Recently I read Love You, Mean It by and about four 9/11 widows. These women bonded to each other to bring healing to one another’s broken lives.
In each other they found people who were going through the same pain – and at the same time, present tense. Not “Yeah, I went through that two years ago, but now I’m fine and you will be too.” But instead, “Yes, I feel that way now, just like you. Oh, it hurts so much. I ‘get’ what you are saying and why it is (present tense) so hard.”
From the reading of this book, it doesn’t appear that all or any of these women are believers. I wonder if in the absence of a vital relationship with God to cling to, they desperately needed people who could understand them; feel with them; comfort them up close, not at a theoretical distance.
What about believers? Are the strong ones meant to only have God as their solace? Yes, God is there to be the ultimate comfort, but no, He does not do all His comforting in the solitude of our devotional life. It seems He comforts us as believers through others, too.
God seeks to show His glory by how He uses the Church, His people, to meet needs in lives. If an individual survives tragedies all through (by means of) their quiet devotional life in Christ, isn’t there the chance that the individual, rather than God, will get the credit? Isn’t that the danger Mother Theresa understood (as revealed in her letters that have been published recently)? But if people are part of the healing, if others come through for the one hurting, lending an ear or a hand or an understanding heart, it is more likely to show that an individual is not strong enough to do it all themselves. We need others. We need God to orchestrate healing for us through the lives of those around us. We need Him to bring someone, perhaps wholly unexpected, to be just what we need, when we need it.
In Mother Teresa’s story, we could see those people who corresponded with her, encouraging her, allowing her to share (vent) her heartache, as God’s ‘helpers’. We can give glory to God for giving Mother Teresa friends she could confide in. We can see Mother Teresa as a faithful servant who needed people in her life, as we all do – and not seek to make her into a “saint”, in terms of a somewhat traditional view: one who did remarkable things because of her own devotion to God. Shouldn’t a person’s life reflect the glory back to God, not onto themselves? That seems to have been what Mother Teresa was concerned about.
Mother Teresa understood our human tendency, particularly as it pertained to her own life. Wanting to isolate the individual and view their accomplishments as solo efforts, we thus dim the light on God’s role.
Are solo efforts what God intended? All these women, including the 9/11 widows and Mother Theresa, found healing in community. Community is God’s gift to humankind. We were not meant to go it alone.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Phantom of the Opera - Kim
Recently I watched the “Broadway Across America” production of the “Phantom of the Opera”. Early in Act I, I wondered if this theatre production would evoke the empathy for the Phantom as the movie did. Without all the close up camera shots would we as an audience feel the anguish of this sorrowful character like I did when I viewed the movie version?
Fast forward to the curtain call. The minor roles appeared first on stage to receive their due. In my opinion it was a fantastic performance and everyone deserved the enthusiastic applause we offered. When “Raoul” and “Christine” came forward to take their bows an even greater applause was heard. Here were the beautiful heroes of the story.
The standing ovation, however, came when the Phantom appeared. Perhaps this standing ovation was just our commendation for everyone and the Phantom merely ushered it in as he completed the cast appearances. But I sensed that at least a significant part of that ovation was given because we felt that he was the true star of the show.
Perhaps all of us relate most to the “misfit” in the story. Maybe that is really how all of us feel on the inside, like a misfit in society. We’d like to be the Raoul whose love for Christine gave him courage to seek to save her and to even sacrifice himself if necessary. Or we’d like to be Christine whose bravery came in embracing what she feared, out of love for her hero Raoul and out of compassion for the Phantom.
But likely while we all wish to be them, we find our inner, honest selves most often identifying with the sorrow, the anger and the loneliness of the Phantom. We want to experience true love, want to have what it appears others have, but feel like life has dealt us deformed parts to work with. And even when we put our best foot forward, it just doesn’t seem to take us where we want to go. Somehow, no matter how hard we try, we never measure up to “fitting in."
All of us wish the world would see the “hero” inside us who feels like a misfit. We all long for a standing ovation, an acknowledgement of our validity, for our true hearts to be revered or at least understood rather than our outward appearances or awkwardly lacking social behaviors to be the horrifying focus of who we are seen as.
Here we stand, hearts wanting to be loved and understood. Here we are, wishing that a few would see what we long for and not close the curtain before we get our chance to take a bow.
Fast forward to the curtain call. The minor roles appeared first on stage to receive their due. In my opinion it was a fantastic performance and everyone deserved the enthusiastic applause we offered. When “Raoul” and “Christine” came forward to take their bows an even greater applause was heard. Here were the beautiful heroes of the story.
The standing ovation, however, came when the Phantom appeared. Perhaps this standing ovation was just our commendation for everyone and the Phantom merely ushered it in as he completed the cast appearances. But I sensed that at least a significant part of that ovation was given because we felt that he was the true star of the show.
Perhaps all of us relate most to the “misfit” in the story. Maybe that is really how all of us feel on the inside, like a misfit in society. We’d like to be the Raoul whose love for Christine gave him courage to seek to save her and to even sacrifice himself if necessary. Or we’d like to be Christine whose bravery came in embracing what she feared, out of love for her hero Raoul and out of compassion for the Phantom.
But likely while we all wish to be them, we find our inner, honest selves most often identifying with the sorrow, the anger and the loneliness of the Phantom. We want to experience true love, want to have what it appears others have, but feel like life has dealt us deformed parts to work with. And even when we put our best foot forward, it just doesn’t seem to take us where we want to go. Somehow, no matter how hard we try, we never measure up to “fitting in."
All of us wish the world would see the “hero” inside us who feels like a misfit. We all long for a standing ovation, an acknowledgement of our validity, for our true hearts to be revered or at least understood rather than our outward appearances or awkwardly lacking social behaviors to be the horrifying focus of who we are seen as.
Here we stand, hearts wanting to be loved and understood. Here we are, wishing that a few would see what we long for and not close the curtain before we get our chance to take a bow.
Kim
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