January 2007 Archives
Today and tonight have definitely been thought provoking in the philosophical moral arena, revolving around the concepts of moral culpability, redemption and forgiveness, and the sources/causes/reasons for 'evil' action.
I began my day with an intense gaming session with my good friends Jason and Bryce, playing one of our long-standing favorite revolving around the lives of two young men in the knightly service of their lord (now king). Without going into too much detail (because there are others out there that play the same game with Jason, and I don't want to give away too much of the plot points), we found ourselves performing as part of our duties field trials for those who had committed crimes, some of them capital offenses, for which we were expected to carry out punishment. In the abstract, it is very easy to think in egalitarian terms, but when faced with real crime and real victims with which you have to get up close and personal, it evokes emotions of anger and righteous vengeance that can play heavily into your decisions as judge. Let's just say I was deep in character and had moments when I was living the moment, and I was not merciful. Crimes of violence are easy to punish when you take the side of the victim.
After wrapping up a very satisfying gaming session, with a feeling of moral (if not medieval) authority, I had the pleasure and fortune to go out to theater with Julie after a lovely Sushi dinner at Kamakaze, one of our local haunts, and what is the subject of our evening's entertainment? The psychology of criminal behavior and the exploration of the possibility of compassion for the criminal, even when that criminal is guilty of capital offenses. The play we went to see was Frozen, put on by the Marin Theatre Company, written by Bryony Lavery and Directed by Amy Glazer, which to quote the copy from the web page is "a haunting play about three people whose lives are connected by the disappearance and murder of a little girl" -- in specific, the mother of the child, the murderer of the child, and the psychologist who is studying the murderer as part of a thesis she is advocating that the violent criminal behavior exhibited by serial killers is based in brain structure and is outside of morality -- is a compulsion that the killer is incapable of mediating or avoiding. Throughout the play we are introduced to a horrific act of child molestation and murder (of course occurring off-screen and off-time) and then left with the aftermath, as a mother tries to cope with the loss of her daughter, and finally with forgiveness and release, as a psychologist tries to discover the root causes of this violent behavior and ultimately gives strong evidence to the claim of brain trauma and early childhood abuse and neglect leaving the murderer incapable of attachment and identification with others, and with the murderer himself, who through contact with the psychologist and ultimately the mother, comes to understand the seemingly obvious but to him completely incomprehensible reality that when he raped and murdered this girl, he actually hurt her.
At the end of the play, I found myself thinking of so many things, and questioning my black and white moral superiority from the game previously in the day -- not that I truly identified with my character's actions directly, but there is part of me which is compassionate of the viewpoint of the simple equation of punishment for crime, and responsibility always laying in the hands of the acting party. The line to walk is difficult, and it is summed up so beautifully in the play, with the quote:
"The difference between evil and illness is the difference between sin and symptom"
If those of us who commit the most heinous of crimes, violence and murder against other humans, are through nature or nurture rendered incapable of knowing the difference between right and wrong action, and are effectively impaired from human reaction, are they ultimately to be held morally responsible for their actions, or are we to look upon them with compassion as incapable of functioning in society as the rest of us do. Do we murder the murderer, or do we help him try to understand and cope with his disability? And if we decide to recognize these severe criminal actions as symptoms of disease, how does that affect our system of justice and our sense of retribution for acts that in their base reality destroy lives and shatter realities?
It leaves me reflecting on the idea that none of us are born with evil in our hearts, and so very often (if not universally) evil action is born from a person's inability to cope with their own childhood abuse and trauma. The evil of the world is born of the evil we inflict on children. And so many children of this world are abused and damaged, so very very many. How are we left to feel about the child who is molested, who grows up and molests other children, or the child who is beaten as a child and grows up to beat other children or worse? Do we feel compassion, anger, hatred, or all of the above? Do we try to reach across the chasm of our own grief and rage and into the reality of the person who is the source of our destroyed world?
The play does not provide an easy question to ponder, nor does it provide and easy answer to the question, and perhaps that's why it has received such tremendously good reviews. One subject matter the play does not even try to address or discuss is the place of faith in a just god in the face of such amazingly tragic reality. Can we believe in a God that allows a world to exist where children are hurt in so many ways?
It's ironic that lately I've been listening to a podcast from UC Berkeley which is the recordings of lectures from a course entitled 'existentialism in film and literature', taught by one of my former professors from Cal, Hubert Dreyfus, and a course I've actually taken before just over thirteen years ago. I've really been enjoying the re-thinking of the questions and problems proposed by Pascal, Kierkegaard and others, but in reference to this question of God the father of an evil world, Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov postulates through the voice of Ivan Karamazov the argument that the world cannot be the creation of a God that allows the torture and gruesome deaths of so many children. While Ivan's motivations in the argument are not altruistic, nor does his argument necessarily hold up to scrutiny, it is a common enough theme in modern theological and moral philosophical thought that it bears taking seriously. How can we as rational and ethical creatures maintain belief in a loving and protective creator God that also created the means of such great suffering of innocents. It appears to be logically inconsistent. Of course, there are ways out of this train of thinking, but I won't muddy the water with those now -- only the synchronicity of events is what is relevant and interesting to me at this point in time.
Also, this whole subject brings up rather personal issues regarding my own childhood and my molestation by my uncle. I've often been a strong believer (as it is backed up by scientific evidence) of the concept that child abuse and molestation doesn't appear in a vacuum, and for every act of reported child abuse or molestation there is an echoing crime committed against the perpetrator as a child. Intellectually, I agree with the idea that a person violated in such a way as a child can suffer damage that compels them to act in like manner to other children. Emotionally, I feel like a fifteen-year-old young man should know better than to abuse a five-year-old boy, no matter what the origin of the compulsion. I haven't fully forgiven my uncle of the damage he's done not only in my own life, but in the lives of my cousins as well, who he lived next to in a townhouse complex for several years. I'm certain while his crime against me was a one-time occasion, those boys got the worst of it on a regular basis, and I just can't bring myself to look at him or to be in his presence, especially since no formal crimes have been reported, and no official justice has been brought to bear against him. While I can possibly bring myself to forgive a man who has been brought before justice to serve his sentence of punishment in retribution for his crime, can I extend that same compassion and forgiveness to a man who is walking the streets free, never required to face the realities of his actions? In a karmic way, he's suffered a great deal already, as it has shattered his life in many ways. But is karmic retribution enough to make me feel compassion for the man? At this point, that is a resounding no. Perhaps one day, but for now I still refuse to associate with him, and have placed him in the past tense of my life, along with so many others of my family. Perhaps I'm missing an opportunity of redemption. Maybe this event I have blocked out of my life because holding it up for inspection is too painful for me even on the best of my days. On those days in which I create a space to meditate and reflect, I allow myself compassion for my uncle and I wonder what happened to him, who hurt him as a little boy, and can I help him to understand his culpability, in the same way that the mother in the play helps the murderer to understand his own. Sometimes you just want your pain acknowledged by the one who caused you pain. Sometimes you just want the person to go away forever. The truth is, although the violence is the fault of the person doing the violence, and they are the source of pain for the victim, the pain that you carry as a victim into your future has everything to do with you, and nothing to do with the perpetrator of that violence. It's your choice to carry that pain, even if it's not your fault that you received it in the first place. Most of the time you're unable to understand that choice, or do anything about it, but sometimes you have moments of clarity and you realize it's within your power to forgive and let go. Your abuser has no power over you that you don't allow them to have. Once the violence is in the past, it belongs to you.
We have two major traditions in our lives as humans relating to our children -- the path of kindness, and the path of cruelty, and each perpetuates themselves with fantastic ease and power. Perhaps one day we'll be able to overcome the latter and give ourselves over to the former. My link in the chain of violence thankfully is shattered with me, and my focus is in propagating kindness. I have two lovely boys that I cherish and protect and shower in affection, and I hope they do the same for their own kids in due time.
Tonight I went down to my parents' house obstensively to pick up some money that my father owed me, and to have dinner, but in reality I had an ulterior motive -- to tell my parents about my decision to convert to Judaism. I wasn't really sure how my parents were going to take it, but I had a few fears and ideas of how they might be freaked out, disappointed, pained or confused by what may seem to them as an odd and incomprehensible decision on my part. So, we went out to dinner, had pleasant conversation, and it was amusing and ironic to me how we kept seeming to come upon the topic of religion in our conversation, as if the universe were guiding us towards the inevitable conversation. I know my mom has a touch of psychic in her, and my ears pricked up during Christmas Eve dinner when she came over with my dad and my sister and Quinn were here, and she suggested we say grace before the meal. Anyone who knows my mother, knows she never thinks in that dimension and I've never ever seen her suggest grace before in my entire life.
In any case, after dinner we went back to my parents house and I told them I had something to share with them. I sat them down, and had the talk. I started off with a question of them if they had noticed that I had pretty much left the Christian faith years ago because I didn't find a home there, and that I had been on a journey or a search for meaning and for connection with divinity for a long time since. I told them how I took on many different ideas and philosophies, exploring everything from paganism to buddhism to atheism to Rosicrucianism, but nothing worked perfectly. I told them how I've been around Judaism for years, and no one -- not Julie or any of her family -- ever expected me to take on their beliefs or make any sort of conversion, but just participating in the cultural and ritual exchange over the years had been an influence on me in subtle ways. I talked about how for the past few years, I've been recognizing similarities in the beliefs and thoughts of those around me to myself, and how I have been digging deeper into Judaism, and finding a place that feels like home there. I told them that I was planning on converting to Judaism. I reminded my parents that the one thing they taught me was to always think for myself, and that's exactly what I've done my entire life, this included. I assured them that in taking on this identity, I'm not looking to cash out my old identities, and that I'm still their son and part of their family, and all the things I've always been. This is not about changing who I am, but affording a deepening of who I am. That I'm committed to the journey, now that I've found a path that I'm comfortable with. There's more that I shared, but it's all blurring together now, due to the late hour, my being sick, and the aftermath of an emotional conversation. I did identify one of the reasons I am drawn to Judaism is the focus on scholarship, understanding, deliberation, and debate. Also the idea that the skeptic has a home in Judaism and no belief or catechism are required for membership, only commitment and participation. My father and I had a very interesting discussion about action versus desire, and how creed follows deed, as deed follows creed. It's the most I've discussed about religion with my parents since I was a teenager. It was extremely liberating.
In general, I have to say their reaction was open and accepting. My dad felt perhaps that he never fully represented Christianity to me, that perhaps he failed in his mission. Of course, I assured him that was not the case, but this was a result of my own undertaking and my own self-education. My mom of course asked if I'd/we'd still celebrate Christmas (it's funny what becomes important to a person). I could tell it was a little confusing, but they were willing to accept my decision, and if anything I see an opening here for dialog between my father and myself (and even my mother and myself) to share with them this spiritual dimension of my life that I've for so long hidden from them, to save them confusion or pain, or to alleviate their worries. Not once did the subject of salvation or damnation come up, and that made me feel very good. I do have this feeling, however, that my dad holds the door open for my return to Christianity, and hopes for me to do so. He stated that it's a positive step for me to engage with religion and that being Jewish is better than being an atheist. The unsaid part is that he probably sees my decision as a way-point back to the true faith of Christianity, but again that was unsaid.
In any case, it's out there now -- no more secrets, everyone knows what I'm up to, whether or not they understand it. I lent my parents a book, 'God Was Not In The Fire', to give them a beginning point to understand my decision. I'm looking forward to future conversations with my dad and my mom, and I hope that I can impart just a little understanding to them. I'm just so happy that they've pleasantly surprised me with their acceptance. Part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, and perhaps there will be backlash emotions on their part. I'm prepared for it. I feel like I presented my situation to them in the easiest and simplest way that I could, and things have gone as well as I could have hoped.
I still don't know exactly what all of this means, and my relationship to God is as convoluted and intricate, confused and contradictory as ever. As I told my parents, I believe in God until you ask me to articulate it. Once I put it in words, it's gone. I can't describe it, I just experience it. I don't believe in miracles or a God that intercedes against the laws of physics, but I do pray and I have a certain sense of providence that mandates the lessons we need to learn are always provided to us in the appropriate moments. I don't believe in heaven or hell, I'm uncertain of the existence of the soul, but I feel that I am more than my body. I don't believe in original sin or in salvation, but I do know that I am part of something bigger than me, and I from time to time get a glimpse of it in the strangest and most mundane of situations. I am straddling the fence between Judaic faith and Greek rationalism, but that's a problem of anyone in our conflicted western world. Just ask Kierkegaard.
My parents and I share values, we just don't share stories. Our myths are different, but our meaning is similar. I'm looking forward to this new opening, and what conversations I might start to have with my own father and mother again. Everything happens for a reason, right?
I love the pain and frustration that goes with upgrading software. I'm still trying to massage templates back into place on MT, and right now reading lists aren't showing up from the media manager, but it's pumpkin time and I have to hit the sack.
I've upgraded Movable Type from 3.2 to 3.34, and so I'm massaging all the plug-ins and getting things back in order. My apologies if things act a little funky for a while, but there's apparently all sorts of benefits to the upgrade, including better blog spam blocking, so I'm looking forward to configuring it over the next days and weeks.
For now, I'm going to sign off and go celebrate my amigo Bert's birthday.
...because everyone needs to have a spiffy blog name and a theme, and I'm thinking that 'Joshua's Journals', while technically accurate to my behavior, is not really all that sexy, nor is it reflective of what I'd really like to do with this space.
That being said, I'm throwing down the gauntlet for myself in favor of higher quality posts, but I'll still allow for my occasional missives of drek to hit the screen.
I'll continue my other blogs, of course (http://www.joshuaarcher.com/links and http://joshuaarcher.com/techblog), and I'll probably start up a podcast as soon as I feel like putting it together -- that will be at http://www.transientthoughts.com/)
I realize I really like this space and the ability it gives me to be creative and to write what's on my mind, and I haven't been giving it the love and attention that it deserves. Expect more of me here in the coming days/weeks/months/years.
No really, I mean it.
...but for now, to bed.
Okay, I've crawled my way out of the computer game for a moment, and I'm acknowledging that there is serious danger of abuse here. I'm on just about every day for at least an hour, if not 3 or 4. It's everything that I love about computer games, and there are folks on playing the game right alongside you. It gives you the hit of adventure, of story, of incremental self-improvement, and it allows escape from the doldrum goals of daily life.
And it sucks HOURS from your life.
I'll find balance, or I'll max out the game and then pull the plug. I'm not ready to say goodbye, because the truth is that I'm having a really good time with it. But, I need to find balance.
http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117957532.html?categoryid=14&cs=1
Okay, that was a bad idea. Now I've relapse and feel like crap again. Damn you, WoW!
...So I finally succumbed to the evil demon which is MMPORPG's and started up World of Warcraft, only because a bunch of my close friends and gaming buddies decided it'd be fun if we play on Tuesday nights. Today (Wednesday) I picked up the game, and after an excruciating 3-4 hour install procedure, I finally got online around 10 pm and played until just minutes ago (2 am). I can already see the danger involved with this game, and need to heavily monitor my online time. Once or maybe twice a week tops. But I am telling you, I totally see why this is so very popular. The game is very well done, and the game play is easy to get the hang of. It would be so very easy to just spend hours and hours playing this game, but what's nice is the game play is only so interesting (and effective) as a single player -- the adventures are better handled with a party. And besides, it's the witty banter that makes it all worthwhile. Tonight I got a major boost to 7th level by hanging out with my friends' high level dudes who would prop me up and heal me when I got close to death, and helped hack and slash the enemy when it was too tough or when it was irrelevant to the experience gained by finishing the adventure. I think on my own this would be a totally different story. I did manage to die once tonight while screwing around on my own and found out how that whole mechanism works. You end up in a graveyard and you have to run back to your body. Pretty funny concept, actually.
I kept myself from this game for a long time, knowing the possibility for ruin it contained, but actually I think I feel pretty good about playing tonight, and I'm glad I finally know what this looks like from the inside. I wonder how long it will keep my attention.
So I'm off to bed (finally) and fighting a cold/flu too, which makes this a real stupid thing to do when I'm sick, but when have I ever listened to reason when I'm having fun?
