None the Less, Nun the More


With a new Catholic pope come old questions about the history and roles of nuns and clergy in modern, and not-so-modern faith.  Nuns and clergy: that the first isn’t considered as part of the second is a shame.  They share the same leaps of faith, the same sacrifices, and the same falls from grace.  But in the end, nuns are just an attachment to the dominion of clergy. In the end, too, the issues of both are often a distraction from larger social issues

These days we talk a lot about priests’ falls from faith. Issues of homosexuality, pedophilia, and general child abuse are better grist for media mills when men are considered.  Equivalent issues about nuns seem to earn winks at best.  When I was a kid, though, it was about the seemingly twisted faith of nuns we mostly talked.  I don’t think there was a single kid in my school whom the nuns didn’t hit.  And we all were hit hard!  During breaks between classes, there were often nuns stationed inside the boy’s lavatory keeping order.  They berated us.  They hit us with rulers, belts, and paddles.  They beat their selves into our long-term memories.
But really, this isn’t only about qualities of nun-ness.  We were hit by lay teachers also.  We were hit by men; we were hit by women.  This was the culture of discipline where I grew up.  The nuns wore black and white uniforms, and so were more uniformly regarded and remembered than their lay counterparts.  And who doesn’t prefer to hear stories of evil nuns.  But whom I conveniently forget to talk about are nuns like the one who took the extra time in fourth grade to teach me short division.
We weren’t allowed to learn short division back then, but this nun recognized that long division was too abstract for me.  This might sound counter-intuitive, even nonsensical, but the woman woke up the right side of my brain to math.  I went from being the class idiot to being the only kid in class who could do division in his head.  
I don’t quickly remember that now.  It’s easier for me to reminisce about the brutality.  Yes, some of those nuns were brutal.  Some of the priests were too.

So, all this isn’t just about nuns and priests.  The subject shouldn’t be only about the bad behavior of certain members of certain groups.  We should also talk about what happens in our society that drives some women and men to seek refuge from life by surrendering to sub-cultures of convents, monasteries, and rectories (picking on Catholicism only) which serve to distill the best and worst human qualities into chalices from which the rest of us drink.  I think forgetting this in our discussions of issues of modern faith is like firing arrows fletch-first at the target.

March 13, 2013

 

Athena Winced

If you’ve been around cattle, you already know what comes out the end opposite the nose. You also know that in politics, as in the barnyard, what goes around comes around.
Socrates, democracy’s supreme rabble-rousing patriot, could have escaped his legal predicament simply by leaving Athens.  History says he surrendered because of his sense of obligation to Athens’ judicial system, flawed as it was.  I think he was also so sickened by the decline of Athenian democracy that he couldn’t bare to watch its death from any distance.  For Socrates a cup of Hemlock was certainly sweeter than witnessing the birth of history’s first democratically elected totalitarian government.

     Whither

Our withers weather
the whether or nots
of knots of withering
hails of shot from
distempered hells we’ve
tempered and wrought
from our dithering withers
which darkness would blot–
but cannot.

Gavin W Sisk
Sept. 2012

 

Fracting God From The Rubble

Yesterday was September 11, 2011: the tenth anniversary of the infamous attacks on the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City.  My daughter and I plopped on the couch to watch ten-year-old news coverage of ‘911’.  This was one of those finest hours when the news media documented its own integrity and delivered a classic apologia for their in-depth coverage.  That’s fine, except that this finest hour came without a mea culpa for all their bone-headed mistakes and groundless dissemination of fear.  My father would have had a lot to write about this phenomenon of media attempting to pin hindsight to their desperate and lurching foresight.  Oddly, I didn’t see much hindsight framing the desperate fear and hatred that we Americans always want to believe is beneath us, but which we prove again and again is stuck to our shoes like gum.

I am Christian.  If you poll other Christians you’ll find that half believe humans are inherently evil; half believe they mostly serve themselves; and half believe they naturally serve each other.  We Christians may be no better at estimating human proclivities than we are at estimating the sums of simple fractions.  But that’s a moot point when you recall the evil all we Christians have perpetrated on each other in the name of a God we have in common.

Imagine recess in sixth grade on the playground of Saint Almost Elementary School for Boys.  Imagine also the traditional choosing of sides for dodge ball.  Two of the boys, twin brothers named Bub and Bob, are especially smart, fast, big, friendly, and strong.  Of course Bub and Bob are always the first picks for each team.  If you have Bub or Bob on your side, you cannot lose.  Even if the two popular brothers simply watch the game while leaning against the schoolyard fence, the winning team will glorify one of them for their victory.  Neither Bub nor Bob cares much for bragging rights—nor for condemnations for loosing—and neither team would realize if Bub or Bob switched places.  If there were enough boys on the field to form three teams, either Bub or Bob would certainly be the exclusive captain of each.  This is why the boys at Saint Almost Elementary School almost universally choose philosophy as their first major subject in college.  Years ago, one boy did go on to become a civil engineer; but his career ended abruptly after he designed a bridge with three large arches, but specified only enough concrete for two.  Neither Bub nor Bob were nearby to take the blame.

To the real world: I’m not certain what point to make of the evil that all we Christians have swung like righteous swords through the necks of all those who seemed to be catalyzed by lesser gods, and who would otherwise have righteously swung their swords through our own necks.  Hindsight rarely improves foresight, publicly.  Accurate and meaningful foresight—wisdom—is often not what we want.  There is no good reason for news media to tell us what we don’t care to hear, and what advertisers don’t care to subsidize.  Democracy might be at the root of our principles, but capitalism is at the root of our habits.

My father wrote a short poem that sums up wisdom’s precarious place in all our institutions.  This might be one reason he drank cheap scotch.

Epigram For Bedlam

All men are foolish
As all are brothers;
The wise ones know it
And tell the others:
Who take the wise ones
Righteously
And hang them up
For heresy.

                 -John P Sisk

 

Sept. 12, 2011