A place called home

Nobel Prize-winner Toni Morrison is one our greatest living writers. Her novels combine lyrical prose with haunting stories of African-American life in different historical periods. She reveals both the horrors and the joys people experience at the frayed edges of life and death.

Home, her 10^th novel, is short, really a novella. Its use of symbols make it seem almost an allegory as it explores the meaning of “home.” Yet it retains the bite of realism with its detail about life for blacks in 1950s America.

Frank Money is a veteran of the Korean War suffering from what today we call post-traumatic stress disorder, “the free-floating rage, the self-loathing disguised as somebody else’s fault.” He has frequent flashbacks of the deaths of two army buddies from his hometown of Lotus, Georgia. The book opens with Frank in a psych hospital after being arrested by police. He escapes and stops at AME Zion Church, where Reverend Locke takes him in and helps him on his way to Chicago through a series of contacts, like the Underground Railroad.

Money, Lotus, Zion, Locke all carry multiple meanings and tell us to look beneath the surface of the story as it explores the meaning of home. That word often carries a cozy, safe resonance for people, but for Frank, Lotus was not such a place. His family moved there after being forced under threat of death by men “both hooded and not” to leave their home in Texas on foot, along with 14 other families. In Lotus, “the worst place in the world, worse than any battlefield,” Frank tries to protect his younger sister Cee from their mean grandmother, while their parents work themselves to death.

Now Frank is back in his homeland, America, where he faces racist attacks and must be on constant alert, much like on the battlefields of Korea. He receives a letter telling him Cee is in trouble. “Come fast. She be dead if you tarry,” it says.

Morrison intersperses her chapters, which offer not only Frank’s but Cee’s and even the grandmother’s points of view, with short asides, almost like hallucinations, of Frank addressing the omniscient author.

We learn that Cee, who fled Lotus at 14 with a man who married her, then left her in Atlanta, survives, moving from job to job. She ends up working for a wealthy white doctor who does experiments related to eugenics. His experiments on Cee’s womb leave her near death, and the house’s black housekeeper writes Frank.

He arrives and takes Cee back to Lotus. Though filled with dramatic tension, the story has the feel of a Greek myth. In Lotus, a place of lethargy (a la the lotus eaters in Homer), he takes her to a woman known for healing. She takes in Cee and calls on other women in the community to help. They use natural remedies to help her body and their wisdom to heal her spirit.

Morrison is a master of capturing a community’s folk wisdom (see her early novel Sula). She writes: “The women handled sickness as though it were an affront, an illegal, invading braggart who needed whipping.” The women tell Cee, whose grandmother treated her like dirt: “You good enough for Jesus. That’s all you need to know.”

These women practice what their mothers taught them “during that period that rich people called the Depression and they called life.” They’ve learned that “mourning was helpful but God was better and they did not want to meet their Maker and have to explain a wasteful life.”

Cee returns to Frank, who takes her to a place where as a child he had seen horses. Later, a horrible incident took place there, one that parallels an experience of his from Korea. Up to now, the novel has sometimes bordered on cliché, and parts have felt didactic, but at the end, Morrison draws together her themes with some powerful images that bring some redemption to the meaning of home, which up to then had been anything but safe or peaceful for Frank and Cee.

And this story set long ago resonates in powerful ways with readers in a different era and helps us all explore what can make our homeland a true home.

A poet and prophet for our time

Bruce Springsteen's latest CD, Wrecking Ball, gives voice to the sorrow and anger many feel who are suffering under the injustices of our economy. It also expresses the gospel (good news) of welcome offered by God's embrace.

The CD opens with one of my favorite songs on it, "We Take Care of Our Own," the kind of anthem Springsteen has become known for. I read the refrain, "Wherever this flag's flown / we take care of our own," as both an ironic indictment of current practices in our country (i.e., we don't take care of our own) and as a call to live up to our ideals. Like a good prophet (there are bad ones, according to the Bible), Springsteen is "knocking on the door / that holds the throne" as well as "stumbling on good hearts / turned to stone." He challenges the powers that ignore the poor and feels with the poor who are being trampled on. Then he calls on the community (the United States) to take care of our own. A simple yet powerful request.
"Jack of All Trades" is narrated by a man trying to assure his "honey" that "we'll be all right" as he pursues work that others may not want to do. He wants to be hopeful that "we'll start caring for each other / like Jesus said that we might," but he realizes that "the banker man grows fat / working man grows thin." By the end, he's so frustrated that he admits, "If I had me a gun, I'd find the / bastards and shoot 'em on sight." In good folk tradition, Springsteen tells a story that expresses the feelings of many who struggle to believe "we'll be all right."
As if to show that he's not really in favor of using guns to oppose injustice, the next song, "Death to My Hometown," a rollicking Irish tune, vents its anger at "the marauders [who] raided in the dark / and brought death to my hometown" but encourages people to "get yourself a song to sing / and sing it 'til you're done. / Sing it hard and sing it well / send the robber barons straight to hell." Singing our sorrows together gives us courage and helps us stand against "the greedy thieves … / who walk the streets as free men now." It's not hard to figure out who he's referring to.
The haunting "This Depression" carries the double reference to economic and personal depression and confesses, "I need your heart." Don't we all.
The title track tells listeners to "hold tight to your anger / and don't fall to your fears." Like many other songs on this CD, this one says, Don't deny what you feel, but don't let it control you. This raises the question, How do we gain the strength to do that?
The CD's final three songs use gospel and hip-hop to express both the community of the faithful and the broad arms of God that embrace us all. "Rocky Ground" uses biblical references and calls listeners to "use your muscle and your / mind and you pray your best. / … The Lord will do the rest."
"Land of Hope and Dreams," another of my favorites, moves me to tears as it pictures a train that "carries saints and sinners," including losers and winners, whores and gamblers, lost souls, the brokenhearted, fools and kings. On this train, "dreams will not be thwarted / … faith will be rewarded." That strong hope can keep us going.
The final song, "We Are Alive," reminds us that our faith carries us beyond suffering and death. It begins with the reminder, "There's a cross up yonder on Calvary hill." It promises that "though our bodies lie alone here in the dark / our souls and spirits rise." Springsteen here and throughout this inspiring CD calls us "to stand shoulder to shoulder and heart to heart" and proclaims, "We are alive."
I don't want to get technical about whether Springsteen is a prophet in true biblical fashion, but he has the unique position of being able to speak to a wide audience, and he uses that podium, his art, to feel the pain of those downtrodden to speak it. He also calls us to care for each other and stand together. And he provides the hope that only faith can provide.
 

Respect

Last week, Jeanne and I saw the documentary Bully, a film many people need to see. Unfortunately, there was one other person in the theater. The movie was in Wichita only one week.
I say many people need to see it. I'm thinking especially of school administrators, teachers, students, parents. I know that sounds heavy-handed, especially since it's a difficult film to watch. I know many people don't watch movies, and of those who do, perhaps most just want to see something enjoyable, whether that's an action film or a romantic comedy. 
But occasionally it's good for us to expose ourselves to something that makes us uncomfortable, that forces us to think about--and feel--an issue that is important and needs attention. Call it a spiritual discipline, if you like. If we just go after what's nice and comfortable, we won't grow in our spiritual lives, and the world won't change much for the better.

One reason Bully should be seen by many is that it reveals such a common problem. Many of us (most of us) have been bullied, or our kids have been bullied, or perhaps we've bullied others. Over 13 million kids will be bullied this year, and 3 million will miss school each month because they don't feel safe there. 
It's not only common, it's destructive. Two of the five families portrayed in this film include kids who committed suicide after being bullied repeatedly.
Lee Hirsch, the film's director, was bullied as a child. In this film he interviews members of five families. They live in Iowa, Oklahoma, Texas, Georgia and Mississippi. One of the most moving subjects is Alex, a 12-year-old in Sioux City, Iowa. The filmmakers capture scenes on the school bus in which several kids not only insult Alex but punch him and even stab him with a pencil. The bus driver and the kids around him do nothing. The filmmakers then decide to leave their objective distance for a time and out of concern for Alex's safety show these scenes to Alex's parents and to school officials.
The parents go to the school, where an assistant principal tells them she has ridden on that bus, and the kids are "as good as gold." The school confronts the kids who bullied Alex, though there's no guarantee it will end. But at least the parents know.
And so do we. That's why this film is so important. We see bullying behavior on film, and we get acquainted with those being bullied and with their families.
The film also interviews Kelby, a 16-year-old girl in Tuttle, Okla., who came out as a lesbian. Although she is a good athlete, she is ostracized at school. Some boys even try to run her over with their truck. Her parents are also shunned by their friends. At one point her father, who was raised to believe that homosexuality was a sin, says, "Now I know what it means to walk in someone else's shoes."
What's particularly maddening about bullying is how commonly it is ignored by schools and other parents. It is a complex issue and not easily dealt with, especially when the bullies' parents deny it or simply refuse to do anything about it. And bullies often are kids who've been bullied themselves. Alex at one point says, "It makes me want to be a bully."
Many of these parents and their families have organized rallies to call attention to bullying behavior. They also call us to simply show respect for one another.
When the film first came out, the MPAA gave it an R rating because of some language at the beginning. After a petition and some negotiation, the Weinstein Company made some changes, and the film received a PG-13 rating, which means children of all ages can see it without an adult. And I hope they do. But adults should see it, too.
Still, it's not getting shown widely. The filmmakers are hoping to have 1 million kids see the film, but so far only 88,000 have.
For more information on the movie and the Stand for the Silent campaign, go to www.thebullyproject.com
And let's all learn to show respect.

The cult of the individual--part 3

For decades the mainstream media generally ignored religion. Now we see articles on religion, which is a major factor in American society, with some regularity. For example, the April 9 issue of Newsweek proclaimed on its cover, “Forget the Church: Follow Jesus,” while the April 16 cover of Time ran the headline “Rethinking Heaven.” Even more notable than the prevalence of articles on religion is that many are written with some understanding of religion.

 

Even though I don’t agree with everything in the two articles I’ve mentioned, they are worth reading and discussing.

Andrew Sullivan, a Catholic, writes in Newsweek about “The Forgotten Jesus.” He laments how in America faith has become too politicized. Early in the article he asks two questions: “What does it matter how strictly you proclaim your belief in various doctrines if you do not live as these doctrines demand? What is politics if not a dangerous temptation toward controlling others rather than reforming oneself?”

He refers to Thomas Jefferson’s Bible, from which he removed all but those passages he thought reflected the actual teachings of Jesus. Jefferson (and Sullivan, apparently) considered this “a simpler, purer, apolitical Christianity.” That’s naïve, to say the least.

Sullivan assumes a certain framework for "politics." In Chapter 4 of my book Present Tense I use the word in a different sense, that of a community making decisions together. Jesus had plenty to say about politics (see John Howard Yoder's The Politics of Jesus, for example), but he wasn't talking about American politics. 

Sullivan goes on to point out that organized religion is in decline, largely because churches have pursued power rather than faithfulness to Jesus’ teachings. He notes the Catholic hierarchy being exposed as “enabling, and then covering up, an international conspiracy to abuse and rape countless youths and children.” Mainline Protestant churches have declined rapidly, he writes, while Evangelical Protestants, to give one example, is the group that American pollsters have found to be most supportive of torturing terror suspects. He writes: “This version of Christianity could not contrast more strongly with Jesus’ constant refrain: ‘Be not afraid.’ ”

Sullivan claims that Christianity (and he means in America; he ignores Christianity in other parts of the globe) is in crisis. He notes that “many Christians now embrace materialist self-help rather than ascetic self-denial,” that “the fastest-growing segment of belief among the young is atheism” and that “many have turned away from organized Christianity and toward ‘spirituality.’ ”

His solution? Christianity needs to go back to Jesus by emulating Francis of Assisi, who did not seek power but lived nonviolently.

Sullivan makes an important point when he says this does not imply a privatization of faith, which has been a typical American response to religion. He writes that great injustices, such as slavery, imperialism, totalitarianism and segregation, “require spiritual mobilization and public witness.” But the greatest examples of such movements renounce power and embrace nonviolence.

The cult of the individual enters when we pit "Jesus" against the "the church" without designating what those words mean. The church becomes a monolithic bogey man that is the locus of all evil, while Jesus generally represents a nice person who embraces all my beliefs. We end up with an unspecific, simplistic "church" and thousands of Jesuses, all made in our image. 

Thomas Jefferson, a deist, exemplified this individualistic approach when he made a Bible that included only Jesus' teachings. Where did he think those teachings came from? Did he—do we—not recognize that Jesus was a Jew, a member of his religious community who loved Israel (the people, not the country) and criticized it from within?

There's no doubt churches and other religious groups have done horrible things, but they have also done wonderful things. And who made each of us arbiter or judge of those entities?

Generally I like Sullivan's article. But I don't like the cover title. It sets up a false dichotomy.

In the Time article, “Heaven Can’t Wait,” Jon Meacham, also a Christian, notes that while 85 percent of Americans believe in heaven, “we don’t necessarily agree on what heaven is.” 

Meacham explores the history of the afterlife and shows how understandings of heaven have evolved. He points out the difference between the New Testament's view of heaven and the way many Christians view it today. He quotes New Testament scholar N.T. Wright: "When first-century Jews spoke about eternal life, they weren't thinking of going to heaven in the way we normally imagine it." Instead, "eternal life meant the age to come, the time when God would bring heaven and earth together, the time when God's kingdom would come and his will would be done on earth as in heaven."

Today, Americans have different understandings of heaven. "Many Christians," writes Meacham, "often focus more on accepting Jesus as their personal savior and the subsequent enforcement of biblical laws in preparation for the world to come."

Others, Meacham writes, argue that “the alleviation of the evident pain and injustice of the world is the ongoing work that Jesus began and the means of bringing into being what the New Testament authors meant when they spoke of heaven.”

But Erik Thoennes, chair of biblical and theological studies at Biola University and a pastor, thinks this focus “tends to come from white dudes wearing skinny jeans who live in the suburbs and not poor, suffering people.”

Meacham seems to agree more with Wright, who is white but as far as I know doesn't wear skinny jeans, that this as the work of religion: “bringing reality closer to conformity with theocentric aspirations in a world in which loving one another as we would be loved is a sacred act and a way of expanding the dominion of God—or heaven—in the world.”

I also fall more on Wright's side, though I understand the need for comfort and encouragement in the midst of suffering, and I do believe God embraces us in life or death. One thing I like about this view Meacham describes is that it focuses on God's bringing justice to the entire creation. It's not just about my soul.

Both these articles are worth reading and pondering. They are also worth talking about with others as we do politics, discern together how we should act in our faith community.

The cult of the individual--part 2

In last week's blog, part one of three on creeping individualism, we looked at Eric Klinenberg's book Going Solo, which points out the increasing isolation of Americans. He writes that in 1950, less than 10 percent of American households contained only one person, whereas in 2010, 27 percent of households had just one person.

This week, in Part 2, I want to look at an article in the May issue of The Atlantic, “Is Facebook Making Us Lonely?” by Stephen Marche.

It's an important question, and though it sounds simple, the answer is more complex than a yes or no.

Many if not most of us use Facebook, which has 845 million users and took in $3.7 billion last year. In fact, one of every 13 people on Earth is a Facebook user. And I place my blogs on Facebook. 

While Klinenberg considers the increase in isolation, Marche is interested in the increase in loneliness, which, he says, “makes us miserable.”

He acknowledges that loneliness is hard to define or diagnose. He says the best tool for doing so is the UCLA Loneliness Scale. According to one major study, 20 percent of Americans—about 60 million people—are unhappy with their lives because of loneliness.

Though loneliness and being alone are not the same, both are on the rise. “In 1985, only 10 percent of Americans said they had no one with whom to discuss important matters. … By 2004, 25 percent had nobody to talk to.” 

And with the social disintegration that many have described, including Klinenberg and  Robert D. Putnam in his book Bowling Alone, "we have essentially hired an army of replacement confidants, an entire class of professional carers." Today we have in this country 77,000 clinical psychologists, 192,000 clinical social workers, 400,000 nonclinical social workers, 50,000 marriage and family therapists, 105,000 mental-health counselors, 220,000 substance-abuse counselors, 17,000 nurse psychotherapists and 30,000 life coaches. "We have outsourced the work of everyday caring," Marche writes.

Further, he writes, “being lonely is extremely bad for your health.” Lonely people are more likely to be put in a geriatric home at an early age, less likely to exercise, more likely to be obese, less likely to survive a serious operation, more likely to be depressed and to suffer dementia.

Marche then asks if Facebook contributes to loneliness or brings us together. Determining an answer is tricky. For example, he asks, “Does the Internet make people lonely, or are lonely people more attracted to the Internet?”

Many studies have been done, and more are ongoing. John Cacioppo, director of the Center for Cognitive and Social Neuroscience at the University of Chicago, in his 2008 book Loneliness, notes that loneliness affects not only the brain but the basic process of DNA transcription. "When you are lonely, your whole body is lonely."

Cacioppo says that Internet communication allows only ersatz intimacy. “Surrogates can never make up completely for the absence of the real thing,” he writes. And “the real thing” is actual people, in the flesh.

He points out that “using social media doesn’t create new social networks; it just transfers established networks from one platform to another.”

Our experience of loneliness corresponds to the proportion of face-to-face interactions to online interactions. “The greater proportion of online interactions, the lonelier you are.”

Cacioppo doesn’t blame the technology but calls it a tool. “It’s like a car. You can drive it to pick up your friends. Or you can drive alone.”

At the same time, you could argue that cars and other technology have contributed to isolation. 

"The problem," writes Marche, "is that we invite loneliness, even though it makes us miserable." When grocery chains like A&P arrived, customers stopped having relationships with their grocers and helped themselves. When the telephone arrived, people stopped knocking on their neighbors' doors.

Sherry Turkle, in her 2011 book Alone Together, says that the problem with digital intimacy is that it is ultimately incomplete. “The ties we form through the Internet are not, in the end, the ties that bind,” she writes. "But they are the ties that preoccupy."

On Facebook we're always presenting ourselves, and it's planned, not spontaneous.

An Australian study found that “Facebook users have higher levels of total narcissism, exhibitionism and leadership than Facebook nonusers.”

"Rising narcissism," Marche writes, "isn't so much a trend as the trend behind all other trends." In a 2008 survey, among people older than 65, 3 percent reported symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder. Among people in their 20s, the proportion was nearly 10 percent, while across all age groups, just over 6 percent of Americans experienced symptoms of NPD.

And narcissism, Marche writes, “is the flip side of loneliness.”

He says the danger of Facebook is that it threatens to alter the very nature of solitude. More than half of Facebook users log on every day, and among 18- to 34-year-olds, nearly half check Facebook minutes after waking up. So it's not just our use of Facebook, as a tool, say, but its ubiquity in our lives. "The relentlessness is what is so new, so potentially transformative," Marche writes.

Whereas solitude used to be good for self-reflection, we now think about ourselves all the time. Marche concludes his article thus: “Facebook denies us a pleasure whose profundity we had underestimated: the chance to forget about ourselves for a while, the chance to disconnect.”

So is Facebook making us lonely? Maybe, maybe not. But it certainly contributes to an environment that produces many lonely people. 

For those of us who believe community--and I don't mean a virtual community--is not only an important value but healthy to us as individuals and to us as a society, we need to pay attention to these forces that contribute to loneliness. 

While Facebook can be a useful tool, we still need human contact. We need others around us with whom we can discuss important matters. We need to care for one another.

Otherwise, our health and the health of our nation and world will continue to worsen.