Doing the Shoulder Shrug
Spiritual direction. Amidst all the misdirection in the world. I have been going on retreat once a year over the past 15 years. On opening night, there is a discussion, always the same discussion, about the meaning of the word “retreat.” The same discussion was part of the ritual of being Catholic if not Christian.
Retreat means “to withdraw.” In the word, here is a sense conveyed of defeat. My retreat was always about reflecting to how I got to where I am. To understand where I am going. German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer wrote: “The first half of life gives us text and what follows supplies the commentary on it.” A retreat also conveys a sense “to go back, or backward.”
Shoulder shrugging. It is the shrug about the times that you are born into. Was that what it was like to be a German in Nazi Germany? If you were a reader of the New York Times, you notice over the last week that Maureen Dowd was writing pieces as if she worked for the Catholic Bulletin.
Institutional religion. The story of Holy Week involves the failure of institutional religion. Two thousand years ago. And today. Amidst all the misdirection in the world, where Germans and Italians never quite came to a reconciliation with the times of totalitarian governments. Governments that came to power in times of tough economic times. Take a look at the book, Hitler’s Beneficiaries by Götz Aly. The Nazis were elected in a democratic process all based upon their economic policies.
When you grew up in such a system, few young people ever challenged the system. Not when times seem so good. Maybe not much different than growing up in America over the past 20 years.
Rob Dreher wrote a piece in his own internet website about what it meant to be a Southerner in America. And Catholic. “As a Southerner born in the post-civil rights era, I’m often chagrined by how quick non-Southerners are to stereotype the South, and in particular Southern whites. But I also at the same time look back on the history of the south –my region and the region which defined me. It is the region that I love fiercely. Yet I wonder how on earth white people –who knew better or who ought to have known better–stood by and accepted inhumanity against black people. Even if they themselves didn’t directly participate. That is part of what it meant to be a (white) Southerner, once upon a time.”
“What it means to be a (white) Southerner today is not only loving what is good about our region and culture, but accepting that it’s impossible to separate the good from the dreadful historical legacy, except by an act of morally insupportable cognitive dissonance.”
He is writing about what it has meant to be Catholic, during all this focus on sexual abuse. In the past. He wrote about one priest protects a child but know that other kids are at risk, due to superiors looking the other way. It was something that happened growing up. “About the time that I’ll be fed up with anti-Southern stereotypes, I’ll read or see something about what life was like for black folks in the South prior thereabouts to 1964. And I am then reminded why there isn’t a lot of sympathy in many quarters for my people. This is our legacy we have to carry for the times when we too shrugged like cowards.”
“That shrug is unfortunately what the story of sexual abuse is all about. Accepting the unacceptable. Catholic journalist Jason Berry brought down a lot of grief on his head from his own south Louisiana family when he wrote the seminal ‘Lead Us Not Into Temptation,’ about the Louisiana priest who molested the children of Catholic families in his own flock, and the bishop who protected him. His family didn’t want these things spoken of — even though Berry was standing up for the weak, the voiceless, and the defenseless–doing what good Catholics ought always to do.”
Shoulder shrugging. All of the shoulder shrugging. Like Sarah. After her plan with Hagar went bad. Concerning the first born son. In “the careful what you pray for” story.
Ishmael. After the forced relocations. Taking it personally – the crime, in the family. The narrator never points out the threat of being reduced to utter non-existence, as Abraham’s firstborn son. If you knew them all so personally. Until there developed a fear, perhaps out of being forced out. And then the coverups, in the tradition of mystery.
Bone density. In the beginning.
Life. Blood is the essence, like water. In the hematology of ghosts — The Essence of ghost — is time. And all rivers run to the sea — with a taste of blood/ fragrance loss.
Blood loss. Bone density loss. Disappearing on x-ray.
Funny, “til there was you.” The end? In the characteristics of the Living God, the tension is living with 1) silence 2) invisible 3) the everlasting.
Then the Institution left behind. The tension of silence, for Abraham. For Nienstedt. Then the coverup. In all institutions.
The churchyard. There are a lot of ghost synagogues and churches. Like a dilapidated “shul” in an inner city, pretty much falling apart.
The inheritance. ‘Closeness’ in the stories – or not. God, in the struggle like Abraham, to complete Creation, to deliver a son who is half of His, into the world? Or in the struggle to let Creation continue, with lot more shared dominion.
Closeness – the stories of Paris, last week but with bone density loss. In the city. For a remaining congregation? Disappearing on x-ray, the revelation, of what always has been here.
The over and under. Place and time, with the tension of silence until the meeting to decide if the left behind should sell the building.
First People. Thirty pieces of silver. Casting lots. So was that house of worship just a building [with a roof-cover], or people under that roof? The house of worship losing congregation, “almost epidemic” for most religions.
Stripping him of his garment, before casting lots. The river of blood. Renting a garment like Jacob, but this one was hand-woven. Casting lots, for what I wore.
In the hematology of ghosts, the essence of ghosts is time. In the gestation. Of Spirit, all ghosts run to the clouds? Until the next rain?
“As color does vary from cow to cow, we can not control the exact shade of brown leather you receive. Over time, as it accumulates oils from your hands in daily use, these wallets will get darker and darker.”