Romania: One Year Later

This is Romania to Me

It has been a year since I had the blessed opportunity to live and work in Romania for several months. A lot has transpired since then. Romania continues to be both a source of comfort and hope as well as a source of gentle prodding. I'm not going to focus on those things, however. Rather, I want to relate to you some of my thoughts from experiences as they happened. I do this not to boast, but to process. I feel like that's the only reason I blog anymore. "I go to the [blog] when my heart is lonely..." Or something...

SIDE NOTE: There are lots of entries. Don't feel obligated to read them all. I recommend: 2 January, 30-31 January, 20 February, 15 March, 22 March.

2 January 2012 – Blackfoot, Idaho, United States 

I am going to Romania because…I’m not sure. I want to make a difference in the world. More than that, I feel that this is how I can fulfill what I feel Heavenly Father expects me to do with my life. I think that the kids I will work with are there for me, not necessarily me for them. Heavenly Father has given me this opportunity, in part, so that I can learn how to open myself up to others again. Since my mission, I’ve been very closed with other people. I keep a lot inside, including my emotions, which makes it difficult for me to connect with others and vice versa.

18 January 2012 – Wednesday – Iași, Romania

Feelings about Romania so far: 1) I am super intimidated about speaking to people. This frustrates me because I don’t want to rely on Kevin. 2) It’s sort of a funny place – no order to the streets, buildings, or architecture. 3) 10 people is a lot to travel with. It sort of stresses me out.

23 January 2012 – Monday – Iași, Romania

First day at the hospital! What an adventure it was. I attempted to change into my scrubs in the hospital bathroom, but it was pretty disgusting. Ugg. The smell was overpowering and there was stuff on the floor that I don’t even want to know what it was.

25 January 2012 – Wednesday – Iași, Romania

Today was our first day at the orphanage, and let me tell you, it was a whole lot better than I had anticipated it being. The orphanage has great facilities, very modern treatment programs, and pretty good overall conditions. It was pleasantly surprising to me. I had thought that the orphanage would be a lot worse than the hospital, but it is definitely the other way around. The kids there really do just light up when they recognize the blue scrubs.

The hospital was tough for me today. It really shouldn’t have been, but I’ve been sort of in a funk lately with my Romanian, my drive, and basically a lot of other things. I held little babies for most of the time at the hospital. I wish that understood what causes people to abandon their children. I wish that I could understand why my little boy today was un copi fara mama. I wish I could comprehend what it means to be a parent, to create and care for something that is part of you. I didn’t want to leave my little boy today. I don’t even know if he had a name. What do I have to offer my little boy? I won’t be here for him after April. I don’t know where he will be. His eyes and beautiful hair, his chubby cheeks and his smile that is foarte frumos. I see him and wonder what his life will be like, what his chances will be, and where he will end up.

This is a really weird entry. It’s been kind of one of those days where you just sort of feel lost personally, physically, everything. What can I offer my kids? I’m only here for 90 days. I play with them the same way others do, I tell them the same things, I wear the same things. These are my thoughts currently.   

30 January 2012 – Monday – Iași, Romania
I spent all of my time at the hospital with a beautiful little girl. She is a sweet little girl and a great listener. I often have existential conversations with her. Today, I talked with a mom in the room and it was a semi-intelligent conversation (minor victory). My Romanian is coming along little by little. Anyway, today I thought about (and telepathically communicated with my little girl) the words in “I Am a Child of God.” My little girl doesn’t have parents kind and dear right now. I don’t know where they are. She is a child of God. Sometimes, I think He and I are the only ones who really know that she exists. I feel like I have too many questions sometimes. I’m sure Heavenly Father just sort of shakes His head at the questions I ask. One of my concerns before coming to Romania was that it would leave me with more questions than answers and further exacerbate the problematic/skeptical relationship I have with God already.

Little girl of mine, I hope that one day you have parents who are kind and dear. I hope that you don’t have to spend the rest of your life in a hospital or orphanage bed. I hope that you have more than just God who takes notice of you. 

31 January 2012 – Tuesday – Iasi, Romania

I couldn’t hold my little girl today at the hospital. The mom I talked to yesterday said that she cried too much after I left and the nurse told me to just change her and go. I was pretty bummed by that, no lie. The song of the day was the last verse of “Away in a Manger,” that says, “And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.” I wish that I could stay with my little girl till morning is nigh. I wish the moms in her room would take compassion on her, and comfort her when she cries. I wish from the depths of my heart that someone would be by her cradle each night to calm her fears and watch over her.

Sometimes, I feel like I get into a funk with things. I don’t feel like it’s anxiety. That seems to be pretty in check at the moment. There are some things I do not understand about life and the plan thereof. Perhaps that is my lot in life, to not understand things.

1 February 2012 – Wednesday – Iasi, Romania 
Sometimes, I think that I think too much. That is essentially the conclusion I have come to as of late. I think that soon I will need to take some time to decompress and come to terms with who I am becoming here. Also, I think I will need to address some unspoken questions that have yet to be answered.  

20 February 2012 – Monday – Romania

The Saint's Journey

At the monastery in Sucevița, there is a painting of people ascending a series of steps (like a ladder) with hosts of angels guiding them up, and Christ waiting to welcome them at the top. Before I left, I asked a nun, in Romanian, what that meant. She explained to me (in Romanian, and I understood!) that it is a representation of our journey through life. Each step brings us closer to God. There are some who had/were being pulled off the steps by demons and devilish creatures. Some people fall off the path towards God. For those that remain, the nun explained, Christ is there waiting to welcome them into heaven. It was very much like the iron rod concept in Mormonism.

The nun and I continued to talk in Romanian and she asked what faith I was, what I was doing here, and if I was visiting lots of the monasteries in the region. I was grateful to be able to explain how I felt the Spirt of God as I walked the grounds of the beautiful monastery, and how even though I was not Orthodox, that I believe in Jesus Christ. This lady was a kind soul, a devout believer. Her dedication, and more importantly, her love to and of God was evident. She wanted each of us to feel that love.

I am grateful to know that God judges us on what we learn here in this life. My nun friend clings to the truth that she has with all of her heart. She does a better job than I do at holding to principles of truth. Heavenly Father will bless her for that.

15 March 2012 – Thursday – Iasi, Romania
At the hospital, Kevin and I went to the seventh floor to the place I was on Tuesday. The little boy was content for the first hour or so, but then he started crying hysterically. I didn’t want to pick him up because that often facilitates more crying when you put the kid back down. Eventually though, out of frustration and/or pity, I picked him up. The poor little guy clung to my neck and chest like a small infant, not a year-and-a-half old, wrapping himself around me. He just sobbed and sobbed. I just held him, talking to him, telling him things would be OK, and that I was there for him. It was a spiritual experience because for a moment, I saw myself with my own son sometime in the future. I saw myself in the window holding my own child instead of someone else’s, rocking him to sleep, wiping his tears away, and putting his fears to rest. It was the first time in my life I felt like I could be a father, and a good one, not a deadbeat sperm donor. My little friend has had a rough life. No one has been there for him consistently, and he needs that. He has so much on his psychological plate, and he’s only been alive for a little while, maybe a year or just a little more. How could I have been so impatient with him? Of all people, I should understand that people are complex individuals, often with problems not visible to the human eye. I should have been more kind and loving to him initially. I’m sorry. I apologized so many times to my little guy.

25 March 2012 – Sunday – Iasi, Romania
Despite massive congestion in the nose, my talk in church went off fairly well. I’d say that it went off without a hitch, but it didn’t. I accidentally started reading a scripture a few chapters away from where I meant. It took me a bit to realize it, but when I did, it was sort of an OOPS moment. I even said, “My bad,” in the middle of my talk. It made my day when members came up and said, “Thank you for your talk in Romanian! You did so well!” I am still pretty happy about it. My good friend Gabi even Bravo-ed my talk. He is great. I like to talk with him because he is patient with my speaking. I just really felt on cloud nine today after my talk. If you make the effort to do things that are difficult, Heavenly Father opens a way for you to accomplish them. Sounds sort of like a scripture, right? Probably because it is true.

2 April 2012 – Monday – Iasi, Romania
I don’t know how I’m going to leave this place in just over a week. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to leave  any of my kids. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to say goodbye to my little boy at the hospital. I don’t know what I’m going to do. The work I have been doing here has felt redemptive, especially during those times when I struggled with life. For once in my life, I was and am doing something good. These children are special spirits that I have come to love more than anything. They have allowed me to heal my soul and to feel close to God. Sometimes, when I am at the hospital, I feel more of God’s love than I have personally felt in a long time. When I am at the hospital, Heavenly Father gives me tender mercies from time to time, showing me visions of my future children being held in my arms, rocking them to sleep, and quieting their fears

This experience has made me want to be a father, a good father. I want to be there for my kids, to let them know that I love them more than anything. I want my kids to know that I will always be there for them, that nothing they do would make me love them any less. I want my kids to be able to run to me when they are sad, burdened, disappointed, or sorry. I want my kids to know that I will wipe away their tears. Romania has taught me how to be a parent like Heavenly Father. These are all things that Heavenly Father does for me, and He wants me to realize that.

And so, these are my thoughts as I prepare to leave. I don’t want to think about it any more. Maybe I’ll just live in denial about it for a while. That is all I have to say about that.

11 April 2012 – Wednesday – Iasi, Romania – THE LAST ORPHANAGE DAY

 Children With Minds 

As I went to say goodbye, I took time to tell all of the kids goodbye. I just hugged my little prince for a minute and told him over and over that I loved him. Two of the other boys, of course, both wanted hugs after that. Of course I obliged. one of the workers told me over and over that I needed to be careful with my future neice. As we were leaving, another of the ladies said, “Fii copii cu minte.” That means, “Be well-behaved children.” It can also be interpreted as:  

“Be children with minds.” 

I really like that last interpretation.

Romania means a lot to me still. It has shaped the decisions I have made about my career and my personal life. It has impacted my spirituality, my psychology, and my thought process. I want to be the kind of person my kids would be proud of. I want to be a child with a mind. I don't know that I have lived up to that ideal in the last year, but there is always room for growth and change -- There is always another hill ahead. May we each strive to be children with minds.

 

     

Les Mis: An Evolving Post

Ladies and gentlemen, I have determined to read, in its entirety, Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. None of this abridged version nonsense. It's go big or go home time. This post will grow as I progress through the book. Mostly, it will be a place where I can record all of the outstanding gems I find in Mr. Hugo's writing. I'm already moderately in love with this book. Published by Signet Classics 1987.

From the Preface: "So long as there shall exist, by reason or law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the midst of civilization, artificially creates a hell on earth, and complicates with human fatality a destiny that is divine; so long as the three problems of the century -- the degradation of man by the exploitation of his labor, the ruin of woman by starvation, and the atrophy of childhood by physical and spiritual night -- are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia shall be possible; in other words, and from a still broader point of view, so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, there should be a need for books such as this."

Pg. 52: "They confuse heaven's radiant stars with a duck's footprint left in the mud."

Page 220: "To write the poem of the human conscience, if only of one man, even the most insignificant man, would be to swallow up all epics in a superior and definitive epic. The conscience is the chaos of chimeras, lusts, and temptations, the furnace of dreams, the cave of ideas that shame us; it is the pandemonium of sophisms, the battlefield of the passions. At certain moments, penetrate the ashen face of a human being who is thinking and look at what lies behind; look into that soul, look into that obscurity. There, beneath the external silence, giants are doing battle as in Homer, melees of dragons and hydras, and clouds of phantoms as in Milton, ghostly spirals as in Dante. Such gloom enfolds that infinity which each man bears within himself and by which he measures in despair the desires of his will and the actions of his life!"

Pg. 225: "One can no more keep the mind from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to a shore. For the sailor, this is called the tide; in the case of the guilty, it is called remorse. God stirs up the soul as well as the ocean."

Pg. 226: "Certainly we talk to ourselves; there is no thinking being who has not experienced that. One could even say that the word is never a more magnificent mystery than when, within a man, it travels from his thought to his conscience and returns from his conscience to his thought...There is great tumult within; everything within us speaks, except the tongue. The realities of the soul, though not visible are palpable, and nonetheless realities."

Pg. 231: "Diamonds are found only in the dark bowels of the earth; truths are found only in the depths of thought."

Pg. 235: "And whatever he did, he always fell back onto this paradox at the core of his thought. To remain in paradise and become a demon! To re-enter hell and become an angel!"

Pg. 313: "Babylon violated diminishes Alexander; Rome enslaved diminishes Caesar; massacred Jerusalem diminishes Titus. Tyranny follows the tyrant. Woe to the man who leaves behind a shadow that bears his form."

Pg. 379: "A torn conscience leads to an unraveled life."

Pg. 382: "Finding themselves in such a world at the dawn of their existence, so young, so defenseless, what must go on in these souls fresh from God?

Pg. 439: "Oh, divine unfathomable mystery of Destiny's compensations."

Pg. 509: "This is not the place for an inordinate development of certain ideas; however, while absolutely maintaining our reservations, our restrictions, and even our indignation, we must admit, whenever we meet the Infinite in man, whether well or poorly understood, we react with respect. There is in the synagogue, in the mosque, in the pagoda, and in the wigwam, a hideous side that we detest and a sublime aspect that we adore. What a subject of meditation, and what a limitless source of reverie is the reflection of God upon the human wall!"

Pg. 514: "Superstitions, bigotries, hypocrisies, prejudices, these phantoms, phantoms though they be, cling to life; they have teeth and nails in their shadowy substance, and we must grapple with them individually and make war on them without true; for it is one of humanity's inevitabilities to be condemned to eternal struggle with phantoms. A shadow is hard to seize by the throat and dash to the ground."

Pg. 517: "At the same time, while there is an infinite outside of us, is there not an infinite within us? These two infinites (frightening plural!), do they not rest superimposed on one another? Does the second infinite not underlie the first, so to speak? Is it not the mirror, the reflection, the echo of the first, an abyss concentric with another abyss? Is this second infinite intelligent, also? Does it think? Does it love? Does it will? If the two infinites are intelligent, each one of them has a principle of will and there is a "me" in the infinite above, as there is a "me" in the infinite below. The "me" below is the soul; the "me" above is God.
"To place, by process of thought, the infinite below in contact with the infinite above is called "prayer."

Pg. 569: "Laughter is sunshine; it chases winter from the human face."

Pg. 646: "The hand that sweeps around the dial also moves among souls."

Pg. 646: "There is nothing like a dream to create the future. Utopia today, flesh and blood tomorrow.

Pg. 678-679: "For there are many great deeds done in the small struggles of life. There is a determined though unseen bravery that defends itself foot by foot in the darkness against the fatal invasions of necessity and dishonesty. Noble and mysterious triumphs that no eye sees and no fame rewards, and no flourish of triumph salutes. Life, misfortunes, isolation, abandonment, poverty, are battlefields that have their heroes; obscure heroes, sometimes are greater than the illustrious heroes.
"Strong and rare natures are created this way; misery, almost always a stepmother, is sometimes a mother; privation gives birth to power of soul and mind; distress is the nurse of self-respect; misfortunes gives good milk for great souls."

Pg. 682: "The soul helps the body, and at certain moments raises it. It is only the bird that sustains its cage."

Pg. 693: "In fact, were it given to our human eye to see into the consciences of others, we would judge a man much more surely from what he dreams than from what he thinks. There is will in the thought, there is none in the dream. Even in the gigantic and the ideal, the dream which is completely spontaneous, takes and keeps the form of our mind. Nothing springs more directly and more sincerely from our innermost souls than our unreflected and indefinite aspirations toward the splendors of destiny. In these aspirations, much more than in ideas which are structured, studied, and compared, can we find the true character of each man. Our chimeras are most like us. Each of us dreams the unknown and the impossible according to his own nature."

Pg. 711-712: "The glances of women are like certain seemingly peaceful but really formidable machines. Every day you pass them in peace, with impunity, and without suspicion of danger. There comes a moment when you forget even that they are there. You come and go, you muse, and talk, and laugh. Suddenly you feel caught up! It is all over. The wheels have you, the glance has captured you. It has caught you, no matter how or where, by some wandering of your thought, through a momentary distraction. You are lost. You will be drawn in entirely. A train of mysterious forces has gained possession of you. You struggle in vain. No human succor is possible. You will be drawn down from wheel to wheel, from anguish to anguish, from torture to torture. You, your mind, your anguish, your future, your soul; and you will not leave the awesome machine, until, depending on whether you are in the power of a malevolent creature, or a noble heart, you are disfigured by shame or transfigured by love."

Pg. 900: "There is another law of these young years of suffering and concern, of these acute struggles of first love against first obstacles, that the young girl does not allow herself to be caught in any trap, the young man falls into all of them."

Pg. 932: "Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees."

Pg. 934: "You who suffer because you love, love still more. To die of love is to live by it."

Let My Heart Hold Fast

Pretty much, this video sums up the feelings of my heart for the last several days/weeks. 

Side Note: The song was featured on the episode of How I Met Your Mother where Barney proposes to Robin. There is so much win to this song.

Oh, the desolation grows!

In a time when everything and nothing makes sense, what does it take to change everything we know? Everything we've come to love?

All my desperate calls echo off the walls, back and forth then back again.

Are prayers just wishes in disguise? Do the words fly up while the thoughts remain below? Cries for help so often go unanswered. They resound only in our ears, echoing off the walls of our heads, getting no further. 

Always searching, always blind.

Do you ever feel that way? Like you are always looking for something, but never sure what it is you are looking for or where to find it? You don't even know what it looks like, feels like, or how to know when you've found it? Welcome to my life.

Oh, my soul is now exposed.

Not entirely. That would be a rash thing to do on the Internet. Also, it's a fairly rash thing to do in everyday life, I feel like. Too bad indecent exposure doesn't also apply to exposing one's soul. I joke. A little...

To believe I walk alone is a lie that I've been told.

And yet, in the midst of all these things, there is the promise that we are never alone or unaided in the things we face. To believe otherwise is to believe a falsehood. To believe I walk alone is, indeed, a lie that I've been told and one I've told myself.

Let your heart hold fast for this soon shall pass.
There's another hill ahead...

Let Not Your Minds Turn Back

I posted this video last year for New Year's Day, and I'm posting it again because it's still applicable.

In the last year, I have lived in Romania, visited London and Ireland, spent three weeks in Mexico, started working as a research assistant, campaigned in Colorado for the President, applied for and gotten accepted with Teach For America, decided on a career path in social work, formed meaningful relationships with professors, and had graduate school offers.

A lot happened in 2012.

A lot has happened in my life. I realized this semester that I have moved 17 times since turning 18 and graduating from high school. Basically, I'm a gypsy. I'm OK with that, since I happen to love gypsies.

2013 will be marked by transitions. I will be graduating from college, moving halfway across the country, and I will spend the summer in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I will begin two years teaching middle school Communication Arts in Kansas City. I will have health and dental insurance. I will be a salaried employee. I will have my own classroom. I will be a thousand miles from family, and yet have people I consider family close by. I will be back in the place I grew to love as a missionary.

2012 was a time of personal growth, change, and acceptance. It was a time of upheaval, transition, and understanding. 2012 taught me that God lives in a small hospital in Iasi, Romania, that children are incredibly resilient, and that great beauty can be found in service. 2012 left me a little bit scarred -- both physically and emotionally. It also left me stronger. It gave me an increased desire to change the world.

I do not know all that 2013 will hold for me. It's going to be a surprise. I'll be in new places with new people, and it will be where I want and am suppose to be. It will be hard and unfamiliar. There may be times when I want nothing more than to go back to Provo, which is a strange thought. But, it is time to look forward. It is time to build on the past, not pine for it. The New Year brings with it the inherent development of resolutions. I don't like making resolutions because they are too easily broken. Each day ought to be an opportunity for a resolution. Perhaps, I will develop New Day's Resolutions.


In a religion class I took this semester, there is a verse that says, "Let not your minds turn back..." So often, that is what religion and life call us to do. In studying Nietzsche this semester, I have learned the role of suffering in helping call us to a higher way a life, a way of life that does not allow us to look back, does not allow us to view our suffering as evil. Suffering is a part of life because creation begets suffering. In order for us to create new selves, we must suffer. Change is a process of suffering. The Gospel of Jesus Christ compels us to change, to suffer, and to progress. 

In asserting that suffering is necessary to existence, I in no way encourage seeking out suffering. That idea is also condemned by Nietzsche. Rather, what I am advocating is a sense of amor fati, a love and acceptance of one's fate. It is an attitude of "Come what may, and love it."  

And so, I wish you each a Happy New Year. May it be full of opportunities for growth, even if those opportunities mean experiencing physical or emotional pain. May you embrace those opportunities out of a love for life, and not shun them out of resentment. I wish for you to make New Day Resolutions, and to stick with them. Do not go quietly into that dark night. Above all, remember that this is still a beautiful world. 

The Problem of Pain Revisited

NOTE: This post is comprised of bits and pieces of a paper I wrote for one of my sociology capstones. The class, "Sociology of Suffering," was perhaps the most interesting, challenging, and thought provoking class I have ever taken. If the post doesn't make sense, don't worry. The class didn't make sense for most of the semester. I got a B+ in the class, but it was hard fought. True story. If you'd like an additional, more easily understood perspective, read this.

In human life, suffering is omnipresent. Whether by war, slavery, self- or other-inflicted, suffering persists. In the midst of one’s suffering, the cry to God follows two strains: “How could you do this to me, God?” and “God, what am I to gain from this?” One approaches God with contempt, the other seeking consolation. Each seeks an explanation for the suffering that has shaken his once stable world, and each turns to an external force to explain that suffering. His pleading begs the question of the purpose of suffering. In either case, he is intrinsically craving knowledge of whether suffering is good or bad, fair or unjust, punishment or blessing.  God’s response or silence to individual suffering further alleviates either the suffering or the desire to believe in an omnipotent, loving God.

Individual conceptions of God vary greatly – from an angry, punishing, Old Testament-style God to a Being working towards a higher purpose, to a loving and protecting Deity (Pargament, AJCP 18(6)). Both have significant ramifications for mental, emotional, and spiritual health (Exline et al., JHP 4(3)). Forgiving God for perceived wrongdoing challenges the spiritual fortitude of believers who endure strong negative experiential outcomes. Indeed, suffering calls into question deeply rooted believes of the goodness of God and the sufferer must endure both his suffering and cognitive dissonance.

Each explanation connotes a desire for a just world, one in which either man’s capacity to cope with the inequalities and injustices of life is not exceeded, or one that allows the individual complete control over his circumstance. Divine attribution serves mainly for the religious as a way to insure that he is not tested beyond his limits (Pargament 1986). Either perspective frames God as either a source of solace or an accessible scapegoat. God is used as solace or scapegoat for suffering as a way of disaffirming the way of being experienced in the world, removing one’s self from the suffering.

Psychologists suggest that religion emerges out of a desire for help and reassurance (Meadow and Kahoe 1984), and that it is sought as a response to what  some (Tillich 1952) refers to as major existential anxieties – the inability to avoid death, fear of meaninglessness or purposelessness, and concern over the consequences of individual conduct. The question religion seeks to answer concerning the suffering of mankind is not so much whether suffering exists or is necessary, but rather whether suffering is a good thing or a bad thing (van Hooft 1998), and religion approaches suffering with the reasoning that there must be some good in the experience; if there is good and meaning to be found in the suffering, the experience becomes, theoretically easier to endure.  As one researcher  asserts, "Suffering loses its prima facie negative character for the victim by being given a transcendent, positive meaning"(van Hooft 1998). Indeed, there is a noticeable shift towards God during times of great personal or societal distress. 

Throughout history, appeals to God have been at their highest during times of suffering – the Black Plague, the Holocaust, or 11 September 2001 to name a few. If bad is indeed an stronger force than good at turning individuals or societies to God, then “God should not thrive in times of plenty but in times of pain, with disease and trauma fueling His perception” (Gray and Wegner 2010). Such a being is strictly a punishing being. Indeed, God may well be called medieval. A God who thrives on pain and suffering, a God who demands perfection and adherence to His tenets is very much the Puritanical God conceived by the Protestant idea as a response to continued, unresolved, and unjust suffering. Religion evolved out of man’s continued failure to explain and eliminate his suffering.

Suffering as an Evil, God as its Perpetrator

As an experience, suffering may be necessary to man’s own necessity for self-overcoming and eventual perfection. However, the negative attribution of suffering to God, and indeed one’s own inability to forgive God for the experience, contribute to the perception that suffering is an inflicted evil. Such a supposition presupposes man’s own innocence in the face of evil, denying any fault of his own doing. The logic of evil (Marion, Prolegema to Charity) appeals to man because it allows him to justly punish his unjust inflictor.

Man punishes God not by projecting his own suffering back onto God, but rather by turning from him, ignoring the omniscient Being. Indeed, to punish God is to kill him, and God willingly accepts His death. The proclamation of God’s death asserts that His timely demise is not enough. “We must still defeat his shadow as well” (Nietzsche, The Gay Science). 

The case of extreme suffering demands justice against the perpetrator, and man turns that blame towards the being that created what he naively believed was the best of all possible worlds.

Such blame does not fulfill the promise of the logic of evil, but rather persists in the eventual hope of the suppression of unjust suffering. Especially in Christian theology, the logic of evil suppresses every external relation, leaving the suffering soul entirely in a voluntary prison, one where only man himself fits as master of nothing (Marion, Prolegomena to Charity). Revenge is the only option for justice as man blames God for his suffering. Suffering must be spread to others for man to feel relief from his own suffering. His query, “How could God do this to me?” becomes a rallying cry against an unjust or apathetic God.

The only response that justice can create is vengeance by eliminating God, indeed to punish him by banishing him from memory. Often punishment seems to be the only response man can use to right his suffering. “Punishment is a vital need of the human soul” (Weil, Void and Compensations) and as such requires not only suffering for the guilty, but also suffering as an educating device. It is not enough to punish the sufferer, man punishes in order to educate the guilty so that he learns not to commit the crime or inflict the suffering again. Inflicting punishment does little for the sufferer except alienate him from the source of blame. Punishment simply causes man to turn on everything the universe represents to him, denying all that was once good and beautiful to him. In this sense, both Nietzsche and Marion concur that the purpose of inflicting punishment or establishing blame is merely to “improve the one who punishes” (Nietzsche, The Gay Science). 

Forgiving God the Inflictor

Even positive attribution to God can cause some dissonance for the sufferer, especially when he perceives his own innocence. To be called upon to forgive the inflictor of the suffering may seem beyond the sufferer, and even more so when the inflictor is perceived to be an all-loving God. The inability to address such cognitive dissonance – and therefore the use of attribution – to move to a point of forgiving God has significant negative implications both psychologically and physiologically. 

In negatively attributing one’s suffering to God, one may not believe that God intentionally or willfully harmed him, but he may believe that it was God who allowed the injustice to occur. When such a stance is taken, it not only has the potential to damage man’s relationship with his God, but also has implications for his anger, psychological stress, and social associations. Even for those who do not express belief in God, forgiving God proves to be necessary in maintaining psychological health. When God appears to be a harbinger of pain and suffering, religious salience often determines the psychological and spiritual impact of suffering.

Often, however, forgiveness is impossible to achieve without also experiencing resentment.  Negative attribution creates the perception that man has somehow been humbled, demoted, or lowered in his standing before God. When man is harmed, there arises within him a series of reactions that seek a desired equilibrium, a place in which the inflictor of the suffering experiences, at least in a small way, similar anguish and suffering. The ideal approach is rather to recognize what the suffering revealed. “It is impossible to forgive whoever has done us harm if that harm has lowered us. We have to think that it has not lowered us, but has revealed our true level” (Weil, Void and Compensation).

Christmas 2012: Here's Hoping the World Doesn't End Before Then

If the world ends on 21 December as allegedly expected, this post will be irrelevant, but nonetheless, here goes everything and/or nothing.

I find it nearly impossible at times to get into the Christmas spirt. Over Thanksgiving, my dad and I hung up the Christmas lights -- a task I have loathed every year since I was old enough to help. As I struggled to wrap lights around our porch, I thought to myself, "Hanging Christmas lights is enough to turn even the best saint into a Christmas Scrooge." True story. Generally, this statement makes more sense because my dad chooses the coldest day of the entire year for hanging up lights; this year, however, it was like 40 degrees. I had no reason to complain.

It wasn't always like this. Christmas was, at one point, the best thing ever in life. I looked forward to the snow, the gifts, the popcorn wreaths, and the strands of popcorn and cranberries that we hung on the tree.

So, what happened? What caused this sudden onset of Grinch-ness? Perhaps it was a realization of the commercialization of the holiday. Maybe I lost that child-like joy that punctuates the Christmas air with laughter and happiness. Maybe I just outgrew Christmas.

At this point, some of you may be hating me. You may have even stopped reading. DON'T STOP!

With all of these things on my mind, and trying to get back into the Christmas spirit so as to avoid being cast out of house and home, I remembered an experience I had in Romania. It did not occur at Christmas, but was about Christmas. I share it because it has become very personally meaningful and has helped me remember what Christmas is about.

Romania was a time of great personal upheaval as well as a time of growth. During a particularly pointed and difficult time, I found myself in a small hospital room with my little girl. She and I had shared several existential moments and she was a perfect listener. My little girl is not very old, but she has experienced a lot in her short life. On this day, I was instructed only to feed and change her and then be on my way. That was hard. I had a lot that I wanted to talk through with this little girl. 

Nonetheless, I complied. I changed her diaper, fed her, and stayed only long enough to hum her a song. The song that came to mind was Away in a Manger. This was out of the ordinary. Christmas music is acceptable starting on 1 December, and this was February. I didn't stop, though. For some reason, that song just felt right for that moment.

As I sung/hummed, the words came to life. "I love thee, Lord Jesus; look down from the sky and stay by my cradle till morning is nigh." Tears came to my eyes. I apologized to my little girl. I couldn't be there for her for more than a few minutes. She would have no one by her cradle this day. And yet, she would. Soon, the words became a prayer for her and my other kids at the hospital: "Bless all the dear children in thy tender care." I knew then that my little girl would not be alone. Someone would be there, staying by her cradle till the morning was nigh. 

Reviewing that experience has reminded me what Christmas is about. It's not the packages, the Black Friday deals, or the lights. It has reminded me that the thing of most importance is what the life of Christ meant and means. Because of His life, we don't have to be alone. Because of His life, my little girl had someone there with her when I couldn't be. Because of His life, I have a balm in Gilead. 

I had become disillusioned by Christmas because I had forgotten that lesson. I had let my mind become caught up in the commercialistic and Pagan aspects of the holiday instead of focusing on the point of Christmas. It's not the music, the lights, the tree, or the treats. It's the Child. It's Him. He is why my little girl had someone there while she slept, and why the next day she was sleeping peacefully.   

This little video portrays how I feel about Christmas, and how I hope you will feel. Enjoy!