Entry 10: Being Grafted in- Place, Names, Personal History, and Money in Abide with Me

Tyler Caskey thinks all it takes to make Lauren Slatin into a minister's wife is a marriage certificate and a slightly uncomfortable wedding.  After all, "They were in love by the benediction.... was this God's will?  It was.  They were lifted into the wonderous arms of God, for God is love, and love filled Tyler to the point of dizziness... waiting in the quiet of the study for that sparkle to flash through the phone... love is always God's work."  If it is God's work, why would warrant have any trouble fitting into the role as it is designed?  Tyler is used to having things work out.  For example, "Tyler had driven back from Brockmorton that afternoon understanding that the seminary's campus belonged to other men, and yet it had seemed, when he was a student there, to be constructed wholly and utterly for him... the building seemed diminished, as though it had shriveled imperceptibly, taking with it the stateliness Tyler's younger self had imbued it with."  People and places do not take on the qualities we wish them to simply because we love them, or because we idealize them, in idealizing ourselves.  More to the point, Lauren Caskey will not give up her love of money, status, socializing, and having pretty things simply because she loves Tyler.  She will not be happy in a small town, with very little money, a budget, and no gossip simply because Tyler has laid down the law.  She never calls him Reverend, because she does not want the rights and responsibilities of being a Reverend's wife. 
However, even though we cannot influence interests and personality traits by loving them into someone, it seems that in this book characters are labeled by their names and name changes reflect a hidden or dualistic personality.Let's take the name Caskey: first there's the obvious association with caskets, especially given Tyler's occupation as a minister.  Does this foreshadow in some way Lauren's death?  It could also be associated with the word cask meaning barrel, although Tyler does not appear as of yet to have a drinking problem.  What else does he struggle with addiction to?  His theology?  Being obsessive about memorizing his sermons?  Or ironically, given our framework for the course, the life and theology of Kierkegaard?  Does he keep something inside his barrel, perhaps self-centeredness?  Maybe Charlie Andrews is right, maybe there is a darkness inside Tyler, beneath that smiling demeanor, born out of always putting others first.  Maybe Tyler stands for tyrant, or tied down his parents.  I think that in Lauren's name there is lament, or perhaps even a reference to Ralph Lauren, since she likes clothing to the point of hoarding.  Slatin is an overt reference to how breakable both her body and her image are.  Her reputation as a minister's wife and for being moneyed are all based on someone supporting her continually, despite her reckless habits.  Even her father predict this is not going to end well, but Tyler loves her too much to see the downside of her reckless nature, and everyone else gives her "credit" (with multilayered meaning) because she's the minister's wife.  Slate is a rock that while very beautiful and very soft breaks off into sheets and fragments under pressure.  Lauren hates money arguments and cannot stand to hear them.  She breaks apart from Tyler and her own sanity when she realizes she cannot be what is expected of her in the small town as a wife, mother, and upstanding citizen.  This is much more than postpartum depression.  Her breakdown in the station sounds a lot like a severe panic attack, or a small nervous breakdown.  It could also mean that the cancer had already advanced to her brain, causing her to hillucinate or lose memory and neurological skills.  One could argue that the breakdown is a symptom of the cancer, but one could just as easily argue that cancer, in this case, as it often is in reality, is psychosomatic.  Lauren's body develops cancer because who she is is fundamentally and physically incompatible with the situation she finds herself in.  No one thinks she belongs there, not her family or her current community.  They don't want to hear about her troubles.  Her family wants nothing to do with her, aside from sending her money (which they knew would be necessary).  They are so sure of her doomed incompatibility that they are utterly convinced she will die.  I would venture to conclude that they would still hold this opinion if the story were set in the modern era, and cancer had a better prognosis.  Lauren does not have a place in West Arnett, no real best friend except her husband.  Not even with Carol Meadows.  I'm not sure if Meadows means "mellow" or "meddles" at this point, but I hear distance in their conversations.  Connie Hatch is obvious: Connie for con artist, and Hatch is in "escape hatch". It is right after Katherine is born that Tyler is accused of becoming too Catholic, because he uses his arms too much while preaching.  She is also the only one who acts out her anger at her mother's death.  She was also the talkative one, who played with words, and said whatever she thought.  Now she has nothing to say, but physically demonstrates her pain.  Katherine is waiting for catharsis, but acting out isn't working.  Jeannie is congenial and happy wherever she is, like her name. Alison Chase is always trying to chase Tyler down.  think about the incident with the apple crisp.  It may actually be true Tyler hates the smell of apples after his wife's death, but it may be more true subconsciously that Tyler knows that this attempted offering of food may be Alison's attempt to "chase" down Reverend Caskey.  She may not be the only one.  Remember Ora's comment about Doris Andrews "'Doris wants that new organ even more than she wants to divorce Charlie and marry you'".  The name Doris fits her character when one thinks about how it rhymes with Dolores, which means "full of pain and tears".  She is full of pain about Charlie and his explosive nature, not to mention his affairs.  Charlie could be short for Charlie horse, which has a double meaning in that  his anger and emotion jumps out at random and inexplicable times, and that it causes extreme bursts of pain in whoever his anger is (mis) directed toward.  At this point I'm not sure whether the characters have intertwining storylines relating to their names, or if each one should be treated individually.  They're definitely relating to the status of each person, which, true to small-town life greatly contributes to the identity of each person.  Identity is important.  It speaks to who we are and who we are; what we do and where we belong.  It also has to do with who has power, including where and when they exercise it.  This in many ways is controlled by money (the board approving the housekeeper, or raise versus the new organ).

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The people without money are not composed: Connie Hatch is not composed (is always worried, is accused of stealing money from patients); Reverend Caskey is not composed, and neither is his wife (Lauren ran them into debt by being unwise and secretive about her compulsive need for pretty things; Tyler feels the need to keep up appearances by not asking for help, believing that love renders all other problems nonexistent).  Both have their respective homages to Lady Macbeth, the stress of wanting too much (in Lauren's case), or doing too much (Tyler) brings them to the brink of insanity and perhaps collective self destruction.  I'm thinking in particular of the breakdown Tyler experiences during his 'best' sermon.  Like Lady Macbeth, Lauren dies accusing her husband of cowardice.  But I wonder if money and power through pharmaceuticals also given him something else in common with the Scottish Lord.  Murder.  I think Tyler is conflicted about this too.  Is assisted suicide murder?  Is leaving something out and not being in the room assistance?  Does it matter if your terminal?  Was Lauren able to make her own decision?  Did Katherine see that take place and stop talking?  How is Connie involved, considering her actual history?  Does it make a difference considering Tyler's vocation as a minister?  I think it's good that he is questioning his role in Lauren's death and the morality of his decision, but I see it as highly morally questionable that the establishment of the Church merely pats him on the back, chalks it up to grief and puts him back on the horse to start over.  I'm all for rebuilding relationships, but I'm more than slightly worried about the future of a Church that would send someone who is not sure if they murdered their wife, and has just recently decided to continue raising both his daughters who have developed grief related disabilities (and probably inherited a few from Lauren) should be the sole head of a congregation.  At the very least, he needs counseling and heavy support from church membership.

Entry 9: (Asher Lev) "Artist's Eyes: From the Other Side or Gifts of the Spirit?"

That night I began to realize that something was happening to my eyes.  I looked at my father and saw lines and planes I'd never seen before.  I could feel with my eyes.  I could feel my eyes moving across the lines around his eyes and into and over the deep furrows on his forehead. He was thirty-five years old, and there were lines on his face and forehead.  I could feel the lines with my eyes and feel, too, the long straight flat bridge of his nose in the clear darkness of his eyes and the strong thick curves of the red eyebrows and the thick red hair of his beard graying a little-I saw this stray gray strands in a tangle of hair below his lips.  I could feel lines and points and planes.  I could feel texture and color.  I saw the Shabbos candles on the table glowing gold and red.  I saw my mother small and warm and silken in a lovely Shabbos dress of pale blue and white.  I saw my hands white and bony, my fingers long and thin, my face in the mirror above the buffet table with black eyes and wild red hair.  I felt myself flooded with the shapes and textures of the world around me.  I close my eyes.  But I can still see that way inside my head.  I was seeing with another pair of eyes that had suddenly come awake.  I sat still in my chair and felt frightened.

Asher Lev sees with artist's eyes.  I know how that feels.  I know what it means to wonder what it would look like when it's drawn.  Many people have commented to me about my surprising eye for detail in my drawings and paintings, most recently last week, on observing my last acrylic landscape.  I also know what it's like to have one's gift denied.  Indeed, it was not so long ago that a teacher was limited thinking dismissed me from her classroom before the first day of school, using the lack of turning space in her classroom as a way to keep less-than-perfect artists out of her advanced class.  I was warmly accepted into the theatre class, and luckily, lack of credit has never stopped me from doing much of anything!  I've had similar experiences in dance, regarding my imperfections, or that God would allow me to dance if I didn't have my disability.  If I really liked to dance so much, I would give up this little part of myself.Like Asher studying, I remember pretending to have and trying to foster in myself 'acceptable' gifts, (speaking in tongues and visions) while silencing and submerging others I actually had greater blessings in (teaching, preaching and compassion). After awhile, like Asher, "I just [didn't] have the strength for it".  The secrets and the lies (and the hiding) were making me sick (much like Asher's fever).  I had much more to hide than they ever found. But my personal biography is not why I'm writing this journal entry.

I'm very interested in this idea that Asher's talent comes from the other side.  What exactly is the other side?  What is this concept of the devil?  Do we all agree on what it is?  How do we know if something is the fruit of the Spirit?  How  do we know if it is demonic?  Are we supposed to know immediately or is it in retrospect?  We are supposed to check it with the community, but which community?  Who belongs to the community?  Can the community ever be wrong?  Can we misinterpret God?  What about slavery?  It was once considered sanctioned by God.  Or institutionalization, sterilization, and forced healings.  Are left-handed people from the devil?  How do we know who is wolf in sheep's clothing?  How do we know in the short term is something bears good fruit?  How do we know if someone's talent is from the Spirit?  How do we know it in ourselves?

I think that Asher's father fears what he does not understand.  But there is something right in what he's striving for.  He is right to fight against the Devil, he is just confused as to what qualifies as the devil.  I do not think he is right, but I have been confused on this point myself, and so I cannot judge.  It is shocking that Asher has the will and the forbearance to go against his parents.  He is willing to go as far as refusing to go to Vienna, even if it breaks up his parents' marriage.  The first time I read this book in high school I did not understand what would bring a person to such a conviction as to do something so emotionally destructive.  I think I understand now, but I hope Asher makes (or in this case made) a better choice than I did.

 Alicia Nash once said that (Paraphrased from the movie A Beautiful Mind)  God must be a painter, because why else would there be so many beautiful colors.  I borrowed this quote in my first week in Sys I, because I wanted to remind myself in my statement of faith that God was the Creator who created beautiful things, and therefore must appreciate art and the art that we create as humans.

At the time I felt unproductive, and uncreative.  I had sat like a lump for year and a half.  Like Asher, I had stifled my gifts.  It was time to come out from under the rock (or hospital bed) I had been living under, and go where the Spirit was leading me.  I told myself I did not want to go, that there was nothing left in me.  Nothing left to say, no more praises.  This was not some honorable quest.  This was not walking out of the spelling bee, or going to Barbados, or refusing to go to Vienna.  I was doubtful, lost, and angry.  I was angry at the past events, and therefore angry at God.  I thought that if I put away my arts and my writing, that it would be better somehow.  I thought that if I stopped talking to God, I wouldn't have to acknowledge the fact that He was somehow tied up in the pain of all this.

But not putting paint on a canvas does not mean you're not an artist; it does not mean you stop seeing the world with artist's eyes.  It just means that everything gets stored up in your head, and you feel the need to go to the museum, with its pull to copy paintings.  You are still an artist, even if you have to steal supplies, even if you draw in class, even if you absentmindedly draw on a religious text.  Even if you try to make yourself into a straight-A student, you are still an artist, and you will do non-artistic things artistically.
Even if you have to draw with a fork and a napkin, or if you draw while you walk.

Even if you paint with the brush in your mouth or on a computer.  Even if you use masking fluid and salt.  Even if you dance on wheels, or put the pottery wheel on a stool, you are still an artist.  Somehow, someway the Spirit will make your art known.  It must bear fruit, and the fruit will come out of you even if it has to force its way out.  Whether or not anyone else acknowledges it or speaks to it, it is still there.  After all, aren't we supposed to worship God in secret, and not boast of our gifts?

I still don't know what to advise Asher about talking to his parents.  Especially if I were to do it from a pastoral perspective.  After all, I openly worship "that man", the One Chagall calls 'Jesus the Jew', the One they get blamed for murdering.  But I know three things: at least in my family, art and religion are not incompatible; my gifts are not from the Other Side; and as fellow artists and seekers of God, I think Asher and I could be friends. ...But maybe not during Easter week...If I want to incite the masses, I'll just stick to holding mock Last Suppers and nailing a wheelchair to a cross!

It is Easter Week, it is Holy Week.  Jesus will be crucified with that expression that Asher needs to draw, needs to learn.  Jesus will come to the town of Bethany to bless and to eat.  Jesus will be resurrected, and at least one girl bearing that name will claim it too.  We will all claim 'He is risen".  Alleluia!  Amen.

Entry 8 :Bloodlines, Traditions, and Community: Growth, Inheritance, and the Community of Saints

Sometimes when children have similar interests and talents as their parents it is said something is 'in their blood'.  Many things are in my blood.  Analysis, taking things apart, putting things back together, designing, numbers, crafts, art, painting, calligraphy, dance, theater, ceramics, et cetera.  Brooklyn is in Asher's blood, Hasidism is in Asher's blood.  Education and travel are in his blood.  Creativity is also in his blood, his father created schools in many countries practically out of nothing, this takes creativity and vision.  The only problem is the outlet is different.  Asher's family and community cannot understand the technicality and tradition behind what he's doing.  They know about the tradition of their religion: sacred rituals that have been passed down through the bloodline.  Asher has those traditions, but he also has a tradition of people who have gone before him in artistry.  This confuses the father, and ultimately estranges him from the community.  One could say that this finally happens when his community sees his paintings of the crucifixions, but I think the crux of this inevitable separation begins here, in this argument:

 'Because I'm part of a tradition, Papa.  Mastery of the art form of the nude is very important to that tradition.  Every important artist who ever lived drew or painted the nude.'

'Art is a tradition.'

'Yes.'

I understand.  But why is the nude so important to this tradition?'

'Because it has always been part of that tradition.'...

'I'm warning you, Asher.  One day you'll hurt someone with this kind of attitude.  And then you'll be doing the work of the sitra achra.'  Page 258.

The elder Mr. Lev claims he cannot understand the technical language his son is using, despite the fact that he is intelligent and holds a degree.  Lots of fields have technical language, including religion and political science.  I think part of the reason why technical language is escaping him in this case is that his son is trying to explain something that he views as directly opposed to his fundamental values.  These are incompatible traditions.  His current way of viewing the world makes him blind to the concepts of art.  At this point however, he is not blind to the fact that his son is respected in this field.  He is predicting that this will lead to dark, evil, and powerful things, which will cause a separation from Asher's community, and from God.  He is correct that Asher's art is and will be powerful.

Theology and Literature Journal 5 (How to Be Good): Does 'Good' = Not Sad?

What has happened to Molly in her first eight years?  More or less nothing.  We have protected her from the world as best we can.  She has been brought up in a loving home, she has two parents, she has never been hungry, and she receives an education that will prepare her for the rest of her life; and yet she is sad, and that sadness is not, when you think about it, inappropriate.  The state of the relationship between her parents makes her anxious; she has lost a loved one (and a cat); and she has realized that such losses are going to be an unavoidable part of her life in the future.  It seems to me now that the plain state of being human is dramatic enough for anyone; you don't need to be a heroin addict or a performance poet to experience extremity.  You just have to love someone.

Page 137

I don't think this is talking about the state of depravity.  I mean to say that although depravity is mentioned, to link all brokenness with sin somehow lessens the gravity of the mandate for relationship and fellowship.  After all, the statement that it is not good for humans to be alone occurs before the Fall. 

Loss is a part of life, it is part of what it means to be human.  Sadness is a necessary part of love.  If we did not mourn for the saints, it would mean that we did not properly love them and work together as the Body of Christ.  The ability to mourn for a person or situation is a marker of how we are effective and affected.  We are changed by the lives of others. 

I understand that Molly is overly stressed by her sadness, and that sometimes sadness can lead to psychological issues.  However, I don't think it is always a good idea to have the Christian life, or the message of Jesus, be portrayed as: Jesus always loves everyone, or everything is always easy, or simple, or fixable, or even about downsizing. 

I also don't think it's a good idea for a healer like GoodNews to be always associated with Jesus.  GoodNews always assumes that every problem was caused by sadness, and that everyone wants their sadness removed.  Jesus knows it is not always prudent to heal everyone.  He also knows that sadness is a necessary part of being human.  For example, he mourns and weeps for Lazarus himself.  This is a separate event from the raising of Lazarus, and it is equally, if not more, important.

I think that perhaps Molly has a gift for feeling the pain of the world.  Maybe it is not a good thing that GoodNews has taken her pain away, because it lessens their gift, and removes some of her intuition.  She has wisdom, and identifies with the marginalized people her mother is trying to save. 

Dr. Katie is trying to save the "heart-sinks" (despite her ethically skewed home life); David is trying to save the homeless (despite the holes in his belief system, and the flaws in his advertising); GoodNews is trying to save the sad (through his ecstasy stimulated hands); and Tom is simply trying to save his possessions (the status quo?). 

I think that Molly is the only one who might be successful, because she's the only one who isn't imposing her own viewpoint.  She isn't defining what it means to save, in essence, 'How to Be Good'.  Instead, she's making observations about what people need and want, as well as the best way she can be supportive. 

At eight years old, she's figured out how to help using natural supports, Person Centered Planning, and small, manageable changes.  She is also helping because she knows it is right, not because she wants the credit.  She is the least preoccupied with the concept of being Good, but I wish everyone who was devoted to helping others (the less fortunate) was this good at it: at recognizing the value in others, and what to do about honoring and including them in community, constructively.

 GoodNews is like Lois Lowry's The Giver, only backwards.  Instead of giving the people back their emotions, problems, and colors... yes even sadness, he is taking away their ability to feel the realities of being human, and the realities of participating in the world.  Beds and dishwashers or colors and twins, it's all the same problem.  This dystopian idea feels eminent.  I hope David doesn't lose the ability to hear music, too.  Soon he will need to be reminded of his own memories.  Is this better than being angry?

Theology and Literature Journal 4 (The Great Gatsby): Audience of One? Trauma, Lies, and Why We (Need to) Write

In a journal for another class (Spirituality for  Church Leaders) I once wrote that you don't have to publish anything, write continuously, or even write a lot to be a writer.  To be a writer means that you see the world in words, and most importantly, when something happens in the world that you need to process, you write about it.  Because you need to write, you can't understand it until you do, not in its full form.

Infomercial for Whit's class: Sometimes different things are highlighted the more you write about or talk about an experience, you remember things, or at certain details become more or less important.  You may choose to leave things out or alter things depending on your audience.  Perhaps you are not writing for a particular audience at all, but are simply writing for yourself.  You might leave things out of your narrative in order to protect yourself from whatever they symbolize or evoke.

Therefore I don't think Nick is lying as the narrator.  In some sense, I don't even think he knows he's a narrator.  Fitzgerald is writing stories for an audience, but Nick doesn't claim to be an author.  He initially set out to be one, but then he changed his mind and went into bonds, retaining the nickname "Shakespeare ".

My reading is more than likely informed by the recent film adaptation of the book.  In the movie, we meet Nick in a sanatorium, where he is encouraged by his doctors to use his writing talent to write about whatever he wants.  However, by being given a view of the doctor's notes via cinematic conventions, (which state that Nick is morbidly alcoholic, clinically depressed, anxious, and has fits of anger) we are led to believe that this is probably a therapeutic tool.

In writing about this experience of knowing Gatsby for months, a narrative emerges that is somewhat flawed, as all memory is flawed.  Nick's understanding is colored by his relationships with the other characters, by his perceptions and assumptions, by time and distance from the events, by his own involvement, by alcohol, and his own need for safety in telling the story.  In some of the omissions and falsehoods, I see a hint of self-preservation, and an attempt preserve identity and dignity.  Part of this is the reason behind the Fifth Amendment.

The other thing I see in the story which is important to remember is the lack of fairytale ending for any of these characters.  Daisy is traumatized because of a long separation, and because she assumed that Jay would not come home, and then she is forced to marry Tom.  There is a huge chasm between rich and poor, with almost no middle class.  All of Gatsby social mobility is based on lies he felt he had to create to escape the trauma of being dirt poor.  Jordan is only loved for being a (scandal ridden and infrequently victorious) tennis star; Tom is only known as 'Buchanan: The Polo Player'; Daisy and Pammy are supposed to be rich, beautiful, and foolish.  Myrtle is fat and silly, married to a rundown oblivious mechanic who's been swindled in every way by an unequal business partner.  Nick doesn't think his true vocation is worthwhile.  All of these lives are in some sense traumatic. 

With respect to events, the war has just ended, with death and dying everywhere.  He has been surrounded all summer, and one could argue all his life, with people who think they are gods, or sons of God, or play at being better than everyone else.  He has witnessed an argument for racial superiority, an assault on Myrtle, a jealous husband enraged, a manslaughter, (in which a pedestrian he knew was killed instantly, in a graphic way: "ripped her open"), a loving cover up (complete with confession), a framing for murder, a grief filled retaliation (inflicted on an innocent man), and a suicide.  I can relate to how this would be difficult to tell.  During a traumatic event, the brain shuts down anything that does not preserve life.  Therefore, some of the details become confused, including the order of events and exactly who did what.  In the telling and retelling of the story, sometimes it might seem that whoever was driving was not literally driving, or that people are more honest than they seem, or that Myrtle wasn't having an affair, etc. these may be coping mechanisms, but then maybe they're just simple lack of oxygen to the brain.  Nick isn't a liar.  Nobody's a liar.  It's all just a coping strategy, the whole book is a coping strategy.  For the trauma of the ending, for the trauma of life in the Jazz Age. (Unfortunately, many victims of trauma are called liars because they can't get their stories straight.  Or people think they're hiding something).

I'm interested in Kierkegaard's philosophy of how the ascetic move to the moral stage.  He says we find God because we fall into despair (true, sometimes).  Nick has certainly fallen into despair, but I would argue that young Mr. Carraway has not found God.  And I definitely don't think he is writing to God.  Instead, he writes about the events of his 30th birthday in an effort to ensure that he does not fall past God into something he cannot remedy.  Suicide cannot be remedied in this life, and there are some who say it cannot be even in the afterlife.  But above all, I believe Nick reason for writing is to "get somebody for [Gatsby]", as a final memorial to his friend, even if the only friend he "gets" is himself.  Or, in the imagination of that Baz Luhrmann, the doctor.



By the way, I don't think Meyer Wolfsheim is in despair, I think form his self protection is selfish.  He wants to run away from or let go of everyone after they die.  I think true despair is wanting to hold onto someone past everything else, and then realizing you can't.  Like Gatsby and his father, I know some things are too beautiful to let go of, even when it's obvious they're long gone.

Theology and Literature Journal 3: (the Great Gatsby) Gatsby's Moving Green Light- Sign of an En"Light"ened Distant God?

I decided to call to him.  Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that would do for an introduction.  But I didn't call to him, for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone - he stretched out his arms towards the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling.  Involuntarily I glanced seaward - and distinguished nothing but a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock

Page 16

'If it wasn't for the mist we could see your home across the bay' said Gatsby 'you always have a green light that burns all night at the end of your dock.'  Daisy put her arm through his abruptly, but he seemed absorbed in what he had just said.  Possibly it had occurred to him that the colossal significance of that light had now vanished forever.  Compared to the great distance that had separated him from Daisy it had seemed very near to her, almost touching her.  It had seemed as close as a star to the moon.  Now it was again a green light on a dock.  His count of enchanted objects had diminished by one.

Page 59-60

The God in The Great Gatsby is most certainly not the God of the immanent Trinity.  The rising spectacles of the absentee occulist, Dr. T. J. Eckleburg, and the ever-distant green light that is the epitome of Gatsby's quest for Daisy and the amazing life he wants so desperately, seem more at home with the clockmaker God of the Enlightenment.  Indeed, the roaring '20s seem more Babylonian than incarnational.  However, Gatsby calls himself a son of God, which therefore destined him for greatness.  In fact, though Jesus is never mentioned, Gatsby feels entitled to an heir's inheritance.  This is not just from Dan Cody, who discovered Jimmy Gatz loafing around on the beach; Jay Gatzby he has a unique claim on inheritance from God.  Let's be clear, this is not general revelation to all people who believe in God, or general concern for all of God's creation, but special revelation that make Jay Gatzby above everyone else.  In Jay Gatzby's mind, it is impossible for him to fail; not only that, but he and his string of fabulous friends will bring everyone in on "the business".  Everyone can ride on Gatsby's coattails.  As evidenced by his uncanny ability to make any lie into a convincing story (aided by his relationship with the police commissioner) he can get away with anything... or so we think.

But it's not just the overseeing eye of a reluctant benefactor God that Gatsby is trying to get to so desperately.  His quest is almost as though each party (and/or each lie) is an attempt at fullfilling dharma.  He lost Daisy when he was a soldier, so he must remake himself in the billionaire across the lake.  He thinks he has everything she wants.  He has to remake his story again into something better than Tom Buchanan, but he even does that because he has a better kind of love.  It is deeper, purer, everlasting and... reckless.  He is single-minded and focused on rewinding the clock back through the five years he lost with Daisy.  He has earned his inheritance now.  The right to status in a place and era where everyone have inherited their status.  I has a feeling he would take pride in (or at least acknowledge as status quo) the statement made famous in The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks "... dad's got more money than God".  Gatsby considers God to be his personal Father, even if Dan Cody is a facilitator in all this.  James Gatz by successfully recovering whatever assets he loses and more has out done the prodigal son. 

He is capable of multiplying his money.  Making power and influence appear out of thin air.  Everyone knows him, and everyone speculates about him.  He has done absolutely everything, with very little help from God that he can see.

 Now he has more money than God, and can finally give Daisy the kind of life he thinks she wants.  Very much like the kind of life she has, only without Tom, with someone who is actually faithful.  Hopefully, he will be faithful to her, if not, he will at least be faithful to the dream of her.  Or the larger than life image of himself as a son of God, which is bigger than being one of many sons made in the image of God. 

The unique unstoppable inevitability of the success of his dreams make up the entirety of the symbol of the green light.  it burns all night, all night long unwavering.  It will never go out, no matter how many lies build the bridge across the lake, and no matter how many cycles of fantastic success or despairing defeat that he goes through, Gatsby will still do everything in his power to present Daisy with a glittering emerald that she will like.

 Even when she sees it (and even when she isn't pleased) he barely notices a setback.  All he sees is the elusive green light - a dream he is ever pursuing, and unlike some recent Oscar winners, he's pathologically unable to appreciate the joy and importance of the moment he has, either with Daisy or with his possessions.  He only wants to get back to the very moment he left five years ago.  He doesn't take into account any history, good or bad, with Tom as having any merit.


Worse, he hasn't given any thought to an even bigger problem: the intractable existence of the bond between mother and child.  Regardless of how much time we see Daisy away from Pammy, her existence cannot erase the history of this marriage, and will greatly reduce the likelihood they Daisy will actually leave Tom for Gatsby.  Despite apparently pining for him, perhaps even indulging in a little dreaming herself as an antidote to wallowing in her husband's affairs.  But she dotes on her daughter the only way she knows how, learning from the same culture that only known people in bonds.  She knows how to be what Pammy is: a polite little paper doll, and what she hopes Pammy is, "a beautiful little fool" She knows how to escape through parties and hotels, booze and shirts... and perhaps even trips.  But she knows the difference between a vacation and what her mother would never allow her to do, what she now would never allow herself to do... she knows the difference between a vacation for temporary relief, and leaving.  She cannot join Gatsby's life of "high religion" (at least in his own mind).   She will always return to what her family has known and will know for generations: the life of empty aesthetics.  How to be (and raise) "beautiful little fools".

Theology and Literature Journal 2 (Bee Season): Miriam's (and Saul's) Breakdown and the Doctrine of Grace

[From my last post: Saul's achievement based doctrine of election, where you have to have the right type of achievement, the right kind of intellect, or, in my case, the ideal physical type seems rather conditional. How can God love an all good creation if humans must earn the attention of a parental Creator? An overextension of the doctrine of election seems to violate the doctrine of grace. ]

It's not as though Saul doesn't have any unconditional love (he's the one bottle-feeding his children) but he doesn't seem to be able to show it when they're consciously aware of it. Infants can't assimilate or reciprocate unconditional love that they don't intellectually understand. They may need and react to it, but it doesn't stay in their conscious understanding (of their parents) as older children, unless it's continuously reinforced. Also, is it really about grace and unconditional love if providing for one's family is a part of Torah Law, just as is true of proper observance of Shabbat? Does it count? One would hope grace will be better demonstrated later, before the family reaches a breaking point. Unfortunately, it doesn't happen:

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, moving to take them both in his arms, but Aaron is all motion, his palm slicing through the air to slap his father across the face before his long legs propel him from the table and into the hallway. Eliza can feel her father's arms crushing the dry shell of her body, can feel herself disintegrating in his grasp. He holds her so tightly she can feel the pulse of his veins, can hear the tide of air feeding his lungs. Somehow, when he asks her if she is alright, Aaron's hand outlined in red against his cheek, she manages to find the strength to tell him what he wants to hear.

Page 265

By this time, Miriam's illness has been exposed, and her children know that something is wrong, even if only in passing. Their mother has come home dirty and disheveled, clearly "not herself", as much as everyone has been trying to ignore it. As her world unravels, she has pushed her husband further and further away, first out of the bedroom, and then finally by pushing him physically.

When his home life starts heating up, when even the children are becoming something other than his fantasy, (indeed, the prospect of either of them becoming their own person scares him, think of his use of the words "cult" [which has heavy connotations, personally and otherwise], and perhaps even more terrifying "just like your mother"), Saul breaks down completely. Although he promised himself he would not repeat his father's mistakes, would not force his children to think the way he does, in practice he has. Aaron warns his sister to really think about spelling, and whether it actually what she wants. This is important to discern because "Daddy" (her plea) can be quite (in his words) "convincing".

For Saul's part, he wants his son to "know the truth" even the painful truth about his mother. He is so adamant about the truth being told, both about Miriam (although he can only refer to her as "your mother") and about spirituality, that he does so quite ungracefully, without pausing to consider Aaron's reaction. He seems to forget that Elly is in the room as well.

I find it ironic and incredibly telling that the moment the characters are at their most angry, broken, and vulnerable, that the most amount of grace is apparent. Saul is finally able to express his love and anxiety for his children. He is finally able to express the enormous truth that even though he may have "no idea when or if..." normal is going to happen, or what life is going to throw at them, he is still going to try to be there (for them), standing among the "... shattered glass [and] the dripping of water...", loving them anyway. Spelling bee champion, or not. Aspiring rabbi, or not. Sane, or not. Kabbalah or Hare Krishna. He is going to love them.

Aaron immediately seems to know that Saul will fail to live up to his dream, and squirms out of this mirage of familial unity with a slap. Elly, too, seems to know that much like her Hallmark commercial visions of father/daughter kite-making, this is more about Saul's romantic version of things working out, than it is about her actual emotional state. Therefore, this is not only about Saul's attempt to finally show grace to his children, but about Eliza ministering actual grace to her father by "[managing] to find the strength to tell him what he [needs] to hear"
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Final thoughts based on Tuesday's discussion: I think it's possible to be insane and insightful, to yearn, be driven AND be totally wrong. Even be borderline (or not so borderline, depending on how you look at it) abusive. Does that mean that everything they experience and contribute is discounted? Discarded? Okay? Does having a condition like mental illness (Miriam) or an addictive personality (Saul) exempt a person from grace or election? What does that mean in terms of our doctrines? Where does it stop? More importantly, what does it mean for those of us who have been informed and formed by those on the edges of sanity? How much of the woman who " has always been a stranger" is in Elly, and how much second guessing should she be doing about recognizing Miriam in her reflection? How much of her formative experience (especially spirituality) should we question or render invalid?? How much of her personhood (as a child of or image of God) do we de-value, dishonor, and destroy in doing so? Speaking from experience, if we confront Elly (or Aaron, for that matter) about mentors' relationship and interactions with the divine being WRONG, we are very likely to elicit a reaction more like the one Saul receives during the argument about Chali. Acceptance (of grace) will be a difficult process; perhaps even cyclical.

Theology and Literature Journal 1(Bee Season): TAG and the Doctrine of Election

The day has become an interminable Duck Duck Goose game in which she has only one chance to be picked.  She senses it is very important that this happen, has felt this certainty in her stomach since Ludowski started on K.  Eliza assures herself that as soon as she gets called out her stomach will stop churning, she will stop sweating, and the cursive capital Q will start looking like a letter instead of like the number 2.

Page 13

Eliza goes through the trauma of not being selected for TAG testing.  This had me squirming before I got to the "tricky" parts of Bee Season.  We all remember it... that week of school where we all wondered whether we have made the cut, are we in or out?  Are we to be judged for being "on level" or let's just say it, normal?  Maybe we're one of the judges, the ones who think "the rest of them" will never be really one of our peers.  We begrudgingly make our way back to "regular" class, because they can't teach us and test them (perhaps they are in the middle of Summer of the Monkeys) where we are nonchalant and pretentious to cover our confusion.  This is because the teachers are testing our potential set of new peers, and we have to return from Narnia, secretly hoping that a few of them will be a proverbial Cousin Eustace.  (The spoiled, obstinate cousin whom we might permit, amidst grumbling, to come with us, if he will learn to understand Aslan's world.  In the story, when he does, he makes an even more radical transformation than the Pevensies, during and after his time as a dragon.) 

That wasn't the only thing that had me squirming, a few lines down (page 15) they mention "special needs". Granted, the principal has a rather solid perspective on the whole idea: he doesn't like the 'R' word any more than I do, and he seems to genuinely value his daughter's unique qualities. I do find it interesting that the two topics are juxtaposed here. As a person who qualified for both TAG and Special Ed (which, in either, or both cases, I know for school-age kids means they've handed you weird on a platter!) , I often found myself with my wheels in two camps. Many professionals did not know how to serve me, they weren't used to dealing with a body that did not match its head. Teachers did not believe I belonged in their classroom, and would sometimes quiz me to catch me in the act.  My peers would enjoy the short reprieve from answering questions, but by the second week, some were balking at the competition. 

On the other side, having the label of "I was in TAG" carries a lot of baggage.  It does away with a lot of explanations and a lot of the burden of proof that comes with the question (spoken or unspoken): "What are you doing here?"  The response soon transforms into something like "Amy, distinguished scholar (future Nobel prize winner)"[I'm not kidding, that has actually been stated in a roast of seniors; talk about pedestal-building, unwieldy expectations just because I happen to be different] My mother is fond of saying "The more letters you have behind your name, the less explaining you have to do!".  The first time, she meant honors societies, TAG, AP/IB, and a BA... but I may have taken her a bit too literally, because I'm not stopping until I get the letters P-H-D! I recognize the same ticket punch raising of expectations in phrases like "Aaron, the cantor's son (future Rabbi)" or "Elly, the regional spelling bee champ (future direct link to God)". Ideas like this give all the characters a certain level of clearance and credence, but it also creates an unreasonable gap between the elect and not elect; and builds up these characters as flawless heroes who must live up to the narratives imposed by the public, including those they place on each other.

Furthermore, why is it okay for Saul to shut either of his children behind or out of the study door? Especially given his feelings as Miriam shuts him out increasingly often. Is it possible for Saul to accept more than one person, more specifically more than one child, into his study (metaphorical and literal) at a time? Is it a mutually exclusive election? Does he think it is? Do Elly and Aaron believe that the only expression of love from Saul is in the study (both)? Do they know for sure that they are loved by their father whether or not they are inside the study? That is unclear. Sometimes it is unclear even when they're in the study (literal)! When we apply Karl Barth's logic, the reality that Saul loves the children may be undermined by the fact that they cannot recognize it outside of the study or outside of achievement. This skews their perception of their value as members of the family, congregation, and the community of intellectuals. The ability to be smart, and to access the scholarly view of spirituality becomes a (somewhat unachievable) rubric for election in the family. This weighs particularly heavy on Elly in the beginning, shifts to Aaron, and then to both more equally. This view of their father's system of election seems to foster a vision of God that is less than expansive, while hampering a healthy relationship with the divine as well as  with parental figures.

This achievement based at the doctrine of election, where you have to have the right type of achievement, the right kind of intellect, or the ideal physical type seems rather conditional.  How can God love an all good creation if humans must earn the attention of a parental Creator?  An overextension of the doctrine of election seems to violate the doctrine of grace. 

In these sorts of situations, it is hard to tell who is the elect.  Is it the seemingly broken one with a smart head and a sharp tongue, or is it the straight A speller who is never chosen (for TAG) at all (yet)?  Who chooses?  The second grade teacher?  [The neurologist?]  The pronouncer? Who's in charge of the laying on of hands?  Aaron?  Saul?  Miriam? God? [Spiritual leaders/healers?] Are we in charge of our own destiny?  Do we decide when we get "dinged out"?   By this I mean that we have been told that we are not elect, but we have not won, that we are not acceptable.  Do we decide, to use Wesleyan terminology, when we stop striving for perfection?  Who's in control of the bell?  Who is in control of the dictionary?  Can words be added?  Do we each have our own language, our own comfort zone?  Is there such a thing as an individual doctrine of election?

Theology and Literature Journal intro: Can We Harness Religion?

I'm not really sure where I fall in these spiritual categories.  I think I'm more of an ethical person, with glimpses of the religious.  Is it possible to be ethical for selfish reasons?  I tend to be ethical and just when it suits me.  When it makes me feel good, or I see that something's in it for me, then of course justice is the answer.  However, I'm much more likely to be self-serving and want instant gratification.  It may be primitive, and anti-altruistic, but I think it has a lot to do with self-preservation.  When you think about it the whole idea of ethics and politics is about making sure you don't get the wrong end of the stick in a compromise.  No one wants to end up on the bottom of the ladder all the time but I have to be at their ethical best at least most of the time and hope that everyone else will be too.  We try to kid ourselves that we are like Kierkegaard or Levinas in our view of ourselves or others.  Sometimes I think I might actually be grasping what Kierkegaard calls religious, but very much like what Aaron experiences on the plane in Bee Season, it is transitory: it cannot be sought, and is gone too quickly; it is deeply felt, rather than processed intellectually; it is often too complex to understand, and even more difficult to describe to others verbally.  I've had various experiences which fit this definition.  I have been religious, but I will fail if I try to be religious, even if I try to humbly attempt to re-create religious experiences of which I have already been a part.  I have been a stumbling child, an accidental but willing participant, blinking in the light of a sun (or Son) which I can never effectively force to rise.  All in all, I think the best argument as to why I haven't fallen into hedonism completely, is that most examples I've seen of reckless abandon require physical accessibility and lack of consideration and/or dependence on others which is almost impossible with quadriplegia.  I suppose I should consider myself reasonably lucky in this particular instance, that I've been disallowed in some ways, from experiencing this "lower stage".