Monday, February 20, 2023

The Problem of Pain

 

Camille Paglia
Personal issues so far this year have made it difficult for the Weekly Bystander to regard current events, especially politics, as little more than trivial.  For the time being, I would just like to reproduce an old post or two that still have relevance for me at this time, and may have some interest for readers. Below is one from September, 2019.

The Wall Street Journal weekend edition regularly features an interview with a prominent personality on its op-ed pages. Last weekend the interview was with Camille Paglia, the well-known feminist author, lecturer, and professor. At the age of 72 Paglia has come under fire from students at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia who are demanding that she be fired. Despite her feminist credentials, some of Paglia’s positions, like her praise of Capitalism, are no longer in favor. 
I do not wish to get involved in feminist debates but would just like to discuss a seemingly unrelated incident in Paglia’s life that she remembered quite vividly. In fact, she regarded it as a turning point. At the age of fifteen she was in religious education class when she had the nerve to ask the teacher, an Irish Catholic nun, a very challenging and provocative question. In those days we would have called it a smart-ass question. Naturally, the nun reacted and condemned Paglia roundly in front of the class for even asking such a question. That was it for Paglia. From that day on she would have nothing to do with Catholicism. 
Coincidentally, over the weekend a friend told me of an acquaintance who left the Church because of another seemingly trivial incident. The woman had invited a soloist to sing at her wedding but after the Mass was over, the priest chided her for taking business away from the church’s own soloist. Boom! That was it. She has never gone to church again. Reactions like these are not unusual. In my lifetime I have heard of many such incidents or personal confrontations that led people to stop attending church. It is usually not a question of belief or doctrine, nor does it mean that they become bad people.  
There are more serious reasons for losing one’s faith in God or ceasing to practice the faith of your fathers. Perhaps the greatest is the problem of pain and suffering. In an email exchange, also over this weekend, an old friend told me that he had trouble believing in God and that he no longer attended church. He wrote, “If God is so good, how do you explain little children suffering from cancer?” He also asked me to explain all the pain and suffering that will result from natural disasters like hurricane Dorian.
The problem of pain and suffering, some call it the problem of evil, has been around since the dawn of recorded history. My wife and I sat down over the weekend to watch a National Geographic documentary on great animal migrations. After ten minutes we had to shut it off. The carnage and killing were horrific.  The crocodiles, leopards, and other animals did not seem concerned with the problem of pain. Human beings are obviously just as capable of inflicting pain and suffering but I believe that we are the only animals who think or worry about it.
Philosophers, theologians, and scientists have grappled with it and no one has yet come up with a completely satisfactory answer. Certainly, I haven’t. In ancient times personal suffering and natural disasters were attributed to the gods. The gods were either punishing people for their misdeeds, or were merely malevolent, playing with humans like a cat with a mouse.
In thinking about my friend’s question, I wondered if the answer could be found by considering the example of Jesus, the founder of Christianity.  No matter what you think of Jesus, his approach to the problem of pain and suffering was revolutionary. Even a cursory reading of the gospels indicates that Jesus was a healer. When confronted with pain and suffering, he healed the pain and did not blame God or anyone else. 
He gave sight to a man who had been blind from birth. Ordinary people claimed that the blindness was the result of the sins of the man’s parents. Jesus would have none of it, and just restored his sight. When a man suffering from paralysis was brought before him, rather than blaming him for his sins, he forgave them and then cured his illness.
When he heard that people had been killed when a tower collapsed in a nearby city, he told his hearers that the people who died were no more sinful than anyone else. I’m sure he would have said the same about the victims of hurricanes and earthquakes. His response to the problem of pain and suffering was to heal and minister to the suffering. He instructed his followers to do the same.
In the teaching of Jesus, God is not the cause of suffering but the cure. Those who believe in Nature believe in a cruel god who never forgives. We speak of Mother Nature but she is not the kind of mother any of us would like to have. Scientists may tell us that many must be sacrificed to cleanse the herd in the interests of survival and progress but something inside of us tells us to deplore pain and suffering and do our best to prevent and heal. That something inside of us is as much a sign of the existence of a loving God as anything else the philosophers and theologians have ever thought of. 
Camille Paglia’s wise-ass question to the poor nun, who was giving her life to educate children like her, was: “If God is infinitely forgiving, is it possible that at some point in the future He will forgive Satan?” It is true that the nun should not have blown up, especially since she only had to turn to her catechism for the simple answer. In the catechism Catholics are told that God must forgive those who repent and ask for forgiveness, and so He certainly would forgive if Satan repents and asks for forgiveness. Unfortunately, Satan, like many wise fifteen-year-olds, will have none of it.
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Tuesday, February 14, 2023

A Freak Accident

 Freak Accident

 

 

By definition a Bystander is one who stands by and just watches things transpire, but on Super Bowl Sunday, a freak accident made me a participant. Around 1:00 in the afternoon, I went into my bedroom to take off my slippers and put on my sneakers so that my wife could drive me to a Covid testing center in preparation for a heart catherization this Thursday. As I always do, I sat down in an old wooden chair that I had used for years to put on my shoes and socks. *


Accident Scene
 

However, this time the chair collapsed beneath me and I crashed to the floor. I was apparently unhurt but then I noticed blood flowing down my head, On the way down, I had banged the back of my head on a nearby windowsill. So there I was on the floor profusely bleeding and, like most 83-year-old men, unable to get up. I yelled repeatedly for my wife who was at the opposite end of our house on the phone with our daughter Anne in California. While waiting for her to respond, I got my handkerchief out and placed in on my head, but it did little to staunch the flow of blood which dripped on the floor and carpet.

 

Finally, she arrived and sprang into action. Linda is a former nurse and quickly got a towel and put pressure on the wound. Then, she helped my get up and we walked into the kitchen where she continued to apply pressure. In the meantime, Anne, herself a former nurse, had called our daughter Kate who lived nearby, and she drove right over. When she saw the bleeding, she suggested calling 911. My wife, and Anne, who was on the phone with Kate agreed.


 



In no time at all the EMT crew arrived, and quickly dressed the wound but insisted that I go to the emergency room of a nearby hospital, especially since I was on a blood thinner. It is hard to express how caring, competent, and professional these men were. They got me into an ambulance, and continued to work. Carlos asked constant questions not just for information, but I guess to test my mental condition. Fortunately, I had no headache or dizziness. At the same time, he took my blood pressure which was very high, and inserted an IV to save time at the hospital.

 

At the ER the people were equally competent. They wheeled me into and room with no delay or red tape. It seemed only a minute before a doctor walked in, introduced himself, and proceeded to look at the wound. It turned out to be an artery that was bleeding, and without hesitation he put four staples into my head, and the bleeding stopped. A miracle! Who was it who came up with that idea? The rest seemed even easier.




 The doctor recommended a Tetanus shot,  and a CAT SCAN to be sure there was no internal bleeding. That kept me there for a couple of hours but Linda, Kate, and another daughter, Jane, came over to keep me company. The CAT SCAN results were negative and I was free to go home. Jane and her husband Greg drove us home where we found that Kate had cleaned up the mess beautifully. All the while, Anne had directed everything from California. 

 

I highly recommend that young men marry nurses, and have daughters. 

 

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*The chair was gifted to us many years ago by a beloved neighbor as a momento of her mother. It must have been 100 years old but I loved it because it was not only comfortable but somewhat low so that I could reach my feet. I had noticed that it had been getting a little creaky but never bothered to check it out.

Monday, February 6, 2023

Sister Mary Rita: R.I.P.

  

    

 

Last week I attended a Mass for Sister Mary Rita, a Dominican sister, who had been principal of Our Lady of the Assumption school in Fairfield from 1979-1996. My six children attended that school. For some years when my four daughters were at Assumption, I coached the girls’ softball team and got to know Sister Mary Rita a little better than usual. As well as an outstanding principal, she was a strong supporter of girls’ sports. 

Every year at Assumption there was a sports banquet, and on one occasion I was asked to say a few words about my team. I recall looking out at the assembled parents with their children and thinking that they were sacrificing their lives for their children, and then I saw sister Mary Rita’s smiling face, and the realization struck me that she was giving her own life for other people’s children year in and year out. 

A multitude of people like her will never be officially canonized, but canonized saints are just the tip of the iceberg of people who have  led lives of service. Below is a brief summary of her career from the Mass program. *

Sister Mary Rita Sweeney, OP of the Dominican Sisters of Hope, Ossining, New York, died on November 20, 2022 at the Wartburg, Mount Vernon, New York. She was 96 years old….Sister Mary Rita entered the novitiate of the Dominican Sisters of Newburgh, New York on September 8, 1956, made her First Profession June 13, 1958, and Final Profession August 21, 1961. She earned two Master’s degrees, one in business education from Columbia University and another in religious studies from Providence College. Sister Mary Rita was involved in education for many years. She taught at St. Thomas school in Pleasantville, New York (1960-1963), was a business teacher at St. Mary High School in Paterson, New Jersey (1963-1965), at Our Lady of Lourdes High School in Poughkeepsie, New York (1965-1968), and at Pope Pius XII Regional High School in Passaic, New Jersey (1968-1969). Sister served as principal at Assumption School in Fairfield, Connecticut (1969-1970), was formation director at Mount Saint Mary Convent in Newburgh, New York (1970-1971), executive to the Dominican Sisters in Newburgh (1974-1979), and principal at Assumption School in Fairfield, Connecticut (1979-1996). Sister Mary Rita served as secretary to the leadership team of the Dominican sisters of Hope in their administrative offices in Ossining, New York from 1996 to her retirement in 2011.

 

During her lifetime religious nuns were routinely ridiculed, even vilified on stage and screen, but Sister Mary Rita stayed the course and ran the race. Well done, good and faithful servant.

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*Note. The OP after Sister’s name stands for Order of Preachers, the name of the religious order founded by St. Dominic almost 1000 years ago. Rather than being solely devoted to prayer and contemplation in secluded convents and monasteries, the Dominicans, as the followers of Dominic became  known, were required to go out into the cities to preach and educate as they still do today.