The Girl
Month: February 2024
School Drama
How much of drama in the school is from adult modeling, both in the popular media and the home? The norm is to be upset about something, to be stressed about something, to feel wronged by someone. It’s a victimization mentality, a life lived in the passive voice and ordered by second and third conditionals. What we see on the tabloids while waiting to check out at Publix is what the kids try to emulate in their daily interactions with others, both because of what they see in the media and because the media informs the behavior of so many adults around them.
Watch any reality TV show: it is one constant conflict. Granted, it’s a hyped, artificial conflict: this or that individual doesn’t want to get kicked of this or that show, and the backstabbing and conniving of other participants creates conflict and heightens audience self-identification: “Hey, I’ve been stabbed in the back like that myself!” we say when we known someone’s scheming on reality TV has paid off.
That ain’t us
“Every single kid in this class been suspended at least once.”
It was a fair claim, and honestly speaking, I knew the girl who said it might actually be right. At least for half a second, that’s what I thought. A quiet voice beside me reminded me that that probably wasn’t the case.
“I haven’t.”
The shy words came from one of the best students in the class, a hard work boy who never has any behavior problems. The two girls with whom I was speaking — with whom I’d drifted so off topic from our classwork that I felt somewhat guilty continuing it and did so only because of a perceived need to explain some basic facts to some confused girls — the two girls just looked at him. I jumped in.
“And in fact I can show you a whole class of students that have never been suspended.” I had in mind my honors group, but times are changing, and being in an honors class no longer necessarily means perfect behavior, so they argued, tossing a couple of names at me. Knowing they were likely right, I persisted nonetheless in asserting that none of them had been suspended.
Finally, the girls turned to the fatalistic refrain of at-risk kids: “Well, that’s them, not us.”
“But it could be you,” I suggested, and one would think I’d suggested that they could fly to the moons of Jupiter by their own power, such was the looks of disbelief.
“That ain’t us!” they insisted.
The Bird
The kids are all taking a benchmark test. We’re spending two hours of each of the two days students will be in school taking a district-mandated benchmark test, which, truth be told, will be of little to no value to me. I know where my students are; I know where we’re going; I know what I haven’t covered. Further, I know the students better than a benchmark could show
In the midst of all this, a bird flies up to the window and perches on the sill. It cocks its head as it investigates all the humanoid forms on the inside, all hunched over glowing boxes, almost all oblivious to the bird’s presence. Except Anna. She’s sitting next to the window and has watched the bird flutter up. She takes a break from her test and looks over at the bird, smiling and likely grateful for the break the bird’s presence has brought.
Birds come to this window regularly, but their presence injects a bit of tragic chaos into the class atmosphere. Twice this year, birds have flown into the window with a sickening thud, only to lie outside the window slowly dying of the blunt force trauma the window and physics delivered. They flap about just outside our window as if they are trying to distract a predator to lure it away from its nest. These times, though, the bird is not faking.
Startling Admission
When I listened to Pack’s rant about the individual who left the RCG because he was tired of “faking it,” my initial thoughts were regarding what the individual meant by “faking.” It was only later that I considered the simple fact that mentioning it at all shows a startling lack of critical thinking, a Pack-ian level of egocentrism, or some combination of the two. It was a great and foolish risk Pack took because that comment undoubtedly resonated with members sitting in the headquarters building and reverberated throughout the small congregations worldwide.
Pack probably can’t imagine the number of people in his church who heard that comment and felt it as an indictment of themselves. He suggested it was a question of lying; the individual who quit and everyone remaining who nonetheless relate to the statement all understand it as a question of self-preservation. Pack intended it as an insult to the individual of little faith who was lying by his very presence among true believers; his audience heard it as a tacit admission that the cognitive dissonance required to remain in the RCG is simply overwhelming for many. Pack meant to insult the former member; instead, he only drew attention to his own failures and the cognitive/emotional stress they create.
This highlights just how far Pack has retreated into his own ego. He can’t even realize when the decisions of others are a clear condemnation of his own actions. Sequestered in his compound, his every need handled by others, he can’t even imagine the mental anguish his followers are suffering. Everything he says and does filters through the lens of his own ego, and the refraction of that lens is so complete that Pack literally cannot differentiate his own ego from the world around him.
I know we all hate Hitler comparisons, but I can’t help but draw parallels between Hitler’s decision-making process at the end of the war and Pack’s at what appears to be the end of the RCG. As the Soviets encircled Berlin and defeat became inevitable and obvious, Hitler moved battalions that essentially no longer existed and ordered attacks from army groups that had been decimated. He remained convinced of his certain victory, and he discussed the stunning blow his imaginary, newly-rebuilt Luftwaffe was about to deliver despite the fact that the Allies had complete domination of the skies of Europe. Surrounded by sycophants who were terrified of crossing him, Hitler lived in an echo chamber that only confirmed and compounded his delusions.
Even more telling, when the battle had begun turning months earlier, there might have been a chance for Germany to fight to a stalemate in the east and gain some time to rebuild its forces. Had Hitler ordered the cessation of transports to concentration camps and used those trains to shuttle soldiers to the eastern front, he could have at least slowed his defeat and perhaps prevented it completely. Instead, he did the opposite: he increased the transports to the camps and left his soldiers on the Soviet front with inadequate manpower and supplies. He couldn’t see past his own ego and his sick obsession with being an ultimate “hero” by rendering Europe judenfrei regardless of the war’s outcome. His inward-looking decisions thankfully cost him the war, because simply based on the numbers in 1939, Germany should have conquered Europe.
Similarly, we seem to see this playing out in Europe yet again. Putin has isolated himself, believes his own propaganda, and is convinced of his military genius and his force’s ultimate strength. Since the outbreak of the Covid pandemic, Putin has lived in almost complete isolation, and his view of the outside world reflects that. He attacked Ukraine on an imagined pretense; he was confident of a quick victory because his army certainly had to be at least as strong as his ego; his forces suffer loss after loss because he either can’t or won’t concede that his tactics are not working. His ego inflates yet again and more people suffer as a result.
In just the same way, Pack’s ego and his certainty in his prophetic acumen have swelled to proportions that conceal everything else. He, too, has surrounded himself with sycophants and isolated himself not only from the real world but from the lay members that constitute the intellectual isolation that is the RCG. The army that is encircling the compound at Wadsworth is more powerful than the Soviet army, more persistent than the Ukrainian forces: it’s reality, the most merciless conqueror in history.
Kluski Śląskie
Aunt D
K and I went for the visitation for my Aunt Y in Rock Hill this evening, stopping by to pick up Aunt D.
“I’ve lost my last sibling,” she said several times.
First Tournament Back
The Girl played in her first tournament since her stomach issues today. Her team went 3-0, not dropping a single set.
And our Girl was on the court again, doing what she loves again.
It was good to see.
Correction
Hell
www.ncregister.com/commentaries/jimmy-akin-being-precise-about-catholic-church-teaching-on-hell
Pope Francis recently sparked a discussion when he told an Italian television program, “What I am going to say is not a dogma of faith but my own personal view: I like to think of hell as empty; I hope it is.”
I was not surprised he would have this view. It is common in some ecclesiastical circles and was proposed by theologian and priest Hans Urs von Balthasar in his book Dare We Hope That All Men Be Saved?
Given how Pope Francis’ comments often function as a lightning rod, I was not surprised by the discussion that followed, and one contribution was a recent article by Ralph Martin.
Although framed as a piece about what the Church teaches on hell, Martin spent much of it arguing for his own view, which is the traditional one, that hell is both a real possibility and an actual reality for many people. He explores this further in his book Will Many Be Saved?
I wish Martin well in arguing his case — and arguing it vigorously. The thought that hell might be a real but unrealized possibility is a comforting one that can be attractive to many today. However, Scripture contains serious warnings about hell that do not sound hypothetical.
As a result, the theological field should not simply be ceded to what we moderns find comfortable and reassuring. If there is to be any reassessment of the traditional view of hell as an actual reality for many, Scripture’s statements need to be taken seriously and both sides need to be argued vigorously.
(I’d note, in particular, that in his book von Balthasar never even addresses Luke 13:23-24, where in response to the question, “Lord, will those who are saved be few?” Jesus responds, “Strive to enter by the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able.”)
My sympathies are thus with Martin, but I would refine a few things about his article.
First, regarding Pope Francis’ statement that what he was about to say was “not a dogma of faith,” Martin offers a definition of dogma that could suggest it is restricted to revealed truths connected with salvation. I would point out, by contrast, that in current theological jargon, a dogma is any truth that the Catholic Church has infallibly defined to be divinely revealed, whether or not it has any direct connection with salvation. (Culpably rejecting a dogma is a mortal sin; but the truth itself doesn’t have to have a direct connection with salvation.)
Second, there is a passage where Martin conveys a misleading impression about the views of Cardinal Avery Dulles. First, he says that “the traditional interpretation … by the Church’s greatest theologians is that it is very likely that many people go [to hell],” then he identifies Cardinal Dulles as “perhaps the leading American theologian of the 20th century,” and then he cites a 2003 article that Dulles wrote in First Things.
The problem is that Martin quotes a part of the article in which Cardinal Dulles refers to several passages of Scripture and says, “Taken in their obvious meaning, passages such as these give the impression that there is a hell, and that many go there; more in fact, than are saved.” The impression is thus that Cardinal Dulles is firmly in the line of “the Church’s greatest theologians” who believe that “many go there; more in fact, than are saved.”
However, this is not Cardinal Dulles’s view. He notes the obvious interpretation of various Bible passages without asserting that the obvious one is the only possible one. In fact, he concludes:
The search for numbers in the demography of hell is futile. God in His wisdom has seen fit not to disclose any statistics. Several sayings of Jesus in the Gospels give the impression that the majority are lost. Paul, without denying the likelihood that some sinners will die without sufficient repentance, teaches that the grace of Christ is more powerful than sin: “Where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Romans 5:20). Passages such as these permit us to hope that very many, if not all, will be saved.
All told, it is good that God has left us without exact information. If we knew that virtually everybody would be damned, we would be tempted to despair. If we knew that all, or nearly all, are saved, we might become presumptuous. If we knew that some fixed percent, say fifty, would be saved, we would be caught in an unholy rivalry. We would rejoice in every sign that others were among the lost, since our own chances of election would thereby be increased. Such a competitive spirit would hardly be compatible with the gospel.
Martin’s article thus conveys a misleading impression of Dulles.
What does the Church actually teach? This is found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which says, in part, “The teaching of the Church affirms the existence of hell and its eternity. Immediately after death the souls of those who die in a state of mortal sin descend into hell” (1035).
The Church thus teaches that hell is a real possibility. If you die in mortal sin, you go there. But does the Church leave room for the idea that God might rescue all from mortal sin — even at the last moment?
The Catechism states, “The Church prays that no one should be lost: ‘Lord, let me never be parted from you.’ If it is true that no one can save himself, it is also true that God ‘desires all men to be saved’ (1 Timothy 2:4), and that for him ‘all things are possible’ (Matthew 19:26)” (Catechism, 1058).
The Catechism thus seems open to the possibility that God — for whom “all things are possible” — might be able to rescue all from mortal sin and thus hell might be empty.
This view seems to be permitted on other grounds. After von Balthasar proposed it in Dare We Hope, Pope St. John Paul II named him a cardinal — specifically for his theological contributions — though Father von Balthasar died before the consistory.
Further, as Cardinal Dulles notes in his 2003 article, John Paul II seemed to have a change of view on this subject. The cardinal notes that in his non-magisterial 1995 interview book Crossing the Threshold of Hope, the Pope raised Father von Balthasar’s view and says, “yet the words of Christ are unequivocal. In Matthew’s Gospel he speaks clearly of those who will go to eternal punishment.”
However, as the cardinal notes, in a magisterial text in 1999, Pope John Paul seemed to have shifted, saying, “Damnation remains a possibility, but we are not granted, without special divine revelation, the knowledge of whether or which human beings are effectively involved in it” (General Audience, July 28, 1999, emphasis added).
Based on what he said, John Paul was open on the question of “whether” human beings actually go to hell, and Cardinal Dulles concludes that “the Pope may have abandoned his criticism of Balthasar.”
It should be noted that in the version of the audience currently on the Vatican website, the words “whether or” have been deleted. However, this does not alter what John Paul II apparently said, and we cannot know why the words were deleted or whether John Paul II gave his approval to this edit.
For his part, Pope Benedict XVI also took an optimistic view regarding hell in his 2007 encyclical Spe Salvi. He states:
There can be people who have totally destroyed their desire for truth and readiness to love, people for whom everything has become a lie, people who have lived for hatred and have suppressed all love within themselves. This is a terrifying thought, but alarming profiles of this type can be seen in certain figures of our own history. In such people all would be beyond remedy and the destruction of good would be irrevocable: this is what we mean by the word hell (45).
He then contrasts these with people who are so pure they go straight to heaven and then concludes:
Yet we know from experience that neither case is normal in human life. For the great majority of people — we may suppose — there remains in the depths of their being an ultimate interior openness to truth, to love, to God (46).
This latter category goes to purgatory to be purified. Pope Benedict thus thought that “we may suppose” that few go to hell, few go directly to heaven, and “the great majority of people” go to purgatory before heaven.
We thus see the three most recent popes taking optimistic views of hell, with the later John Paul II seemingly open to the idea it may be empty, Benedict holding that we may suppose those who go there are few, and Francis hoping that it is empty.
I’m firmly convinced of the value for theological discussion of vigorously arguing the traditional view that some and even many go to hell — and hearing what the optimists have to say in response.
At the same time, when presenting the teaching of the Church, we should be aware of the flexibility that is being displayed on this matter, including by the recent popes.
The Girls
I was on my way out to my car when the two little Muslim sisters (I knew this because they both cover their heads with scarves) passed me. I greeted them and somehow, we began talking. A group of their friends, all girls, gathered around us, all talking to me at almost the same time. I asked them where they’re from, and one girl said that she’s from Afghanistan.
“Do you speak Dari or Pashto at home?” I asked. Her jaw dropped.
“You know those?!”
“No, no, not how to speak them. I just know they exist. I know they’re the primary languages of Afghanistan.”
She smiled ear to ear: “We speak Pashto.”
“I’m from Iran,” another girl said. “I speak Persian at home.”
“Oh — Farsi, right? Isn’t ‘thank you’ in Farsi ‘Mersi’?” I asked.
Another jaw dropped.
“I just always found it strangely beautiful that it’s a loan word from French.”
“Do you speak French” the lone boy asked.
“Un peu,” I responded, winking, hoping he wouldn’t push me beyond my meager limits in the language.
But before that could happen, one of the young covered girls announced, “I’m Fatima!” They’d been telling me their names, and she finally got hers squeezed in.
“Oh, like the prophet Mohammed’s daughter, right?” I asked.
Her eyes got enormous and she ran back into the classroom, presumably to tell someone.
The fact that I know these little tidbits seemed to me simply basic education about other cultures. I know Dari and Pashto were Afghan languages because of our country’s involvement in that country and learning a little about it and its history at that point. I know “mersi” was one way in Farsi to say “thank you” because I sat next to an Iranian woman and her child on a flight from Charlotte to Munich in 2015 when I followed K and the kids to Poland a few weeks after they’d left. I know Mohammed’s daughter was Fatima because I read parts of a book about the supposed apparitions of Mary at Fatima. I know a bit of French because I too two years of it in college. Just a few tidbits of knowledge about these girls’ (and one boy’s) language and culture, but it seemed to make their day.
So little go create so much.