2018.03.11 What Is Heroic?

What is Heroic, Really?

This Lent I fret once again over the Cross of Christ. Was Jesus a hero because he died in crushing agony? The symbol of the cross carries enormous sacred power. And every year I wonder why.

Theological explanations abound—atonement theory, martyrdom, God weeps and suffers with us, Jesus suffers in our stead, suffering is inherently sacred, one death puts an end to the need for sacrificial appeasements to get back right with God, and worst of all, unjust death is satisfactory “ransom” paid to redeem those kidnapped by sin for God’s sake. What?

A line in a movie we just saw leapt out at me: “So I’m a hero because I got my legs blown off?”

Would Jesus cry: “So I’m a hero because I was strapped to a cross and hoisted up to suffocate?”

The movie “Stronger” is about Jeff Bauman who at twenty-seven lost both of his legs to a the bomb explosion at the 2013 Boston Marathon. He was a spectator rooting for his fiancée Erin.  The details of the horrific aftermath were graphic as was the background drama about Bauman’s family struggle with alcohol and his own, his failure to sustain love, his agonizing time in the hospital and rehab, his nightmarish memories of the bomb trauma replayed like torture, his fierce determination to walk again, and finally, his prosthetic legs—awkward but upright.

Bauman became an instant hero, pushed and prodded into public appearances before huge crowds at a Bruins game and throwing the ceremonial first pitch at a Red Sox game, not to mention television interviews and the like. The crowds cheered as did his proud family. The elegiac felt unreal to him— like adding further pain. Bauman resisted the pressure and in the end gave in. Did he believe the naive surety of fans who insisted that the Sox won the Series that year because Bauman threw the first pitch? I don’t know. All I know is that he summoned enough energy to throw that pitch, a gesture he’d practiced. He threw small and hunched from his wheelchair on that field.

He asked: “So I’m a hero because I got my legs blown off?”

To Bauman’s question my answer is NO. There is nothing at all heroic about survival itself. Nor is he a hero for his suffering—inevitable consequence of an unforeseeable unpreventable crime. 

What IS, or was, heroic?
    -Bauman chose life, day after painful day against almighty odds—physical, emotional, mental and relational.     
     -Bauman’s place of employment, Costco, consistently provided for his well-being with visits, good insurance, and held open his job at the deli counter until he returned to work.
    -Bauman, alert enough to spot the bomber, insisted on an interview with the FBI to help them pursue criminal justice. Then he put his energy into his recovery.
    -Bauman sought out and was befriended by Carlos Arredondo, the man with the cowboy hat, who had run straight into the fiery scene, beat out the fire in Bauman’s shirt, and stayed with him until help came.
    -Bauman and his fiancée Erin weathered the trauma together, including the birth of a daughter, even when their relationship was already irreparably broken and ended in divorce in 2014.
    -Bauman  disliked and resisted the force of public pressure but also complied with their need for hope.
    -Bauman told his story and chose the title for his memoir and for the film. Stronger doesn’t mean being strong; it means growing into strength—becoming stronger and holding onto hope. That’s heroic.

Hope without measure is heroic wherever it is found.

And Jesus? His death was humiliating, cruel, torturous, unjust, the politics of fear and crowd control, and ignominious in body, mind and soul. I can find nothing heroic or noble in it—nothing. When I reverence the empty wooden cross on Good Friday, I reverence the courage of Jesus’s lifelong convictions and the come-lately efforts of his followers, back then and now, to keep his vision alive.

What  IS, or was, heroic?
   
    -Jesus chose life, day after grueling day, just to heal and sometimes to confront fear.
    -Jesus  ennobled the poor with hope, telling them that God’s  kingdom was alive and potent within them already.
    -Jesus rebuked the political and religious authorities of his day who abused their power and privilege for their own gain.
    -Jesus never called himself divine, or the Christ, or the Son of God—or a hero.
    -Jesus prayed, seeking to deepen his trust of a power greater than himself alone—and to beg for enough courage and strength to stay the deadly course he chose.
    -Jesus rebuked grandiose fantasies in his followers—all of whom, like us, made him a hero for the wrong reasons.
    -Jesus pointed to hope in God—over his dead body. Like sports heroes, Jesus wasn’t a hero or a winner because he got wounded, but because he ran the race.That’s enough.
    -Jesus never said a word from the Cross, regardless of later Gospel embellishments, except maybe a loud raging wail, and Mama.
    -Jesus spawned infinite hope.  So does Bauman.

Hope without measure is heroic wherever it is found.

2015.05.17 Humans Need Love and Fair Treatment as Much as Dogs Do

Leonberger dogs are a German breed of huge canine critters. I met them in the park near us, walking with their owners. These two are majestic, leonine—symbols of grandeur that made my world that day. These dogs are tall, dark and handsome. Okay, maybe too much pant and drool but............

When our children were growing up we always had dogs. Our last dog was Peregrine, Peri, a stray  (Shepherd/blend of sorts) who wandered into our back yard one Thanksgiving day. Immediately the clamor began—the please, please, please beggary. It included phrases like “we have to keep this dog, Mom” followed up by, “he needs us; he’ll be all alone; see how thin he is; how can you just ignore him, he came to us; It's THANKSGIVING!" I think one clever one of them added something about a gift from God. We gave Peri a home and love for several years. He turned out to be a she. 

The dog before Peri was Pip. Pippy we found at a local farm. The farmer was looking for a home for Pip, and well........  Pip was a combination mutt-brand, a cross between a St. Bernard and some kind of coon hound. He was mostly white with few markings, rambunctious and able to wag his whole butt not just his tail. Occasionally and unprovoked, he stretched out his neck and raised his head to let out a howl, as any good coon hound would do. He was a pip—full of great expectations! It didn’t matter whether there were any coons about of course. Pip was affectionate, hyperactive, and generally nuts. So were we at the time. Pip got run over and all of us blamed the speeding driver, not our Pip. 

And before Pip we had Pal. We favored names that  began with P,  I guess.  Pal was a gentleman. He was some kind of mutt-brand as well and I don’t remember where we got Pal. He looked like a beagle with black and white markings. He would bark once at the door then stand and wait until someone opened it. He never fussed to eat, or whined to be let in or out. He had a white bib almost like a perennial butler. You’d expect to see him carrying a tray of elegant champagne flutes. Pal died a natural death.

Peri died, at our hands and thanks to a taunting neighbor kid and her hysterical mother; we did not get any more dogs. What do you do when a police officer shows up at your door with a bad dog story? Allegations were that Peri had bitten right through the child’s snow jacket. The child was fine but we had no way to defend Peri, even though our children reported that the child had taunted our dog.

It’s a traumatic experience to, as they say, “put a dog down.” Why say it this way? Well, it minimizes the fact that we are committing murder, or in cases of extreme age, disease and suffering, mercy killing. Sometimes I wish we could do that for humans. I’ll never forget Peri’s placing her paw against my then-husband’s chest as we said goodbye. I still don’t know if we did the right thing. I suppose we were afraid that Peri would bite someone. Was Peri dangerous?  She never had been but we didn’t know her history except her few years with us. But at least it was painless for Peri, though not for us.

Reports indicate that in Oregon, where euthanasia choices are legal now, not many people avail themselves of this right. I suppose it's our addiction to the idea of freedom of choice that tells us this is a good option. I don't disagree but can't quite imagine myself making that choice. It's not because I think that the timing of death is somehow God's doing, because my theology doesn't support this view of God.

I'm glad that capital punishment  is illegal in Massachusetts, yet as we in Massachusetts endured the painful deliberations about whether to kill the Boston marathon bomber under federal law, I wondered. To spare a life may be as just as drastic as to take one. What is gained by that? I thought that until I heard about conditions in the Maximum Security prison where this young man, the same age as my oldest granddaughter, could spend the rest of his life. Such a prison serves neither justice nor mercy nor humanity nor the goodness of God. Our system can do better.

Incidentally, I also know from a counselor who works with staff in such prisons, that those who work in the supermax facilities are being driven slowly insane as well. And we Christians thought crucifixion was bad! It too, however, was institutional violence. We believe that there can be resurrection and new life because love goes on, despite cruelty and violence and human sin, individual and systemic.



I took a small action about my horror at the existence of such prisons. Here is a note I sent to our Massachusetts Senators, Edward Markey and Elizabeth Warren.

"The morning after I'd watched an interview on Greater Boston with a man who'd spent five years in a maximum security prison, I woke in a sweat of horror. I couldn't shake it off. I didn't even know how to pray. I did not know about the conditions of absolute unremitting isolation that exist in these prisons. ABSOLUTE isolation.  I kept asking myself: How can a nation that dares to entertain mottoes like "In God we trust" and call itself civilized, countenance such pure evil in its midst? It's an insane asylum we create, not a prison. My horror goes far beyond the Tsarnaev case and any crime and punishment issues. It's a spiritual question. We have devised a way to slaughter souls.  Capital punishment is not justice, but it might be mercy killing."

 Most of us would not treat any dog this way, for any reason, so why treat any human this way? It makes no sense to me. It serves no purpose except a sinful one. I pray that we can do better.



P.S. Tsarnaev's jury just decided that he should be put to death because of his heinous crimes. This could be merciful for him in the end, but the process will take a long time. I hope Helen Prejean, the sister who visits inmates on death row, will visit him and pray with him. I have faith that God has mercy enough for all of us.  I pray as well that all those who suffered death and loss because of Tsarnaev's crime, will recover some quality of life, find the grace of resurrection, and live with hope— though they will never forget.