Letting It Breathe

"The Boston Bombing" - Not just a show on TV

All across America televisions clicked off Friday night with a satisfying press of the remote control.  

"That was a good show."

Disaster on Monday, plot complications throughout the week (and two lovely red herrings - the explosion in West, Texas, and the ricin laced letters), resolution by Friday.  Neat and tidy.  Perfect, if you think about it.  The folks plotting the stories on CSI or (if it were still on) '24' were likely quite jealous.  Nice tension, good plot resolution, a few unexpected twists and turns.  All in all, a good show.

"I wonder what is on next."

Hopefully, the American legal system at its best - you know, where we actually presume innocence and prove guilt, with iron-clad, verifiable evidence.

"Kind of dull, Ken.  Nobody will watch.  We want drama, fireworks, maybe a little bit of torture (bring back Jack Bauer!) to make sure that the bad guys spill all their secrets (even the little bit of ethical queasiness adds relish to the entire procedings)."

Right, because doing things the right way is not particularly exciting.  We gather evidence, we patiently wade through the vital details of the case, we show the rest of the world that we can play by the rules that we actually established.  Of course, it wouldn't be a bad thing to show everyone in the US that we will play by the rules that we actually established.  That would be an excellent start to the next chapter of this story.

"Next chapter?  Can't we just go straight to the public execution of this punk?"

No.  No, we cannot. In fact, that would be about the worst thing that we could do.  I still think that executing our prisoners is a cheap way out - and doesn't do a bit to deter criminals from acting horrifically.  But I suppose that is a provocative discussion for another day.  Remind me, and I will revisit that important topic in some detail.

One of the  important next chapters, besides the 'justice' part, is our examination of our own participation in this endlessly depressing tale of violence and monstrous behavior.  

"What about the bombers, Ken - you going all wobbly on us regarding their actions?"

No - not at all, we wouldn't be having this conversation if they had had one whit of compassion, empathy, or sense.  You don't solve your problems, no matter how monumental, with violence.  I will never exuse violence.  I don't care what you use to hurt innocent people - either bombs or guns (the weapons of choice of as of late), or knives or fists  - you use violence you are in the wrong. Period.  I want the full weight of the justice system to do what it is supposed to do, in the way it supposed to do it - the justice system needs to present their iron-clad case against those who do us harm.  Those who do us harm, and are convicted of their crimes, must pay the consequences.  

I am most concerned about our responses.

"We stand with Boston.  We support all of those who suffered.  We hurt for their losses.  We...what were you talking about?"

Yep, just exactly what I thought.  Nearly forgotten already.  While the images flash before our eyes, we care.  Once the images flicker off the idiot box we can't quite sustain our interest, or our empathy.  The 'people' of Boston will recede, one more group of folks who suffered at the hands of some ghastly crime, but who will be forgotten.  Even more problematic, we will forget why we were so revved up in the first place.  We certainly won't entertain the important questions about why this happened.  

We will sink back down into our apathetic stupor.

"What can you possibly expect us to do about madmen?  Do you somehow expect us to give up even more liberty for safety?  Didn't Benajamin Franklin say something rather pithy about that?"

You are missing the point.

"Ugh, is this yet another of your treacly notions about the way in which our society doesn't work the way you want it to work?

Yep.  The problem is that we can never sustain our interest for long.  We can't maintain our connection with those who directly suffered.  We certainly aren't interested in delving into why people do monstrous things (well, at least we are not interested in real reasons - we simply want know who to turn into the villain of this latest story).  Our attention span is simply too short.  No matter the tragedy, we really don't care to remember or to try to figure out how to deal with the root issues.  We want to be shocked - and then move on, usually safe in the realization that we will never have to worry about such tragedies because 'we' don't live where 'those' kinds of things happen.  

Each time we move on without learning from these events, or without learning to develop some long term empathy, we simply accept that something like this will happen again.  

"Well, we are a free nation, and this is the price we pay for freedom."

I don't buy it.  Not for a minute.  We have to accept that these things will happen?  That our society cannot acutally do anything about these horrors?  No wonder we succeeding in teaching each successive generation to be inured to such tragedies.  We are telling them that it is okay not to care, not to be interested, because our response to the question of sin, evil, and suffering, is that it is simply the price to pay for living in the kind of political landscape in which we live.  How can we accept that as a legitimate answer?  What kind of society accepts tragedy?  What kind of society simply shrugs and says that we can't actually 'do' anything about what ails us?  

We have to dig into why these things happen.   We have to start proposing actual answers to our problem.  I think it starts with making certain that we do not lose our focus.  

We have to stop...ooh, look a kitty!

No.  Not this time.  We cannot afford to turn out attention away from the problems that plague our world.  We have to try to figure a way out of the cycle of violence.  We have to train people to continue to care for others even when they are no longer on the television screen.  

I know that Gandhi said that in the end love always wins out, but we have allowed ourselves to be drugged by the blissful potentiality of the phrase.  His point wasn't that we should passively wait for good to win out, but that we need to vigorously struggle for the good.  We need to show those that use violence that we will not stand by passively, acting only when it is time to be shocked, or to mourn.  We have to take the initiative.  

The show might be over, but now our time to act begins.  

 

 

Hopes for a Caretaker - Pope Francis and the Next Step

I am trying to be excited and hopeful about the election of the new pope.  I am not quite certain that I am succeeding.  

I am also trying very diligently to think that this does not have the  feel of the election of Pope Celestine V, the exceptionally holy hermit (he lived a life of extreme poverty and humility) who was helpfully encouraged to resign the papacy in the late thirteenth century by Benedict Gaetani (who would become Pope Boniface VIII).  Celestine was manipulated from beginning to end by forces who clearly had other fish to fry.  I hope this one turns out a bit better.

Thus, as Francis begins his papacy, I am mindful of the job that needs to be done, and very clearly wondering whether he has the necessary skill to do all of the heavy lifting.  I would feel better if the church had actually elected a Fransican, but this particular Jesuit may be willing to do more than simply say the right words at the beginning of his pontificate.  Of course, all of them say the right thing at the beginning of their pontificates, but what happens next is not always consistent with those first chords of humility and vows to do right by the 'least of these'.  

I am especially suspicious of any cardinal in this day and age - all of them are either JP II's men or Benedict's men, which does not fill me with a great sense of hope.  There are huge tasks ahead, and a collection of small 'c' conservatives (protectors of the new status quo) are unlikely to do the necessary work of reformation.  What are the huge tasks? The Curia needs to be brought to heel.   The clergy abuse scandal must be acknowledged,  and those guilty of both the abuse and the cover-up must be dealt with publically - the church must then enter into a broad and effective period of atonement.   The hierarchy needs to stop oppressing and surpressing the nuns.  Finally, the church needs to embrace what it started at Vatican II, and stop the process of rolling back the reforms.  If they want to encourage the Tridentine Mass, fine, but there is a fine line between encouraging the use of a particular liturgy, and attempting to control the people via the liturgy.  Consistency can be a good thing, or it can be used as a way to squelch independent thought and expression.  

Can Francis be a reformer?  I don't know.  I don't think anybody does.  I hear a lot of wishful thinking  - most notably in those who reference John XXIII as the last 'caretaker' pope.  Actually, the last caretaker was Benedict XVI, and I don't think that Benedict reformed anything of value beyond hopefully getting the church to rethink papal retirements.  I guess turning back the clock is a kind of reform, although as Gregory VII might suggest, perhaps it would be best to use the word 'restoration' or 'renovation' instead - likely more accurate terms for what we are attempting to describe.  Nonetheless, Francis begins his papacy with far more questions than answers, and a church that is need of a bold leader.  He doesn't really have time to ease into the position, he needs to hit the ground running, and show that he will be willing to address the issues that are crippling the church.

A brief digression - notice that I haven't mentioned the issues of the marriage of the clergy, the ordination of women, or contraception?  Right, that is on purpose.  I don't want us to get distracted from the first order issues.  These are exceptionally important, but I know that they simply are not going to be addressed with anything approaching serious debate.  It won't happen.  The College of Cardinals won't go there.  The new pope will not go there.  So, it makes little sense to put them on the wish list of issues for the new pope to tackle.  He won't.  Thus, it is time to focus on the areas that might actually see the light of day.

If the church wants to be taken seriously, they need to attend to serious internal reforms.  You cannot speak of word of gospel to the world if the world finds the speaker ridiculous and horrifyingly hypocritical.  The church needs to get its own house in order before it can begin to tend to the world.  We need the pope to be serious about reform.  

My hope is that Francis acts like an Interim Minister in the a mainline protestant church - the person brought in to make sure that the church continues to function until a new pastor is called. The Interim is brought in to shepherd the church through the transition - encouraging the church to face its own issues, and solve them, so that when the new pastor arrives, they can all move forward together.  The Interim acts as a counselor/therapist/noodge, telling the congregation the truth, and effecting the necessary changes to make the congregation a healthier place.  People don't always like what the Interim does, but the Interim does what is necessary for the long term health and faithfulness of the congregation.  If Francis acts in this manner, then I will gladly applaud his pontificate.

My concern is that Francis is simply too much a creature of the last two popes, and thus any kind of truth-telling and problem-solving type of papacy seems highly unlikely.  This makes him vastly different than John XXIII, who came out of a conclave of widely divergent ideas and worldviews. Francis' fellow travelers are a fairly monolithic bunch.  The possibility that he will grow an independent streak seems quite iffy.  

But still I hope.  No matter how much I learn as I study the history of the institutional church, my hope is not diminished.  Because no matter how much the church may cause one to despair, there are moments when the institution drags itself to do the right thing.  It does this when it actually remembers what Jesus of Nazareth told us to do - its not hard, not particularly complicated, and the new pope's namesake knew it well - preach the Good News, administer the sacraments, care for others, forgive, love.  

Francis, start there, but then make sure that you bring the rest of the hierarchy with you - because many of them have seemed to have forgotten.

 

The Last American Heresy - Gun Control

Before you settle into your preexisting bunker on the subject, I ask but one thing - be open to the questions that I would like to ask.

Ok?

If you are willing to at least entertain a conversation about the issue of guns and gun control, this can be a productive experience.  

What?  Yes, I know, I have already lost 98% of those who may actually have clicked the link to read the blog.  For those two or three of you who have decided to hang around, let me try to tackle this issue.  I want to ask some questions.  I want to kick around a few ideas.  I want to know why it is that of all the topics in the United States that are usually regarded as Hot Button topics, this is the one that seems to be pushing up the daisies.  

Why can't we talk about gun control?

Before we get to that point - a few bits of autobiography, at least those bits that are likely salient to the conversation.

I grew up in a family that owned guns.  A good many of them.  My Dad was a sportsman - he fished, he hunted.  Because he hunted we had guns.  Shotguns for game, rifles for deer hunting.  We had a pellet gun for shooting at the squirrels that raided my Dad's beloved bird-feeders.  Heck, I even had an CO2 pistol.  My Dad was an outstanding hunter - very successful, enjoyed the experience greatly. I, on the other hand, was a total washout in the hunting business.  That I was rather small for my age throughout middle school and high school meant that large guns and I really didn't get along all that well.  The kick of a standard shotgun was not a fun experience.  I enjoyed tramping through the corn fields during Pheasant season, but not so much the swift pivot and shooting that tends to make the pheasant hunt successful.  

In sixth grade I, along with everyone else in my class, took the Hunter Safety class offered by the NRA (before they turned into a much different advocacy group than they were at that time), and did a decent job of the whole thing.  As I said, I wasn't much of a hunter, but I certainly enjoyed the notion of it, and enjoyed learning how to properly shoot the firearms necessary to the task.  After college and graduate school, I continued to own a very nice 12-guage shotgun, and when we lived out in North Dakota I made certain to gun train my black lab, even though I never actually went hunting.  

I say all of this simply to note that I am comfortable around guns.  They don't bother me.  I am not against them.  I think having guns for sport or as necessary for protection, as in Texas when living in rattlesnake country, seems to be a perfectly legitimate thing.  Heck, I am even in favor of those who like to go shooting and all sorts of attendant activities.  As long as you are a responsible type, who clearly understands that guns are a very specific kind of tool, then I have no problems with them.

Likewise, I understand the issues related to the Second Amendment, especially as related to the notion of why we incorporated that bit of wisdom into the Bill of Rights.  All good and proper.

But I have concerns.  Deep ones.  Significant concerns about just what types of guns are really necessary in order to do the things that we say we want to do with guns.  Thus, I have questions about what is necessary and about what is unnecessary.   This is where the difficulties seem to start, because I tend to think that with all things there are limits, and this includes guns.  The difficulty is that in today's discourse, this is already a step too far.  It seems to me that the moment I say that there should be limits as to what someone can own, well, that is the moment that people start voicing deep concerns about me wanting to curtail their liberty, their freedom, and all of sudden rather boistrous people are ranting about vague conspiracies (or not so vague) to take all guns away.

You see, I don't want to take all the guns away.  I want to talk about limits -  and that is the last American Heresy.  The moment I want to talk about limits is the moment the conversation absolutely grinds to a halt.  I would bet that of the two people who actually have read this far, only one is left.  The other has given up on me as some hopeless Marxist freak who wants to impose collectivist government interventionism on every last moment of their waking lives.  Right?  You think I am some socialist with communist impulses, simply because I have stated, in print, that I think that we should, at the very least, talk about limits.

In the light of the Aurora shooting, I have questions.  If you are still around, let me ask this question - do we really need to have semi-automatic assault rifles available to anybody who can pass the bare minimum of a hurdle to buy one?  Are they necessary in order to maintain the right to bear arms?  Likewise, do we really need high-capacity magazines?  Finally, if it is necessary that these types of weapons are available, do we have to make them so easy to acquire?

As if these questions weren't enough to have most people cast me into the outer darkness, I may as well go all the way with the things that bother me.  I am wholly uncomfortable with folks carrying concealed weapons that haven't had exceptionally rigorous training.  Why make it so easy?  Yes, I do find the necessary requirements to be woefully lax.  I needed more training to get my Hunter Safety certificate in sixth grade than some states require for a concealed carry permit.  

The problem is that even raising these questions will automatically send some folks down the slippery slope - and I will be accused of wanting to take away your guns.  No, I want to limit the kind of firepower you have at your disposal.  I want to make certain that you are an expert with that very deadly weapon in your possession.  I also want to make certain that you are have gone through the necessary permit process to own something that is exceptionally dangerous.  I really don't see why this is seen as some kind of radical infringement on your rights.  Own the gun, carry the gun, but there are limits and rules, I don't see this as problematic.  Yet many do, and because of that, we will not be having any kind of constructive conversation about what happened in Aurora.  Which is nearly criminal in its own right. 

A young man purchased far more firepower than he needed, and he did so legally.  He armed himself with the intent to cause great harm.  We actually were somewhat lucky, in the grimmest sense of the idea, his assault weapon with the large magazine jammed.  But that is cold comfort to the people who were shot, to the families of people who were killed.  

Yes, yes, guns don't kill people, people kill people.  But do we have to make it so easy?  Do we have to essentially say that these massacres are the price we pay for 'freedom'?  Is it absolutely necessary to argue that in order for the second amendment to be maintained that we must accept that these tragedies will happen?

The response?  Well, if more people carried concealed weapons, the bad guys would be taken out before they could rain down destruction.  Maybe.  That might happen.  But you have to hope for a great many things to go right - in the case of the Aurora theatre, that would have been most difficult - lots of smoke, miserable lighting, perpetrator in body armor and a helmet.  Likewise, you have to hope that the deterrent factor would make the bad guys think twice - but I am never convinced that any deterrent will thwart someone willing to do great harm.  Which leads me back to the idea of making certain that you make it very difficult for that person to do such catastrophic harm in the first place. 

I don't have all the answers.  Not at all, but it seems that we can't even ask the questions.  The NRA and a great many others have created an environment in which any question raised about the appropriateness of wielding such weapons is automatically treated as unpatriotic.  How can we possibly have a conversation in that environment?

We need to be able to discuss this as adults - but it won't happen with the NRA acting as if any questions are acts of treason.  We need to talk about the place of firearms in our society.  We need to talk about the idea of resonable limits.  We need to talk about proper training and licensing. We need to talk about how to forestall the next tragedy.

But I doubt it will happen.  Because gun control is the last American Heresy - and those that raise the issue will be shunned and castigated.  

Then the next Aurora will happen.  We will bury more innocents.  And we still won't talk about it, because the ideal of gun rights is more important than anything else in this country - anything.

 

On Historical Empathy

I frequently tell my students that it would be so much easier to teach what I teach (Ancient and Medieval History, Religious Studies) on the road.  I tell them that instead of pointing to yet another lovely photo of a piece of art, architecture, important historical place, person, random map, or other assorted visual whatnot, that it would be so much easier to simply show them.  

Is that not the key to a good narrative?  Show them, don't tell them? 

Not only is it a good way in which to insure that they will not forget the lesson for the day - it is tough to not grasp the sheer magnitude of St. Peter's whilst standing in the middle of it, likewise it is not easy to brush off the horrors of the Holocaust while walking about the grim grounds of Dachau  - it is also an excellent way in which to teach historical empathy.  We need to walk in these places, see these places, be in these places, if we truly want to at least make the attempt to understand the people who lived in these places.  

Yes, we want to understand history for the sake of understanding history (thank you von Ranke) - the very intellectual pursuit has intrinsic value, as does the knowing - but we we also study history because we want to see the similarities and differences between us and the people of which we read.  We want to walk in their shoes, we want to know what their lives were about, we want to know the mundane and the sublime, the ridiculous and the transcendent, because in learning a bit about others we learn a bit more about ourselves.  When we learn about others we also learn a little bit more about what it means to live in community - that we do not exist in a vacuum, that our understanding of the people around us, in time and space, is important. 

We learn empathy.  We learn, in a small way, to care.  To care about others.  To realize that we cannot simply muck about the place plotting out our own course without recognizing that our wake will affect others, as we are affected by others.  We need to realize that we do not, cannot, live as complete lone rangers.  We need each other.  Recognizing this need it becomes imperative to learn as much as we can about the world around us, and to learn as much history as we can.  Not only do we learn about the issues that affect those in the broader community, and thus by learning we start to learn to care about how to engage with those in need, but we also start to learn about how people in the past lived their lives, met their struggles, celebrated their triumphs.  We start to see how we are connected.  We also start to see how we can actually learn from what people have done or not done in the past.

Douglas Adams noted that, "human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so." Would it not be a nice bit, every now and then, to prove him wrong?  Would it not be a better world if we did prove him wrong?  Think of the world we would have if we actually knew and cared about the people around us, and those who walked these places long before us (or even not quite so long before us).  

Study Abroad, for this group of students, is vital, essential.  We need to get out there and explore and learn and walk and see.  We need to do these things so that we can see our common humanity.   It is an absolutely essential first step.  

For here is the key - after we return, we are never the same.  We are changed by our experiences. We have gained knowledge and experience, indeed, but we have also gained, in some small measure, empathy.  That is a treasure of immeasurable value. 

Just because you can say something, doesn't mean that you should

Soren Kierkegaard noted that, "people demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use."  Bang on, Mr. Kierkegaard.  Of course, not only do these people demand freedom of speech, they insist on  following through with the whole business and storm through the gates saying or writing whatever unfiltered nonsense happens to be passing through their mind at the time.  I hesistate to say 'what they were thinking', becuase I am not always convinced that thinking is actually taking place.

'Ken, I hate to interrupt a screed in progress, but what in the world are you banging on about?  You haven't written a word since that saccharine ode to teaching last August, and this is the way you return to the blogosphere?"

Simply put?  I am bone tired and despairing of  the regular discourse of comments sections on the web.  What was the phrase in Star Wars?  'A wretched hive of scum and villainy?'  As apt a description of the noise and convulsive verbal bloodletting as any, though perhaps a little naive and overly benign.  Wade into a comments section on just about any blog and you will be treated to the rawest, ugliest, stomach-churningly unfiltered and unregulated thought you could possibly imagine.  Open sewers would be preferable.  Comments sections are usually a swamp of hatred, bigotry, anger, poor grammar, lousy spelling, and unreconstructed conspiracy theory twaddle.  

"Why is this a problem?  Should we not simply celebrate that people from every walk of life are expressing themselves about the major issues of the day?"

I would like to say yes.  My impulse to encourage everyone to participate and voice their opinion is blunted by the fact that most people have no idea how to shape what they say, or even think twice about it is they want to say - they just blurt out whatever may flit into their heads at any given moment.  Saying something is easy.  Saying something that shows evidence of careful thought is another matter altogether.  My fear is that most people simply pound out their comments without thinking about what they are saying.  They feel strongly and therefore they write.  But what they write is usually not worth reading, as it is so much unfiltered id.  There is no careful exploration of an idea or problem, just a torrent of words conveying emotions.   In simply regurgitating their bile they corrode our interactions - all of them.  They are helping to insure that we will never get anything accomplished, by making dead certain that people of differing points of view will never be able to actually have legitimate and worthwhile conversations.

By slowly killing constructive discourse the problems that confront us will be less likely to be solved.  Bit of a slippery slope?  Perhaps.  Perhaps even a bit alarmist.  But I can't shake the feeling that we are slowly but surely losing our capacity for any kind of constructive, meaningful conversation between people with opposing points of view.  Too much on the web is focused on tearing apart, denigrating, ridiculing - and frankly so much of this destructive word-play is hardly word-play, it is ungrammatical word salad.  

So, allow me to offer a simple solution, at least as a first step.  If you cannot find a way to offer a constructive comment, don't offer any.  If you must comment, take the time to actually think through what you are going to say, so that even if it is savage you have, at the very least, thought through the consequences of your savagry.  Perhaps, in realizing that you about to offer up something hateful and repellent, you will think twice before pressing 'submit'.  Perhaps you will even realize that such speech is corrosive, and benefits no one.  Including you.

Think before you write.  Think before you speak.  Just because you feel righteous doesn't mean that you actually are.  Just because you can say something, doesn't mean that you should.

This isn't about free speech, or any type of freedom of expression, it is about recognizing that words have impact, they matter.  Be aware that your contribution to the discourse will be received by others who do not inhabit the same space that you inhabit. Think, do a little mental editing, then write.

Will I make a difference in the lives of my students?

One week from tomorrow the Fall semester will commence.  Nervous students will gather in classrooms with a jumble of thoughts - Will this class be decent?  Will this professor be okay?  Will I learn anything? Does that girl in the second row notice/like me?  I wonder what is for lunch?  What kind of job will I be able to get once I actually graduate?  Why does this professor keep asking inane rhetorical questions?

Nervous professors - well, okay, at least this particular professor - will ask themselves:  Will I make a difference in the lives of these students?  That is the only question that makes any sense to me.  Certainly the only question that floats to the surface as I go about the business of sharing ideas, methodologies, and larger questions with my students.  I want them to think.  I want them to contemplate.  I want them to figure out what it means to think historically.  I want them to realize the importance of this whole 'college' business.  I want them to do well, certainly, but even more importantly I want them to grow, I want them to stretch, I want them to realize that it is just as important to know what they don't know than what they do know.  I want them to learn how to ask good question even more than to provide good answers.  I want them, I yearn for them, to learn to love learning.  I want them to get absolutely silly about their desire to read and write and absorb and question and wonder.

I want them to learn.

I worry that they won't.

Not they can't, that they won't.  Anybody can learn.  Anybody.  It simply takes a little curiosity and a bit of work.  Not much in the grand scheme of things, I would argue.  But it certainly means that you have to have the correct attitude about the entire business.

I am not sure that this is presented as clearly as one might hope in our advertisements to our prospective students.   At least the commericials that play most often on the local channels - the commericials filled with images of student life outside of the classroom.  Yes, they tip their hat to the classroom experience, but it is always as some sort of minor digression in the larger narrative.

Yes, I very much understand that the college experience is much more than the classroom.  I get it. I was an undergraduate.  I enjoyed myself thoroughly as an undergraduate.  I even managed to do my share of things that were not particularly edifying as an undergraduate.  That said, I can list for you the people from my undergraduate days who made the greatest difference in my life -  Dr. Diane Mockridge, Dr. Steve Newman, Dr. William Wooley, Dr. 'Spud' Hannaford, and most especially Dr. Jerome Thompson. The ideas, images, values, and intellectual stimulation that these people gave to me...the importance and influence is beyond what I can describe.  It happened in the classroom.

I learned a great deal about myself outside of the classroom - it was all incredibly valuable to my overall growth - but it was the lessons I learned in the classroom that stay with me, that linger, that effect who I am today as a professor.

This needs to be highlighted in the commericials.  For, if the commericials don't highlight student life they tend to extol the virtues of the degree in and of itself, as some form of financial talisman that will ward off a dire economic future.  Again, good, I have no problem with my students working to better themselves financially (especially in this dodgy economy).  But if that is all that we aspire to be - an assembly line for degrees that hopefully lead to larger paychecks - then are we not missing the point of the entire enterprise? 

Should we not be reaching for something greater?  Should we not be challenging our students to do more than simply filling out the requisite forms for better employment opportunities?  Should we not inspire our students to see the degree as something more than a simple transaction to a bigger paycheck - do this and you will earn 'x'.  The assumption, of course, is that said higher paycheck will make them productive and happy.  Do we not want our students to reach for greater heights than basic economy?

I hope so.  Not simply for my classroom, but for all classrooms. 

I love teaching.  I cannot see myself doing anything else.  There is something magical about walking into a classroom and setting to the work of talking about and sharing the topic of the day.  I love it.  It gets me going, it focuses my thoughts.  I want to share that with my students.  I want them to get how important it is to think, ponder, contemplate, ruminate.  I want them to figure out how valuable it is to think critically and historically.  I want them to see the importance of context and culture.  I want them to get it, to see what the world has to offer, to provide for them an opportunity to see that the world is a bit bigger and more magnificent than what they might have guessed.

The kicker?  They need to want to go on this journey with me.  They need to decide, rather early on, that this whole messy business will be worth the effort.  They need to decide that even if they cannot see the end of all of this that it is still worth setting forth. 

I look forward to undertaking the quest once more.  I cannot think of a better thing to do.

How do you explain that in a 30 second commercial?  (For anybody at UTPA - I would be glad to give it a shot.)

 

On Actual Bike Lanes

Edinburg, Texas has bike lanes.  Well, a few.  Not that you would want to attempt to use them - too dangerous.  Why are they dangerous?  You might think it to be the brutal mid-summer temperatures.  Not quite, but that certainly deters the number of people who would even begin to contemplate using said lanes.  No, what renders the laughably titled 'bike-lanes' unsafe is that 99.5% of the automobile operators in the Valley believe that these lanes are actually turn lanes.  Even the police use them as turn lanes.  

I was thinking of the Edinburg bike lanes (and few additional topics regarding transportation that I will attend to in just a few moments) as I peddled around Munich, Germany last week.  I thought, rather derisively, of the Edinburg bike lanes as I (and the rest of the family) dawdled along on bike lanes that were respected by both cars and pedestrians alike.  When the bike lane veers onto the sidewalk (where many of them reside), the sidewalk is helpfully separated into a bike lane and a pedestrian lane.  Pedestrians wander into the bike lanes at their own risk, and the pedestrians know that they have literally crossed a line into unsafe territory.  They have their space, the bikes have theirs.  Likewise, when the bike lanes swerve out into the road, the automobiles do not decide the use said bike lane as if the lane markings were mere suggestions to be ignored - they recognize that the bike lanes will be, most often, rather filled with people on bikes.  I know, its astounding that one might actually find bicyclists in bike lanes.

The bike lanes, especially at rush hour, are as harrowing as any road filled with automobiles, as bicyclists of varying skill, speed, and nerve make their made dash home.  I was rather proud of our kids as they managed to navigate the thicket of bike riders (the silent, speedy courier types being the greatest source of anxiety - their stealth capability puts the US military to shame - never before could you imagine that some bicyclist moving at just nearly light-speed, carrying a boxes of paperwork and multiple lap-tops could move without making a sound - although at least we didn't run into bicyclists carrying ladders, as we witnessed in Florence).  What was even more impressive was the fact that the Munich bicyclists didn't even seemed phased that there would be a family putzing along in the bike paths at rush hour - we were accepted as simply a part of the movement of people attempting to get from Point A to Point B.  

All said, the bike lanes work.  Very well, thank you very much. 

It made me think - for the umpteenth time, 'Why is it that outside of a number of major US cities, we can't seem to figure out how to move people from place to place without using cars?'  The Valley is a perfect example of a place where public transportation could work, but likely never will, because in the US we are simply too much of a car culture to ever think that public transportation could possibly work. The Valley could use a light-rail system.  Yes, it will cost money to build (though you would certainly put a good number of folks to work building such a system), but think of the long-term benefits: the ease of movement of vast numbers of people without resorting to them piling into cars, the benefit to the environment, the return to a more social and communal mode of transportation, ease of travel for retail shopping, perhaps even a far more enjoyable mode of transportation.  Think of a rail system between the Valley and San Antonio - would this not open the Valley to greater business and commercial opportunities, not to mention making movement in and out of the Valley a great deal easier (and likely more cost-effective) for travel in general - as it stands now you either drive or fly.

Likewise, a series of actual bike lanes - safe lanes, not used by cars as escape hatches for exit and entrance - would be hugely beneficial, not least because it offers another option for getting around town, one that promotes better health and a cleaner environment (the weather is still a huge problem - nothing to be done about that, but I think we often use this as a crutch, or an excuse, so that we don't have to even bother thinking about the fact that we have serious health-care issues in the Valley, many of which have to do with a population with less than ideal eating and exercise habits).  

A side note - a colleague of mine raised a fascinating point about the fact that many of our neighborhoods don't have sidewalks.  He noted that a lack of sidewalks is a significant social statement - one that essentially says, 'we actually don't want people walking in our neighborhood, thank you very much - go find someplace else to wander about.'  I think this goes hand in hand with all of the gated communities that are built in the Valley.  Of course, the irony is that many of the gated communities have sidewalks.  We are telling people that we would rather them not be around.  This kind of fortress mentality is not particularly helpful, in neighborhoods, or nations.  

Pubic transportation, usable and well built and maintained bike-lanes, actual sidewalks - these are all signs of a community, not a collection of isolated individuals who care little for others.  When we retreat into our own little worlds (cars, neighborhoods, etc) we can pretend that as long as we are safe and sound then the rest of the world can go hang, and preferably at some distance to us.  If we are continually faced with members of community, our sense of compassion and belonging grows.

I am not advocating some kind of urban utopia - I recognize quite well that such things are illusory, at best.  I understand that every type of community has its own unique problems, but I am convinced that a society that celebrates individualism uber alles, is a society that will soon forget that we cannot exist very well without others.  Hobbes wasn't completely wrong that if left to our own devices we would devolve back into a perfectly logical life of self-preservation, no matter the cost.  It doesn't take long before an attitude of 'I got mine' will corrode society.  

Bit of a slippery slope from hoping for bike lanes that are actually bike lanes?  Guilty as charged.  That doesn't mean that the two bits are not connected.  Individualism isn't the problem, nor are rugged individualists.  What worries me is the love of the concept of radical individualism and all of its concomitant expressions as worked out in American culture.  

On Ridiculousness

The opportunity to teach religious studies courses at the university is one that I relish for many reasons, not the least of which is to hopefully whittle down the number of abjectly foolish things people tend  to say, or claim to know, about many and various religious traditions.  

There is a not abnormal, though certainly disheartening, amount of misinformation and ignorance about traditions that are not one's own.  This can be remedied by getting as many people into the classroom as possible to dispel the falsehoods and distortions bandied about in our popular discourse (the media does no favors in this - as they tend to never ask people to actually unpack their ideas, they simply want sound-bites that will draw eye-balls and ears, not caring to actually delve into the belief systems of the ones they interview.) One can even attempt to get the media to do a bit of the heavy lifting, at least in a round about way - I have now given a number of interviews to the local media on religious topics, and in every case I tend to use the opportunity to teach the reporter a few things.  My hope is that even a few scraps of actual information will get through the writing and editorial processes.  

An even more distressing and depressing problem is the amount of ignorance people display regarding their understanding of their own religious tradition (should they have one).  It is astounding (it probably shouldn't be quite so astounding) that people simply don't know what they believe, why they believe it, how their faith traditions developed, the history of their particular faith tradition, or even the basics of the texts that they use as the basis for their belief system. 

What is most distressing, though, is the way in which the ignorance of one's own faith tradition causes some to move straight to utter ridiculousness.  So ridiculous that they smear the entire faith tradition with their foolishness.  The latest example (and there have been far too many as of late) within the Christian tradition was the entire rapture bit from a couple of weeks ago.  I won't bore you with the details, but what was clear was that the individual who was generating this particular bit of nonsense was profoundly ignorant of the history and development of the idea of the rapture (early 19th century evangelicalism was the root), Biblical interpretation, eschatology, and many other bits of rather important business.  

What was most crushing about the entire business was the fact that it offered one more opportunity for Christianity to be presented as foolish, knavish, ridiculous.  Something worthy only of  derision and mocking laughter.  The Christian tradition is often weakened from within, as many Christians show a face to the world that is profoundly unserious, ignorant, ridiculous.  When this happens it doesn't take long before that is the only face that the world sees.  This is especially true in pop culture - note Bill Maher's movie 'Religulous', wherein Mr. Maher doesn't even bother to try to find rational and reasonable people of faith to talk to, simply the ignorant or profoundly shallow.  It was his hope to mock religion, and so many made the job far too easy.  Granted, he had that end in mind when embarking on the film, so it seems a rather ham-fisted way to mock the faithful, but honestly, it didn't need to be quite that easy.

Faith is not antithetical to critical thinking, yet too often it seems that this is what is presented for mass consumption.  Why is this?  What leads people to think that they don't need to think about their faith traditions and religious belief systems?  And why is it that people who really shouldn't say or do something (the Koran burning pastor comes to mind) are precisely the ones who  find their way to the cameras and loudly pronounce their cluelessness?

I am not certain.  I don't have good answers for this.  I guess my only response is to continue to fight against this the only way I know how - education.  Bit by bit.  Student by student.  Class by class.   Maybe, just maybe, this will help.  It certainly (I hope) will not make matters worse.  

 

 

On Parking Lots

You can tell when I have been on break for a bit, mostly because I start ruminating on subjects that, likely as not, really don't need much rumination.  Nonetheless, I have been contemplating something of slightly less than profound, albeit central, importance in our daily lives.

Parking lots.

I find them fascinating.  I know, this is not the first time that I have devoted precious blogosphere space to the issue of parking lots, but I find the very nature of the beasts to be dead fascinating.  I could sit in parking lots on think on the human condition for hours, mostly because a parking lot is a bit of a microcosm of our lives.  You can tell a great many things about the way people act in parking lots, probably a great deal that explains the kind of people that they are, and how they go about their business, and how they treat others.  It is a strange piece of work, to be certain, but one that is far more interesting (usually) than wandering about in the stores that said parking lots stand sentry to, or around.

Parking lot behavior is a rather penetrating distillation of who we are and what we hold dear.

I remember one particular incident, whilst living in South Bend, IN - I drove to the local grocery store, by name of Martin's (good place, plenty of variety, decent take away service, for the most part lovely produce, fair fishmonger, good butcher, Paczkis during Lent, Notre Dame football games on the loudspeakers), and watched, with some incredulity and great hilarity, as some monstrous four-wheel drive vehicle would inch, at 1 or 2 miles per hour, over the bloody speed bumps, as if any actual velocity would shake his precious vehicle apart.  The stupid truck was a behemoth, it could have likely swallowed up the Grand Canyon, but no, this guy had to ease his 'truck' over the speed bumps as if he thought he might slip the bonds of earth and float away into limitless space if he were actually to drive over the buggers at something close to 10 mph.

I laughed so hard I nearly forgot what I needed at the store. 

Watching to good folks at the HEB on Freddy Gonzalez is just as instructive and entertaining, though for different reasons.  At the HEB what you will witness is the slow dance of those who don't wish to park too far away from the front entrance of the store.  And not just one of the entrances, the center entrance.  You see, they want to park in the place that is equidistant from one of the entrances to the place in the center of the store from which they will emerge.   Thus, a slow promenade around the parking lot begins to swell as the business increases, with any number of cars slowly cruising the lot looking for the prime spot.  The best bit of the entire show is that people will wait for many minutes behind a car that they think should be moving soon.  They will sit and idle the time away waiting for the perfect spot, watching people come out of the store and noting into which car they climb, with the hopes of swooping in and claiming the prized location.  They wait.  For a long time.  So long, in fact, that if they had simply parked in the first available spot, walked in, shopped, checked out, and walked back to their car, very likely they would have completed their mission in less time than actually waiting for the perfect parking spot.

Thus, I walk slowly out to my car, sometimes stopping to readjust my grocery bag or to tie my shoe next to cars that are prime parking lot real estate.  I notice the expression of hope and expectation on the driver's faces, then I straighten, and walk out to the far edge of the lot where I park my car.  Where there are always spaces.  Whenever I happen to go to the store.  Every. Single. Time.

I know I shouldn't, but it seems people need to relax a bit, and figure out whether or not the perfect parking space is really all that important, and such a time saver.

Of course, I park out so far because the few extra steps I take to get into the store is good for me.  And I never waste a second thinking about 'finding' a parking spot.  Honestly, what a profound waste of time, 'looking' for a parking spot.  Just park.  Then walk.  You save yourself an extraordinary amount of frustration, you get a bit of a health benefit, and you get to the task at hand faster.  

I also like to sit in parking lots, whilst waiting for the family to do a bit of shopping, so that I can read, or watch people drive through as if they were the only ones in the lot.  It is amazing how dangerous and inconsiderate people can be when they gun through the lots, shaving precious milliseconds off of their driving time, and nearly wiping out parked or moving cars on their way.  The best bit is that these parking lot thugs then look at the other drivers (or parked, driverless cars) as if they were the problem. One young driver flipped off a parked car, because clearly it jumped out in front of our good driver and scared the wits out of him for being in one place for more than a second or two.  Another driver cut through aisles of open lots only to be surprised by someone actually following the painted stripes and driving down the aisles as suggested.  The surprised driver laid on the horn and visibly cursed the other driver for doing what was supposed to be done.  Such temerity!

The parking lot, unfortunately, tends to strip away the veneer of civilized life and helps us revert to our most base instincts, or our most egocentric reality.  We think of ourselves, not others.

Perhaps we should try to keep in mind that we do not, ever, live without impacting the lives of others, and live accordingly. 

It wouldn't be a bad way to start the New Year.

On Atrial Fibrillation

For me, it is never quiet, never still.  Not completely.  Not truly.

I think that that is why when I am in a place of exceptional quiet and stillness that a certain contentedness steals over me and I relax in ways that the regular pace of life never seems to fully bring.  Not that I live an exceptionally hectic life, not at all, and certainly no more hectic than anyone else, but there are moments when the noise and activity fade for just a bit.  I cherish those moments.

I often have these moments sitting in churches or cathedrals - the quiet and stillness of the environment are so peaceful and soothing that I often drop right off to sleep.  Which is odd, because I rarely nap.  It simply doesn't happen.  And yet, in the peace and stillness of these places I doze.  I have nodded off in some of the finest cathedrals and churches in the United States and Europe.  

You see, I have atrial fibrillation, a heart condition that produces for many a period of  irregular heartbeats.  Mine is chronic.  I don't have a regular heartbeat.  It is constant in its irregularity - essentially a bit of random beats strung together and punctuated by a momentary lack of a beat. My atrium tries to beat at 300 beats per minute, the other chambers try to beat at a normal 60-70 beats a minute, the resulting confusion makes the atrium flutter and quiver as opposed to finding a regular pattern.    

The chaos of my heartbeat does not go unnoticed.  As I sit I can hear the irregularity in my ears, feel the thumping and bumping in my chest.  At night, prior to taking a beta-blocker that attempts to at least bring some order (but certainly no actually regular rhythm), my body shakes with the ungainly movement of my heart.  

This chaos is always with me.  My constant companion.  

My cardiologist marvels that my heart is completely healthy, other than the completely irregular heartbeat.  I love to watch the medical technicians listen to my heartbeat and examine the ekg tape - clearly not something that they hear or see every day.

Ten years ago, my cardiologist decided to try to bring me back into sinus rhythm.  It was to be a very simple procedure - cardioversion.  Sounds benign, no?  It is, it really is, but most of us would rather not be cardioverted if at all possible.  Why?  Because cardioversion is something that most of us have seen, at least in its most over-dramatized version - think of any number of medical dramas on television where they charge the paddles, scream 'Clear' dramatically, and then touch the paddles (although it is usually a dramatic swooping in on the patient) to the patient.  The patient artfully jumps or flops on the gurney whilst the gathered medical staff looks expectantly at the monitor and listens for the return of the rhythmic beep, beep, beep (or lack thereof in the truly heart-rending episodes).  My cardioversion was not to be quite so dramatic.

Although to me, it very well could have been rather dramatic.  Not life or death (not that dramatic), but the real possibility for peace, for true quiet.  A stillness that I simply couldn't even imagine.  The very prospect caused a kind of odd giddiness that is hard to explain.  

Of course, I was more than a bit nervous.  I had never been under anesthesia.  Ever.  I haven't since.  I didn't know what it would be like, and I wondered what it would like to wake up from such a state.  My doctor assured me that it would be no different than falling asleep and waking up.  

The day rolled around for the procedure and Denise and I went to the outpatient section of the hospital.  We entered the room, I noted that an entire gaggle of medical students were in attendance, and I saw Dr. Scherb smiling.  He seemed to have decided that this was going to be a smooth transition into sinus rhythm.  I had my doubts, but was to excited about the potential to give voice to them.   The anesthesiologist administered the necessary medicine and I drifted off in a matter of minutes.

I woke, somewhat groggily, to a beaming Dr. Scherb.  "You're in."

I listened.

Nothing.  

I laid still, wanting to feel the regularity.

I couldn't feel it.  

For the first time in my adult life I was in sinus rhythm.  No ungainly thumping.  No slightly disturbing stutters and stops.  Just a steady beat that didn't shake my entire upper body.  I couldn't hear it in my ears.  

Aside from two vaguely pink rectangular patches on my chest where the paddles had been applied, I didn't see anything.

My constant companion was gone.  Quieted.  Stilled.  

Denise and I collected my stuff and we headed home.  On the way home I continued to listen.  Nothing.  It was a marvelous bit of nothing.  I tried to feel the thudding irregularity.  It wasn't there.

It was thrilling.  Marvelous.  

I settled onto the couch to rest and recuperate.  I continually took stock of my body and somewhat obsessively tapped out my new found regular rhythm.  After about three hours of resting I decided it was time to head upstairs and grab a book to read.  Without really thinking about it, I bounded up the stairs as I normally did.  By the time I reached the top of the stairs I knew something was not quite right.  

I could feel it.

I could hear it.

It all fell away in an instant.  The sickening irregularity reasserted itself with ease.  The perfect rhythm and silence was gone.  Lost.

I didn't cry.  I was mad.  Frustrated and exasperated.  It all came crashing back - the noise in my ears, the shudder of my upper body.  I trudged back downstairs, told Denise that it was back to 'normal', and plopped on the couch, mourning the peace and quiet that was already gone.

As I sat in the cardiologist's office a couple of weeks ago, after a battery of tests (stress test, ekg, and sonogram) I thought about the attempt ten years prior.  I especially thought of this as he told me that while they have made great strides towards finding new ways of curing atrial fibrillation, it was likely that none of them would work for me, because I have been in atrial fibrillation far too long. The heart has the ability to essentially rewire itself - irregular is normal for me, so the heart would likely try to reassert 'normality' regardless of the procedure.

So, what has been will always be.  Most days I don't think about it - the constant irregular thudding in my ears, the jarring shake at the end of the day in my chest - it is simply the way it is for me.

I think that is why I like those moments of peace and quiet so much, why I look for them, why when they happen they are precious indeed.

I remember thinking that I finally understood Dante in the Paradiso after my three hours of sinus rhythm.  He lamented the return to chaos after basking in the glorious order and love of the beatific vision.   For three hours, I knew what it was like to be still and quiet.  I didn't relish going back.  But, like Dante, I knew that it was simply a fact of the life that I lead.  It is how my heart works.  In the grand scheme, it is not the worst condition to have.  My heart is healthy.  Strong.  It doesn't leak anywhere, it doesn't have any weak points.  

But the constant companion is always there.  A bit of peace and quiet, a little bit of order (interiorly, not exteriorly - Denise, Gregory and Madeleline are the best family I could ever have asked for), wouldn't be a bad thing at all.