Natalie Brandsma
Lit 240
15-12-2009
"Zeus has led us on to know, the Helmsmen lays it down as law that we must suffer, suffer into truth."
-Aeschylus
Grief is isolating; loneliness is part of the experience of pain, of loss, for it is alone that we experienced that which we now miss. If it is a person who has died, we miss them in a way that is very unique to our experience of sharing life with them. No one else understands our relationship with that person like we do. There is no way to fully describe our pain to another person, because to understand fully, they would need to share in our experience. But we try—again and again—to share our stories, and we find that with sharing, comes a sense of shared experience. From that, we can begin to heal. We do not share our unique grief still, that will always be ours alone to bear, but with the sharing of our story comes a sense of the collective suffering of humanity. We understand grief, pain, and loss—all these are a part of the human experience. These dark feelings are most intense and most primitive. Because pain is unpleasant, we try to avoid it, to run from it; and in a quest to understand our pain, we question it. Why did this happen to me? And as some sort of deity has existed in the minds of humans since the early human experience, we question God. We try to extract some sort of meaning from our intense pain, isolation, this darkness that is grief. From our questioning, we receive no definitive answers.
So the character of Job in the Bible and Jacob in Isaac Bashevis Singer’s The Slave question the reason for their suffering, their sins, and God. Both ultimately find that there is no causal relationship between the sins they have committed and their suffering. Ultimately, God can provide no individual answer to either character; suffering is part of the human experience of life, and we must discover meaning that emerges from our own suffering.
Job begins as a pious man, he says, “Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad?” (2.9) Job then goes on to state that which is the central message of the book in 1:21 "...the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” Often quoted to provide comfort to the grieving, it is this message of acceptance that the Book of Job is known for. However, Job begins, as all who suffer begin, in denial. He stumbles forward numbly on with his life. He has not had time to process all of the tragedy that has occurred in his life, but once he does, he demonstrates a storm of emotions. His friends question him over and over again: what has he done? What sin has Job committed to deserve this punishment? Job insists that he has done nothing to deserve such misery: “O that my vexation were weighed…/For then it would be heavier than the sand of the sea” (6.2-3). Job’s reactions ring true to human nature: we believe that there must be a purpose for our suffering, and that this suffering has been decreed by divine justice.
Job’s friends implore Job to reveal and repent his wickedness; they tell him: “If you are pure and upright, surely then he will rouse himself for you” (8.6). But Job has begun to question God, insisting that he has not committed a crime so great as to deserve such suffering. He complains, "See, he will kill me; I have no hope; but I will defend my ways to his face./ This will be my salvation, that the godless shall not come before him" (13.15-16). Job defies God and shares his anger, reflecting another stage of the grieving process.
"My spirit is broken, my days are extinct, the grave is ready for me" (17.1). Job, in the depths of his suffering, is purely human, sharing in this experience we call grief. And he has learned that sin has no causal relationship with suffering. At the end of the Book of Job, Job questions God as to the reason behind his suffering. Wisdom is to be found from a fear of the Lord (28.28). The Lord answers Jobs questions: to question leads to nowhere, for we humans cannot possibly understand the ways of the divine. And Job replies, “I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. “ (42.2). God is angered at Job’s friend’s words to their friend: “my wrath is kindled against you and against your two friends; for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has” (42.7). Job remains righteous because he has discovered that there is no definitive answer to why he suffers, no reason humans can understand. In his book, The Great Code, Northrop Frye comments, “the situation cannot be contained within the framework of law and wisdom and no causal explanation is good enough” (194). We must learn to accept our suffering along with our joys, this is the lesson from the book of Job. And we must look for meaning that may emerge from our own suffering.
Early in the novel The Slave, Jacob is pious and repentant. He questions not God, but himself. What sins can he repent for? What has he done to deserve his position as a slave? But through the novel, Jacob changes with his experience. His views of the world broaden, and he grows more contemplative. With the death of his wife, Jacob changes completely; he begins to ask bigger questions, and he rejects personal responsibility for both his sufferings and those of Sarah.
Like Job, Jacob rejects the notion that he is somehow responsible for his suffering with the death of his beloved Sarah-Wanda. He begins, instead, to question God. As she is dying, he thinks of her as virtuous, “a thousand times better than any of the others. Have they been to heaven and learned what God likes? Worry and fear, the isolation in which he found himself, had made him rebellious” (239-240). Jacob questions the knowledge of his fellow men; his suffering is great, and he is coming upon some sense that the answer to his question is that there is no definitive answer. He blames himself in moments, because he fell in love with a gentile, but on some level, he believes that their love could not be a sin. “What happened was no accident. Everything was preordained…he had been driven, he knew, by powers stronger than himself” (247). Jacob begins to trust in the divine in a different way. He no longer is questioning himself and his sins, but he questions the ways of the world. He has found wisdom in his sorrow, and, “now he at least understood his religion: its essence was the relation between man and his fellows” (247).
He realizes that all of the rules are unimportant compared to a larger theme about his religion that seems to be missed by his community: love for one another. Jacob moves, with his grief, into his own space with God. Like Job, Jacob has rejected the idea that there is a causal relationship between his behavior and his suffering. When he is in the woods running for his life, engulfed in grief, Jacob demonstrates that he has gone through a major shift in thought; he draws comfort from thoughts of Sarah-Wanda rather than from his God (254). He has halted his obsession with proper behavior, and he focuses instead on the things of his heart.
Jacob comes through his suffering, and in the end, he discovers “Everything remained the same: the ancient love, the ancient love, the ancient grief” (279). Jacob has discovered wisdom from the depths of grief. He has accepted himself and, like Job, he has discovered that the nature of suffering is universal. He has done nothing directly to deserve so much pain; rather pain is part of his human experience.
Job captures the essence of the experience of suffering in the conclusion of his defensive speech (29-31). He laments, “And now my soul is poured out within me;/ days of affliction have taken hold of me,/ The night racks my bones,/ and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest” (30.16-17). Job is a miserable character, yet he attempts to cling to dignity as he separates his suffering from his identity. He feels isolated and abandoned by God and by the joy of living.
Life is a binary. Joy cannot exist without suffering; it matters not whether we are a sinner or the utmost pious. Suffering is inevitable. Yet when we are deep within the swirling darkness of suffering, we search for justification or meaning. We, like Job, question, why me?
In our dealings with each other, with our children for example, we often inflict suffering as punishment or discipline. Therefore it seems natural for humans to question God, the father figure, what was done to deserve the punishment and pain that is experienced. As humans, we think, unable to turn off this constant stream of conscious thought, we must question and agonize over our suffering. We run away from our negative emotions, we stuff them down, we try anything to avoid acceptance. Yet acceptance is what we ultimately move to, and only by moving straight through the heart of the grief we try so hard to avoid can we move beyond it.
May we find comfort in our darkest moments of suffering in the knowledge that all suffer, all will suffer. May we turn to the words of Job, of Jacob, and of the myriad other characters in literature who grieve and suffer. We are not, in fact alone, no matter how isolated we feel by our experience. And our experience exists for a reason, experience brings with it lessons and growth.
The day my father died started out as such a normal day—another day in the mountains, just him and me, together, like hundreds of previous days. We talked and laughed during the early part of our climb. Growing silent as the climb grew harder, and I suppose my dad’s stomach ace grew worse. But silence was normal. We had the ability to spend hours together in silence. Those moments, of quiet togetherness, were intimate. Our love, our friendship, was such that we did not need words or business to express it. So together, in our own thoughts we climbed. Dad really wanted to make the top that year, as we had not been able to the year before. He complained of an “annoying” stomach ache. But we dismissed his discomfort as indigestion from the Nepalese food from dinner the previous night. My dad and I both have EMT basic training—he actively used his training, I did not. But neither of us recognized the symptoms as heart trouble. I did not realize something was seriously wrong until dad wanted to turn around less than ten feet from the summit. Moments later, his hand started to tingle, and we both realized that he was having a heart attach. My dad said, “I can’t believe this. This is ridiculous.” Only moments later, he lost consciousness. I am thankful that there were other people around to help me perform CPR to talk to the rangers on the phone; we tried desperately to save my father. But he died anyway. And suddenly what had been a normal day, turned into an extraordinary story.
I do not know if I believe in God, but I question. Like Job, like Jacob, I throw my questions out, scream them in anger. Why did this happen? I search for meaning. And I have found truth in the quote: “we must suffer, suffer into truth”. There is meaning in suffering; through suffering, we learn to appreciate the mundane. We learn to embrace the gift of a “normal day”. We learn that life should not be taken for granted. And we learn to embrace and treasure our memories. I found this quote on my dad’s bathroom mirror after his death; these words describe painfully my experience and perspective. But they also draw from my grief a powerful lesson.
“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you. Bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.” -Mary Jean Iron
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
one last fitting quote and a photo of my happy father
I opened a Yoga magazine to this page, and I thought the quote fit well with today's discussion:
"Success is a journey, not a destination. Happiness is to be found along the way, not at the end of the road, for then the journey is over and it is too late. The time for happiness is today, not tomorrow. IF we wait to arrive at happiness, we shall be sadly disappointed in life." -Wes Milliman
no coincidence and final musings
I think I wrote this in a previous blog, but I no longer believe in coincidences. The fact that this class was one of the two I am taking the semester after my dad's death feels serendipitous. I have had the ability to share my story, through the semester, and through the literature.
Thank you for allowing me to speak. Thank you for your words and your thoughts.
My dad suggested to me more frequently over the past few years to pick up a Bible. He found its poetry beautiful, its words (or at least some of them) comforting. My dad only discovered religion in the years since my mom's diagnosis with Parkinson's Disease. Both my parents migrated toward religion, and there they found community, support, love. It filled something for my dad, and it continues to fill something for my mom. I have trouble with organized religion, because frankly it scares me. People seem to get so caught up in the community and camaraderie that they lose sight of the foundation. I think it is frightening to think of how many people have gotten caught up in a sort of mob-mentality associated with religion and they cease to think for themselves. So many religious institutions have the ability to control people through fear (fear of God's wrath, hell etc.). And I think anything that is so influential and has so much power over people's minds can be dangerous. I do not understand how a belief system, or religious view can remain static in a world that is it constant flux and change. I hope that as we move into a modern time, more and more people will approach religion while holding on to their brains. I hope people will question and explore all facets of religion.
I am hopeful, because I think religion can be a wonderful thing as well as a dangerous one. My dad was trying to help me find inner peace when he suggested I try attending church or perhaps opening the Bible. I do believe that there is a general lack of spiritual health in our society that leads to increased problems with addiction. We try to fill our emptiness with drugs, alcohol, sex, shopping, sugar, gambling... the list goes on and on. But perhaps what we need is stillness, poetry, love, compassion.
These are principle teachings I respect from any religion.
I too (like Lisette) have thought a lot about love recently. My grandmother sent me a card after my pony died when I was young, and in it she wrote, "Great sorrow is the price we pay for love". How true. And how thankful, in an odd way, I can be for this blister of grief and pain that has me engulfed. My dad and my grandmother both taught me many things, but above all, they both taught me about unconditional love. And that love does not go away. I am comforted by a phrase in Song of Solomon: "for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave" (7.6). And I know that my love--the love I feel for them, and the love they gave to me--lasts on. It is a source of strength and comfort for me. And I can pass on those lessons to those around me as I grow and heal.
The last time I remember my dad sharing a part of the Bible with me, he read to me from First Corinthians. Although I have said my dad suggested I pick up the Bible or attend church, he only mentioned these ideas a few times. He never pressured me or made me feel like I should, he just put it out there as an idea for me to do what I wanted with it. I opened my Bible tonight, and took a look at First Corinthians 13. And I found the part my dad read to me and it is beautiful and moving:
I think often too of the love of strangers. I found incredible support and love from complete strangers on the mountain when my father died. People were there to help me. They took over cell-phone duty, CPR, they hugged me. One girl just sat with me and tried to keep me calm through mindless chat. And after I realized that he was dead and I had to stumble down the mountain without him, they were there to keep me from falling. Literally--I took off when I first started down, tripped and fell immediately. Then one of the guys who had been on the scene the whole time appeared at my side, took my backpack and my hand and lead me down to the boulder basin where rangers waited to escort me the rest of the way down. People were there for me. And they demonstrated to me a wonderful side of humanity. I am so thankful to have seen such powerful goodness in the most horrific day of my life.
And since my dad's death, I have been engulfed with support and love. I have found love from many different directions, some of them surprising. And I have found it here, in this class. So again, thank you. May I remind you to treasure each day, each person, each moment that we are given. For life is not something to be taken for granted; life is a gift.
Thank you for allowing me to speak. Thank you for your words and your thoughts.
My dad suggested to me more frequently over the past few years to pick up a Bible. He found its poetry beautiful, its words (or at least some of them) comforting. My dad only discovered religion in the years since my mom's diagnosis with Parkinson's Disease. Both my parents migrated toward religion, and there they found community, support, love. It filled something for my dad, and it continues to fill something for my mom. I have trouble with organized religion, because frankly it scares me. People seem to get so caught up in the community and camaraderie that they lose sight of the foundation. I think it is frightening to think of how many people have gotten caught up in a sort of mob-mentality associated with religion and they cease to think for themselves. So many religious institutions have the ability to control people through fear (fear of God's wrath, hell etc.). And I think anything that is so influential and has so much power over people's minds can be dangerous. I do not understand how a belief system, or religious view can remain static in a world that is it constant flux and change. I hope that as we move into a modern time, more and more people will approach religion while holding on to their brains. I hope people will question and explore all facets of religion.
I am hopeful, because I think religion can be a wonderful thing as well as a dangerous one. My dad was trying to help me find inner peace when he suggested I try attending church or perhaps opening the Bible. I do believe that there is a general lack of spiritual health in our society that leads to increased problems with addiction. We try to fill our emptiness with drugs, alcohol, sex, shopping, sugar, gambling... the list goes on and on. But perhaps what we need is stillness, poetry, love, compassion.
These are principle teachings I respect from any religion.
I too (like Lisette) have thought a lot about love recently. My grandmother sent me a card after my pony died when I was young, and in it she wrote, "Great sorrow is the price we pay for love". How true. And how thankful, in an odd way, I can be for this blister of grief and pain that has me engulfed. My dad and my grandmother both taught me many things, but above all, they both taught me about unconditional love. And that love does not go away. I am comforted by a phrase in Song of Solomon: "for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave" (7.6). And I know that my love--the love I feel for them, and the love they gave to me--lasts on. It is a source of strength and comfort for me. And I can pass on those lessons to those around me as I grow and heal.
The last time I remember my dad sharing a part of the Bible with me, he read to me from First Corinthians. Although I have said my dad suggested I pick up the Bible or attend church, he only mentioned these ideas a few times. He never pressured me or made me feel like I should, he just put it out there as an idea for me to do what I wanted with it. I opened my Bible tonight, and took a look at First Corinthians 13. And I found the part my dad read to me and it is beautiful and moving:
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends.
I think often too of the love of strangers. I found incredible support and love from complete strangers on the mountain when my father died. People were there to help me. They took over cell-phone duty, CPR, they hugged me. One girl just sat with me and tried to keep me calm through mindless chat. And after I realized that he was dead and I had to stumble down the mountain without him, they were there to keep me from falling. Literally--I took off when I first started down, tripped and fell immediately. Then one of the guys who had been on the scene the whole time appeared at my side, took my backpack and my hand and lead me down to the boulder basin where rangers waited to escort me the rest of the way down. People were there for me. And they demonstrated to me a wonderful side of humanity. I am so thankful to have seen such powerful goodness in the most horrific day of my life.
And since my dad's death, I have been engulfed with support and love. I have found love from many different directions, some of them surprising. And I have found it here, in this class. So again, thank you. May I remind you to treasure each day, each person, each moment that we are given. For life is not something to be taken for granted; life is a gift.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
A belated paper post
I know I was supposed to post this some time ago. It has been rolling around in my head and in my computer for quite some time.
I am interested in grief and sorrow and suffering. The essence of great story, Dr. Sexson says, comes from those thing which are difficult.
Premise: Suffering is incommensurable with our “crimes” or sins.
Quote: “We suffer into the truth”
-Aeschylus
-Scars are paraded as evidence that we’ve been “through the fire” -Dr. Sexson
I have this small book that has helped me significantly in my journey through this great grief. The first time I opened the book, I opened it to this page:
Quote: “She thought that she had never before had a chance to realize the might, grimness and tenderness of God. She thought that now for the first time she began to know herself, and she gained extraordinary hope in this beginning of knowledge” --James Agee
“If we have ever wondered about the limits of our strength and our ability to endure, our experience of loss will tell us much. Our life is shaken to the foundation. But we survive. And out of this terrible, rarefied self-knowledge comes, if we are fortunate, a kind of empathy with all of creation--a senseof the wonder at the suffering and the beauty, of the world. We know ourselves to be in this world, to be part of it and also that it is out of our hands. We cannot manage any of it, but we are in the hands of One who can."
I found this quote and this passage so helpful in that moment. I know that I have learned much about myself through my experience of trauma, tragedy and grief. I learned that I have the ability to remain calm in the worst situation I can possibly imagine. I have learned that I have a deep reserve of strength upon which I can draw on during moments of extreme need. I have learned of the strength of my mother, and the strength of myself. I have learned that we are completely out of control of what life hands us. All that I can do now is appreciate what I have. I have wonderful memories. I will always be the daugher of an intelligent, loving, wonderful man. I have the legacy of his unconditional love. I have memories of the man who was my father; and I have no unfinished buisness with him. Our relationship was idealistic, pure, and something I will treasure with all of my heart for the rest of my days. Perhaps I treasure our special relationship even more because of his untimely death. I certainly have examined much more of the ways in which I am like him than I would have otherwise. And I have learned to do what dad always told me to do: "count your blessings". I have many. I have found so much love and support from many different directions. I have found connections everywhere with people who have been in the "belly of the fish".
Suffering is natural and as much a part of life as joy. The book of Job tells us that suffering is not connected directly with our actions. Jonah tells us that suffering is unavoidable--we cannot run from our lives.
In my paper, I will talk about suffering in the macrocosm. I will trace the suffering of Job, drawing on my previous blog on the subject, and I will trace the suffering with Jacob. I will show how those who suffer--which is all of us (we have all lost SOMETHING, and we will all experience loss and grief). emerge from their suffering with something of value. We learn from our experiences of suffering; our perspective is shifted, and we gain a sort of worldly-wisdom. And we are capable of coming through so much more than we ever imagined. We learn about ourselves from suffering.
Now, some random musings on suffering:
Quote:
O! that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew;
Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d
His canon ‘gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world.
-William Shakespeare
Reason for God: because we need someone or something to question. The randomness is difficult to understand, why do we search for meaning and understanding? Is it easier to question some percieved entity (God; the great spirit; God as we create him in our own image? a thought I had while in Origins class)
I believe in a connected spirituality as a part of the human experience. I believe in the connection between all things in the world; I do not believe in coincidence. My dad told me in recent years that he no longer believed in coincidence, but that he believed there was a specific order to the universe and the events that take place in each of our lives. When he told me, I felt like he was confiding some deep secret belief. And I was unsure of how I felt. I felt uncomfortable with the thought that things are ”pre-ordained“. Perhaps it made me feel less of some sense of control. But as events have taken place in my life since, I truly believe everything happens for a reason. The experiences I’ve had in my life leading up to the moment of my dad’s death have given me the strength and wisdom to cope; I have the self-knowledge that I will again find my feet and learn to stand in this world without a father. And with this self-knowledge and with this experience, this story, my story, I hope that someday I can help other people. Just as those who have been close to death and loss hold my hand now.
Quote (reminds me of Jacob’s thoughts when Wanda aka Sarah died):
”I don’t believe you dead. How can you be dead if I still feel you? Maybe, like God, you changed into something different that I’ll have to speak to in a different way, but you not dead to me Nettie.“ -Alice Walker
”For when is death not within ourselves?...Living and dead are the same, and so are awake and asleep, young and old.“ --Heraclitus
We are all part of the same story, ultimately (macrocosm). May we find comfort in our darkest moments of suffering in the knowledge that all suffer, all will suffer. We are not, in fact alone, no matter how isolated we feel by our experience. And our experience exists for a reason, experience brings with it lessons and growth.
Thank you class, for allowing me to share my story. And thank you for sharing your stories with me. I have found comfort and strength from connections, and with the telling of my story. We must all tell our story.
”There is a gravitational pull, an endless current which we do not recognize which draws us beyond all things and people, but at the same time more deeply and freely into them.“ --Edward J. Farrell
There are ambiguous gifts of suffering. We emerge with a larger sense of the world, a greater perspective; a sense of wonder at the world and a sense of mystery.
Grief pushes us to the edge of experience and in that we are forced to explore the dark corners of ourselves. As well as the dark corners of what it is to be human.
Death has the effect of knocking the wind out of the living. We stumble forward, feeling paralyzed by grief. Yet, at some point, we realize that we must slowly return to the world of the living.
”Feeling light within, I walk“ --Navajo Night Chant
I am interested in grief and sorrow and suffering. The essence of great story, Dr. Sexson says, comes from those thing which are difficult.
Premise: Suffering is incommensurable with our “crimes” or sins.
Quote: “We suffer into the truth”
-Aeschylus
-Scars are paraded as evidence that we’ve been “through the fire” -Dr. Sexson
I have this small book that has helped me significantly in my journey through this great grief. The first time I opened the book, I opened it to this page:
Quote: “She thought that she had never before had a chance to realize the might, grimness and tenderness of God. She thought that now for the first time she began to know herself, and she gained extraordinary hope in this beginning of knowledge” --James Agee
“If we have ever wondered about the limits of our strength and our ability to endure, our experience of loss will tell us much. Our life is shaken to the foundation. But we survive. And out of this terrible, rarefied self-knowledge comes, if we are fortunate, a kind of empathy with all of creation--a senseof the wonder at the suffering and the beauty, of the world. We know ourselves to be in this world, to be part of it and also that it is out of our hands. We cannot manage any of it, but we are in the hands of One who can."
I found this quote and this passage so helpful in that moment. I know that I have learned much about myself through my experience of trauma, tragedy and grief. I learned that I have the ability to remain calm in the worst situation I can possibly imagine. I have learned that I have a deep reserve of strength upon which I can draw on during moments of extreme need. I have learned of the strength of my mother, and the strength of myself. I have learned that we are completely out of control of what life hands us. All that I can do now is appreciate what I have. I have wonderful memories. I will always be the daugher of an intelligent, loving, wonderful man. I have the legacy of his unconditional love. I have memories of the man who was my father; and I have no unfinished buisness with him. Our relationship was idealistic, pure, and something I will treasure with all of my heart for the rest of my days. Perhaps I treasure our special relationship even more because of his untimely death. I certainly have examined much more of the ways in which I am like him than I would have otherwise. And I have learned to do what dad always told me to do: "count your blessings". I have many. I have found so much love and support from many different directions. I have found connections everywhere with people who have been in the "belly of the fish".
Suffering is natural and as much a part of life as joy. The book of Job tells us that suffering is not connected directly with our actions. Jonah tells us that suffering is unavoidable--we cannot run from our lives.
In my paper, I will talk about suffering in the macrocosm. I will trace the suffering of Job, drawing on my previous blog on the subject, and I will trace the suffering with Jacob. I will show how those who suffer--which is all of us (we have all lost SOMETHING, and we will all experience loss and grief). emerge from their suffering with something of value. We learn from our experiences of suffering; our perspective is shifted, and we gain a sort of worldly-wisdom. And we are capable of coming through so much more than we ever imagined. We learn about ourselves from suffering.
Now, some random musings on suffering:
Quote:
O! that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew;
Or that the Everlasting had not fix’d
His canon ‘gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God!
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world.
-William Shakespeare
Reason for God: because we need someone or something to question. The randomness is difficult to understand, why do we search for meaning and understanding? Is it easier to question some percieved entity (God; the great spirit; God as we create him in our own image? a thought I had while in Origins class)
I believe in a connected spirituality as a part of the human experience. I believe in the connection between all things in the world; I do not believe in coincidence. My dad told me in recent years that he no longer believed in coincidence, but that he believed there was a specific order to the universe and the events that take place in each of our lives. When he told me, I felt like he was confiding some deep secret belief. And I was unsure of how I felt. I felt uncomfortable with the thought that things are ”pre-ordained“. Perhaps it made me feel less of some sense of control. But as events have taken place in my life since, I truly believe everything happens for a reason. The experiences I’ve had in my life leading up to the moment of my dad’s death have given me the strength and wisdom to cope; I have the self-knowledge that I will again find my feet and learn to stand in this world without a father. And with this self-knowledge and with this experience, this story, my story, I hope that someday I can help other people. Just as those who have been close to death and loss hold my hand now.
Quote (reminds me of Jacob’s thoughts when Wanda aka Sarah died):
”I don’t believe you dead. How can you be dead if I still feel you? Maybe, like God, you changed into something different that I’ll have to speak to in a different way, but you not dead to me Nettie.“ -Alice Walker
”For when is death not within ourselves?...Living and dead are the same, and so are awake and asleep, young and old.“ --Heraclitus
We are all part of the same story, ultimately (macrocosm). May we find comfort in our darkest moments of suffering in the knowledge that all suffer, all will suffer. We are not, in fact alone, no matter how isolated we feel by our experience. And our experience exists for a reason, experience brings with it lessons and growth.
Thank you class, for allowing me to share my story. And thank you for sharing your stories with me. I have found comfort and strength from connections, and with the telling of my story. We must all tell our story.
”There is a gravitational pull, an endless current which we do not recognize which draws us beyond all things and people, but at the same time more deeply and freely into them.“ --Edward J. Farrell
There are ambiguous gifts of suffering. We emerge with a larger sense of the world, a greater perspective; a sense of wonder at the world and a sense of mystery.
Grief pushes us to the edge of experience and in that we are forced to explore the dark corners of ourselves. As well as the dark corners of what it is to be human.
Death has the effect of knocking the wind out of the living. We stumble forward, feeling paralyzed by grief. Yet, at some point, we realize that we must slowly return to the world of the living.
”Feeling light within, I walk“ --Navajo Night Chant
Jonah
Jonah flees from God's instruction to go to Nineveh; Jonah, like most of us, does not want to face his responsibilities. Then God, angry, flings a storm upon the sea where Jonah has tried to flee in a boat. Jonah runs away again--he also flees from the consequences of his actions; he does not like to face uncomfortable truths--that which is reality in life. He runs from problems. Wait, sounds familiar. Drinking, smoking, drugs, sex, entertainment (massive interest and focus on entertainment in our society): all are ways that we often look to for avoidance of our problems, feelings, lives...
Jonah does not see or care how his problems are affecting those around him--also familiar. The other men on the boat are kind and generous and try to save all of them before they toss Jonah overboard. Image: raging sea.
Jonah and suffering: Jonah is tossed into the raging sea--into the depths of the storm. Life with its dramatic changes and problems and intense grief feels sometimes like we are caught in the depths of an angry sea. We try to keep our head above water and continue to breathe--for this is all we can do. But we feel small and powerless and waves crash over and over our head. Intense emotion feels like this to me. I have felt often out of control and as though I am swimming through some intense storm as I try to cope with my life and my emotions. Emotions crash and crash over me and I feel out of control. Angry outbursts, tears, sometimes intense joy. I never know what the next wave will bring.
Then Jonah enters the belly of the FISH. A quote from a conversation with our professor: "Scars are to be paraded as evidence that we have been through the fire". Or in this case, that we have been tossed into the stormy sea and swallowed by a fish. We will emerge from the belly of the whale as a wiser person.
Mike Miles told me I am in the undertow of intense grief, of coping with a completely new reality and new experience of life. He said I must trust that I will be spit out the other side, and that I will grow from this pain and suffering. I hope blindly. Hope, memories, and the knowledge that suffering is universal and no matter how hard we try to protect ourselves from it, no matter how we try to run or to hide, we are all tossed into the raging waters and find ourselves in the belly of the fish. And all we can do is be there, in the experience, and trust that if we can bare the pain of no longer running, we will be spit back out and we will have gained a deep knowledge of the world and experience and wisdom.
Jonah, while in the belly of the fish, learns to be grateful. He is humbled--he has nothing and so he must simply trust in God. And when he says this, "the Lord spoke to the fish, and it spewed Jonah out upon the dry land" (2.10).
And when he is called again, Jonah does not flee, but faces his responsibility.
Jonah has expectation of his future: that the Lord's wrath will rain on the city of Nineveh. He probably has conjured up selfish images of how he will be viewed in greatness as his prophecy comes true yada yada. But then his expectations are destroyed by the Lord. His future is suddenly not as he envisioned it; so and Jonah responds with a temper-tantrum. Jonah still must learn to be thankful for what he has--God demonstrates this lesson again to him with the presence of the bush. Jonah waits in the heat and sun to watch the city and God gives him a bush for shade. But the lord giveth and the lord taketh away. And he causes the bush to wither. Jonah again responds with anger, and believes he is justified in his anger, but God responds: "You are concerned about the bush, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow; it came into being in a night and perished in a night" (4.10). God tells Jonah that the fate of the city is in His hands. Jonah has no power over the course of events in his life. Expectation leads to anger as things turn out differently. So Jonah should just relax, become a little more zen, go with the flow, and be thankful for what he has. Because he cannot know what his future will bring. We should all be grateful for what we have now, in this very moment. For none of us knows what the next moment will bring. We should not rely on dreams for our futures, because this moment is all we KNOW we have for sure. This is our life, now. Life does not begin in the future when we see ourselves with a job, a spouse, etcetera. Life is now. Appreciation for what we have is now. We will all find joy and we will all find suffering in life. We will all be tossed into the turmoil of grief and sudden change. We will go into the belly of the fish. But the beauty is that we will again emerge. We will deal with what we have been given, and we will learn from our experiences.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Samuel 1 books 1-10 script
Narrator (N):
“There was a certain man of Ramathaim, a Zuphite from the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was Elkanah…He had two wives; the name of the one was Hannah…” (1 Samuel 1.1)
Hannah had no children, and her rival provoked her over and over again. Therefore, Hannah grew sad and wept and would not eat. She goes to the temple of the Lord to present herself before him and pray for a child. She prays silently and :
Eli: “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine. “
Hannah: “No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard you servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.”
N: Elkanah knew his wife, Hannah, and the Lord remembered her. Samuel is born. As soon as he is weaned, he is given to serve God: “they brought the child to Eli” Hannah sings a poem of thanksgiving at her separation from her son.
“The sons of Eli were scoundrels (1 Sam 2.12). Eli weakly tries to dissuade their behavior “But they would not listen to the voice of their father; for it was the will of the Lord to kill them” (2.25)
“ A man of God” speaks to Eli.
Man of God: The Lord speaks: “Far be it from me, for those who honor me I will honor and those who despise me shall be treated with contempt”
N: Eli learns that his family is getting kicked out of the priesthood, both of his sons will die on the same day, and that a new priest will take their place: Samuel.
Little Samuel is summoned by the Lord:
It is night, the boy Samuel sleeps. The Lord calls “Samuel, Samuel!” and he presents himself to Eli and says:
Samuel: “here I am”
N: 3 times.
Eli: go lie back down and listen when you are called!
N: The Philistines and Israel battle. Israel is defeated.
Elders: “Why has the Lord put us to rout today before the Philistines? Let us bring the ark of the covenant of the lord here…so that he may come among us and save us from the power of our enemies.” (4.3)
N: Initially the Philistines are terrified, but they grow brave and the ark fails the Israelites. Eli’s 2 sons are guarding the ark and are killed as the Philistines capture it.
Messenger to Eli: Your sons are dead and the ark was captured by the Philistines.
N: Eli falls over backward and dies.
Ark is placed in the temple of Dagon, the Philistine God. Suffering begins when they do not heed the warning signs: the statue of Dagon is knocked over the first night; he is replaced and the next morning he is fallen and missing limbs.
They move the ark to Gath. The Lord struck the town with tumors. They send the ark to Ekron and “the hand of God was very heavy there” (5.12)
The Philistines ask the Priests: what do we do? Answer: offer the Lord a guilt offering of 5 gold mice and 5 gold tumors, put it in a wagon and “send it off, and let it go its way” . The ark is returned to Israel, to Beth-shemesh.
N: Samuel speaks to Israel.
Samuel: “If you are returning to the Lord with all your heart, then put away the foreign gods and the astartes from among you. Direct your heart to the lord and serve him only, and he will deliver you out of the hand of the Philistines.”
N: “so Israel put away the Baals and the Astartes and they served the Lord only” (7.3-4). Samuel judges his people at Mizpah.
Israel conquers the Philistines. Samuels sons are corrupt. Samuel is getting old.
Elders of Israel: “You are old and your sons do not follow in your ways; appoint for us, then, a king to govern us like other nations”
N: Resistant, Samuel warns them against wanting a monarch. But they do not listen. Samuel, following the Lord’s instructions, picks the handsome, tall Saul as king when Saul visits “the seer”
Saul: I am only a Benjaminite, from the least of the tribes of Israel”
N: Saul falls into a prophetic frenzy
Samuel announces to the Israelites that Saul will be king. Then they cannot find Saul, eventually discovering him hiding in the baggage. He is presented to the people.
The people: Long live the king!
“There was a certain man of Ramathaim, a Zuphite from the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was Elkanah…He had two wives; the name of the one was Hannah…” (1 Samuel 1.1)
Hannah had no children, and her rival provoked her over and over again. Therefore, Hannah grew sad and wept and would not eat. She goes to the temple of the Lord to present herself before him and pray for a child. She prays silently and :
Eli: “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine. “
Hannah: “No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard you servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.”
N: Elkanah knew his wife, Hannah, and the Lord remembered her. Samuel is born. As soon as he is weaned, he is given to serve God: “they brought the child to Eli” Hannah sings a poem of thanksgiving at her separation from her son.
“The sons of Eli were scoundrels (1 Sam 2.12). Eli weakly tries to dissuade their behavior “But they would not listen to the voice of their father; for it was the will of the Lord to kill them” (2.25)
“ A man of God” speaks to Eli.
Man of God: The Lord speaks: “Far be it from me, for those who honor me I will honor and those who despise me shall be treated with contempt”
N: Eli learns that his family is getting kicked out of the priesthood, both of his sons will die on the same day, and that a new priest will take their place: Samuel.
Little Samuel is summoned by the Lord:
It is night, the boy Samuel sleeps. The Lord calls “Samuel, Samuel!” and he presents himself to Eli and says:
Samuel: “here I am”
N: 3 times.
Eli: go lie back down and listen when you are called!
N: The Philistines and Israel battle. Israel is defeated.
Elders: “Why has the Lord put us to rout today before the Philistines? Let us bring the ark of the covenant of the lord here…so that he may come among us and save us from the power of our enemies.” (4.3)
N: Initially the Philistines are terrified, but they grow brave and the ark fails the Israelites. Eli’s 2 sons are guarding the ark and are killed as the Philistines capture it.
Messenger to Eli: Your sons are dead and the ark was captured by the Philistines.
N: Eli falls over backward and dies.
Ark is placed in the temple of Dagon, the Philistine God. Suffering begins when they do not heed the warning signs: the statue of Dagon is knocked over the first night; he is replaced and the next morning he is fallen and missing limbs.
They move the ark to Gath. The Lord struck the town with tumors. They send the ark to Ekron and “the hand of God was very heavy there” (5.12)
The Philistines ask the Priests: what do we do? Answer: offer the Lord a guilt offering of 5 gold mice and 5 gold tumors, put it in a wagon and “send it off, and let it go its way” . The ark is returned to Israel, to Beth-shemesh.
N: Samuel speaks to Israel.
Samuel: “If you are returning to the Lord with all your heart, then put away the foreign gods and the astartes from among you. Direct your heart to the lord and serve him only, and he will deliver you out of the hand of the Philistines.”
N: “so Israel put away the Baals and the Astartes and they served the Lord only” (7.3-4). Samuel judges his people at Mizpah.
Israel conquers the Philistines. Samuels sons are corrupt. Samuel is getting old.
Elders of Israel: “You are old and your sons do not follow in your ways; appoint for us, then, a king to govern us like other nations”
N: Resistant, Samuel warns them against wanting a monarch. But they do not listen. Samuel, following the Lord’s instructions, picks the handsome, tall Saul as king when Saul visits “the seer”
Saul: I am only a Benjaminite, from the least of the tribes of Israel”
N: Saul falls into a prophetic frenzy
Samuel announces to the Israelites that Saul will be king. Then they cannot find Saul, eventually discovering him hiding in the baggage. He is presented to the people.
The people: Long live the king!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Frye part 1
revelation |ˌrevəˈlā sh ən|
noun
1 a surprising and previously unknown fact, esp. one that is made known in a dramatic way : revelations about his personal life.
• the making known of something that was previously secret or unknown : the revelation of an alleged plot to assassinate the king.
• used to emphasize the surprising or remarkable quality of someone or something : seeing them play at international level was a revelation.
2 the divine or supernatural disclosure to humans of something relating to human existence or the world : an attempt to reconcile Darwinian theories with biblical revelation | a divine revelation.
• ( Revelation or informal Revelations) (in full the Revelation of St. John the Divine) the last book of the New Testament, recounting a divine revelation of the future to St. John.
DERIVATIVES
revelational |- sh ənl| adjective
ORIGIN Middle English (in the theological sense): from Old French, or from late Latin revelatio(n-), from revelare ‘lay bare’ (see reveal 1 ). Sense 1 dates from the mid 19th cent.
-New Oxford American Dictionary
CREATION
"In Genesis, however, the forms of life are spoken into existence, so that while they are made or created, they are not made out of something else" (106). Again, the power of WORDS, and oral language.
Something that always has bothered me about Genesis: "We know only of a world in which every human and animal form is born from a female body; but the Bible insists, not only on the association of God with the male sex, but that at the beginning the roles of male and female were reversed in human life, the first woman having been made out of the body of the first man" (107). Aha! "God is male because that rationalizes the ethos of a patriarchal male-dominated society."
"But, because we begin and end, we insist that beginnings and endings must be much more deeply built into the reality of things than the universe around us suggests, and we shape our myths accordingly" (108). Even existing in this modern world, we have no actual concept of our universe. We may have the scientific facts: estimations on the age of the universe, the earth--its birth via explosion--and all sorts of physical information. But on a conceptual level, all these facts fail us. None of us is capable of fathoming any of these facts, they are too far beyond our little existence and experience. Again I wonder, how do we remove ourselves from ourselves to observe? I do not think it is possible beyond some ideal to strive toward (fantasy perhaps?).
Beginning, like waking up from sleep is a revelation in itself. I think this may be a point Frye is getting to...Therefore Genesis mimics the structure of the U-shape that is the entire Bible. Thinking of creation in this way makes sense to me if I think of my own experience. Experience itself did not begin with birth, at least it means nothing to me now as those early years are not a part of memory. Early memories are like thoughts upon first waking, until we emerge into the full experience of life.
"The world God made was so "good" that he spent his seventh day contemplating it--which means that his Creation, including man, was already objective to God, even if we assume that man acquired with his fall a new and more intense feeling of the "otherness" of both God and nature" (110).
Revolution
The contrast of light and dark is like the binary of life and not-life (after death). I think heaven, too, is a natural human creation: how can we imagine an end of our experience?
"The spoken words of Christ are recorded with great care, but his physical appearance, the fact that he was bound to resemble some people more closely than others, could never have been anything but an embarrassment" (116). Funny that today we have such a concrete image of Jesus's physical appearance.
I do not think I understand this section...
noun
1 a surprising and previously unknown fact, esp. one that is made known in a dramatic way : revelations about his personal life.
• the making known of something that was previously secret or unknown : the revelation of an alleged plot to assassinate the king.
• used to emphasize the surprising or remarkable quality of someone or something : seeing them play at international level was a revelation.
2 the divine or supernatural disclosure to humans of something relating to human existence or the world : an attempt to reconcile Darwinian theories with biblical revelation | a divine revelation.
• ( Revelation or informal Revelations) (in full the Revelation of St. John the Divine) the last book of the New Testament, recounting a divine revelation of the future to St. John.
DERIVATIVES
revelational |- sh ənl| adjective
ORIGIN Middle English (in the theological sense): from Old French, or from late Latin revelatio(n-), from revelare ‘lay bare’ (see reveal 1 ). Sense 1 dates from the mid 19th cent.
-New Oxford American Dictionary
CREATION
"In Genesis, however, the forms of life are spoken into existence, so that while they are made or created, they are not made out of something else" (106). Again, the power of WORDS, and oral language.
Something that always has bothered me about Genesis: "We know only of a world in which every human and animal form is born from a female body; but the Bible insists, not only on the association of God with the male sex, but that at the beginning the roles of male and female were reversed in human life, the first woman having been made out of the body of the first man" (107). Aha! "God is male because that rationalizes the ethos of a patriarchal male-dominated society."
"But, because we begin and end, we insist that beginnings and endings must be much more deeply built into the reality of things than the universe around us suggests, and we shape our myths accordingly" (108). Even existing in this modern world, we have no actual concept of our universe. We may have the scientific facts: estimations on the age of the universe, the earth--its birth via explosion--and all sorts of physical information. But on a conceptual level, all these facts fail us. None of us is capable of fathoming any of these facts, they are too far beyond our little existence and experience. Again I wonder, how do we remove ourselves from ourselves to observe? I do not think it is possible beyond some ideal to strive toward (fantasy perhaps?).
Beginning, like waking up from sleep is a revelation in itself. I think this may be a point Frye is getting to...Therefore Genesis mimics the structure of the U-shape that is the entire Bible. Thinking of creation in this way makes sense to me if I think of my own experience. Experience itself did not begin with birth, at least it means nothing to me now as those early years are not a part of memory. Early memories are like thoughts upon first waking, until we emerge into the full experience of life.
"The world God made was so "good" that he spent his seventh day contemplating it--which means that his Creation, including man, was already objective to God, even if we assume that man acquired with his fall a new and more intense feeling of the "otherness" of both God and nature" (110).
Revolution
The contrast of light and dark is like the binary of life and not-life (after death). I think heaven, too, is a natural human creation: how can we imagine an end of our experience?
"The spoken words of Christ are recorded with great care, but his physical appearance, the fact that he was bound to resemble some people more closely than others, could never have been anything but an embarrassment" (116). Funny that today we have such a concrete image of Jesus's physical appearance.
I do not think I understand this section...
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