Its been bothering me awhile that, as a devout Christian, I've not been able to find a whole lot of meaning in the crucifixion. In fact, I've seen it as a passive-aggressive. It seems to say, "I love you so much that I let this happen to me, to forgive your sins, you unworthy, despicable creatures. Now you better do what I tell you." Pathetic, huh? But what can you do when this is your honest view of the hallmark of your religion? I was not lead to go to another religion; I wanted to solve the riddle. Seriously, I love Jesus and I'm not giving him up just because I have a pea-brain.
I've read about how the crucifixion might be viewed as the importance of dying to the self, to leaving behind egoism so that one might grow to become a more Christ-like person, thinking of and loving others in a way that is impossible when one focuses on themselves. This is a helpful view, but it doesn't get me past my block.
Anyway, I am feeling incredibly thankful for an understanding I recently received. I've been talking to a dear friend about an issue that is the source of suffering. As usual, I approach it in my own extremely self-centered desire to be helpful. Its finally occurring to me that perhaps I should wish for help for others, not that I can be of help to others.
How does one get past the pain they have suffered? I don't have an answer, but I now see the crucifixion as hope that it can be done. Jesus suffered terrible humiliation, pain and death at the hands of those who mocked him. Jesus leaned on his relationship with God to be able to endure it, so I guess thats a clue for us. Purportedly, the crucifixion happened so our sins can be forgiven. But also in his crucifixion, I can see that its about accepting the pain and suffering and forgiving it. Once that is done, then the resurrection can occur, the new life that is not hampered by the memories and anger of the past.
How is this done in real life? I don't know, but at least I'm not longer attributing personality disorders to my Savior.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Monday, March 07, 2005
The Mommy Whine Continued
The Washington Post ran an article about Judith Warner's new book, Pampered White Moms, Complaining. Newsweek ran an article on it a few weeks ago which launched me into a rant.
This article was a bit more interesting -- especially the part near the end, where it talks about how the author's father despised her. That got me thinking, how much of this insane, inane Mommy competition has to do with the fact that these moms didn't get enough love when they were kids? Do they think being hyperactive, hyper-involved, hyper-competitive is going to give their children the warm fuzzies? It seems like these moms are trying to get the love they felt was denied them which they so desperately crave. Love they think will come from the respect thats given them when they bake the perfect cookie for their child's expensive private school. Or when they get their kids into the right schools, which will get them into more right schools, which will ensure that the kids will grow up to be rich and prosperous and loving their mommies.
Have you seen these kinds of kids when they grow up? They don't love Mommy in a healthy way and they really don't like her at all. They resent her for all the pressure she put on them and they don't enjoy her company. They complain about her the way she complained about them when they were growing up. They see her as the same burden as she saw them. They have serious issues and relational problems and spend lots of money on therapy which offers little relief, at least while she's alive. They either turn into the unhappy, hypercompetitive people that their moms were or they become irresponsible slackers who blame everyone else for their troubles. Or, they say 'screw her and her warped values' and they turn into fabulous parents. Who can tell?
Since I've already ranted at length about this book, I only wanted to address a couple of things raised in the WaPo article (thanks the Rob the Llamabutcher for the pithy abbreviation for the local rag).
Hanna Rosin, the article author, writes about the women addressed in Warner's book:
Is this all? That really gets me. No, its not all, there is infertility, cancer, horrific traffic accidents, deaths of children, miscarriage, poverty, disease -- but, oh, they didn't get those? Just a minivan or an SUV and a home worth more than a half million (I know I'm low-balling). Please. Yes it can be hard, but they can't honestly think they've got it harder than anyone else on the planet. Who has it easier? People like them (privileged) in their 20s -- okay, but thats transitory and I'm betting these women had a nice time in their 20s too. I did.
So stop doing it. No one is victimizing you but you. The bottom line for me is I can't imagine how these women really think that they are being good moms to their kids. It seems to be more about appearing to be perfect moms to everyone else. They are probably screaming at their kids at home because they are so tightly wound. Or ignoring them because they are exhausted. It really seems to be at cross-purposes with actually mothering the kids.
Okay, I don't get it. But I think there is a lot of suffering out there and I think its important to take responsibility for the suffering you are causing yourself and others. And if I am causing any suffering by writing this I can either stop writing it or you can stop reading it.
This article was a bit more interesting -- especially the part near the end, where it talks about how the author's father despised her. That got me thinking, how much of this insane, inane Mommy competition has to do with the fact that these moms didn't get enough love when they were kids? Do they think being hyperactive, hyper-involved, hyper-competitive is going to give their children the warm fuzzies? It seems like these moms are trying to get the love they felt was denied them which they so desperately crave. Love they think will come from the respect thats given them when they bake the perfect cookie for their child's expensive private school. Or when they get their kids into the right schools, which will get them into more right schools, which will ensure that the kids will grow up to be rich and prosperous and loving their mommies.
Have you seen these kinds of kids when they grow up? They don't love Mommy in a healthy way and they really don't like her at all. They resent her for all the pressure she put on them and they don't enjoy her company. They complain about her the way she complained about them when they were growing up. They see her as the same burden as she saw them. They have serious issues and relational problems and spend lots of money on therapy which offers little relief, at least while she's alive. They either turn into the unhappy, hypercompetitive people that their moms were or they become irresponsible slackers who blame everyone else for their troubles. Or, they say 'screw her and her warped values' and they turn into fabulous parents. Who can tell?
Since I've already ranted at length about this book, I only wanted to address a couple of things raised in the WaPo article (thanks the Rob the Llamabutcher for the pithy abbreviation for the local rag).
Hanna Rosin, the article author, writes about the women addressed in Warner's book:
Over the past century the type -- the privileged suburban mother, looking
perfect but feeling hollow -- has emerged every generation or so asking for
understanding, for what she's lost, for all the work she does. This is Mrs.
Dalloway, and the wives lurking in John Cheever's novels. This is Gloria
Steinem's woman matching slipcover materials, chauffeuring Cub Scouts and
Brownies, "afraid to ask even of herself the silent question -- 'Is this all?' "
Is this all? That really gets me. No, its not all, there is infertility, cancer, horrific traffic accidents, deaths of children, miscarriage, poverty, disease -- but, oh, they didn't get those? Just a minivan or an SUV and a home worth more than a half million (I know I'm low-balling). Please. Yes it can be hard, but they can't honestly think they've got it harder than anyone else on the planet. Who has it easier? People like them (privileged) in their 20s -- okay, but thats transitory and I'm betting these women had a nice time in their 20s too. I did.
"She's so right," she says about Warner. "It's insane, all the scrambling
that we do. We try so hard to be perfect moms."
So stop doing it. No one is victimizing you but you. The bottom line for me is I can't imagine how these women really think that they are being good moms to their kids. It seems to be more about appearing to be perfect moms to everyone else. They are probably screaming at their kids at home because they are so tightly wound. Or ignoring them because they are exhausted. It really seems to be at cross-purposes with actually mothering the kids.
Okay, I don't get it. But I think there is a lot of suffering out there and I think its important to take responsibility for the suffering you are causing yourself and others. And if I am causing any suffering by writing this I can either stop writing it or you can stop reading it.
My Eye
mylefteye
Originally uploaded by Unclimber.
A quandry -- should my profile picture be my eye, or should I leave it as my child's eye with the idea that I would like to see the world through the eyes of a child. If I keep the child's eye -- how do I choose which of my children's eyes to use? Perhaps the question is the answer -- I should just use my eye...
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Take That, Bruce
As I've written before, my children have been turned into Bruce Springsteen fans. Big Bruce Springsteen fans. We listen to the Rising in the car, in the kitchen, and in the den (where the computer is). My husband's closet is in the den, so he'll use the computer to play Springsteen in the evening when he changes out of his suit and into real clothes.
Well, Sparky strikes back (Sparky is my Tyler Durden, many thanks to Mike for completely warping my mind by suggesting Fight Club). I've gotten the kids hooked on this (make sure you have your speakers on). So much so that the 2 1/2 year old yells "I love it" and the 4 1/2 year old sings the lyrics - both lines of them, over and over.
Hah! Take that, Bruce!
Well, Sparky strikes back (Sparky is my Tyler Durden, many thanks to Mike for completely warping my mind by suggesting Fight Club). I've gotten the kids hooked on this (make sure you have your speakers on). So much so that the 2 1/2 year old yells "I love it" and the 4 1/2 year old sings the lyrics - both lines of them, over and over.
Hah! Take that, Bruce!
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