we're blessed"
and ultimately because we are...so are you
i guess that's an ending of sorts
a conclusion...or maybe just a hanging preposition to...
something new
Friday, February 20, 2009
turn the other cheek
i'm currently reading Walter Wink's "The Powers that Be" and its really pushing my conception of societal structures and their role in both holding back and perpetuating evil...
thus representing both the fallen nature of humanity and human society generally, as well as the great act of redemption awaiting all things not just people
in order to subvert, and ultimately redeem these invisible powers (which are manifested according to Wink in everything from corporations to boy scout troops) is to engage in nonviolent resistance thus refusing to continue what he calls "the domination system".
Wink's most lucid and convincing work is in his discussion of Jesus' "submission commands" in which followers are exhorted to "turn the other cheek, give up their cloaks, and walk the extra mile"
submissive
frail
meek
mild
these make sense for anyone reading the gospels
but complicit?
in our acceptance of domination
in our quiet submission to its practices
in our encouragement of suffering in all forms (even if this suffering is "redemptive") are we to blame for the continued use of violence, oppression, and degradation by the powers?
in telling women to return to their abusive husbands again
and again
and again
are we to blame?
in telling women to return to the margins of Christian society again
and again
and again
are we to blame?
in pushing back from the world
in condoning military endeavors of all kinds
in articulating our salvation as an act by God to satisfy his bloodlust
an act that saves us not from flames or hell or pitchforks
but from God himself...and his raised fist
are we to blame?
Wink argues that when Jesus exhorts us to take a blow on our right cheek from our oppressors what he is arguing for is not complicity and continuation of a violent structure undergirding all society, but is rather expressing our role as creative, nonviolent resisters to the powers of domination and violence in the world.
the left hand is the only hand that can strike the right cheek
the left hand was never used in this manner but was rather reserved for the more important tasks of bathroom maintenance
try to punch someone's right cheek with your right hand...impossible
the only blow that someone could deliver with their right hand to the right cheek of another is that of a backhanded slap
denoting a blow not of violence, but rather inferiority
like an abusive husband gives to a spouse
or to a child
like a slave owner gives to his slaves
"give to him the other cheek also"...
equals don't get slapped...they get punched
so in turning the cheek we remove the power that the one delivering the slap held over us
forcing them to either grant us black-eyed equality
or to relent altogether
the same is true for nakedness which is what would result from the rich taking the inner and outer cloak of a peasant
in jewish culture to be naked was to bring shame not on yourself but on those who witnessed your nakedness
see noah and ham in Genesis 9
nakedness exposes far more than bathing suit areas
it exposes the ridiculous nature of a system that sees the wealthy not only taking the land, but the very clothes off of the backs of peasants...
there's a sharp contrast between a man holding land, money, and clothes juxtaposed with the stark nakedness of poverty
something
is
wrong with this picture
the same is true for walking two miles instead of only one
roman soldiers had the imperial right to demand a jewish person of any social standing to carry their 80-90 lb. military packs with them for one mile
kind of like a mule...see the example of Joseph carrying the cross of Jesus up to Golgotha
but this right only gave the soldier the ability to enforce their labor for one mile
two was thought to be cruel and would result in a litany of punishments for the soldier who violated these practices
everybody's got standards
these soldiers could be flogged, have their rations reduced, or even be forced to sleep outside the safety of the encampment
"don't just walk one mile...walk with them two"
maybe wink's just doing violence to the text
maybe jesus always meant for us to choose one or the other
the one being flight
the other being fight
maybe life is always supposed to result in us becoming what it is that we hate
whether we hate cowardice
or violence
but maybe in turning the cheek
in becoming naked
in walking two rather than one...we expose
we subvert
and maybe, just maybe, we redeem
because in exposing rather than becoming what we hate we might finally embody the true nature of the cross
one that doesn't condone violence
one that doesn't allow death to rule
and one that removes the only thing the powers wield with authority...fear
and one that believes in a resurrection
and a redemption...of all things
even those who nail their dissenters on crosses
thus representing both the fallen nature of humanity and human society generally, as well as the great act of redemption awaiting all things not just people
in order to subvert, and ultimately redeem these invisible powers (which are manifested according to Wink in everything from corporations to boy scout troops) is to engage in nonviolent resistance thus refusing to continue what he calls "the domination system".
Wink's most lucid and convincing work is in his discussion of Jesus' "submission commands" in which followers are exhorted to "turn the other cheek, give up their cloaks, and walk the extra mile"
submissive
frail
meek
mild
these make sense for anyone reading the gospels
but complicit?
in our acceptance of domination
in our quiet submission to its practices
in our encouragement of suffering in all forms (even if this suffering is "redemptive") are we to blame for the continued use of violence, oppression, and degradation by the powers?
in telling women to return to their abusive husbands again
and again
and again
are we to blame?
in telling women to return to the margins of Christian society again
and again
and again
are we to blame?
in pushing back from the world
in condoning military endeavors of all kinds
in articulating our salvation as an act by God to satisfy his bloodlust
an act that saves us not from flames or hell or pitchforks
but from God himself...and his raised fist
are we to blame?
Wink argues that when Jesus exhorts us to take a blow on our right cheek from our oppressors what he is arguing for is not complicity and continuation of a violent structure undergirding all society, but is rather expressing our role as creative, nonviolent resisters to the powers of domination and violence in the world.
the left hand is the only hand that can strike the right cheek
the left hand was never used in this manner but was rather reserved for the more important tasks of bathroom maintenance
try to punch someone's right cheek with your right hand...impossible
the only blow that someone could deliver with their right hand to the right cheek of another is that of a backhanded slap
denoting a blow not of violence, but rather inferiority
like an abusive husband gives to a spouse
or to a child
like a slave owner gives to his slaves
"give to him the other cheek also"...
equals don't get slapped...they get punched
so in turning the cheek we remove the power that the one delivering the slap held over us
forcing them to either grant us black-eyed equality
or to relent altogether
the same is true for nakedness which is what would result from the rich taking the inner and outer cloak of a peasant
in jewish culture to be naked was to bring shame not on yourself but on those who witnessed your nakedness
see noah and ham in Genesis 9
nakedness exposes far more than bathing suit areas
it exposes the ridiculous nature of a system that sees the wealthy not only taking the land, but the very clothes off of the backs of peasants...
there's a sharp contrast between a man holding land, money, and clothes juxtaposed with the stark nakedness of poverty
something
is
wrong with this picture
the same is true for walking two miles instead of only one
roman soldiers had the imperial right to demand a jewish person of any social standing to carry their 80-90 lb. military packs with them for one mile
kind of like a mule...see the example of Joseph carrying the cross of Jesus up to Golgotha
but this right only gave the soldier the ability to enforce their labor for one mile
two was thought to be cruel and would result in a litany of punishments for the soldier who violated these practices
everybody's got standards
these soldiers could be flogged, have their rations reduced, or even be forced to sleep outside the safety of the encampment
"don't just walk one mile...walk with them two"
maybe wink's just doing violence to the text
maybe jesus always meant for us to choose one or the other
the one being flight
the other being fight
maybe life is always supposed to result in us becoming what it is that we hate
whether we hate cowardice
or violence
but maybe in turning the cheek
in becoming naked
in walking two rather than one...we expose
we subvert
and maybe, just maybe, we redeem
because in exposing rather than becoming what we hate we might finally embody the true nature of the cross
one that doesn't condone violence
one that doesn't allow death to rule
and one that removes the only thing the powers wield with authority...fear
and one that believes in a resurrection
and a redemption...of all things
even those who nail their dissenters on crosses
Thursday, January 29, 2009
"as a _______"
as a southerner...i'm hospitable
i care about college football
i use the word "mud-flap" on a more than consistent basis (okay not really)
and i've peed outside
as a white male...i'm apologetic
i say "african-american" even when my african american friends tell me they like "black" better
i read the ny times
and i have a beard
as a husband...i'm apologetic (okay not really)
i don't leave my apt. after 10
i spend a lot of my time in sweatpants
and i'm never lonely
this is how we usually begin our sentences
with qualifiers
with identifiers...
that alert the listener that they can either join my self identified position (as a fellow southerner, for example) or take a marginal position of difference in the conversation (as a northerner, for example) in which they either cannot relate to the words proceeding my identification
or don't want to
this is how difference works and it colors most of our conversations
about geography
about politics
about religion
about everything really
and so in an effort to achieve a "critical mass" of diversity
or in an effort to root out all difference...we search for those who can't join our positions
to enlighten
or to oppose
to exalt
or to demonize
but ultimately, never to harmonize
that's why conversations that always begin with
"as a ______"
aren't really conversations at all (monologue is the word we were searching for)
and that's why any time someone chooses to transcend a position
a place
an origin...we're at a loss not only in our efforts to place them and their commentary, but our own as well
if there isn't a democrat...can there be a republican?
if there isn't a black...can there be a white?
if there isn't a christian...can there be a non-christian?
maybe this question is irrelevant
we all have a culture
we all have a place
we all have a time
but maybe, if only for a moment, we suspend our judgment
our "identity" (that which is rooted in culture)
and choose a new point of reference
a new center, one that doesn't result in marginalization...
of conversation
of commonality
but rather congruency
and in a rhetoric riddled with noise (white and otherwise) we might find a voice
an ear
an audience
rather than an opposition
an enemy
you're a republican...but you also have fingers
toes
eyes
breath
you're black...but you also like italian food
family
friends
and blue jeans
you're not a "believer"...in christianity, but rather in people
in art
in science
in the earth
and maybe in beginning in the grey
rather than the black
or the white
in the divine "maybe"
rather than the yes or the no of culture
race
politic
and religion
we might find more color than we ever imagined
"red, yellow, black, and white..."
we're not the same
but we're not that different
i guess that's what the resurrection was always about...
opening the door of the in-between
and in sewing up the curtain...
in creating sides
did we choose correctly?
i care about college football
i use the word "mud-flap" on a more than consistent basis (okay not really)
and i've peed outside
as a white male...i'm apologetic
i say "african-american" even when my african american friends tell me they like "black" better
i read the ny times
and i have a beard
as a husband...i'm apologetic (okay not really)
i don't leave my apt. after 10
i spend a lot of my time in sweatpants
and i'm never lonely
this is how we usually begin our sentences
with qualifiers
with identifiers...
that alert the listener that they can either join my self identified position (as a fellow southerner, for example) or take a marginal position of difference in the conversation (as a northerner, for example) in which they either cannot relate to the words proceeding my identification
or don't want to
this is how difference works and it colors most of our conversations
about geography
about politics
about religion
about everything really
and so in an effort to achieve a "critical mass" of diversity
or in an effort to root out all difference...we search for those who can't join our positions
to enlighten
or to oppose
to exalt
or to demonize
but ultimately, never to harmonize
that's why conversations that always begin with
"as a ______"
aren't really conversations at all (monologue is the word we were searching for)
and that's why any time someone chooses to transcend a position
a place
an origin...we're at a loss not only in our efforts to place them and their commentary, but our own as well
if there isn't a democrat...can there be a republican?
if there isn't a black...can there be a white?
if there isn't a christian...can there be a non-christian?
maybe this question is irrelevant
we all have a culture
we all have a place
we all have a time
but maybe, if only for a moment, we suspend our judgment
our "identity" (that which is rooted in culture)
and choose a new point of reference
a new center, one that doesn't result in marginalization...
of conversation
of commonality
but rather congruency
and in a rhetoric riddled with noise (white and otherwise) we might find a voice
an ear
an audience
rather than an opposition
an enemy
you're a republican...but you also have fingers
toes
eyes
breath
you're black...but you also like italian food
family
friends
and blue jeans
you're not a "believer"...in christianity, but rather in people
in art
in science
in the earth
and maybe in beginning in the grey
rather than the black
or the white
in the divine "maybe"
rather than the yes or the no of culture
race
politic
and religion
we might find more color than we ever imagined
"red, yellow, black, and white..."
we're not the same
but we're not that different
i guess that's what the resurrection was always about...
opening the door of the in-between
and in sewing up the curtain...
in creating sides
did we choose correctly?
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