On Taming Cynicism and Resentment

(This I wrote initially as an online discussion in my Reinhold Niebuhr J-term class at McCormick seminary. We had been reading his work on the same name as this title).

I’m thinking more about the “taming cynicism and resentment” discussed today, which is so necessary when one has been wounded and discouraged in the struggle, and what doing this takes. In class I mentioned human relationships, and the ability of the student to pick up and continue the voice of the teacher even when that teacher’s voice itself has been lost. And I also liked Amy’s response about the knowing of the other, that which re-humanizes the de-humanized (interpretation mine).

I think it goes even beyond the hypocrisy of teachers, and the disillusionment of students, a theme I’ve been wrestling with and have mentioned in different ways: I knew a professor who talked some good talk, every day, in class. The talk was so good, so inspiring, that I held on to it and said, ‘here at last I am finding a mentor who is not afraid to speak some truth!’ But, when push came to shove in a real situation, I was crushed to learn that the professor didn’t really believe it, didn’t walk the walk that went with the talk; in fact, when a real situation developed where his professed ethics were so needed; his talk changed. For a while, I wanted to yell at him in class every time he went back to talking his talk to just stop, it meant nothing, and he had proven he really didn’t care at all.

Yes, I suppose a student could do that. But I didn’t yell at him, and not because I have been able to forgive just yet, either. It was because I knew I still needed the words, and despite his personal enacted ethics, I didn’t want to give up the standard of his professed ethics. It was a vision that I could not afford to lose, despite the lived disappointments.It frightens me how often I hear and see students idolizing their professors, that is, making them into idols, on campus. I know I have bought into it on and off in my education, and I’d like to think that I have finally been cured of it, but time will tell.

To idolize is different than to acknowledge the hard work and commitment that goes into becoming and being a professor. It is instead to accept words pronounced from their mouths without question, as well as their actions, a practice I’ve seen more these days in my seminary classes than in undergrad, and which continues to disturb me. “If Dr. X says it, then it must be true, if Dr. X does it, it must be right.” Does speaking of God equate one with God in the minds of those early in spiritual formation? Maybe there are parallels in the larger society, and it is one of Piaget's intermediary stages of moral development. It is interesting how much more this seems to affect the Masters’ students than the Ph.D students; and perhaps the LSTC students more than the McCormick students. I think it is also not unrelated to ‘cultures’ on campus of complacency and comfort, an unwillingness to engage the uncomfortable questions.

Meanwhile, in a larger context, I guess students today still find value in what Tillich has written, despite his great hypocrisy (what I might call the disparity between a beautiful theological system in theory and a very ugly personal conduct in reality). I imagine this happens whether or not students know his story. I also think of the debate, at least in Lutheranism, on whether the incompetence or unworthiness of the minister nullifies the worthiness of the sacrament itself. (Conclusion: it doesn’t).

So I guess I’m pondering faith that transcends the sin, a faith to hope for beyond present disappointments. And that is some hope that prevents despair, which I might otherwise be led to, knowing I will inevitably fail to live up to my own ‘good talk,’ and in multiple ways. Probably two or three times today, and hundreds of times in the next decade. Ouch. But yes, there is grace. Not grace that lulls into detached complacency, but grace that encourages one to try again and engage despite the risks and inevitable failures in the process. A grace that is speakable in polite society? And a grace that’s as good in the seminary as it is in the war zone. And this brings me back to the human relationships and carrying echoes of prophecy.

I know I am increasingly ‘hard’ on my professors. They have to earn my respect now, where I used to give it away easily until hurt deeply. In my transition from a college religion major to a seminary student, I had become quite cynical here in a few short months. I had learned to accept professors who didn’t care about my life or my vocation, but only talked at me in advising sessions or class. Who didn’t want to spend time with students outside of class. Who failed to engage and who failed the ethics that were called for when it mattered most. Still, in times of deep pain, I have recently discovered a faithful few. A few who do care about my self and my future, and who do encourage, and who do put their ethics into actions, maybe even with some risk. And it tames my cynicism and eases my resentment, and gives me some hope to continue. Perhaps these few cannot combat the larger forces at work, but they have created some shelter for a student to breathe, to perhaps find her feet and her voice again.

The teacher’s voice may be lost, through death, or hypocrisy, or complacency, or any number of human limitations…and the student may yet be able to take that which was of most value and bring it a step further, to bring some future good from it. It is not inevitable, but it is hopeful. This is enough for now. It is, very much, a work in progress.

Peace, Le Anne Clausen

Boycotting the Holiday Boycott

Greetings everyone,



This is not my holiday letter, but a recent editorial I wrote on the boycott of
stores that don't use 'Christmas-exclusivist' language in its advertising.
There were many more aspects of this issue I could have commented on, but I was
limited to 300 words. Ramadan has already passed, otherwise I would have
included Muslims specifically as well.

peace, and will write more on life and the New Orleans trip soon

Le Anne

--------------------------------------------


I am one Christian who would like to buck this year's fundamentalist trend by
wishing all of my neighbors 'Happy Holidays.' By this, I mean all the
holidays: Christmas, yes, but also Thanksgiving, New Year's, and Epiphany.
For six long weeks we have a number of holidays, or 'holy-days,' and I see
wise stewardship of resources in creating advertising that lasts an entire
season.

Where is the merit behind the extremists' claims of a war against Christmas?
I do not see what any truly faithless person would find meaningful in
celebrating our holy day anyway. However, I do see that Christmas can be a
means of grace, a doorway by which questions of faith behind traditions come to
be asked, and people search for meaning which goes deeper than piles of
gift-wrap.

If anything should be boycotted at Christmas, it is materialism itself, not
gestures of hospitality and welcome. Our retail centers are not, and should not
purport to be, Christian institutions. I do not go to Kmart seeking faith, I go
seeking socks. A quick review of Wal-Mart's exploitative personnel policies
certainly demonstrates it is not a Christian institution. But, the extremists
are not boycotting Wal-Mart for its treatment of its poor.

What disturbs me most about the 'inclusive greetings boycott' is the
implications of anti-Semitism. Hanukah is the most prominent non-Christian
holiday celebrated at this time. Why would we want to so forcefully exclude
Jews from our greetings of goodwill? Meanwhile, I would like to wish our Jewish
friends Happy Holidays as well.

Instead of picking this fight, I wish these extremists would get off their
behinds and focus on feeding the poor, caring for the sick, visiting those in
prison, and working for peace. That would be a useful Christian witness, any
time of year.

On Waiting

On Waiting

December 1, 2005

From the first phone call several nights ago saying my former teammates with
Christian Peacemaker Teams in Iraq had been taken hostage, I have been waiting
and hoping for good news.

Such waiting involves obsessive checking of email, scanning news headlines,
seeking details of exactly who was taken, and how, and who took them, and why;
later watching video clips of Jim and Tom, with their frightened faces staring
back at me. Waiting and hoping for good news, knowing it may not come.
Wondering if I could do any good, were I with them. Wondering if I will ever
see them again.

It would continue to be a week of phone calls in dark hours. Later, my family
called from the hospital saying my little niece had a serious and unknown
illness affecting her kidneys. I'd just seen her at Thanksgiving, healthy and
energetic as ever. Now back at school, I am too many hours and weeks away from
being able to return. I wait for their next call, when they have more news.

Waiting in such times recalls other difficult waits. In Iraq I waited for Jim
to return with the body of a team member killed in a terrible car accident,
while waiting at the hospital to see if our teammate injured in the same
accident would make it. I also remember the night when it was Jim who was
waiting for me to come home, hoping that I and my teammates had survived the
massive suicide bombings where we were so many hours earlier. How they knew all
day they could never hope to find us in the chaos and crowds and had no choice
but to wait. Later, there was my own waiting for the images of death I had
witnessed to fade from my dreams.

There was another night when I was waylaid coming home and my teammate thought I
had been taken hostage during those crisis months. I remember coming home and
being physically picked up and held on to as though I were the most precious
thing in existence. I remember also the Iraqi families we interviewed in our
human rights work, waiting for their disappeared loved ones to return from the
U.S. prison camps, alive or dead.

There is the waiting for long and painful ordeals to end, such as the one which
now leads me to leave my seminary and my denomination; waiting for justice,
waiting for an end to fear…and not knowing the future, or when or if a good
end will ever come. Hoping that strength of spirit and commitment to integrity
will outlast despair and isolation.

Someone in these past blurry hours told me I seemed like a very patient person.
I replied something to the effect that I hate waiting.

Advent is a season of waiting; waiting and hoping for good news which seems
almost foolish to expect. This Advent I wait for hostages, health, and justice.
Years ago people suffered and longed for good news, despite the odds of living
under occupation by the Roman Empire and the corruption of religious leadership.
This Advent season, what are you waiting for, even despite the odds?

In waiting, I felt somewhat guilty for talking, because I had no good news to
share. Why would anyone wish to hear? One friend responded that, “sometimes
when there is no good news is when it is most important to talk.” Later, in
relaying the difficulties of the week, Dr. Sawyer counseled that the burdens we
must carry do not have to be carried alone. That is true. Not only do we look
to God, we look to those who are open and prepared to wait with us in patience
and hope. Advent is also a season of waiting together, as faith communities, in
the darkness, anticipating the light.

Wednesday evening at the prayer vigil for the hostages which McCormick students
organized as part of the weekly Taize service, I felt much less alone here on
campus. And while thinking of Jim and Tom and the others waiting to be
released, I was grateful they had each other. Knowing their Catholic Worker and
Quaker backgrounds, I mentioned that they were likely waiting in prayer and
singing the same songs we were. (And that they were probably befriending their
captors). I prayed that they could feel and be carried by the prayers of us who
were watching and waiting with them.

As we wait together for deliverance, God waits with us, to turn human suffering
into healing and joy. Though the wait is long, we anticipate with hope the
Promised One, the source of unity, celebration, and new life. Blessings, and
peace.

Le Anne Clausen