Fragment -- #193

[December 2001 journal entry]

While on a wine tasting outing with friends after I had delivered a lecture at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center (sponsored by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department), a physician friend contrasted his eventual professional anonymity with the generations of students/physicians who will be aware of a colleague whose anatomy research has secured his place as a referenced authority in his speciality. He then observed that virtually all individuals are forgotten -- even by descendents -- within three generations. Since this conversation, I have returned several times to the question implicit in my friend’s observations – i.e., “Why then do we choose to live sacrificial and altruistic lives?”

Fragment -- #192

[December 2001 journal entry]

In a conversation a few days ago with an artist friend, he spoke of the special value he places on our friendship because “you see from below without being morbid”. I was reassured by his observation.

Fragment -- #191

[December 2001 journal entry]

While driving my first wife’s mother home, we shared various reflections on our experiences with her daughter during her illness and death (d. 1987). At one point, she asked, “Doug, are you happy now?” I offered her a variation on a four-point spectrum with one edge being ‘the beautiful in life = the sum of reality’ (with the reality of human suffering eclipsed and avoided) and the other edge being ‘the ugly/tragic in life = the sum of reality’ (with the reality of the beautiful in life eclipsed and doubted). I explained the two perspectives inside these edges on either side of the threshold dividing the spectrum. I positioned myself on the ‘ugly/tragic’ side of the threshold. I concluded, “Yes, I would say I am happy, though happiness for me will forever be muted/complicated by my consciousness of the breadth/depth of human suffering. On the other hand, perhaps it is more accurate to say I am not happy. I am able to truly enjoy beautiful experiences (e.g., meaningful conversation, a delicious dinner, fine wine, travel, music, athletic events/activities, celebrations, . . .). But I am not content or peaceful or optimistic or . . . .” Since this conversation, I have been looking back/within to see how I have understood ‘being happy’ and what priority I have placed on ‘being happy’. ‘Being happy’ has moved for me toward more mature and less self-gratification nuances. From the time I first resolved to stay truly/deeply near my first wife regardless of the consequences, I have not placed ultimate priority on being happy.

Fragment -- #190

[November 2001 journal entry]

Metaphors that have mattered deeply to me:

1. the pole climber leaning back from the utility pole and trusting his work belt,
2. crawling under the Vermont house we were ready to purchase only to find a seriously cracked foundation,
3. the need to find healthy tissue before beginning a hernia repair,
   
4. placing storm windows when you do not have enough to cover all windows,
   
5. my eyes locking with my eight-year-old daughter’s eyes as she lost control of her bicycle in some gravel,
   
6. the decision to remove training wheels,
   
7. a black hole’s inward pull and resulting destruction,
   
8. the free yet shared experience when jazz musicians play together,
   
9. being in Parliament but not in ‘the government’,
   
10. the huddle behind the line of scrimmage on the football field,
    
11. the wilderness,
    
12. the difference in perspective when traveling through Appalachia on the interstate or on the back roads,
13. a solar or lunar eclipse,
    
14. remodeling a house,
15. my Boy Scout 2nd-class required five-mile hike through fields compass in hand with my Dad,
16. theatre’s prompter,
    
17. leaven,
    
18. the porch,
    
19. the Norwich ‘dump’ where parents taught children about recycling and ‘community’,
20. the irrigation ditch,
    
21. the mudder on a drywall team,
    
22. the elementary school student who learns there is no Santa Claus at the North Pole,
    
23. driving a nail deep into the wood,
    
24. the parcel in Bonhoeffer’s prison correspondence,
    
25. the pivot,
    
26. . . . .

Fragment -- #189

[November 2001 journal entry]

Turning fifty years old – I

1. am more reflective,
   
2. have a heightened awareness of nearing life’s end,
   
3. feel an urgency to get my various ‘non-religious’ writing projects written,
   
4. feel content with my personal and professional choices over the past twenty years.

Fragment -- #188

[November 2001 journal entry]

Proposition -- I ‘meet’ (in the Martin Buber sense), therefore I am.

Fragment -- #187

[October 2001 journal entry]

I find much of myself in the character Tarrou in Camus’ The Plague.

Fragment -- #186

[October 2001 journal entry]

This week I traveled by air (to Phoenix) for the first time since the September 11 World Trade Center and Pentagon tragedies. I found myself looking at everyone as if looking at a sonar screen for a submarine.

Fragment -- #185

[October 2001 journal entry]

In a conversation with the late-30s pastor for a group of families aligned with the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship (the remnant that resolutely resisted the fundamentalist reversal engineered within the Southern Baptist denomination in the 1980s) attempting to launch a new ‘low key’ congregation, I introduced the idea that ‘God’ language seems inevitably to fall back to literal/idolatrous use after every pause to say ‘God’ language is anthropomorphic. The young pastor asked for an alternative. I suggested beginning with and concentrating on human geist experience. Doing so inductively opens awareness of a transcending geist without necessitating a specific/definitive ‘God’ language.

Fragment -- #184

[September 2001 journal entry]

During a Sunday adult discussion at a nearby Presbyterian Church (USA), the pastor asked, “What reminds or focuses you on the greatness of God?” All answers pointed to beautiful nature scenes. As I listened to the responses, my mind turned to the crooked/tragic experiences in nature and in human suffering. Near the end of the discussion, I mentioned listening to a symphony and listening to jazz. Such evidences of a remarkable human ‘spirit’ keep open the ‘God’ question for me.

Fragment -- #183

[August 2001 journal entry]

Why did C.S. Lewis’ World War One experiences as a soldier not have the impact on his thought (as evidenced in his ability to take the confident positions re theodicy found in The Problem of Pain) as did the death of his wife near the end of his own life (as evidenced in his humbled/shaken reactions found in A Grief Observed)?

Fragment -- #182

[July 2001 journal entry]

On turning fifty years old:

1. I am moving from being the oldest of the young to the youngest of the old.
   
2. I am more mindful that most of my life – assuming a full life span – is in the past tense.
   
3. I am noticing that medical reactions and predictions dramatically change.
   
4. What do I have to say? any wisdom?
   
5. . . . .

Fragment -- #181

[July 2001 journal entry]

The Nashville Tennessean recently ran an Associated Press article about ‘The Jefferson Bible’. In what way/s is my ‘non-religious’ hermeneutic ‘grid’ similar to Jefferson’s selection of what he considered the most authentic material in the four Gospels? One possible difference might be my care/precision in delineating the components of the hermeneutic ‘grid’ by which I make such decisions. Did Jefferson simply pick what he liked? I certainly would not agree with Jefferson’s comment to Adams – i.e., that deciding what to keep was easy because it was “as distinguishable as diamonds in a dunghill”.

Fragment -- #180

[July 2001 journal entry]

Life is ‘tense’ (i.e., living with ‘past’, ‘present’, ‘future’). Note the link between consciousness of time and authentic experience.

Fragment -- #179

[July 2001 journal entry]

At least since my doctoral studies, I have acted as consistently as possible with the understanding that the goal of objectivity in historical and existential interpretation/reflection is not possible to achieve. Knowing and acknowledging such led to two methodological choices – (1) that I will continue to strive for and maximize my approximation of objectivity and (2) that I will fall short of objectivity due to giving disproportionate attention to the experience and perspective of the marginalized, the disadvantaged, the voiceless (rather than to my affluent/advantaged experience and perspective).

Fragment -- #178

[July 2001 journal entry]

In reflecting on a Presbyterian USA pastor’s sermon I heard recently re ancient Israel’s King David dancing ‘with’ or ‘before the Lord’, I have no reservations about expressing feelings of joy or angst. I do have concerns about debilitating or destabilizing expressions of such feelings, especially when constrained by the assumptions of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. I do not support compartmentalizing celebration from lament. For me, celebration and lament are to be simultaneously experienced, with lament being primary and most basic (i.e., the focus of one’s ‘aim eye’). In other words, my ‘with the world face to face’ path/experience leads me to consider soberness and angst re the breadth/depth of human suffering as greater/deeper than celebration of joys and beauty in life experiences.

Fragment -- #177

[June 2001 journal entry]

I have been preparing to write for the first time to the small circle of physicians with whom I have experienced ‘community’ as a group about the ‘non-religious’ approach to ethics and spirituality that has formed for me over the past twenty years as I have worked with them in advocating a humane practice of medicine that is grounded in a resolute social conscience. My experience with them individually and collectively is my most authentic and intimate experience of ‘community’. However, few of them know each other or think of each other in this way as far as I know. As I have thought about what to say to them, my appreciation has deepened re the reality that entering a ‘non-religious’ experience/identity of ‘community’ (as I will be describing to/for them) puts significant pressure on one’s sense of place and loyalty within other ‘spheres’. At one end of the spectrum is the option of assigning priority and finality to one’s ‘spheres’. My motive for writing to these physicians is not to pressure them to address such pressure, but to give to them the results to which working so closely with them has led me.

Fragment -- #176

[June 2001 journal entry]

I have been asking again – Why am I so deeply and persistently engaged with questions regarding interpretation? Why am I constantly ‘under the house examining the foundation’? Why do I insist on consistency of thought down into the deep roots?

1. The ideas common to the ‘religious’ sphere crumbled for me under the combined weight/pressure of exposure to the depth/breadth of human suffering and commitment to an unrestricted exercise of the methods for historical inquiry I acquired through my doctoral work.
   
2. By the early 1980s, my defining experiences were coming increasingly from outside the ‘religious’ sphere with medical students, residents, academic physicians, and practicing physicians – secular as well as religious and in many other ways very diverse – where thinking ‘from below’ and thinking scientifically ground the practice of medicine.
   
3. My most intimate experience of ‘community’ began by the early 1980s and had fully formed by the early 1990s with a core of (now about twenty) physicians to whom I was drawn by a shared set of values and by a shared way of being (though we come from a variety of backgrounds).

Fragment -- #175

[May 2001 journal entry]

To be consistent in my conversations with others, I must be radically (i.e., to the root) consistent within my own thought.

Fragment -- #174

[11 September 2001 journal entry]

Today history radically changed. Two commercial jets were hijacked in Boston and intentionally flown into the twin towers of New York City’s World Trade Center (resulting in thousands of casualties after both towers collapsed). Forty minutes later, another commercial jet hijacked at Dulles airport was flown into the Pentagon (resulting in hundreds of causalities). The human, material, and symbolic consequences are beyond calculation. I was taking my youngest daughter – 12 years old -- to her riding lesson when the news began to break. During the day and at dinner, we discussed these events together with her – e.g., ‘terror’, terrorism, religious and political fundamentalism, why the United States is vilified, the core conflict re individual freedom, . . . . Before going to bed, I sent the following reflections to a physician colleague and close friend:

“Yes, today is one of those rare days about which, years from now, we will know exactly where we were and what we were doing. As for initial attempts to frame today’s terrorist actions, I think a democracy – with such high value placed on individual freedom – permits travel liberties and restricts government, with an implied willingness to risk such ‘first blows’ as happened today. I think our society has placed such a high priority on convenience and is so impatient that, as a consequence, our border security and airport security have been very minimal and very lax, again inviting such events as happened today (e.g., plane hijackings from so many different airports at the same time). I do not yet understand how an airliner can turn abruptly due south and fly for thirty minutes directly into New York City air space and the airline/security authorities be surprised (i.e., the Pearl Harbor surprise all over). Nor do I yet understand how the Pentagon can be such an easy target.”

During the days after September 11, my wife and I have had several conversations with our daughter about her questions and observations – e.g., “Why would these people hate us so much?” . . . “I have never thought of myself as someone’s enemy before.” . . . “Why did this have to happen in my generation?” . . . “Why would I wish this to happen in my children’s generation instead of mine?” . . . “This isn’t going to be over soon, is it?” . . . “Dad, will you have to fight?” . . . “Dad, if something happens to you on the way to Phoenix (October 12), I will just go to pieces.” . . . “What’s the difference between justice and revenge?”