A long time ago, a man lived on a farm with a dozen white horses. He took good care of the horses; he fed them, groomed them, loved them. One spring, the corral's gate broke in the middle of the night, and all the horses escaped.
"What a tragedy, all your horses are gone!" the townspeople exclaimed.
"Well," the man replied, "what we know is, all the horses escaped and are now gone."
The following spring, all the horses returned. Three of the mares were pregnant, and eventually gave birth to three beautiful foals.
"What wonderful news, you now have all your horses back, plus three foals! You must be delighted!" the townspeople exclaimed.
"Well," the man replied, "what we know is, the horses are back, and now we have three more."
That fall, the man's son was riding one of the horses. He fell off the horse and broke his back.
"How terrible, your son has been injured! He is now disabled!" cried the townspeople.
"Well," the man replied, "what we know is, my son has been injured and is now disabled."
That winter, a war broke out. All the young men throughout the land were called to serve in battle, except for the man's son, who was unable to go to war because of his disability. The battle was the bloodiest the land had ever seen. All the young men were killed.
"What good fortune! Your son is now alive because he didn't go to war!" cried the townspeople.
"Well," the man replied, "what we know is, my son is now alive because he didn't go to war."
Friday, November 21, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
The True Message of "Turn the Other Cheek"
At one point or another during your life, as you struggled with conflict or tried to deal with an abusive situation, you may have been advised by a well-meaning but misinformed friend, “turn the other cheek.” Your friend is of course referring to the oft-cited Biblical text. The precise Biblical passage is in the Gospels, Matthew 5:39:
"If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also."
Actually, your friend offering such advice is not merely misinformed but missing the point entirely. If you are the victim of violence, your friend may even be putting your life in jeopardy with such misguided advice.
Many of us interpret the adage in the Bible to “turn the other cheek” as advice to “suck it up” and passively encourage our abusers to continue on, unabated. But this is absolutely NOT the message that Christ had intended to convey. During Christ’s time, masters would strike slaves (and any others subjugated by the patriarchal, institutional and religious powers of the day) with the back of the right hand (not the fist). The back of the hand was used to exert power, not inflict physical injury. It was corporal punishment to demean the spirit. It was a raw exertion of power to put the slave in his or her “place” by means of humiliation and degradation.
There is an important nuance of how such degradation was administered. Masters used the back of the right hand because to use the left hand would violate cleanliness laws. The left hand could be used for “unclean” tasks only. (You might argue that exerting corporal punishment is “unclean,” but this is not how the masters saw it.) Why didn’t a master just use his fist? Fist-fighting was strictly reserved as a means to fight amongst equals. Thus, a master could never strike a subordinate with his fist. If he did, he would imply a “fight among equals,” which a master would never intend to imply to a slave.
Here’s where Jesus’s advice is startlingly assertive as opposed to passive. By “turning the cheek” to the left side, the slave would be forcing the master to use his left hand or his fist, neither of which he could do without violating the legal framework of the punishment. So in essence, the slave has turned the tables on the master. The slave has said, “go ahead, break the law of the land, sully yourself and your actions.” The slave has successfully emasculated the master. This gentle act of defiance renders the master incapable of asserting his dominance in this scenario. He can beat the slave, but he cannot cow him. The inferior contests the situation by essentially acting in a way that says to the master, “I am a human being, just like you. I have dignity and worth. I refuse to be humiliated. I am a child of God, just like you.”
Clearly, such defiance on the part of the slave is no casual passivity. The slave is acting courageously, challenging his or her abuser in a non-violent way. Jesus’s message was for the oppressed to stand up, defy abusive authority, assert their humanity, but not to “stoop to the level” of the abuser’s violence. This is what we often hear described as Jesus’s “third way,” in which the oppressed “fight” their oppressors with clear-headed non-violence. It requires the oppressed to truly recognize, name, and expose abuses of power. This “third way” is neither cowardly submission nor violent reprisal; it is a beautiful, loving expression of an oppressed peoples’ humanity, and it is the only way we can diffuse the dehumanizing aspects of institutionally entrenched power structures. It is the only way we can transform human relationships to that of equality rather than dominance.
“The first principle of nonviolent action is that of noncooperation with everything humiliating.” –Gandi
"If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also."
Actually, your friend offering such advice is not merely misinformed but missing the point entirely. If you are the victim of violence, your friend may even be putting your life in jeopardy with such misguided advice.
Many of us interpret the adage in the Bible to “turn the other cheek” as advice to “suck it up” and passively encourage our abusers to continue on, unabated. But this is absolutely NOT the message that Christ had intended to convey. During Christ’s time, masters would strike slaves (and any others subjugated by the patriarchal, institutional and religious powers of the day) with the back of the right hand (not the fist). The back of the hand was used to exert power, not inflict physical injury. It was corporal punishment to demean the spirit. It was a raw exertion of power to put the slave in his or her “place” by means of humiliation and degradation.
There is an important nuance of how such degradation was administered. Masters used the back of the right hand because to use the left hand would violate cleanliness laws. The left hand could be used for “unclean” tasks only. (You might argue that exerting corporal punishment is “unclean,” but this is not how the masters saw it.) Why didn’t a master just use his fist? Fist-fighting was strictly reserved as a means to fight amongst equals. Thus, a master could never strike a subordinate with his fist. If he did, he would imply a “fight among equals,” which a master would never intend to imply to a slave.
Here’s where Jesus’s advice is startlingly assertive as opposed to passive. By “turning the cheek” to the left side, the slave would be forcing the master to use his left hand or his fist, neither of which he could do without violating the legal framework of the punishment. So in essence, the slave has turned the tables on the master. The slave has said, “go ahead, break the law of the land, sully yourself and your actions.” The slave has successfully emasculated the master. This gentle act of defiance renders the master incapable of asserting his dominance in this scenario. He can beat the slave, but he cannot cow him. The inferior contests the situation by essentially acting in a way that says to the master, “I am a human being, just like you. I have dignity and worth. I refuse to be humiliated. I am a child of God, just like you.”
Clearly, such defiance on the part of the slave is no casual passivity. The slave is acting courageously, challenging his or her abuser in a non-violent way. Jesus’s message was for the oppressed to stand up, defy abusive authority, assert their humanity, but not to “stoop to the level” of the abuser’s violence. This is what we often hear described as Jesus’s “third way,” in which the oppressed “fight” their oppressors with clear-headed non-violence. It requires the oppressed to truly recognize, name, and expose abuses of power. This “third way” is neither cowardly submission nor violent reprisal; it is a beautiful, loving expression of an oppressed peoples’ humanity, and it is the only way we can diffuse the dehumanizing aspects of institutionally entrenched power structures. It is the only way we can transform human relationships to that of equality rather than dominance.
“The first principle of nonviolent action is that of noncooperation with everything humiliating.” –Gandi
Saturday, August 2, 2008
"Godly Play"
Jerome Berryman founded a methodology of teaching "Sunday school" called "Godly Play." What, you ask, is "Godly Play"? Jerome Berryman was an Episcopal priest; he wanted to tell children stories so that they could develop tools to tackle the four existential conundrums that haunt us all:
- freedom
- death
- loneliness
- meaning
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
On Quitting Smoking
I quit smoking on December 26, 2007. This time, for good. I have been smoking on-and-off since I was a teenager. Recently, I had quit in December of 2005, and hadn't smoked until April of this year (yes, a 16-month stint without a single drag; such long stints without smoking were not uncommon for me).
What prompted this recent cessation? And why do I say "for good," this time? Well, I think a lot of it has to do with my phase in life. I am squarely in the "mid-life crisis" phase, approaching my 40th birthday. (And I haven't yet succumb to a red convertible.) Mid-life is often a time when people take stock of many things, including personal health. I fully realize, as Bill Clinton frequently says, that I likely have "more yesterdays than tomorrows." I have to take full responsibility for those behaviors that I CAN control that will impact my health. The science is not in question; smoking greatly increases the risks of serious and even fatal health complications.
Now, do I miss smoking? Unquestionably, I do. I don't believe I was "physically" addicted to nicotine, as I quit cold-turkey (as I always have, with no 'cessation devices'), and I suffered none of the common physical withdrawal symptoms. But I miss the sensation of striking a match and taking that first drag (especially after a meal). I miss the oral occupation. I miss the time of "reflection" I often had when standing outside with a cigarette (as of course, these days, smokers are relegated to the outdoors). I miss the social camaraderie with other smokers in the "smoker's hut" at work. I miss how a cigarette can be a comforting experience, a brief "break from it all," when it seems too much to cope with.
However, there are many things I don't miss. 5$ per pack (and lining the pockets of the disingenuous Corporate machines that manufacture cigarettes). The moral implications of spending money on an ill-conceived product, while millions starve. The way I reek of smoke and probably offend people. The discoloration of my hands and teeth. The time out of my day it takes to smoke (while certainly there are "better things" I could be doing). Even though I always responsibly disposed of the butts, knowing that I'm being "greener" by not contributing to the landfill. Not even to mention, the ill-effects the smoking has on my health.
So, I will need other coping mechanisms to fill the void. How else might I cope? Take a walk. Say a prayer. Meditate. Do yoga. And then gloat in my victory over cigarettes.
I quit smoking. But I believe I will always be "a smoker," even though I don't smoke anymore. I think humans derived great satisfaction from smoking tobacco, and enjoyed it for eons, before understanding all its negative aspects (and before many of its negative aspects emerged).
What prompted this recent cessation? And why do I say "for good," this time? Well, I think a lot of it has to do with my phase in life. I am squarely in the "mid-life crisis" phase, approaching my 40th birthday. (And I haven't yet succumb to a red convertible.) Mid-life is often a time when people take stock of many things, including personal health. I fully realize, as Bill Clinton frequently says, that I likely have "more yesterdays than tomorrows." I have to take full responsibility for those behaviors that I CAN control that will impact my health. The science is not in question; smoking greatly increases the risks of serious and even fatal health complications.
Now, do I miss smoking? Unquestionably, I do. I don't believe I was "physically" addicted to nicotine, as I quit cold-turkey (as I always have, with no 'cessation devices'), and I suffered none of the common physical withdrawal symptoms. But I miss the sensation of striking a match and taking that first drag (especially after a meal). I miss the oral occupation. I miss the time of "reflection" I often had when standing outside with a cigarette (as of course, these days, smokers are relegated to the outdoors). I miss the social camaraderie with other smokers in the "smoker's hut" at work. I miss how a cigarette can be a comforting experience, a brief "break from it all," when it seems too much to cope with.
However, there are many things I don't miss. 5$ per pack (and lining the pockets of the disingenuous Corporate machines that manufacture cigarettes). The moral implications of spending money on an ill-conceived product, while millions starve. The way I reek of smoke and probably offend people. The discoloration of my hands and teeth. The time out of my day it takes to smoke (while certainly there are "better things" I could be doing). Even though I always responsibly disposed of the butts, knowing that I'm being "greener" by not contributing to the landfill. Not even to mention, the ill-effects the smoking has on my health.
So, I will need other coping mechanisms to fill the void. How else might I cope? Take a walk. Say a prayer. Meditate. Do yoga. And then gloat in my victory over cigarettes.
I quit smoking. But I believe I will always be "a smoker," even though I don't smoke anymore. I think humans derived great satisfaction from smoking tobacco, and enjoyed it for eons, before understanding all its negative aspects (and before many of its negative aspects emerged).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
