LABELS

I hate sticky labels. Well, actually I don’t mind the ones that have the special coating that allow me to peel them off in one pull of thumbnail and forefinger. Otherwise, I believe labels are manufactured in the pit of Hades. Dante missed one level in his Inferno; it is the one whose tenants are consigned forever to remove labels and price tags from jars, vases, and inexpensive collectibles. The labels are affixed with glue meant to stick eternally, and because it is hell, of course there is no water to act as a soluble. If those folk never cussed upon earth, they do now.

Product labels are hard to remove; much more difficult are the labels we affix to others and ourselves. One of the most enlightening and humorous books my husband and I have read in recent years is Look Me in the Eye, by John Elder Robison. While he was growing up, people mistook his affect and strange ways of interacting. He writes,

Everyone thought they understood my behavior. They thought it was simple: I was just no good.

“Nobody trusts a man who won’t look them in the eye.”

“You look like a criminal.”

“Sociopath and “psycho” were two of the most common field diagnoses for my look and expression. I heard it all the time: “I’ve read about people like you. They have no expression because they have no feeling. Some of the worst murderers in history were sociopaths.”

I came to believe what people said about me, because so many said the same thing, and the realization that I was defective hurt.

Eventually, Robison realized that was he not a sociopath, but that he had a special (and not bad) way of being human. He was able to peel off that old label and receive a new, informative one of “Asperger’s,” a type of autism. Now rather than feeling shame, he was freed to enjoy his uniqueness. Understanding that he was an Aspergian gave him a reference point to adjust some behaviors so that he could relate more effectively. It also furnished a position from which he could explain his ways to other people. He taught me to stop assuming that a person who won’t look me in the eye or does not respond to my “good morning,” is shifty, cold, or hung over.

In fact, Robison’s story caused me to wonder about my other labels for people I meet casually or see on the news. Why do I label them when I know nothing about what goes on in hearts hidden beneath Botox, tattoos, or three piece suits? True, sometimes labels serve as useful identifiers for certain behaviors: he is a hero because he saved the drowning child; she is a criminal because she robbed the store. Jesus explained such appropriate labeling this way, “Every tree is known by its own fruit… A good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good; and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth evil.” However, Jesus says this in the context of the Sermon on the Mount, and he first warns against judgmentalism,

Why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the plank in your own eye? How can you say, ‘Brother, let me remove the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the plank that is in your own eye? Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck that is in your brother’s eye.

In other words, any business of labeling starts with examining the tags that are stuck on me. What labels have people branded me with that are not who I genuinely am, but that still cling to me and cause me shame or anger? What labels have I slapped on myself that restrict my liberty to develop in new ways, or conversely, that excuse poor behavior? Peeling off these labels may be painstaking, with a spiritual fingernail or two breaking in the process. But the freedom is worth it. John Elder Robison would agree.

Multi-tasking Booby Prize

On my walk Wednesday morning, I encountered a man who took multitasking to a whole new level.

The guy had put his left arm through the handle of a leash, at which end strained a full grown yellow lab/german shepherd mix. His right arm was also looped through the leash of another full grown yellow lab/german shepherd. He jerked hard at their leashes and ordered them to sit. It was all they could do to comply as the sights and smells of the glorious outdoors bombarded their senses. In his hands he grasped a high-end Nikon complete with zoom lens. He stood at the trail’s edge, attempting to shoot a picture of some bird up in the heavily shadowed trees against a dark gray sky. By the time he could lift the camera to his eye, the bird had flown to another tree, and the dogs were shifting their rumps to start to get to their feet.

Now successful bird watching and picture taking not only requires the right lighting conditions, the birder must also be as quiet and still as possible. However, this man had apparently decided he could beat the odds in spite of having none of this going for him. Heroically, he tried again to take a shot. If by some dumb luck, he finally locked on his bird, it eluded me how he was planning to keep the Nikon steady with two large canines hauling at his coordination.

Neither one of us got a chance to find out.

When the threesome heard my footsteps coming up behind them on the sidewalk, the lab/shepherd nearest me whirled around, growled deeply in his throat, and lunged at me. As the new center of everyone’s interest, I backed away from them and stood still, hoping this guy had a good grasp on his dogs. He yelled harshly at the lunger, jerked its leash hard, and smacked its face with the end.

Then as I continued on my way, he said to me, “Don’t worry, they’re friendly. They’re just a little jumpy this morning.” Hmm. And I’ll bet the man’s pictures will show the same focused care and loving discipline he gives his pets. Yeah, I’ll just bet.

So is Woman an Add-On?

In my recent blog post, “Can You Really Know Yourself?” the two authors I quoted threw the word “man” and “mankind” around with the carefree abandon of conventional 4th and 18th century linguistic use. Probably the women of St. Basil’s and Alexander Pope’s day knew these words often included both genders. Going further back, Jewish and Christian women of ancient times most likely understood that the Scripture text, “Let us make man in our image” included woman, too.” Right? Well, maybe they did, and maybe they didn’t.

Today, gender inclusive language is one attempt to clarify for both sexes that females have equal presence and participation in any reference to humans as a whole. This is an example of how as a society changes in its self-concept, its language also changes. But let’s face it, inclusive language is still in the awkward stage. For example, “When the student cites an entry from an encyclopedia in [his/her; his or her] essay, [he/she; s/he; he or she] should follow the Chicago Manual of Style.” Makes for a beautifully flowing sentence, doesn’t it?

So until our language accurately and succinctly expresses gender inclusion, certain accommodations are called for. Both men and women have historically required reference points that help them come to know themselves. In the Bible’s case particularly, all of the human race needs to be able to see itself appropriately reflected in its narratives and poems on occasion. Thus, it has not only been since the 1970s and 80s that people have worked at gender inclusive communication. In its ancient languages, the scripture of Genesis 1:26-27 used the word “man” (Heb.: 'ādām; Grk.: anthrōpos) to identify the category of creature, then succinctly clarified the word’s scope of meaning.

Likewise, St. Basil was concerned that his 4th century listeners clearly understand who the “man” is in Gen. 1:27:

“Man!” says the woman, “And what about me? It is the male who was created, for,” she says, “He did not say ‘her’ who is man, but by the term ‘man’ He is shown to mean the masculine.” But no! in order that nobody . . . should take the expression “man” . . . to refer only to the male, the Scripture has added: “male and female He made them.”[1]

We women, then, are not simply add-ons to God’s initial creation of the imago dei. As Basil went on to emphasize, “The woman also possesses, like the male, what has been created in the image of God.”[2]

[1] Johanna Manley, ed., trans., Wisdom. Let Us Attend (Menlo Park, Calif.: Monastery Books, 1997), 712. 
[2] Ibid.

Can you really know yourself?

As evident in his poem, "Know Thyself", the great 18^th cent. poet, Alexander Pope, wondered what the results would be from taking a good look at ourselves.

KNOW THYSELF

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan;
The proper study of mankind is Man.
Placed on this isthmus of a middle state,
A being darkly wise and rudely great:
With too much knowledge for the Skeptic side,
With too much weakness for the Stoic’s pride,
He hangs between; in doubt to act or rest,
In doubt to deem himself a God or Beast,
In doubt his mind or body to prefer;
Born but to die, and reasoning but to err;
Alike in ignorance, his reason such
Whether he thinks too little or too much:
Chaos of thought and passion, all confused;
Still by himself abused, or disabused;
Created half to rise and half to fall;
Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all;
Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled:

The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!

St. Paul would likely agree with Mr. Pope when he admits in 1 Cor. 13:9, 12a, “For we know in part and we prophesy in part . . . For now we see a riddle (Grk. enigma) in a mirror . . . ”

But were we humans always made of such contradictory character? No. Of mystery, perhaps, but not of variance. The Scripture’s portrayal of the creation of the first man and woman is this: God said, “Let Us make man in Our image and likeness (Gen. 1:26).”

Commenting on the verse, St. Basil the Great said,

From this, begin to know yourself.
These words had not yet been applied to any of the creations.
God said, ‘Let there be light.’ . . . One word, and they had come to be.
At this point, man does not yet exist,
and there is deliberation regarding man . . .
Note the dignity befitting you.
He has not initiated your origin by a command,
but there has been counsel in God
to determine how to introduce into life
this living being worthy of honor.[1]

[1] Johanna Manley, ed., trans., Wisdom. Let Us Attend, (Menlo Park, Calif.: Monastery Books, 1997), 709.