The Eulogy I Didn't Write

I don't really know where this post should go, or even if it should be public.  But I need to write.  

Two weeks ago Sunday, my aunt died.  We weren't close; it's just that she had always been part of the bedrock in my life, and now she's gone.  Both her and my uncle (her husband) are gone.  

My mom called Sunday morning, could barely get through the explanation of my aunt's dire condition. I   packed our bags, and my daughter and I drove home.  Based on some previous life experience, I knew when my mother said, "her kidneys aren't functioning, there's something seriously wrong with her liver, and she's refusing care," that it wouldn't be long.  

When I got home, my mom's house was chaotic:  both my sisters and their kids were there, and mom's plumbing was clogged beyond repair.  I hung out for an hour or so before I even mentioned my aunt, even though I knew her death was imminent.  I knew because when my sister-in-law died, it sounded similar.  I knew because of the pain in my mom's voice when she called me.  When we had finally mobilized & were headed out the door, we got the call.  

My cousin had been sitting with her for hours.  She left to get some dinner; she left my aunt with some dear friends, and before she could pay the tab, my aunt was gone.  

My cousin said it couldn't have been more than a half hour, and my aunt sounded fine before.  She never would have left had she known.  But I think my aunt was waiting.

See, my aunt had been sick before.  First, when she was very young, scarlet fever.  Then some reproductive issues following the birth of her 3rd child which nearly killed her twice, but she pulled through.  She suffered a hysterectomy & a blood transfusion, but she survived.  Then cancer.  She beat it once, then twice.  Years and years of her life used  up in doctor's offices, forcing herself to suppress the gag reflex every time she had to swallow her chemo (in pill form).  We were all thankful she didn't lose her hair.  Then about 3 years ago, my uncle was diagnosed with lung cancer.  She watched helplessly as he died slowly, painfully.  

At some point before my uncle got really bad, but after he had been diagnosed,  we know the doctors detected a spot on her liver.  The day after my aunt passed, we spent much time discussing what happened.  One of the attending physicians called my cousin to apologize because he had no idea she would die so quickly.  Seemingly everyone was surprised.  But I did not feel surprised.  It made sense to me.  

See, when my aunt got that call about the spot on her liver, we think she knew she had cancer.  We think, or it's my great suspicion, anyway, that my aunt simply chose right then and there that she was done.  No more needles, no more x-rays, scans, pills.  She was done.  It must have been so hard for her to watch my uncle die of cancer, him being the healthy one, the rock we all just assumed would always be there.  

Whatever was on her liver; it could have been cancer, but it also could easily have been cirrhosis or something else: it went untreated.  She knew it would probably kill her, but she chose to live her last years without hospital visits, tests, phone calls, medications, x-rays, scans, forms, insurance, and lengthy waits in doctor's offices.  She made that decision, and I admire her for it.  She only returned to the hospital because she had so much pain.  She would not allow the doctors to do anything except manage her pain.  She wouldn't even allow the nurses to turn her.  She was done. So how can we assume that the hour of her death was anything but a decision?  How much strength must it have taken for her to refuse medical care?  For her to delay the relief of her pain until my cousin left so she didn't have to see her mother die?  

I stand in awe of my aunt's strength.  I'm amazed at this woman, at the strength in her life, and the strength in her death.  She chose the end of her life.  She spared us the pain of yet another illness.  She spared her daughter the experience of her death.  In her death, she was loving her family as much as she was living her life.  We all have flaws in our life, but these are the lessons I'm taking from my aunt: that of strength, of difficult decisions made, of loving.  I miss her very much, but I'm thankful for these lessons.  

Breaking up with the Mormons

This is an essay I wrote for the Oregon Writing Project almost 4 years ago.  It doesn't have to do with the bible itself, but with my own religious decisions.  Many of my colleagues read & commented on this essay, saying they thought the story wasn't over, that they'd like to see where I stand after some time has passed.  Nothing has changed.

It’s official now; I’m walking without a net.  I’ve severed my ties with that institution that’s as familiar and comfortable to me as my childhood home.  I’m no longer associated with my church.  I finally came to the conclusion that my issues with the doctrine were greater than the social benefits of membership.  I saw many good things in the church, but couldn’t get over the inequalities inherent in their doctrine. 

After dodging church elders over and over, finally my husband made me answer the door.  He, too, was tired of their relentless quest to see to the spiritual needs of their wayward sister.  I’ve never had any problem with the people in the church.  I respect their beliefs and I understand that faith in most religions is good for people.  But I don’t believe in missionary work, and I don’t believe that the institutions always have the people’s best interests in mind.  It’s a strange dichotomy in my mind, the difference between the people who believe they are doing God’s work, and the institution which may or may not have ulterior motives.   This is always in the back of my mind when the missionaries or church elders come knocking. 

On this particular day, it was a church elder and his son.  They were just making a friendly call to check on us and see how we were doing.

“Just ask them not to come back” prodded my husband. 

So I did.  I told them it’s nothing personal, but I left the church on purpose.  I’m not your typical “jack-Mormon” who just sleeps in on Sundays; I made a conscious decision to leave, and they really shouldn’t waste their time.  I said this to a man my father’s age.  He had short, graying red hair and blue eyes.  His young son, blonde, blue eyed, and squeaky clean, looked at me with curiosity.  So naive.  They seemed to understand, and took their leave.  A few weeks later, a letter arrived from the bishop.  Peppered throughout the text were words like, “sister,” and “love.”  The letter insisted I was leaving a place of acceptance and the bishop insisted he loved me, though we’d never met.  In it were instructions on how to officially leave the church, annul the relationship.

I followed.  I sent an e-mail to the bishop who professed his love for me, even though he’d never met me, with a brief, yet thoughtful explanation.  I explained that while I grew up in the church, have many fond memories of the church, and have a strong emotional attachment to the church, I don’t actually believe the teachings.  Like many little LDS kids on Sunday, I gave my testimony during sacrament; I professed I believed Joseph Smith was a true prophet, that the Latter Day Saints is the one true faith.  But, I told him, I’ve revisited these teachings as an adult, and I just don’t agree.  You say its faith; I must have faith.  But, no, I don’t. There are no reasonable responses to my questions, and I’ve little faith in institutions alone.  He responded with a polite e-mail, that he’d take care of the paperwork.  It became businesslike, as if I wanted to cancel my cable.

Training for the Portland marathon, I often ran nature trails.  The little short ones were very nice, but it was the long 20 mile runs that were the most fulfilling.  Susan, my running partner, and I would run out of things to say.  We’d spend a good ten or twelve miles complaining about work, ranting about politics, discussing mutual friends, and when we got really tired, fantasizing about cheeseburgers and fries and catsup.  But on those long runs, there was always time for quiet.  Time to listen to the rhythm of my footfalls, hear my breath, and pay attention to myself on the trail.  I’ve always joked that my long runs were my church. 

Susan was faster than me – she still is.  She runs fast and hard, and she doesn’t slow down except for maybe a surgery here and there.  It used to annoy me that she’d take off and leave me, but now I realize those were my best times, the quiet times.  Time alone to stop in the middle of the forest and gaze at the surrounding splendor.  Look at the moss growing off the trees, the ferns covering the forest floor, the lush green life exploding before me.  Appreciate the way my calves were covered in dirt, and how I smelled a little bit like dirt, among other things.  I liked those alone times when I had nothing to think about besides perhaps thanking my legs for bringing me here, to the forest where I can breath. 

The key to trail running is allowing the trail to dictate your pace.  The hills should slow you down a bit; take shorter stops, be kind to your legs.  Relax a bit on the downhill sections, and let the inertia of your body push your pace a bit; this is the time to work on your leg turnover – how fast can you move this body?  Trails usually slow runners down a bit.  The runner must watch for roots that trip you up, or the ridges that will cause even the most experienced runner to turn an ankle.  I often just watched the trail ahead of me, dodging roots and errant branches sticking out over the path.  At times there are entire trees over the trail and the runner must stop for a second to decide over or under.  These are moments of tranquility, when there’s nothing else.  No lists, no noisy neighbors, no papers to grade, no guilt at not having dinner ready.  Just a decision about how to navigate the tree in the path.

This was my weekly meditation.  My Sundays in church.  My head was clear; I was usually too tired to think.  My spirit was calm, and I felt at ease.  Exhausted as I was, I always emerged from the trail rejuvenated.  The tranquility of the forest, the softness of the trail, and the natural world around me soothed my soul and put me at peace.  And isn’t this what church should do?

I suppose it could be ironic, but I don’t think so.  I got so much more fulfillment out of my weekly long runs than I ever did in church.  This has much to do with my leaving.  My hesitancy to leave, of course, was fear.  Fear that I’m angering my God, fear that I’m leaving the one true church as I was taught as a kid, fear that I’m no longer one of God’s children now…  These are emotional concerns, however.  Reasonably, of course, it doesn’t matter.  Whether I was a non-attending member or a non-member, I was still a doubter and non-believer. 

Part of my decision was a matter of integrity.  I won’t lie to myself or to others and just go through the motions with something so important.  This is spirituality; it’s sacred and personal.  My personal integrity is more important to me than entertaining this idea of belief in a doctrine that doesn’t speak to me. 

When I was finally removed from the church, I got a final letter.  The words, “sister,” and “love” were absent.  It officially proclaimed me severed from the church in every way, and further, the church rescinded all of it’s blessings.  They take back their love; they take back their well wishes for my happiness, health, and well being.  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care.  It feels like a bad break-up, actually.  I’m the one who doesn’t want the relationship anymore, and my hurt lover, the church, is now dropping off my things in anger.  Well, I won’t take back my love and well wishes.  I see the good that the church does, and I see how it’s good for it’s followers, yet I confess I'm perfectly fine walking by & not in. 

The enduring & still unanswered question

This is the question I struggle with the most. I've spent a lot of time searching. I've gone to churches, I've gone to youth groups, I've taken university classes, I've sought the council of ministers & professors alike. So I'm fairly convinced that this goes under the "crap nobody can explain satisfactorily" category, even though I feel there ought to be an answer. It's the "where are you when I need you, God?" question.

So, to the text. I'm looking at Psalms 74. I'm not going to type out the whole thing, but I will post many of the verses:

PSA74.1: O God, why hast thou cast us off for ever? Why doth thine anger smoke against the sheep of thy pasture?
PSA74.10: O God, how long shall the adversary reproach? Shall the enemy blaspheme thy name forever?
PSA74.11: Why withdrawest thou thy hand, even thy right hand? Pluck it out of thy busom.
PSA74.12: For God is my King of old, working salvation in the midst of the earth.
PSA74.13: Thou didst divide the sea by thy strength: thou brakest the heads of the dragons in the waters.
PSA 74.14: Thou brakes the heads of leviathan in pieces, and gavest him to be meat to the people inhabiting the wilderness.
PSA74.15: Thou didst cleave the fountain and the flood: thou driedst up mighty rivers.
PSA74.16: The day is thine, the night also is thine: thou hast prepared the light and the sun.
PSA74.17: Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: thou hast made summer and winter.
PSA74.18: Remember this, that the enemy hath reproached, O LORD, and that the foolish people have blasphemed thy name.
PSA74.19: O deliver not the soul of thy turtldove unto the multitude of the wicked: forget not the congregation of thy poor forever.
PSA74.20: Have respect unto the covenant: for the dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty.
PSA74.21: O let not the oppressed return ashamed: let the poor and needy praise thy name.

One very important thing to remember is that the speaker in these verses is Jewish. Historically speaking, the Jews have been hunted, persecuted, and oppressed for much of their history. In these verses, the speaker describes how the enemy has burned all the synagogues, and blasphemed against the Big Man himself, among other things. The first verse asks God, "why hast thou cast us off forever?" The speaker then goes on to describe the destruction his people are experiencing. I think this is a totally valid question, and when I began reading these verses, they immediately peaked my interest. I read eagerly, hoping there would be an answer. There was not. It's simply a plea. An unanswered prayer, really.

Here's the thing: I feel it's not accidental that Psalms comes right after Job. Job was a great guy, and God toyed with him. This God is not particularly concerned with the happiness & well-being of his flock. This God blesses & forsakes people based on rather fickle reasoning. From our standpoint, it's really a crapshoot: will God cradle me in his loving arms, or will he allow Satan (or some other wicked force) to murder my children, wipe out my crops, and give me festering boils? This God really doesn't seem that much different from some of the older Greek Gods that we teach in freshman mythology. Though, granted, he's not eating his children. Is this due, I wonder, to the people who wrote the tome? This is an ancient text; is it possible that the text reflects more the world-view of those who penned it than the God it's supposed to illustrate?

I understand that in Job, there is resolution. God gives Job even more land, grants him more children, etc. But the damage is still done. His 10 original children, who he must've loved as we love our children, are still dead. There is so much suffering, and often at best God is indifferent.

At times I am convinced in the existence of God. I look at my little girl, and I think back to my pregnancy, and I am comforted in the idea of spirit & connectedness. But then I look out at the world, and I doubt the presence of any single, omniscient being watching over the world & answering our prayers. Often God doesn't seem any more reasonable than the weather; at least the weather is predictable. We need to believe there is meaning in our suffering: this is what it comes down to. We need to believe that God has a plan; otherwise, humanity is insufferable.

The answer, of course is in the verses themselves. If you look at verses 12-17, the speaker acknowledges God's creation. Neither are these verses accidental, for if the speaker believes in God's might, God's power, God's omnipotence, then it logically follows that the speaker must accept that God is aware & has his reasons. We are just puny humans; we cannot "breakest the heads of the dragons" (awesome line, by the way), or "cleave the fountain and the flood," so we simply have to accept our lot, have faith in the Almighty, and hope to find salvation in another life.

Sadly, it truly is a cold, cruel world. However, there is one thing to consider before we move on: nothing bars us from creating our own happiness. Nothing stops us from fighting back the workers of iniquity. I think that's a pretty important point: perhaps God is the creator of our universe, but we need to be responsible for creating happiness & goodness for ourselves, and if necessary, smiting the wicked, (which we should really leave up to our justice system or military). God did give us brains, after all, or so it says.

Reason vs. Disappointment

As the title indicates, I'm feeling torn between a reasonable reading, and my first response: disappointment. Since I value reason more, I'll start with disappointment. I read the following verses several times:

PSA 68.5: A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation.
PSA 68.6: God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains: but the rebellious dwell in a dry land.

Before & after these verses, there is a lot of 'wow, the greatness of God', and 'woo-woo', and whatnot. I must admit, I have a tendency to space off a bit at verses like this: "The earth shook, the heavens also dropped at the presence of God: even Sinai itself was moved at the presence of God, the God of Israel"(PSA 68.8). We really only need a verse or two like this, but it seems like Psalms is about half cheer leading. So, sandwiched between all this rather excessive praise (I know it's God, but enough already), are the two verses I noted above.

As I said, at first I read these verses & was disappointed. I teach public school, and I see far too many fatherless children every day. I read this sentence, and I think, "No, actually. I can write a loooong list of kids I see in class who have been abandoned, abused, beaten." So I felt disappointed in this pack of lies.

I puzzled over the "judge of widows" part; still not sure what that means, and I read right over the "holy habitation" line. I paused again at "God setteth the solitary in families," and felt more disappointment in the somewhat smaller list I have of people who are lonely & wishing for families; I thought of orphans, the homeless kids at school.  And of course, the "bound with chains" line brought lots of atrocities to mind. More lies!

Then I went back because the widows part was bugging me; I reread it several times, rather grumpily, until my brain finally grasped the part where it says, "God in his holy habitation." Duh. It's talking about church. Fatherless children find guidance in church, a religious community. This makes sense to me. Church makes sense, and I understand an important aspect of organized religion is belonging, which brings me to this cool story from NPR.  After listening to this story on the radio, I kept thinking about how cool it would be to go to a hip-hop church, then I realized I'm a 35 year old literature teacher who listens to jazz and acoustic guitar. But good for them, anyway.

If one carries the church idea through the second verse, it makes a lot more sense as well. Though the chains lines takes a lot more of a stretch; the only way for some to escape their chains is through hope & faith, which, hopefully for them, isn't a stretch. The last part of verse 6 makes me sad, because I think of Cool Hand Luke. I think of that last scene where he talks to God about being a hard case. He accepts his lot, opens the door, and is shot in the neck. I wonder if God embraced him? I'd like to think so, though we get no sign of it in the movie. I love that movie, because I understand Luke. Well, not the 50 eggs, or the fight in prison yard, but the show me a sign scene in the rain. Sigh...

Oh, and PS: leave me a comment if you're reading, or a question, or some other commentary. I like to chat.

Some Post-Christmas Gratitude

I've had a cold for the past 4 or 5 days, so I haven't been doing anything productive.   Well, besides cooking, cleaning, and enjoying my family.  What I mean to say is that I haven't read any further in Psalms, and I've not been in the mood for posting, at least not until today.

So today my thoughts aren't in reference to any specific bible verses, but simply in gratitude.  The best Christmas I remember was the year I got my pony, Buddy.  We lived in a spacious, if run down, home on a couple acres of land in rural southern Oregon.  For the most part, I grew up poor.  But there was a period of time when my mom was married that we had some financial security, and both my sister and I got ponies.  There are very few perks to living in a backwards, rural town like the one I grew up in, but one of them is that land & large pets are relatively inexpensive.  So I got a pony, and it was pretty amazing.

This Christmas, however, trumps that one.  Why?  Because now I have a little girl.  She'll be three in February, and this is really the first year she gets it.  Last year she was just obsessed with the presents, but didn't understand anything other than that they were new, shiny, and obviously things she needed to play with (read-destroy).  But this year, she understood.  We got our Christmas tree, and she helped us decorate: she was exceptionally enthusiastic and broke a couple of balls in her glee.  Oh, well - they're replaceable.  She woke up nearly every morning with, "I'm so excited about Kwis-mas, mommy!"  and, "I wanna open my pwesents"

And she's so innocent & perfect!  Christmas is fun now because I know what my daughter loves, we have the means to put presents under the tree, and we can just relax and enjoy each other.  I'm so thankful that we can enjoy the holiday.  I'm so thankful that my daughter is happy & healthy.  The hubs & are both gainfully employed, we have a warm home.   Wecan give my little munchkin a wonderful Christmas, and for that, I am overwhelmingly grateful.

Some thoughts on Psalms & Secularism

My immediate reaction to the Westboro Baptist Church & anyone who supports them is violence and profanity.  But then I know that they do what they do because it ends up earning them money; they do what they do because they need the press, and when I react, I'm giving them what they want.  Not to mention the fact that people become alarmed when I say what I'm thinking sometimes.  I do have a certain...penchant for hyperbole. 

Whilst I was reading Psalms, I bookmarked these verses because this is scripture I appreciate.  This was a couple of weeks ago; I marked them with a whole different social issue in mind, but then the horror in Connecticut happened, and I have a more exigent issue to discuss. 

Psalms 37.1: Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity.
Psalms 37.2: For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb.  (I know this will detract from the seriousness of my post, but I love the imagery of  a giant God-lawnmower cutting a path through the thick weeds.)

This verse actually brings me some peace.  It doesn't completely quell the furor I experience when I see headlines like this one: Westboro Baptist Church Says It Will Picket Vigil For Connecticut School Shooting Victim, but it does temper my thoughts.   

That being said, I do wish the cutting down would happen sooner rather than later.  Or the withering, or whatever.  Sometimes when I look at the daily news, I am overwhelmed by ugliness.  Obviously more so now than at other times, but I feel like we, as a nation, would be so much better off if we could just internalize these two verses.  I know I will be better off.  

I believe wholeheartedly in our secular society.   The separation of church & state is of fundamental importance to the freedoms of our citizens.  Look around the world at the countries where religious leaders  or groups are given power to dictate law in a society, and you'll see countries which are oppressive, misogynistic, & totalitarian.  (Iran, anybody?)  We have to take a secular approach to our schools, our laws, and the basic workings of our society.  The WBC people are wrong and monstrous on every level, but second to the pain and suffering they cause, I hate the fact that they try and impose their horrid "religion" upon our purposely secular society.  No good can come from that train of thought.  

It's the Psalms above that should allow even the most socially conservative Christians to live in our secular society without too much trouble. We should be able to accept other people for who they are, and allow them their sin with the understanding that nobody is perfect, and there is a higher power who will "cut down" the "workers of iniquity."  Something I need to work on, too. 

The most ungodly

Today, I spent a good 45 minutes of my prep period weeping at the news of the children who were murdered in Connecticut.  

On days like today, my own struggles with the idea of God surface.  I have a little girl, who is the light of my life, and I'm terrified of not being able to keep her safe.  It's always in the back of my head: I can't control the world, and thus, I can't make sure she's always safe.  As human beings, we have to recognize that things happen.  Cancer happens; accidents happen; life & death happens - no parent is guaranteed our kids will outlive us.  But we don't anticipate mass murder in a preschool.  If there's anything truly ungodly in the world, it's this thing that happened today. 

I can accept things like car accidents, natural disasters, disease - even war, though one of the ugliest faces of humanity, is something we must accept.  These are things we put in the category of things which we hope don't happen; things which are out there; things we must guard against.  But today's horror I cannot accept.  I cannot categorize; I cannot.  I simply cannot.  

I wish I were one of those people who could turn to my faith for comfort.  But I just get angry, because what God could watch such a thing?  God is supposed to protect the children, the innocent.  I find no comfort today in the idea of an omniscient Creator.  It's easier for me to accept no God than it is to accept this idle God. 

I heard this comment today:"There's a blessing somewhere in this chaotic event - I do trust in that thought. I have to for without that trust, life would be very, very difficult."  20 children were just murdered, and this person is looking for a blessing?  No.  There's no good in this.  I think it's time to recognize that life is very, very difficult; today's event taught us one thing: it's a cold, cruel, world.  

I also saw this today: 

“And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
the Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!”
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"The Wrong shall fail/ the Right prevail"?   No, actually.  The Wrong won today.  Who cares, after the 20 children have been murdered, about prevailing in anything?  The kids are dead; I doubt Longfellow would have been able to muster such optimism in the face of a preschool mass murder.  

We have to stop, as a society, looking to the spirit for answers; they aren't there.  God doesn't matter.  God, if he's out there, isn't going to stop the horrid crazy bastards from hurting our children.  We have to stop it.  Crazy is out there.  Crazy defies race, class, and borders.  When I lived in Japan, some deranged psychopath walked into an elementary school with a knife and started trying to kill people.  It was very disconcerting to see in the news.  My students were horrified.  But nobody died because the most destructive weapon the guy could get his hands on was a knife.  It would have been a different story had he been able to walk into a fucking Wal-Mart and buy a gun.