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.

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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.

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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".