WHY DO WE DO IT?

 My last blog entry, Violence & Addiction, described the tragic massacre/suicide of 28 people at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I observed that our society promotes addictive tendencies that isolate us from one another and erode compassion. These dynamics create fertile soil for violence like that of Newtown, Connecticut.

Since then the violence has continued: Two young men exploded bombs at the Boston Marathon, killing three and injuring hundreds. These men later shot and killed a policeman and wounded another before they were both hit by gun fire, one killed and the other apprehended.

A fire and explosion at a fertilizer plant in West, Texas killed 15 and wounded 200, many of them first responders coming to put out the fire. Records indicate that the owners of the plant had violated safety regulations for years.

A building housing a clothing factory, collapsed in a Bangladesh. Reuters reported¹:

The factory collapse in Bangladesh that killed over 300 people this week is a stark reminder of the risks in the global retail industry's search for cheap production. . . About 18 months before the previous big tragedy in Bangladesh - a fire in November in a textile factory that killed 112 people - shareholders at Wal-Mart Stores Inc had the opportunity to weigh in on the safety question. By a nearly 50-to-1 margin, they rejected a proposal to require suppliers to report annually on safety issues at their factories. In arguing against the proposal, Wal-Mart's management made its reasoning clear: Having suppliers compile such reports "could ultimately lead to higher costs for Walmart and higher prices for our customers. This would not be in the best interests of Walmart's shareholders and customers and would place Walmart at a competitive disadvantage," the company said in proxy materials.

Disasters such as the April 24 collapse of an eight-story factory building in Bangladesh have not changed the calculation for apparel makers and retailers. Cheaper products appeal to shoppers. And the taint, if any, appears to be manageable.

Recently two articles appeared in the national press marking the tenth anniversary of the second Iraq war. The articles, written by US Servicemen who served in Iraq, describe this war as a foreign policy blunder and a human tragedy of monumental proportions.

One, officer John A. Nagl states:²

The costs of the second war, which began 10 years ago this week, are staggering: nearly 4,500 Americans killed and more than 30,000 wounded, many grievously; tens of thousands of innocent Iraqis wounded or killed; more than $2 trillion in direct government expenditures; and the significant weakening of the major regional counterweight to Iran and consequent strengthening of that country’s position and ambitions. Great powers rarely make national decisions that explode so quickly and completely in their face.

The other, Thomas Young speaks more personally:³

The Last Letter

To: George W. Bush and Dick Cheney

From: Tomas Young

I write this letter on the 10th anniversary of the Iraq War on behalf of the 4,488 soldiers and Marines who died in Iraq. I write this letter on behalf of the hundreds of thousands of veterans who have been wounded and on behalf of those whose wounds, physical and psychological, have destroyed their lives. . . I write this letter on behalf of those veterans whose trauma and self-revulsion for what they have witnessed, endured and done in Iraq have led to suicide and on behalf of the active-duty soldiers and Marines who commit, on average, a suicide a day.

. . . I want to make it clear that I, and hundreds of thousands of my fellow veterans, along with millions of my fellow citizens, along with hundreds of millions more in Iraq and the Middle East, know fully who you are and what you have done. . . I would not have to lie in my bed, my body filled with painkillers, my life ebbing away, and deal with the fact that hundreds of thousands of human beings, including children, including myself, were sacrificed by you for little more than the greed of oil companies, for your alliance with the oil sheiks in Saudi Arabia, and your insane visions of empire. . .

Last month, the United States Senate defeated two legislative proposals: 1) that would require universal background checks of all people purchasing fire arms and 2) that would limit the size of ammo clips that could be attached to guns. This was done, knowing these measures were supported by the majority of voters, and after hearing the tearful pleas for passage by the parents of the children killed in Newtown. They apparently acted in this way fearful that the NRA would mobilize against their re-elections.

What is it in our national spirit that allows us to sanction the injury and deaths of hundreds of thousands of people to provide us with gas for our cars, cheaper clothes & food, and the right to carry military weapons on our streets?

These sacrifices of human life are horrendous. We barely take notice; feeling little connection with those who suffer for our life style and political decisions. In most cases we aren't even aware of these people. They are killed and maimed by institutional structures (governmental policies and corporate actions) that isolate us from the carnage. The people killed and maimed are no more than statistics reported on the daily news along with sports scores and weather predictions.

In ancient times, such national behaviors were challenged as idolatrous. The people of Israel were condemned by the prophets for worshipping the false gods of money and domination rather than Yahweh, the God of mercy, justice and love. The people were instructed to repent in sack cloth and ashes to avoid judgement. In our post-Christian and post-religious society, such images carry little weight. The idea of fearing the wrath and judgement of God seems almost laughable in our present culture.

Because of this reality, I am choosing to discuss these issues using the language of addiction rather than religion. We live in an addictive and addicted culture. These addictive qualities affect and infect the very structures of our society.

Let me remind you of the dynamics of addiction. Addiction is the compulsive acting out of behaviors in the irrational belief that these behaviors will allow us to feel worthy and whole. These behaviors, whether they involve alcohol and other drugs, over-consumption, sex, food or domination, are incapable of providing a sense of wholeness and self worth. The opposite is often the case. After acting out, the addict feels shame, remorse & guilt that increase a sense of self loathing and that further erode a healthy self image. Even so, the addict continues to repeat the behaviors in the insane belief that the next compulsive round will make things better.

The deeper a person descends into the addictive cycle, the more s/he denies and rationalizes what is happening. “My behavior is not out of control.” “I can stop if I want to.” As the denial and rationalization increase, the addict withdraws from reality into his/her own little world. S/he begins to lead a double life – a normal life with family, work and friends and a secret life driven by the compulsion to act out. Unless the addict faces the fact that his/her life is out of control and that s/he needs help, the result will be personal catastrophe and even death. The greatest tragedy in all of this is that the addictive compulsion separates the addict from the very life force that s/he so desperately wants to experience.

The addictive dimensions of a culture are even more difficult to define than personal addictions, because everything is once removed. Denial and rationalization are almost a given. We say, “It is not my actions that are problematic. It's the actions of big corporation or big government.” “I want to get a bargain on my clothes, but I'm not personally responsible for how clothes are manufactured.” “I don't want gasoline rationed. But I'm not wasting gas.” “I want reasonably priced fruit, vegetables and meat, which take fertilizer; but I don't waste food.” “I want the right to carry a weapon if that make me feel safe.” We say these things, and we mean them.

Because most of us are not personally addicted, it's difficult to identify our cultural patterns as addictive. We have grown accustomed to our life style, and we are unwilling to change it. It is tough to face the fact that our life style is precipitating cycles of violence and suffering in the world.

We participate in a national belief system, or faith if you wish, which professes that personal and societal wholeness and happiness are dependent on material possessions and personal autonomy. We honestly believe that personal wealth and independence lead to happiness. Our corporations participate in the same belief. Their managers assume that the more wealth they can acquire through technology, production and unrestrained growth, the healthier and more beneficial the corporation will be.

It's not that material possessions and autonomy are bad in themselves, anymore than food, drink, sex, or personal independence are bad. It's only when these things are pursued as a substitute for that which gives life its fulness and meaning that they are destructive. Just like the alcoholic whose drinking leads to family problems and loss of a job, our cultural addiction is leading to unhealthy consequences and national decline.

Some signs of this decline include the increase in violence at home and abroad resulting from our political and economic policies; the dysfunction in our political system that is driven by party loyalty and the desire to be re-elected rather than to serve the citizens; economic deterioration; environmental degradation - particularly global warming, and excessive consumption of global resources that leaves the majority of people in the world living in illness and poverty.⁴

As with the individual, our addictive cultural patterns creep up on us, denied and ignored, until we face a crisis. In fact, our cultural compulsion to accumulate and control resembles the patterns of drug addicts who steal even from family members to get another hit.

We are still the most powerful nation in the world. And we are in jeopardy. We lack a national vision and sense of purpose. We throw our weight around to prove our superiority. We dominate and control so that we can consume and live as we choose, in the insane belief that this will make us happy.

How can we, as a nation, come to our senses and realize that things are beyond our control? We can't fix ourselves, even through legislation. We need to tap into that spirit and vision that made our nation great. This vision is stated eloquently in the words of Emma Lazarus, inscribed on the Statue of Liberty:

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses, yearning to breath free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

There is something of great power deep in the American spirit that must be re-engaged in these times. The faith as stated by our fore-mothers and fore-fathers has little meaning for many of us today. It is our task to restate this faith for our times, to engage something deep within ourselves that enables us to work together for a global society where there is “liberty and justice for all.”

In our increasingly interdependent world, it is essential that we look to our better angels⁵ and rely on a power that transcends that which is consuming us. We need to discover again what it means to Live With Soul.*

* I will write more about this in my next reflection.

1. Reuters - Analysis: Bangladesh still works for retailers, despite disasters - Nivedita Bhattacharjee and Jessica Wohl - Sat Apr 27, 2013 9:05am EDT
2. http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/20/opinion/the-silver-linings-of-iraq.html
3. http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/tomas-young-dying-iraq-war-veteran-writes-last-letter-to-bush-and-cheney-20130320
4. The poorest 40 percent of the world’s population accounts for 5 percent of global income. The richest 20 percent accounts for three-quarters of world income. http://www.globalissues.org/article/26/poverty-facts-and-stats
5. "better angels" used in Abraham Lincoln's first innagral address

VIOLENCE AND ADDICTION

My heart aches as I visualize the horror and tragedy of the Newtown, Connecticut massacre. What must have been going through Adam Lanza's mind as he killed his mom, 6 school staff and 20 children, before taking his own life? How could anyone slaughter defenseless children, innocents like my grandson, 'little Gus' – children who had not begun to achieve their potential, who were trusting and full of life?

Certainly we need to act in the short term to curb this kind of violence. We need to limit the use of guns, particularly assault rifles and other weapons designed for killing people. We need mandatory background checks with waiting periods for all people purchasing guns. We need to treat gun violence as a health crisis while providing mental health programs for those in need of them.

Still, as I listen to the blaming and political posturing attendant to this calamity, I have the uncomfortable feeling that such programs alone are insufficient. I believe that I, and many other Americans, am complicit in this violence. Our complicity lies in the fact that we have failed to treat the addictive patterns that infect our society and breed violence. The 'We' in “We the People” is largely absent. We have little ability to identify with the distress of others. Hence, our desire to alleviate this distress has been deadened.

We are isolated from one another, and isolation kills compassion. Violence flourishes because we no longer look out for each other. We respond only when we are directly threatened.

It is easy to blame this lack of caring on the political and religious divisiveness in our society. Liberals blame the NRA and conservatives for the violence. Conservatives blame liberals whose big government policies are threatening individual freedoms. It is true that such divisiveness corrodes our unity. Yet, I feel there is another dynamic at work; a dynamic that functions at an almost unconscious level.

We live in a society that promotes addiction.

We are bombarded by messages telling us to strive for some sort of societal ideal. If I exercise, I can look like the body builder in the TV commercial. If I participate in a self improvement program, I can become the perfect husband and parent. If I enroll in a particular educational curriculum, I will be successful in my work. Even our religious groups are caught in this dynamic. If I attend a particular faith community, I will be saved from the problems that confront me.

This addictive dynamic affects us all.

I have come to realize that I am a work-o-holic. I'm addicted to work. My drive to promote justice in Madison Urban Ministry (MUM) had a compulsive dynamic. At one level, I worked through MUM because I was concerned for those treated unjustly. At another level, I worked to fix my low self image. I sought to earn the admiration of men and the adoration of women through my work. My family suffered. In fact my wife said that MUM was my mistress. My compulsion put my health in jeopardy. I pushed myself, continually seeking another fix, until my body gave out with chronic fatigue.

As with all addictions, my fixes were short lived. The more I tried, the more inadequate I felt. There was always another issue, another conflict, another venue in which I sought affirmation. I tried to hide my real self from others, posing as the super organizer in control of every situation. Since I hadn't learned to accept my limitations and inadequacies, I denied or criticized those parts of myself that I consider flawed or undesirable. I wasn't able to “Fail With Soul.” (See my last blog entry.) The more this pretending and denying continued, the more isolated I became. I can now understand why many community organizers are 'lone rangers.' In my isolation, it was 'me against the world.'

Unlike addictions to drugs, alcohol, sex and food, addiction to work (and its attendant addictions to money, power and consumer goods) is explicitly fostered in our culture. I thought I could be successful through my compulsive attention to work. What I couldn't comprehend was that success in my work couldn't fill that empty space in my soul. That space yearned for self acceptance, not acceptance from others.

You may not be addicted according to the clinical definition of the word. But I'll bet you are prone to engage in some patterns in your life in the hope that these patterns will increase your sense of self worth. Perhaps your exercise regimen has a compulsive edge. Maybe your diet consciousness is a bit driven. Perhaps you depend on relationships with family members to make you feel better about yourself. Maybe you use leisure activities as a way of escaping from your own self critical tendencies.

As you consider these dynamics in your life that potentially isolate you from others, be assured that I'm not condemning these dynamics in themselves. Exercise, family time, delicious food and satisfying work can be blessings that enhance life.

What I am suggesting is that our cultural patterns promote addictions. That is to say, our culture promises us satisfaction and wholeness if we embrace certain conventions. This promise is bogus. Outward patterns won't yield acceptance. This is an internal dynamic. If you find yourself depending on a particular practice to give meaning to your life, ask if this dynamic isolates you from the stranger and deadens your compassion for those outside your immediate circle of family and friends. This same dynamic may also isolate you from yourself, particularly from those parts which you don't like very much.

Twelve step programs have proven helpful to folks who are strongly addicted. I am suggesting that the twelve steps may also be helpful in dealing with the addictive or compulsive tendencies in our lives, even if we are not addicted in the clinical sense. Step one challenges us to admit that we are not in control of our lives. In this context, step one challenges us to admit that the addictive patterns in the culture control us unconsciously. Steps two and three, contend that there is a higher power that can be relied upon for assistance. For some this higher power is God, in the traditional sense. For others it may be a support group or some other aspect of their lives. Abraham Lincoln referred to this higher power as our “better angels¹ .”

Steps four through ten challenge us to acknowledge our short comings and to take responsibility for actions that have harmed ourselves and others. This is an opportunity to embrace our true selves, warts and all. This is also an opportunity to bring to consciousness the ways in which cultural attitudes and patterns are affecting us.  Steps eleven and twelve, encourage us to continue and to engage others on the journey.

This then is my hope. If a committed number of us could embark on this journey, it might be possible to transform the addictive patterns of our society. Then perhaps, our children would have the opportunity to grow up to be healthy and loving people.

This will take courage. It takes courage to name and accept our own shortcomings without turning to addictive patterns that we hope will save us. It takes courage to name the shortcomings of our society with love and acceptance rather than condemnation. It takes courage to admit that we may need to rely on our “better angels” to redeem our destructive cultural patterns.

It's scary to embrace Adam Lanza and his mother with compassion even as we embrace the families of the twenty-six children and adults killed by Adam Lanza.

Living with Soul is not a sentimental reality in some ideal world. Living with Soul is a gritty possibility in our real world. In light of the Newtown massacre it may literally be a matter of life and death.

1) Better Angels – used in the closing paragraph of Lincoln's First Inaugural Address

Failing With Soul

Have you ever given something your best shot and felt you didn't measure up? Perhaps you prepared a meal for guests that just didn't make it. Sure it was OK, but it wasn't excellent. Maybe you participated in a sporting event and didn't place as highly as you would have liked. Perhaps you gave a presentation that seemed pretty good, but when compared to those of others seemed pretty ordinary.

I had such an experience recently. I was asked to facilitate a meeting, something I have done hundreds of times. This meeting was out of town, with a group I had never met. I did my homework, talked with representatives of the group, and prepared an outline for the day.

At the meeting site, I met with staff and prepared the room. I was excited as I introduced myself. Then things began to go awry. My facilitation questions were met with resistance and finally open hostility. Someone said, “Why don't you just let us discuss without interrupting.” This had never happened before. I felt like a vaudeville performer who had been yanked from the stage with a hook, because the audience booed his performance.

After the meeting, there were some, “Thank you for being with us,” comments. But that was it. I left and proceeded to the Amtrak station for my journey home.

While on the train, I thought long and hard about what had happened. One voice in me was defensive and angry. It shouted, “They weren't clear in what they wanted!” “They were biased against an outside facilitator.” “They were arrogant and elitist.”

Another voice was self accusatory. “You didn't prepare well enough.” “You don't have the skills to facilitate people as talented and experienced as these.” “You should not have taken on this task.”

Through it all, another voice spoke quietly in the background. “Whatever the reasons for this discouraging experience, you can learn from it.” “Perhaps you engaged a task that exceeded your present abilities.” “Maybe this experience is preparing you for opportunities that you have not yet envisioned.” “Is it possible that your explicit vulnerability and lack of defensiveness were vehicles for greater understanding on the part of the group?”

Then the thought came, “How is this experience related to 'Living With Soul?'” “What might it mean to 'Fail with Soul?'”

I remembered the Ray Charles quote, “Soul is like electricity – we don't really know what it is, but it's a force that can light up a room.” Up to now, I had tacitly assumed that this soul energy was positive and energizing. I now saw that living with Soul may lead to vulnerability and sadness. Ray Charles knew this truth. He put it this way, “There's nothing written in the Bible, Old or New testament, that says, ''If you believe in Me, you ain't going to have no troubles.” (As you may remember, Ray Charles gradually went blind between the ages of five and seven from untreated glaucoma.)

If living with Soul doesn't guarantee a happy or successful life, what good is it? I'm beginning to believe that living with Soul helps me to become more authentic. Authentic people seem to accept themselves with all their strengths and weaknesses. They don't have to pretend as much. They don't expend as much energy convincing themselves that they are more than they really are. They seem less defensive when confronted with their deficits and less inflated when they excel.

They are inspiring to be around. When they lead, they are worth following. When they follow, they embolden those whom they identify as leaders. They make good advisors because they “tell it like it is.”

People who fail with Soul, truly authentic people, are scary to be around. They needn't tear others down or build them up to gain an advantage. They don't play the “get ahead” games that our society encourages. They implicitly challenge these narcissistic patterns by their very presence. Authentic people strip off our masks and pretenses. They encourage those around them to grow into their own personal potentials.

Living with Soul means that we will fail with Soul even as we succeed with Soul. In fact, living with Soul challenges the very meaning of success and failure. It's not about winning and losing. It's about being all that we are and helping everyone else be all that they are. This “all” includes all my positive traits as well as all of my negative ones. This kind of living makes life real and valuable.

Perhaps my humbling experience was a gift to me and to the participants of this meeting. Maybe it provided each of us an opportunity to step out of our personal self-defined little boxes - an opportunity to view ourselves, the organizations with which we work, and our social milieu with a new clarity and perspective.

I would be interested in your stories about failing to meet your own expectations.

You Gotta Have Faith

George and I were having coffee when he said, “I'm attending a twelve-step group.” He continued, “Several months ago I hit bottom and had to admit that I was addicted.” “I used to make fun of twelve-step groups because they seem so programmed.” “I'm just now beginning to see the wisdom in the twelve steps, particularly the first three.” He then recited these steps to me: “1. We admit that our life is out of control. 2. We acknowledge a higher power who can return us to sanity. 3. We decide to turn our will and lives over to God as we understand God.”

George continued, “This higher power stuff is strange because I'm an atheist, or at least an agnostic. I don't really believe in God. Yet there is something about the group. I see other addicts whose lives are changing through their involvement. I guess my higher power is this twelve-step group. I'm beginning to believe that my life too can change if I am willing to trust the process.”

George paused and looked at me. “You know, I was raised in a religious home.” “I went to church school where I was taught the beliefs of my religious tradition. But they never really took. I enjoyed my friends and the group outings, but I didn't believed all the stuff they taught me about God. It was like they were trying to convince me that God was a super hero. My friends were concerned that I had lost my faith.”

I've thought a lot about this conversation with George, and I am reminded of another comment he made. He said, “Faith is not about belief. It's about trust and longing.” In this context, George has faith. But it's not based on a creed or a specific world view. It's based on the ongoing life experience of his twelve-step group.

When I titled this reflection, “You Gotta Have Faith,” I was not implying that we 'ought' to have faith. Rather, I was stating my assumption that faith is just a reality of our life situation. We all have a set of operating assumptions and practices that guide us. These may be as simple as, “I trust my intuition;” or “I trust my intelligence and physical stamina;” or “I trust my family and friends to support me.”

Some of us attach a belief statement to these practices. “I trust that God will guide and protect me;” or “I trust the economic and military power of the United States.” Yet ultimately, these belief statements are simply world views that are consistent with the practices that provide us with security and meaning in our lives.

It used to be that our religious, political and cultural institutions reinforced our practices and belief statements. For many of us, these institutions no longer provide this grounding. This trend is manifest in recent polls on religious affiliation. The fastest growing group nationally is those who no longer claim an affiliation. This is complemented by the fact that increasing numbers of people identify themselves as “spiritual but not religious.”

Many of us feel cut off, alone and disquieted; and we consciously or unconsciously cast about for ways to ease this dilemma. Some of us turn to religious and political groups that describe the world in terms of simplistic polarities. Either you believe or you don't believe. Having done this, we can demonize those whose world view differs from our own. Others search for answers in spiritual and esoteric traditions different from their own. Still others deny the problem all together, relying on one technical fix after another to maintain a status quo that is no longer sustainable.

As I ponder the issues raised in my conversation with George, I am increasingly convinced that, like my friend, we may be hitting bottom as a society. Like the addict, we are confronted by the fact that our present coping mechanisms, or faith practices, are inadequate to the challenge. The incredibly polarized presidential election and the devastation of super storm Sandy have put us on notice. Global warming is a real and present danger as is the political dysfunction in our land. We are addicted to cultural values that are killing us. In traditional religious language, we are beginning to realize that we have been worshipping false Gods.

Now remember, I'm not speaking belief systems here. I'm speaking of the fact that the collective practices that we have developed to promote meaning and wholeness in are lives are inadequate. Put another way, our values are out of whack. These misdirected values are manifest, not by what we say we value, but by how we live. And as with the addict who who hopes that one more addictive hit will satisfy this need, we continue to feed our collective addictions hoping to satisfy our yearning for security and meaning.

So how do we move from step one to step two in twelve-step terminology? How do we acknowledge a higher power that can return us to sanity? Again, step two does not require a belief statement. As with my friend George, we are not required to believe in God, particularly not the God we rejected in our earlier lives, to engage step two. What is required is that we get in touch with our deep yearning for wholeness. What is further required is that this yearning causes us to proceed as if there is a source of healing that can move us from the insanity of our destructive cultural practices to the sanity of healthy, nondestructive ones.

When we proceed in this way, step three will follow. We will begin to explore and engage in practices that are less destructive. In terms of global warming, we will be attracted to people who are reducing their carbon footprint on he earth. These may be folks who are composting, who are car pooling or who are paying more attention to the beauty of the creation. The point is, that we will do this not to be politically correct but because we yearn to be healthier, both individually. and collectively.. We will begin to appreciate the insanity of our addictive practices. We will seek help from others to develop practices that provide greater wholeness and meaning in our lives. In twelve-step language we will begin turning our will and life over to God as we understand God. Put another way, we will begin to trust these developing practices because they result in positive changes in our lives and culture.

The issues I am discussing here are not new. The mystics in all religious traditions have been grappling with questions such as these for more than a thousand years. Furthermore, one doesn't have to be an expert in meditation techniques to engage this material. What is required is the yearning, the personal honesty and the ability to accept help from others in changing our practices.

John Kirvan has written two little books of meditations which I have found useful in this regard. They are titled, God Hunger and Raw Faith. In these little books, Kirvan focusses on the lives and teachings of mystics from Jewish, Christian and Moslem traditions, mystics from ancient to modern times.

Listen to what these mystics have to say that may apply to our present situation:

Simone Weil (pronouced 'vey') (1909-1943)¹ “wrote with the clarity of a brilliant mind educated in the best French schools, the social conscience of a grass-roots labor organizer and the certainty and humility of a Christian mystic. She stayed out of any church, but her passionate need to share the sufferings of others led her to fight with the anarchists in the Spanish Civil War, to work as a field hand and unskilled laborer, and ultimately to die in England from TB complicated by her refusing to eat more than Hitler's rations allotted to her countrymen in occupied France.” Weil proclaimed, “To believe in God is not a decision we can make. All we can do is to decide not to give our love to false Gods.”

Blaise Pascal (1623-1632)² a mathematician and scientist, was one of the geniuses of modern France. “At 10:30 and for two hours on the evening of November 23, 1654 he had a life shaping experience of God. He forgot 'all the world and all things except for God.'” From this time forward his heart had found truths that his formidable reasoning couldn't fathom. Yet Pascal the scientist could not give up his reason. So, like many of us, Pascal was stretched between the extremes of experience and reason. As he put it, “We want truth and find only uncertainty in ourselves.”

Henri J. Nouwen (1932-1996)³ was a psychiatrist, priest, intellectual and prolific writer, a professor at Notre Dame, Yale and Harvard. People read his writings, not only because of their spiritual insights, but because he was willing to expose his own frailty, his bouts with depression and doubt. He, like Pascal, bridged the gap between academia (psychology and theology) and the life of the spirit. During the last years of his life, he served as pastor at L'Arche Daybreak near Toronto, a community where people with developmental disabilities and their friends lived together. While there, he developed a deep friendship with Adam Arnett and cared for him, a man who never spoke a word. Nouwen was willing to risk because, as he put it, “Ultimately we must choose between security and freedom.”

Rumi (Muhammad Jalal al-Din – 1207-1273),⁴ one of history's greatest mystic poets, has influenced both the Moslem and Christian worlds. In 1244, Rumi, the brilliant scholar, met and fell in love with Shams el Din of Tabriz, a wandering dervish. For two years they danced, prayed and sang together until Sahms was murdered, probably by Rumi's relatives. Through his love for Shams, Rumi, a spiritual neophyte became a poet and mystic, realizing that the mystery of love bridged the gap between the physical and spiritual worlds. Rumi put it this way, “ No Heaven, no earth just this mysterious place we walk in dazedly . .”

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel (1907-1972)⁵ was born in Poland to a family of respected rabbis. He received his doctorate at the University of Berlin. In the late 1930s, Rabbi Heschel was arrested by the Gestapo and deported to Poland. He escaped to London just a few weeks prior to the German invasion of Poland. His mother and three sisers were killed by the Nazis. Heschel's life was grounded in the mysticism and inner spiritual practices of Kabbalah, Hassidism, and medieval Jewish philosophy. He played a prominent role in the US civil rights movements and protested the war in Vietnam. He said of his life⁶, “It is not enough for me to ask questions; I want to know how to answer the one question that seems to encompass everything I face: What am I here for?”

Julian of Norwich (1342-1420)⁷ was a medieval nun who lived in a kind of solitude in a single cell attached to the Church of St. Edmund and St. Julian in Norwich, East Anglia. She lived a life of such sanctity and powerful relation to God that she attracted visitors from throughout Europe. She left behind a work titled “Showings” or “Reflections of a Divine Love,” the oldest work in English by a woman, a work that is still in print and is still read by spiritual seekers. She went beyond patriarchal notions of God adding the dimension of motherhood. Because of her experience of the presence of God in her life, she could write, “God dwells within us. We dwell in God.” “All will be well.” “All will be well.”

The list of mystics goes on and on: Therese of Lisieux, Rabbi Alazar Ben Azariah, C. S. Lewis, Angelus Silesius, Thomas Merton, Francis of Assisi, the writers of the Kabbalah, Evelyn Underhill, Al-Ghazzali, Karl Rahner . . . They come from many religious and spiritual traditions. But in all cases, they are driven by a profound yearning for wholeness and meaning for themselves and their societies. They stand over against the societal norms of their times. Their journeys are solitary and often lonely. And the Mystery, or God, that they engaged was often baffling, confusing and challenging. Yet through it all, there was a resounding sense of hope.

So whether we follow the teachings of the prophets; claim Jesus as Lord and Savior; engage God in silent meditation; claim, “I'm spiritual but not religious” or say, “I don't believe in God” - whatever our situation, the world needs people who are able and willing to grapple with the ambiguities and uncertainties of humanity, people who are able to walk in the shoes of the mystics. It is my hope and prayer that we each are capable of this calling.

1. Raw Faith by John Kirvan (p. 28ff)
2. Raw Faith by John Kirvan (p. 76ff)
3. Raw Faith by John Kirvan (p. 60ff)
4. God Hunger by John Kirvan (p. 60ff)
5. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abraham_Joshua_Heschel
6. Who Is Man by Abraham Jushua Heshel, p. 53
7. Silent Hope by John Kirvan (p, 60ff)

Politics With Soul

I am dismayed by the state of civic discourse in our country. The upcoming elections have exacerbated the situation beyond reason. There is virtually no real discussion of what's best for the average citizen.

The conflict between Democrats and Republicans resembles a blood sport with the combatants exchanging body blows, many below the belt. As with such events, there are people working behind the scenes to manipulate the outcome of the fight for personal profit. They spend massive amounts of money to influence and misinform the voters, sometimes with outright lies. They don't even pay lip service to the basic tenants of democracy, that our government is of the people, for the people and by the people.

From a soul perspective, our political system is dead or dying. There is little of that hope and fire that inspires people to look beyond themselves and to reach for the stars. Rather, we are driven by grim determination and cynical suspicion. At best we are trying to hold on to what little we have.

As I write these admittedly pessimistic paragraphs, I am reminded of my grandson Gus who is now six months old. Gus is completely innocent and naive. Sure, he grumps when he is hungry, tired, or has a full diaper. But he lives in the moment. If he is startled, he may cry; but this quickly passes. When I greet him saying, “Hi Gus. How the heck are you?” He flashes me one of his thousand watt smiles. It literally lights up the room.

I am awed by the intensity with which he absorbs the world around him. He is constantly attentive and curious. When he stares at me, it seems he is looking into my innermost being. Gus, for me, is soul incarnate.

What might life be like if we could live with soul like little Gus? What if we were able to greet one another with thousand watt smiles? What if we were able to laugh when we are pleased and grieve when sorrow overwhelms us, rather than lapsing into cynicism or defensiveness? What might it mean to live in conscious informed naivety – with the openness and curiosity of little Gus, but with a deeper understanding of the potentials and shortcomings of being human?

For me this would mean living with conscious awareness of all that is life giving and life destroying in our world. It would mean meeting all people with openness to their positive potential as well as their shadow side. It would mean engaging people without prejudgment even when we have full knowledge of their past actions. The Buddha described this way of living as the middle way of non-attachment. Jesus counseled, “Do not judge or you too will be judged.” Prejudgement leads to judgmentalism which strangles soul.

Soulful living means getting in touch with that energy that motivates us to reach beyond our limited selves. Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. and Mother Teresa lived with soul. They dreamed dreams that encompassed all people without discriminating between friends and enemies. Martin Luther King's “I Have a Dream speech,” although often over romanticized, was that sort of soulful pronouncement.

This type of living often results in unintended positive consequences. My son, Timothy, worked for a large international law firm. One Christmas we were talking about his job. He said, “Dad, it's strange. When I really listen to my adversaries, I find that I can save millions of dollars in the legal settlements. People just need to be heard.”

Soulful interactions are difficult in our present social climate because they require that we engage friends and enemies at our deepest level of being. Put more traditionally, it requires that we relate to people as God relates to them. This requires that we get to know ourselves at this level. When we are willing to acknowledge our deepest shortcomings as well our greatest potentials, we have little to hide from others. Then we needn't posture trying to be someone whom we aren't in order to impress. Such posturing behavior has caught many a politician when s/he says one thing to their “friends” and another to those whom they wish to impress. Most recently, Mitt Romney was caught on video demeaning those who were not like him and his friends. President Obama was also caught in this kind of “off the cuff remark” earlier in his career.

Living with soul is not about influencing people for our own goals. Rather it involves being our authentic selves. For this reason, politics with soul is not just an election time phenomenon. It is a year round endeavor. It requires that we approach one another with curiosity, willing to dialogue about our similarities and differences, willing to assume that dialogue produces more creative solutions than when we attempt to dominate one another.¹

A number of years ago, dialogues were held among citizen leaders in several large American cities. One such dialogue involved a union leader and the chief of police. Following this interaction, the union was involved in a strike action that forced a confrontation with police. Because the union leader and police chief had grown to trust one another, they came to an agreement concerning the showdown. The union leader assured the police chief that there would be no violence in the confrontation if the police came unarmed. Because of the trust developed between these two men, the strike action resulted in no violence or bloodshed.

Finally, politics with soul does not mean opting out of political involvements. Each of us should actively campaign for the candidates of our choice. We should challenge our opponent's positions when there is honest disagreement. The difference is that we do so without impugning their motives. We listen with curiosity to what they are advocating, trying to understand why they support their positions. Such questioning humanizes the process and leads to insights that produce third way options that proponents of the previous positions had not considered.

Dialogue like this is possible even in our soulless political system. But it requires courage, creativity and persistence on our part as we seek to transform the political process. When I was the director of Madison Urban Ministry, I opposed people and institutions that acted unjustly by strategizing to block their unjust actions. Having achieved this goal, I then sought to develop win-win solutions that met everyone's needs. This is a difficult because it means looking at long term consequences and planning for these eventualities. It means looking out for the welfare even of our enemies. It means convincing them that they will achieve more by working with us than by continuing to oppose us.

I realize that it is probably to late to fully implement these strategies before the November elections. But it is not too late to alter our attitudes so that we can campaign with more soul. Our democracy has been constructed to bring citizens together for the common good. It does not have to become an arena for blood sport.

1. Parker Palmer has promoted this kind of dialogue for years through his Center for Courage and Renewal and most recently through his book Healing the Heart of Democracy.

IT'S NOT FAIR

(Dealing With Evil In An Unjust World)

When my sister, Jean, and I argued as children, our mother stepped in to prevent blood shed.  She was successful every time except once. That was the time I teased baby Jean as she was crawling up the stairs, and she took a bite out of my leg.  

When mom settled our disputes, one of us would often cry out, “It's not fair.”  Although I have matured since my childhood years, I still cry out within myself, “It's not fair.”

It's not fair that my father was killed in an auto accident when I was four.   It's not fair that my mother was left in a strange town, grievously injured, with two little children who were also injured.  It's not fair that my second father died of a heart attack leaving my mother to raise my younger sister and brother as a single parent.  It's not fair that my sister's son drowned while on a camping trip just before his first year in college.  It's not fair that my younger sister died of cancer just a year ago.

It's not fair that an earthquake in Haiti on January 12, 2010 killed 316,000 people, injured another 300,000 and left 1,000,000 homeless.1  It's not fair that a tsunami generated in the Indian Ocean on December 26, 2004 released the energy of 23,000 Hiroshima type bombs and killed 283,000 people.2  It's not fair that hurricane Katrina battered the southeastern coast of the United States on August 29, 2005 with 125 mph winds that killed more than 1800 people and ravaged coastal towns in Mississippi and the city of New Orleans.  It's not fair that some of those people were flooded out again by Hurricane Isaac just this last week. 3

It's not fair that Hitler's Third Reich exterminated 6,000,000 Jews and 5,000,000 non-Jews.4  It's not fair that 21,000 people died in political violence under the Afrikaner Apartheid Government in South Africa.5  It's not fair that on December 2008,  a 100 day genocide orchestrated by the divide and conquer strategies of neocolonial powers, Germany, Belgium & France killed 800,000 Rwandans.6 It's not fair that the North American Indian population in the USA was reduced from an estimated 12 million in 1500 to barely 237,000 in 1900 as European settlers took over their land.7  It's not fair that militants flew passenger planes into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center on 9/11/2001 killing nearly 3,000 people.8 It's not fair that people in positions of power precipitated an economic collapse in 2008 that cost many Americans their jobs and homes.9

It's not fair!  It's not fair!  

Yet it happens and continues to happen.  And we have to decide how can we live meaningful lives in a world rife with injustice.    

Our yearning for justice is as old as human civilization itself.  Hammurabi (1792-1750 B.C.E) established a universal code10 of justice that applied to all the citizens of his empire in Mesopotamia.  "An eye for an eye ..." is a paraphrase of Hammurabi's Code.  It's central precept is that the penalty must fit the crime.  This continues to be the governing principle in our present western judicial system. The prologue to the Code contains this phrase, “..then Anu and Bel called by name me, Hammurabi, the exalted prince, who feared God, to bring about the rule of righteousness in the land, to destroy the wicked and the evil-doers; so that the strong should not harm the weak...”  Hammurabi's Code, like the codes of the tribes conquered by Hammurabi, continued to acknowledge that justice was ordained by the gods.

With the rise of monotheism in the Abrahmic religions, another set of rules for justice were said to have been transmitted directly from God to Moses in the Ten Commandments.  These rules were amplified in Judaism in the Torah (the first five books of the Bible), in Christianity by Jesus through the New (or Christian) Testament and in Islam by the Prophet Muhammed through the Quran.  In each of these traditions, as with the earlier Code of Hammurabi, people believed that they would be blessed or punished by God depending on whether they behaved or disobeyed the law.  

But here comes the rub.  Ancient societies began to observe that awful things happened to people who had not transgressed the rules of the gods.  They asked, “If there is justice in the world, why are the innocent allowed to suffer?”  A most striking example of this questioning is found in the Old Testament book of Job written between the sixth and fourth centuries BCE.11  The book tells the story of Job, "a perfect and an upright man," who is a pawn in an argument between God and the Adversary.  God allows the Adversary to visit terrible things on Job just to see if he will remain true to God.12
 
Archibald MacLeish, recognizing the horrors of our modern world, contemporized the story of Job in his 1958 play, 'J.B.' 13  The play opens with two failed actors, Mr. Zuss and Mr. Nickles, now circus vendors, standing near a side show stage in an empty circus tent. They decide that Mr. Zuss will play God and Mr. Nickles will play the Adversary, as they reenact the story of Job.  They conclude that Job, or J.B. will show up because  the world is a stage filled with Jobs who are suffering without cause.  

Mr.  Nickles puts it this way:14  
            Millions and millions of mankind
            Burned, crushed, broken, mutilated,
            Slaughtered, and for what? For thinking!
            For walking around the world in the wrong
            Skin, the wrong shaped noses, eyelids:
            Sleeping the wrong night in the wrong city –-
            London, Dresden, Hiroshima.

Mr. Nickles states the challenge of the drama in the following words:15
            If God is God He is not good,
            If God is Good He is no God;
            Take the even take the odd,
            I would not sleep here if I could . . .

Zuss and Nickles watch as J.B. appears on the sideshow stage with his family at Thanksgiving.  He is a wealthy business man with a loving wife, Sarah, and five wonderful children.  As the play unfolds, J.B. and Sarah endure the agony of losing their children through violent deaths.  Then, the entire city is devastated by an air attack, wiping out J.B.'s millions and leaving the afflicted protagonist asking piteously for reasons and praying for death.  J.B.'s suffering continues as his body is covered by puss filled boils.  Throughout this tragedy, J.B. insists that God is just.  Therefore, he, J.B., must have sinned against God to be punished so.

Finally, Sarah is at her wits end.16

Sarah: starting violently to her feet

    Has death no meaning?  Pain no meaning?

She points at J.B.'s body.

    Even these suppurating sores ---

    Have they no meaning to you?

J.B.:  from his heart's pain

    God will not punish without cause.

    God is just.

Sarah: hysterically    God is just!

    If God is just our slaughtered children

    Stank with sin, were rotten with it!

She controls herself with difficulty, turns toward him, reaches her arms out and lets them fall.

    Oh, my dear! my dear! my dear! my dear!

    Does God demand deception of us? ---

    Purchase His innocence by ours?

    Must we be guilty for Him? --- bear

    The burden of the world's malevolence

    For Him who made the world?

J.B.    He knows the guilt is mine.  He must know:

    Has He not punished it?  He knows its

    Name, its time, its face, its circumstance, …

Sarah:  fiercely

    And you?  Do you? You do not know it.

    Your  punishment is all you know.

She moves toward the door, stops, turns.

    I will not stay here if you lie ---

    Connive in your destruction, cringe to it:

    Not if you betray my children . . .

    I will not listen . . .

    They are dead and they were innocent:  I will not

    Let you sacrifice their deaths

    To make injustice justice and God good!

J.B.:      covering his face with his hands

    My heart beats.  I cannot answer it.

Sarah:    If you buy quiet with their innocence ---

    Theirs or yours ..    softly   

    I will not love you.

J.B.:     I have no choice but to be guilty.

Sarah:    her voice rising

    We have the choice to live or die,

    All of us...          curse God and die. ...

Sarah turns, runs soundlessly out of the circle of light, out the door.

It may be difficult for us post-moderns to appreciate the tragedy of J.B. because God, for many of us - if we can even conceive of this entity - has been relativized and spiritualized.  God is no longer imagined to be an all powerful and completely just being who controls history.  In addition, our news media confronts us daily with the suffering of innocents on such a horrific scale that the stories of individual J.B.s pass almost unnoticed.

Still we try to make sense of our world - to give meaning to our lives.  How does one live in a world where  there is no justice?  J.B.'s wife Sarah offers one response, “Curse God and die.”  There are many ways to curse our life force and die.  We can pull back from life and just watch it go by.  We can engage in excesses in food, drugs, sex, drink, work, family and consumer goods.  We can literally take our own lives by living carelessly without caring about ourselves or others.

In the midst of his misery, J.B. is visited by three friends who seek to comfort him with three approaches to addressing the timeless problem of evil.  

Bildad, the orator and grand historian, laughs when J.B. explains his plight.  He claims that the march of time and history is God.  Individual guilt or innocence doesn't matter.17

    J.B.:         The hand of God has touched me.  Look at me!
            Every hope I ever had,
            Every task I put my mind to,
            Every work I've ever done
            Annulled as though I had not done it. ...
            Love too has left me.
    Bildad:        Love!            a great guffaw
            What's love to Him?  One man's misery!
    J.B.:        If I am innocent . . .  ?
    Bildad:       Snort of jeering laughter   Innocent!  Innocent!
            Nations shall perish in their innocence.
            Classes shall perish in their innocence. …..
            God is History.  If you offend Him
            Will not History dispense with you?
            History has no time for innocence.
           all park bench orator        Screw your justice!
            History is justice ------ time …..
            Not for one man.  For humanity.
            One man's life won't measure on it. ….
            Justice for All!  Justice for everyone!
        Subsiding                On the way --- I doesn't matter.

Can you here echoes of Bildad in our present history?  Wars are promoted by arguing for the profit and glory of the nation.  Individuals don't count - soldiers or civilians.  American politics is managed by spin doctors who manipulate public attitudes to benefit the party.  Political candidates are  attacked and ridiculed for the sake of promoting the opposition candidate.  Governments spread outright lies for the sake of the nation.  History books are replete with tales of the rise and downfall of societies with little mention of the common folk who are affected.

Another friend, Eliphaz wearing the white coat of an intern councils J.B. telling him that we are governed by our circumstances.18

    J.B.:        Guilt matters.  Guilt must always matter.
            Unless guilt matters the whole world is
            Meaningless.  God too is nothing. ...
             Eliphaz has been fidgeting.  Now he breaks in like a professor in a seminar, poking a forefinger in the air.   
    Eliphaz:    Come!  Come! Come! Guilt is a
            Psychophenomenal situation ---- ...
            We have surmounted guilt.  ...
            Self has no will, cannot be guilty. …
            There is no guilt, my man.  We all are
            Victims of our guilt, not guilty. …..
            Our guilt is underneath the Sybil's
            Stone:  not known.
    J.B.:    violently            I'd rather suffer
            Every unspeakable suffering God sends,
            Knowing it was I that suffered,
            I that earned the need to suffer,
            I that acted, I that chose,
            Than wash my hands with yours in that
            Defiling innocence.  Can we be men
            And make an irresponsible ignorance
            Responsible for everything?  I will not
            Listen to you!
    Eliphaz:    schrugging            But you will.  You will.

We can hear Eliphaz in modern and rational theories about human nature.  These theories often turn humans into objects, who are studied by biological and social science.  The individual is subsumed in the group with statistical averages and macro theories or subdivided by micro surgical and submicroscopic optical investigations that separate us and our organs into their constituent parts – proteins, fats, carbohydrates, DNA.  

The human who lives, desires, makes choices and suffers consequences is lost. There is no guilt, no struggle for meaning or betterment, nor transgressions.

At this point Zophar, the priest, argues that guilt is the thing that separates humans from animals.19

    Zophar:    … Happy be the man whom God correcteth.
            He tastes his guilt.  His hope begins.
            He is in league with the stones in certainty.
    J.B.:    urgently, the words forced from him        My
            Sin!  Teach me my sin!  My wickedness! …
            Speak of the sin I must have sinned
            To suffer what you see me suffer.
    Zophar:    Do we need to name our sins
            To know the need to be forgiven?
            Repent my son!  Repent! …
    J.B.:        Yours is the cruelest comfort of them all,
            Making the Creator of the Universe
            The miscreator of mankind---
            A party to the crimes He punishes . . .
                Making my sin . . .           a horror . . .         a deformity . . .
    Zophar:   collapsing into his own voice
            If it were otherwise we could not bear it . . .
            Without the fault, without the Fall,
            We're madmen:  all of us are madmen . . .
            Without the Fall
            We're madmen all.

Once again we hear echoes of Zophar in contemporary society.  We hear it in the harsh exchanges between the religious right and left – over hot button issues like abortion, the death penalty, homosexuality and war.  We hear it in the demonizing of all who are different – homosexuals, Muslims, people from the other political party.
 
We assume sinfulness.  We identify it in others, refusing to see it in ourselves, even though we know it in our deep unconscious.  Or we live our lives with a deep sense of nameless guilt because we have not lived up to our ideals.

In all of this J.B. maintains his innocence.   Finally, we hear a Distant Voice in a rush of wind sounds.20

    J.B.:         God, my God, my God, answer me!
    Silence            His voice rises.
            I cry out of wrong but I am not heard …
            I cry aloud but there is no judgment.
       Violently    Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him . . .
       That ancient human cry.
            Oh, that I knew where I might find Him! ----
            That I might even come to His seat!
            I would order my cause before Him
            And fill my mouth with arguments.

       Out of the rushing sound, the Distant Voice; J.B. Cowers as he hears it.
    Distant Voice:    Who is this that darkeneth counsel
            By words without knowledge? …
            Shall he that contendeth with the Almighty instruct
            Him? . . . ...
            He that reproveth God, let him answer it!

    J.B.:        I know that thou canst do everything . . .  ...
            Therefore have I uttered that I understood not:
            Hear, I beseech thee, and I will speak . . .
            I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear . . .
            But now  . . .        His face is drawn in agony.
                    mine eye seeth thee!
       He bows his head.  His hands wring each other.
            I abhor myself . . .  and repent . . .

Nickles and Mr. Zuss now argue about what went on with J.B. in the play.21

    Nickles:    Well, that's that!
    Mr. Zuss:        That's . . . that!
    Nickles:    You don't look pleased.
    Mr. Zuss:        Should I!
    Nickles:                Well,
            You were right weren't you?
    Mr. Zuss:    too loud        Of course I was right. ....
    Nickles:    He misconceived the part entirely.
    Mr. Zuss:    Misconceived the world!  Buggered it!
    Nickles:    Giving in like that!  Whimpering! …
            You're right.     I'm wrong.  
                You win.      God always wins.
    Mr. Zuss:    Planets and Pleiades and eagles ----
            Screaming horses ---  scales of light ---
            The wonder and the mystery of the universe ----  ….
            God stood stooping there to show him! ….
            And what did Job do?
        Mr. Zuss has worked himself up into a dramatic fury equaling Nickles.
            Job . . . just . . . sat!
            Sat there!        Dumb!        Until it ended!
            Then! . . . you heard him!    Mr. Zuss chokes.
                        Then, he calmed me! ...
            Forgave me! . . .         for the world! . . .         for everything!
    Nickles:    Nonsense!  He repented, didn't he -----
    Mr. Zuss:            That's just it!
            He repented.          It was him ---
            Not the fear of God but him! ….
            . . . In spite of everything he'd suffered!
            In spite of all he'd lost and loved
            He understood and he forgave it! . . .
            . . . He'd heard of God and now he saw Him!
            Who's the judge in judgment there?
            Who plays the hero, God or him?
            Is God to be forgiven?
    Nickles:            Isn't he?
            Job was innocent, you may remember . . .
        a nasty singsong
            The perfect and the upright man! ….
    The platform lights go out.   Total darkness.
    Mr. Zuss:    Lights!  Lights!  That's not the end of it. ….
    Nickles:   in the darkness22
            Why isn't that the end?  It's over.
            Job has chosen how to choose.
            You've made your bow?  You want another? …..
    Mr. Zuss:    You know as well as I there's more . . .
            There's always one more scene no matter
            Who plays Job or how he plays it . . .
                God restores him at the end.
    Nickles:  a snort
            God restores us all.  That's normal.
            That's God's mercy to mankind . . .
            We never asked Him to be born . . .   
            We never chose the lives we die of . . .
            But God, if we have suffered patiently,
            Rewards us . . .         gives our dirty selves back.
    Mr. Zuss:    Gets all he ever had and more ---
            Much more. ….
    Nickles:    jeering
            Wife back!  Balls! He wouldn't touch her.
            He wouldn't take her with a glove! …..
            Planting the hopeful world again----
            He can't . . . he won't . . .  he wouldn't take her!
    Mr. Zuss:    He does though.
            Time and again . . .         Tim and again . . .
Mr. Zuss picks up his vending tray of balloons and walks off the stage.  Nickles starts to follow, looks back , sees J.B. Kneeling in his rubble, hesitates, crosses, squats behind him, his vendor's cap pushed back on his head, his tray on his knees.
    Nickles:      J.B.!23
    J.B.:        Let me alone.
    Nickles:    It's me.            J.B. shrugs
            I'm not the Father.  I'm the --- Friend.
            All I wanted was to help.
            Professional counsel you might call it . . .
            I wondered how you'd play the end.
    J.B.:        Who knows what the end is ever?
    Nickles:    I do.  You do.
            What's the worst thing you can think of?
    J.B.:        I have asked for death.  Begged for it.  Prayed for it.
    Nickles:    Then the worst thing can't be death.
            You know now.
    J.B.:            No.  You tell me.
    Nickles:    He gives it back to you.        All of it.
            Everything he took:
            Wife, health, children, everything. …..
            Tell me how you play the end.
            Any man as screwed as Job was! . . .
          violently
            Job won't take it.  Job won't touch it!
            Job will fling it back in God's face
            With half his guts to make it splatter.

How many of us, when we experience unwarranted suffering are tempted to ask, “Why me?  I haven't done anything to deserve this.”  “I don't know if I can go on.”

When I look at the mess of our political and economic systems, I'm tempted to say, “Throw all the bums out.”  “They are all crooks and thieves just interested in money, fame and power.”  “I want nothing to do with any of it.”

At other times, I'm tempted to despair saying, “It's all so big, so complex, so out of control.  There is nothing I can do to affect any of it.”  “There's no justice in the world.”  “It chews us up and spits us out.”  “What's the use of even trying.”

Nickles puts it more graphically when he says, “Job will fling it back in God's face with half his guts to make it splatter.”

The play continues.  J.B.'s attention is elsewhere even as Nickles continues to harasses him.24

    J.B.:        Listen! Do you hear?  There's someone . . .
         rising           Someone waiting at the door.      Who is it?    Is there someone here?
        There is no answer.  He goes on.  Reaches the door.
            Sarah!
        The light increases.  She is sitting on the sill, a broken twig in her hand.
    Sarah:        Look, Job:  the forsythia,
                The first few leaves . . .     not leaves though . . .         petals . . .
    J. B.:    roughly    Get up!
    Sarah:        Where shall I go?
    J.B.:                        Where you went!
        She does not answer.
        More gently.                Where?
    Sarah:        Among the ashes.
            All there is now of the town is ashes.
            Mountains of ashes.  Shattered glass. ….
            There is no sound there now ---     no wind sound---
            Nothing that could sound the wind ---
                        Only this.
        She looks at the twig in her hands.
                Among the ashes!
            I found it growing in the ashes,
            Gold as though it did not know . . .
        Her voice rises hysterically.
            I broke the branch to strip the leaves off ---
            Petals again! . . .
        She cradles it in her arms.
                    But they so clung to it!
    J.B.:        Curse God and die, you said to me.
    Sarah:        Yes.
        She looks up at him for the first time, then down again.
                You wanted justice, didn't you?
            There isn't any.  There's the world . . .
        She begins to rock on the doorsill, the little branch in her arms.
    J.B.:        Why did you leave me alone?
    Sarah:                        I love you.
            I couldn't help you any more.
            You wanted justice and there was none ----
            Only love.
    J.B.        He does not love.     He is.
    Sarah:        But we do.  That's the wonder.
    J.B.:        Yet you left me.
    Sarah:            Yes, I left you.
            I thought there was a way away . . .
            Water under the bridge opens
            Closing and the companion stars
            Still float there afterwards.  I thought the door
            Opened into closing water.
    J.B.:        Sarah!
        He drops on his knees beside her in the doorway, his arms around her.
    Sarah:                Oh I never could!
            Even the forsythia beside the
            Stair could stop me.
        They cling to each other.  Then she rises, drawing him up, peering at the darkness inside the door.
    J.B.:                It's too dark to see.
        She turns, pulls his head down between her hands and kisses him.
    Sarah:        Then blow on the coal of the heart, my darling. ….
            The candles in churches are out.
            The lights have gone out in the sky.
            Blow on the coal of the heart
            And we'll see by and by . . .
        J.B. joins her standing
                            We'll see where we are.
        The wit won't burn and the wet soul moulders
        Blow on the coal of the heart and we'll know . . .
        We'll know . . .

The play ends with J.B. and Sarah rearranging and straightening the chairs in their home.  Like Sarah and J.B., we too are left living our daily lives, just trying to make sense of the senselessness and injustice of our world.

J.B. begins to understand God in a different way.  He says to God, “I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear.... But now....” His face drawn in agony.  “Mine eye seeth thee!”  We post-moderns see behind the veil.  Old institutions, religious and secular, seem to have lost their effectiveness.  This is not something we can fix.  Sarah puts it well, “The candles in churches are out.  The lights have gone out in the sky.”

Yet we frail humans, are more than we think we are.  We cannot behave as the Nickles in us would have us behave.  We cannot reject the world because of its lack of justice, “flinging the creation back into God's face with half our guts to make it splatter.”  Somehow, somewhere, we are gripped by love.   


Sarah says to J.B.,     I love you.  

    I couldn't help you any more.

    You wanted justice and there was none ----

    Only love.”   

J.B. responds,         He does not love.

     He is.

Sarah replies,         But we do.
            That's the wonder.

The creation often seems an uncaring place, devoid of love. Yet we are moved by something deep inside – a hope – a yearning.   We humans are becoming aware of our own consciousness, of new depths in the cosmos, and of a soul force that flows through it all.  This is all inexplicable.  We can't control it.  Yet we can nurture it in ourselves.  Perhaps this is where our hope lies.

Again Sarah says it best,
            ..blow on the coal of the heart, my darling. ….
            The candles in churches are out.
            The lights have gone out in the sky.
            Blow on the coal of the heart
            And we'll see by and by . . .

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2010_Haiti_earthquake
2. http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/12/1227_041226_tsunami.html
3. http://dsc.discovery.com/convergence/katrina/facts/facts.html; http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/09/03/hurricane-isaac-utilities-louisiana-mississippi_n_1852480.html
4. http://motlc.wiesenthal.com/site/pp.asp?c=gvKVLcMVIuG&b=394663#3
5. http://www.topix.com/forum/world/south-africa/TTAN0QGPFJ9O3M667
6. http://www.ppu.org.uk/genocide/g_rwanda.html
7. Were American Indians the Victims of Genocide? By Guenter Lewy - http://hnn.us/articles/7302.html
8. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/September_11_attacks
9. http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/the_big_idea/2010/01/what_caused_the_economic_crisis.html
10. http://www.ushistory.org/civ/4c.asp
11. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Job#Origin_and_textual_history
12. An even earlier example of this questioning of god (Marduke) is found in an ancient Sumerian/Babylonian poem,  “The Righteous Sufferer” written in the second millennium BCE. (http://history-world.org/poem_of_the_righteous_sufferer.htm)
13. J.B. by Archibald MacLeish, Houghton-Mifflin
14. ibid. (p. 12)
15. ibid. (p. 14)
16. ibid. (p. 108ff)
17. ibid. (p. 119ff)
18. ibid. (p. 121ff)
19. ibid. (p. 124ff)
20. ibid. (p. 127ff)
21. ibid. (p. 133ff)
22. ibid. (p. 141ff)
23. ibid. (p. 144ff)
24. ibid. (p. 147ff)