"...because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles..."
It seems to me the more that I study the more I realize I am so hopelessly ignorant. In my ambition, I want to be able to read the most books, understand the most concepts and have the grades I find so appealing. And yet, that's not the point... For all my theological truth and all of my reason, I will not be changing the world. Of course, I think that there is value in education and learning, but if all I do is spend my time with books and papers, I will never see the truth, experience the truth I so avidly and passionately seek. It is in living the reasons I profess to believe that my life is changed and the lives around me are transformed.
I miss simplicity though. It feels like I am pressured to be able to name drop every famous philosopher and my favorite of their works. That's not why I study philosophy- it never has been. If the philosophy I know cannot teach what Jesus would have me say, it is useless. What are concepts and beliefs if they do not help me to die to myself a little bit more? What is my temporary pleasure and pride in the face of hopelessness that needs the solution I have? I read Kerouac, and for all his troubles and his pain, he had a simplicity of joy and contentment of being human about him. He was always running for the next thing, but his essence was alive, so human. He did not need the foundation of "intellectual snobbery" in order to change the lives around him, in order to grasp, understand, and be passionate about his purpose. What is it that I am missing?
I feel very affected by my culture, very oppressed by certain constructs and expectations. I feel I spend too much of my time defending why I do what I do, or say what I say, or even why I have such an outspoken character instead of being able to live these things. The burden of academia and society weigh heavy on my shoulders as I delve deeper into trying to understand the world around me. My hope is that I will be like Kerouac. May I dispose of society as a way of life and instead enjoy the beauty I find in it, as I freely continue my purposeful journey, running to whatever place will best help me to reflect Power in my weaknesses.
For too long we as an American population have chosen to be ignorant or silent in the face of issues involving companies in our own country. For the past 17 years, a lawsuit has been in trial against Chevron (Texaco) based on horrendous damage they did in the Amazon regions of Ecuador. Several indigenous tribes are on the brink of collapse due to contamination of water. Cancer is prevalent in their small groups, rancid 18-19 year old kids. Small children suffer from skin diseases because there is nowhere else to bathe but in water polluted with oil. Chevron designed a system which dumped crude waste right into riverbeds, streams, and pits dug in the areas. There is no clean water. There is no immediate access to healthcare for the poor living conditions and no money to pay for cancer treatments.
Each side has had their trials in presenting a clean case. Evidence the plaintiffs brought forward was not always supported by hard evidence. Their young lawyer, Pablo Fajardo, had only been a lawyer 1 year when he took the case over in 2003. More than 30,000 Ecuadorians are demanding that Chevron pay and clean up their damages. The defense has not argued a solid case either, and I have observed them using red herring after red herring to distract from the issue. The case which has been revealed to the public has Chevron pushing the blame all on the Ecuadorian oil company PetroEcuador (which partnered with Texaco and took over the oil company after they left the Amazon) and saying that the plaintiff only wants a profit. Which, ironically is what Chevron is being sued for.
This entire case breaks my heart. Because of the ambitions of American oil companies, the lives and cultures of the Ecuadorians have been exploited. Sure, the world runs on oil, but with such innovative means of preserving the environment we see propagated in the US, could we not have found a way to extract oil ethically? Is there not a way to avoid digging 627 pits to improperly dispose of waste in the rain forest? And why can companies not take responsibility for the damage they have done? Is the profit really worth so much more than the lives of the people who have succeeded in preserving a resource as precious as the Amazon for thousands of years? The trial is not finished yet, though the last judge involved in the case recommended that Chevron pay up to $27 billion in recompense. However, observers think that the case could go on for up to 8 more years, each side now attempting to undermine the case of the other. A new judge has yet to be appointed to rule on the case.
I watched a heart-wrenching movie last night titled The Stoning of Soraya M. It is the story of an Iranian woman with 4 children in an abusive marriage. I will not give away any "spoiler" details, but the woman, Soraya, is wrongly accused of cheating and stoned by her own family and town. The story was uncovered in 1994 by a French-Iranian journalist and turned into a book, later adapted into a movie. As I lay in bed and thought about the reality of oppression I cried. I thought about how many people in our reality are tortured by injustice and left to die.
I thought about the church, and I wondered where we have been. And, then I wondered if we can even do anything. I looked at the world and the way that we have twisted beauty and the things that used to be good, and I wondered if we can even do anything at all. I was overwhelmed by the amount of pain. But, most of all, I thought about the women. It's not that there are not men who are unjustly imprisoned and beaten. It's not that there are not men who are manipulated and pushed around. It's just that I am a woman, and I am free. And there are so many women who aren't. I lay in bed and I wondered about how many women have cried out to Allah to help them as they are stoned even today, how many women dig in trash piles to try to provide for their homeless families. I thought about the thousands of women roaming the streets in Red Light Districts and the women who climb up the corporate ladder just to rise above their lack of identity. And my heart breaks. What are we to do, in a society where it is acceptable and even expected that women are a sexual icon and a household hero? What are we to do when religion promises that women are inferior and deserve to be punished for their gender? What are we to do when there are no men to intervene and to protect the beautifully created woman from cultural slaughter?
I don't know.
And my last thoughts before I fell asleep were, what would Jesus have done if He had been there with Soraya M.? He was there, with a different woman, thousands of years ago. And he stood there, and He declared that the man without sin should throw the first stone. He delivered the "adulterous" woman from death, to life. He crossed the culture, and He stepped between her and the stones. He intervened. When, how, will we stand in between the stones and the condemned and not simply be horrified at the sight of blood?
I don't know. May God have mercy on me when I see, feel, and understand and do not move.
