Blindness

I have a friend.  Or at least, sometimes this is how I think of this person.  However, with regard to thinking about this particular person, about half the time hatred springs to mind, violently, steadfastly adamant in its insistence.  I do not mean that, in general, this person's character causes loathing; rather the hatred is a gut reaction inside of me because of how this person has hurt me deeply.

Perhaps more than my own pain, however, is the ongoing reminder, in one way or another, that this person is oblivious to how I was hurt, or even, that I was hurt--am hurt.  Perhaps it makes more sense to put this in the present tense, because if it were all in the past, and I were "over it," there would be far less vitriol spewing out, threatening to destroy  me.  Perhaps it also makes sense to say that the reason there is such pain, such hatred, is that there is such love, such longing.  Often, it is a very short jump from love to hate, when it comes to someone very close to us, if that person has hurt us or rejected us or betrayed us.

This past week was Holy Week.  For believers, and some unbelievers (in Christ) alike, it is a time of reflection and contemplation.  It is no different for my friend.

I got an email from My Chum explaining how a certain piece of music had so powerfully brought to mind the way of the cross, and how we all have a cross (or crosses) to bear.  This person's own burdens were feeling pretty darn bad, considerably onerous--"Why I gotta have such a hard time of life?"--until, for example, the people of earthquake destroyed areas came to mind, and then, there is sort of a moment of, "Gee," (to paraphrase my pal's writing), "our problems are nothing!  We have so much to be grateful for compared to other people!"  And then, my friend continued, as the music shifted, after the death, the tomb, here came the exulted strains of the music announcing the resurrection and my friend was suddenly proclaiming, in so many words, "All my problems have ceased!"

Here is what I did when I read that: I rolled my eyes spiritually.

Because I was thinking, Cretin from Hell that I am, "How could you be so selfish and blind?  Are you even daring to talk to me about trouble or pain you supposedly have in your life? A cross you have to carry in your life? What trouble? What cross?  That things didn't turn out precisely how you planned--oh, thou who controls Destiny Itself?"  I was thinking to myself, "OK, wait--you are, financially speaking, more than set for life, you are in good health, your children have perfect health, have their educational futures assured, you are a far-above-average success professionally, your children and you take world vacations, so...uh, help me out...where exactly is the difficulty in your life?  That you don't have ten servants?  That your children will grow up in two houses, their parents divorced?  Yet, you felt no loss at the ending of your marriage?  You only wished your spouse had come to you and said s/he wanted out and you would have easily understood and it all could have been so friendly and easy?"  Truly, I was dumbfounded; wondering, "How can you be so blind to other people's pain?!"  I am at a loss to understand where the cross exists, because this is not my understanding of Jesus' sacrifice.

With regard to that very thing, I do not say that any of the Crucifixion story is or has to be true or believed; I have my own doubt to battle in life.  I am no evangelist anymore.  Nevertheless, it begs the question, this interpretation of my friend, for me, I mean.  How does the Via Dolorosa get to be about carrying a load because we don't have it perfectly easy?  Since when is the reason for Jesus dying on the cross our discomfort in life?  "We all have our cross to bear" becomes a very twisted platitude and it is very far from the actual meaning of carrying a cross.  I am thinking that as far as Jesus goes, the reason Jesus carries a cross--regardless of whether or not it is true--is because of us.  More to the point: Jesus hangs on that cross--and dies--because of our sin(s).  Yours.  Mine.  (According to Christianity, this is the crux of the matter--crux of the crucifixion.)  The other day I wrote about how we can think about Jesus' death as something other than a blood sacrifice to placate Almighty God; I know.  So, again, let's leave blood out of it but let's talk about a deeper reason for Christ's sacrifice on our behalf.  Isn't the reason Jesus suffers due to us being lost? Isn't his death due to our desperate need for someone to redeem us because we cannot redeem ourselves?  Because we are guilty?  And, aren't we guilty because we harm one another, and live in ways that offend ourselves and each other (and supposedly, God)? Our sin is "the good that we want to do, and which we leave undone, and the bad we do not want to do, which we do anyway,"  to paraphrase the Apostle Paul writing to the believers in Rome.

Why diminish the cross so selfishly?  Why turn the cross into some metaphor for things not going according to plan?   Why not, if we are going to contemplate the cross, blame ourselves, see our weaknesses and our shortcomings, see the way we may need forgiveness from those we have harmed, not just that we need to forgive those who have harmed us.  Could we maybe use the cross for finally, truly seeing what fools we have been even when we have thought ourselves so advanced, so enlightened?  I will give you a very personal, humiliating, example so that you see I know what I am talking about:  Picture me, overwhelmed mother of three little children, typically easily blowing a fuse, a yeller by nature, fiery temperament god-help-me, and there I am, devout born-again Christian, earnest, dedicated, submitted to the Lord, in my bedroom in the middle of the day, on my knees praying.  I have gone in there specifically to pray for help; I am talking to God, asking forgiveness, confessing my impatience, my bitchiness, my intolerance, my...wish to be a better, kinder, more capable mother.  Next, hear the little knock--one of my beloved children--at the bedroom door.  Now see me suddenly lift my face from my folded hands, turn toward my closed bedroom door and angrily shout: "WHADDYA WANT?! DONTCHA KNOW I'M IN HERE PRAYING?!"


Oh, snap.


Oh, sigh. 


God forgive me, for I knew not what I did.  Everyone should be so lucky to have such moments of seeing themselves for the jerks we all really are.  Another admission: I probably still don't see my ridiculous injuries to others--my children, especially--while I am doing them.  Hindsight is a cruel teacher and some of us still don't learn.

So, it is usually true of me, that I recognize that I am in need of forgiveness, and that is how I see the cross, and that is how I understand why Jesus is here at all anymore: to help us bridge that gap we cannot bridge by trying to be "good enough."  But back to my beloved (friend), I don't know that this person has ever experienced the self as the one needing forgiveness and grace; it is always others who have sinned against her/him.  The innocent self rises up and pats itself on the back that it has never harmed others, because, after all, there has never really been malicious intent.  (As if we only hurt others when we are planning to, our hands rubbing together in evil glee. As if, since we didn't mean it, the other person's pain and suffering is actually quite inconsequential, and probably a misunderstanding on his or her part.  It's just a matter of perspective--so goes my friend's thinking, I fear.)  Oh, maybe there is a touch of grace--but it is a limited, stunted kind of grace.  Grace that we all get to live our lives for ourselves, but forgiveness?  Why would my friend need forgiveness?  For what? Simply existing as a human being?  You wonder when the specificity of recognizing our own shortcomings finally opens itself before some people.  You wonder when the failed marriage starts being more about your contribution to the problems instead of your ex-spouse's evil nature.  (I am not suggesting that anyone take 100% of the blame for the failure of the marriage; I don't mean that.  Nor do I mean to imply that you should take any blame at all for your spouse's infidelities, if you have lived through that hell.  But speaking of hell, divorce is one hell of an opportunity to take a close look at ourselves, maybe even in chagrin, and ask for help to do better the next time we are relating with someone intimately.)

My friend wrote about all the emotions that were elicited while listening to the particular music that was about the crucifixion and then, here it came to absolve all the pain-- how glorious--the swelling trumpets of the resurrection.  Triumphant that all was well in the world, my friend felt brand new.  Again, I had nothing to say.  Nothing.  As a sheep before its shearers is dumb...should I even offer to relate my pain at my friend's hands?  Would it open my friend's eyes?  I don't think it would, which is why I have remained silent.  But I have to admit that I wonder why it is that my friend thinks there is already Clear Vision when all I am thinking is, "You don't have to go to an earthquake damaged area to find someone in a lot more pain than you are.  Why, you might just think about the person you are writing to instead of the person who is writing...for once."  I wanted to write, "Here's an exercise in compassion: Play the music again, but this time, dedicate your listening to me.  See me as you listen to the lovely strains.  See if the Lord reveals anything to you about any cross in my life; see if the Lord reveals anything to you about how you treated me.  Focus on this one particular person--ME--instead of thinking of a generic crowd." I was thinking how odd it is that my friend does not recognize that, when I was in need, when I made myself vulnerable, when I was hurting, s/he chose abandoning me over entering into my pain with me.  I marvel that my friend does not see--at all-- that some of us who have been intimately involved with him/her, have walked alongside him/her on the same path have sometimes cried out in utter loneliness, "My friend, my friend, why have you forsaken me?"

But as I have already admitted: I did not say one word in reply.  Why? Because...

What if you think your eyes are already open?

What if you think you see very deeply indeed?

What if you consider yourself a very empathetic person?

Is your friend, accusing you, going to be able to convince you otherwise?

Would even GOD be able to convince (how like the word convict) you otherwise?

So I come to this: Why bother trying to enlighten, even if it means telling the truth about your own pain to the person whose blindness caused your harm?

If the student is not ready, the teacher is only sounding brass.

That's what I am thinking, anyway, today.

And believe me, I know: I have enough wood in my own eye that I should be taking out before I worry about the so-called speck in my friend's eye.

Be assured, if you are not already aware of my inherent bent to self-chastise, that I do pay attention to my own deficits. In fact, I think I pay too much attention to them and am too willing to take the blame, too capable to carry heavy loads, too quick to agree that so much about me needs fixing.  I come by it way too honestly.

So, again, with regard to me accusing my friend, lest you have been shrieking, "LOOK AT YOURSELF!", I want to be quick to admit that obviously I am not such a wonderful person all the time, am I?  If I am feeling such hatred and judgment about another person--especially if it is because this person did not meet my expectations, did not love me the way I wanted to be loved, was not a friend to me as I understand friend--then I am in need of transformation and forgiveness, myself, big time.  I am the one who, ultimately, has to let it go, has to accept What Is and make a decision about holding grudges, holding out for apologies, or letting go.  The only one I can ever change?  Me.

What have I been doing as a way to handle it?  Praying.  For us both.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.

This being human is indeed a guest house.  Every day, a new arrival.  Sorrow, joys, laments.  Amen, Rumi, amen.