Forgiveness

How does forgiveness play into politics? The idea of forgiveness is interesting to me. Because of growing up in a country with the separation of church and state, I have the natural ability to compartmentalize at least a part of my beliefs. But as a therapist I've struggled with the idea of forgiveness. Is it a religious idea, or is it a secular idea? Can it be both? Can I bring it up ethically in therapy, even though I think it's a crucial part of healing? And how much of our spirituality can we compartmentalize? I never realized how much we did this until experiencing Kenya and seeing how pervasive personal faith was in Kenyan life and how little they could comprehend our ability to cover ours up as needed. When I look at the world, I see a need for forgiveness, but can as I, as someone who believes separation of church and state is necessary for freedom of faith, expect governments to practice forgiveness?

While reading Philip Gourevitch's book We Wish to Inform You...", I came to the realization that atrocities only beget atrocities. Not particularly a new concept, but somehow framed in a fresh way. What happened in Rwanda in the 100 days of Tutsi genocide was devastating and life-altering in ways that few outsiders can probably ever fathom. But now as Rwandans try to repair their country under Paul Kagame, they begin to punish those involved, turning it into a justifiable genocide redirected at the Hutus that is still going on over ten years later. Perhaps they were all guilty, but what does wiping out a people group, some who don't even identify themselves as Hutu, really solve?

Recently the US extradited an 83-year-old woman for Nazi war crimes. The ironic twist in the story is that although she served as a prison camp guard, she married a Jewish man who was a survivor. What should her punishment be? Her hatred of Jews doesn't exactly seem to run deep, seeing as she spent more of her life loving one than torturing them. Should she be charged with war crimes? Or should she be forgiven if she is indeed guilty? If we punished everyone who is guilty of something, where would it end?

Today while visiting the Abbey, Brother Mark showed us his 9/11 memorial. He told us how he searched the grounds for days trying to find two trees that were straight and true and close together. There he had placed an iron cross with an apple in front and he holds a memorial every year on the anniversary. His face faltered as he reminded us about the devastation and loss brought on by that day. Not only the events of that morning, but as a result of the vengeance it inspired. He spoke of vulnerability as the alternative to vengeance. I've heard of humility spoken of as a spiritual strength, but never vulnerability. In a way it makes so much sense. To forgive and forget makes us vulnerable. I suddenly realized why forgiveness is so hard.

Vulnerability does not mesh well with political goals or self-preservation. And while politicians speak of war as a means to peace and freedom, it only feeds into the cycle of violence and pain. It reminds me of a quote attributed to, I believe Gandhi, something to the effect of an eye for an eye and the world goes blind. If we can kill for the greater good, can we not be vulnerable as well and forgive? And can we forgive as a secular nation or is that a part of ourselves we gave up as a means to peace and freedom?

A Bright Pink Spot in Portland

This morning I crawled out of bed at 6:30. Yes it's a Sunday and yes I know that's on a weekend. Those of you who know me well are probably a little confused by this, but as evidence I took a picture of the amazing sunrise. The child inside of me wants to believe that sunrise and sunset are those magical moments when God himself walks on the earth. Yet sadly the holiness of those moments rarely inspires me to witness them. My reason instead for getting up so early on a Sunday was Race for the Cure. This event raises money for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation.

As part of a renewed commitment to my community (i.e. the world) and a desire to be more of a participant and less of an observer, I've decided to start participating in 5k walks (and hopefully, eventually 5k runs.) Ever the supportive sidekick, I dragged Beth along with me. And this is why from 8:00-8:45am we found ourselves sitting in Blondie, my semi-trusty Volvo, waiting in the traffic jam leaving I-5. Unlike most cars where you can entertain yourself by surfing through stations, Blondie's radio is temperamental at best. A favorite tune will come on and taunt you with a happy sing-along only to abruptly disappear and leave you hollering loudly like a gray-haired lady deep in conversation on the front pew when the organist suddenly ends the closing hymn. When this happens I have visions of pulling out a heart defibrillator to shock it back to life, but instead must patiently wait it out until something mystical occurs in the wiring and I once again have music. Sadly at that moment, we had no music and had to make do with our own brand of idle chatter. We hunt for restaurants in the phone book, comment on people in the cars around us and solve world crises. Trivial, but these are the moments that make life matter. Slowly we crept into downtown, parked and pushed our way into the pink melee that was Tom McColl Waterfront Park.

Now nothing says community like 46,000+ people wandering down the street sporting various shades of pink and wearing names like The Boobtrotters, Pirate's Booby, and BeeBee & Melons. Pink was splattered everywhere, from bright pink wigs and t-shirted pooches to bras worn on the outside of shirts and decorated with petals, sequins and tassles. Cheerleaders from local high schools were stationed at the sidelines shouting words of encouragement into the crowd. A couple of drumlines and a marimba band supplied peppy music to help us keep up the pace. Not everyone walked. I saw more than one wheelchair along the route, making me think of how important it must be to them, to be there. And how awesome a friend would have to be to push your chair for 3.1 miles.

Despite the overall bouyancy of the crowd, today was not without the gut-wrenching moments that occur when we are forced to acknowledge human frailty. Pink papers, pinned on the backs of fellow walkers, declared the names of people who lost their battles with cancer. Some wore pictures of grandmothers, mothers, sisters and daughters who could no longer be there to walk beside them. Beth pointed out numbers of old men who walked alone, sobering our happy moods. There was also the father and son who walked together off to the side discussing the weather through stiffly masked faces making me wonder if they were afraid to speak of anything else and risk falling apart. The crowd had that aura of happiness, the kind that only comes from knowing deep sadness.

I don't understand cancer, and by this I don't mean the scientific explanation of cancer. It's like snow, I know the science behind it, but everytime I see it, I still stare in disbelief. Only snow didn't steal my grandfather, the most beautiful person I've ever known. Cancer is a living thing that's purpose is to destroy life. Joining in with the body like an insidious "friend" while it rapes and pillages the life and joy of someone you love. It is the Axis II disorder of medicine. I don't know why God allows it to happen, but then I understand very little of what goes down in the world. I can only trust that when we stand back and take a look in the end, it will all make sense. What I do know is cancer is more treatable today than it was thirty years ago and that's why I'll keep walking.

Looking ahead:



Looking behind:



Flamingo posse:



The cheap seats:



Janet's team:



Please, tell me how you really feel! (freedom of speech is big in P-town)



There's nothing a bright pink wig and feather boa won't fix...



A little post-race celebration at the bandstand...

So...Today I...

1. Saw a red-tailed hawk on a mailbox and almost missed a curve in the road for staring at it. (I know, I'm a nerd, I've accepted it.)

2. Started work at the state hospital and became painfully aware of how often the word "crazy" creeps into my casual coversation and internal dialogue.

3. Was asked a football question and actually knew the answer. (with much thanks to a particularly odd teacher I once had who was obsessed with the Washington Redskins)

4. Apologized all day to people for not having my cell phone with me only to find it had crept into a pocket of my messenger bag.

5. Was told "I love you" by someone it scared me to hear it from and realized that those aren't always the words you long to hear.

6. Debated religion with a devout Catholic.

7. Did an hour of yoga, and then finished off the day with 30 minutes of aerobics. (and none of it was planned)

8. Met my goal of $100 for Race for the Cure within only 24 hours. (taught me to be a little more optimistic in my goals)

9. Wrote my first psychological admission report for a state institution. (now I only have to dictate it. Seems backwards? a bit, perhaps)

10. Learned that lavender and tea tree oil act like estrogen and can cause young boys to grow breasts. (Gives new meaning to the stereotype that real men don't take lavender bubble baths)

All in all it's been a very, very long day.

Scotty

This is my cousin

This is my cousin on drugs....(apparently)


Any questions?


Fine Print: No drugs were harmed in the making of this blog, except perhaps some poison ivy...