Stoic

 

We are the silent sufferers; the ones’ who never complain.

Brave and alone we are to endure, whatever the problem be.

“Oh, he never cried.”  They all would say, though he was in great pain.  “He kept a happy face. He seemed never to fret”.

Is this some kind of virtue, like honesty and love?
Are we to embrace pain and hide it from our friends?

This, we are told from an age quite young.

“Big boys don’t cry,” every young lad is reminded when after falling off the bike, a broken arm has made.

“Don’t be a ninny. Be strong Instead”; a message that even girls are told.

That, they say, is what it means to be an adult.

“Keep moving, don’t give up, nor give in. Fight to the end, true and bold”.

Has this become our mantra?

 

But, what if this is all a fancy façade, a way to pretend that we are tough?

Lo, our pain is real, whatever the cause. Should we keep it to ourselves and not let the world in?

 

Remember childlike innocence, when you said what you meant. If we were in pain, others were told. We did not keep it to ourselves. That was honest. That was real.

Ah, but we are adults. We are not to act like “little kids” full of emotion and strife. Instead we are chastised to be strong and composed, to remain above the fray.

And yet. . .  On a sacred day long ago, the Man-God was sentenced to die. On a cross he hung, vulnerable and alone. His life was to end, though his mission was peace, ahead only violence lay.

On at cross, in the midst of that pain, in the presence of that rejection, he cried as below the people gathered. “Why have you forsaken me”? He wailed. Yeah, he was not composed, neither was he singing or smiling the day away.

 

Earlier he had cried when his good friend died. Later he shed tears of blood when, in the garden he waited for that which was to come.

 

There was something real in his sorrow. This was not one who stoically endured.

He was not afraid of emotion. He showed anger as well as love. He was both tender and strong. He was full of passion.

 

Passion is the opposite of stoic. Is that not who we really are?

When I am in pain, I cry. When I am angry I get mad. These are just emotions. They are not to be ignored, though they ought to be tamed.

 

Are we the silent sufferers? Are we the stoic and brave?

Or do we tremble with fear and yell out in pain?

Be strong and be open also

Embrace passion just as The Passionate One embraced us

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over thinking

Over think

I tend to do.

Fret and worry

Doubts arise

 

Time to act

Must not choose

Anxious fear

Replacing hope

 

Over think

Too much unknown

Wondering if

Instead of going

 

Dove right in

But slowed by thought

Unable to move

Feet of clay

 

End of day

Little accomplished

Over thought

But missed the peace

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God, the Concealer.

God as “The Concealer”

If religion were to advertise itself it may say that it is the conduit that allows humans to see the Divine. Religion in all its myriad forms, whether simple or complex, involves understanding God through revelation. That seems pretty straightforward; humans desire to understand the world around them, and themselves and thus seek God who imparts knowledge to them. Seeking God usually involves certain specific activities such as praying, reading sacred books, listening to sermons and so forth. God, it is said, can be reached via these methods. For many, contact with the divine involves emotion. God may evoke tears or laughter or solemnity—this feeling reminds us that the spirit of God is present.

But what if the person in need of answers finds none? What if, upon reading the Bible or other such book, nothing of importance stands out? What if religious services are attended, prayers are made, and there is no emotional validation? Critics allege that because of times such as these, that God does not exist, or is at best just a figment of our imagination.

Often it seems that instead of revealing God’s self to us, God instead seeks to conceal. Life is hard. Pain and suffering are ever-present. Many ask, “Where is God?” 

God can, and at times, is very present, such as when a person recovers from a serious illness in a miraculous way. But more often God hides. God does not rescue us from harm. God does not jump into human events to positively change the outcome. Even those who devote their lives to following God, at times, question with the idea that, maybe, God is uninterested.

I wonder if a new way of thinking about God needs to be utilized. Instead of providing answers religion, and by extension, God provides questions and uncertainty. Yet we tend to posit religion as a way to discover the truth.

I have often thought that trying to explain God to an atheist would be like trying to explain the need of a boat to someone who has lived all his life in the desert. It seems unnecessary and absurd.

Instead of presenting a faith that has answers, perhaps it would be better to highlight the uncertainty, the paradoxical and the incomprehensible. Religion is not a closed box.

Mystery perhaps should be understood as the thrust of religion—an exploration of the mysterious, not as way towards understanding, but as a way of recognition that we, as humans, are always “in the dark”. This is not a platitudinous faith.

We need to always search. God seems to enjoy playing hide and seek. God is found, only to be “lost” again. Like the waves crashing upon the shore, there is always more to God.

We need comfort and solace, but we also need space and freedom, usually at the same time. Our lives are thus paradoxical, and counter-intuitive. God works within that schema. We can recognize this, if we focus on the mysteriousness of the divine instead of looking for the absoluteness of God.

 

 

 

Closure

About closure

(philosophy)

It is that time again: The end of a school year, the end of a business cycle, or the end of the day. Everything, at some point ends.

But the world has changed. It has become more complex, and with that complexity our concept of time has changed. Rarely does one event end before another begins. Rarely then, is closure experienced.

Some people seem to embrace this openendness, they thrive in the post-modern universe where nothing really ends or begins, but merely changes forms and conditions. This, they state is the new dynamic. Absolute certainty is impossible, and further, not even desired. In this paradigm religion is viewed as an anachronism—a homage to an earlier, simpler time. Science, with its inherent contradictions becomes the new source of knowledge.

Yet things still end. The school year comes to a close. For those who have reached the high end of school, a graduation ceremony announces to all that they have succeeded--that they can close that phase of their life. Likewise, those participating in sports recognize that there is a definite season for them to compete. If they are successful, they will be the last one standing at the end of that season—they would then have found closure, at least until the sport begins again.

However these events are not  really the end. Even if one has earned a doctorate, they can continue on with additional studies. Similarly, even if one wins the Super Bowl or the Stanley Cup, and becomes regarded as the champion, there is always the following sport season looming ahead. The cycle continues. Life time learners and life time athletes resist closure. But for others, those on a more ordinary path, things do tend to have an ending. They find, at least temporarily closure.

Yet there is one final closure that awaits everyone—death. With it there is no “next season”. Like a graduation ceremony, a funeral gives notice that one has succeeded in finding closure. Both observances announce to all that a life stage has ended.

Thus, despite the relativistic conclusion that nothing is final, all things come to an end. Science, with its open-ended approach has met that thing from which nothing goes beyond. Death, like a brick wall sealing off an escape tunnel, tells us that we can go no farther—at least in this mode.

There is a geography concerning closure, as it exists within a specific time and place. Graduation ceremonies occur at a predetermined times. The Super Bowl is played at the beginning of February, and the Stanley Cup makes it appearance in early June.

 It is basically the same with death. It occurs at a specific time and place—although usually the precise moment remains unknowable. That becomes problematic. Because death appears at random, and is so final, it brings out an anxiety that other events simply can’t.

Death brings about closure. There is no escaping it.

Usually a ceremony accompanies closure. The graduate wants to celebrate, reflect and fellowship with family and friends. Inversely, friends and family  of the deceased desire a ceremony  so that they can celebrate, reflect and support each other through fellowship. These ceremonies provide meaning. So,  on the same day that students march across a stage dressed in academic regalia to receive a diploma, pallbearers dressed in formal attire, march a deceased person into a chapel to receive a final blessing.

Closure puts things into context, it brings forth meaning. The response to closure does not appear to be based within science, but rather within religion.  With these ultimate experiences of life, meaning is sought. Here is the place at which religion can interconnect with those who are seeking. For it is through religious belief that the brick wall of death is overcome. Faith in God then becomes the antidote for the anxiety caused by both  open-endedness and closure.