Friday, November 27, 2009

Jude the Obscure





This session, I've spent a lot of time discussing, researching, and writing about Thomas Hardy's last novel Jude the Obscure. It is a tragedy and a depressing depiction of society.
    The tragic life of Jude Fawley can also be seen to symbolize the tragedies of hasty marriages, social ostracism brought on because of living by a different moral code than that of the society, poverty, and the abandonment of dreams. Disillusionment with organized religion which seemed cruel, civil law which seemed irrational, and natural law which leads everyone, no matter their supposed worth, to suffer and eventually die, causes Jude to eventually enter into a state of inertia. He resigns himself to death. What has brought him to this state?
    As a child, an orphan, Jude Fawley dreams of becoming a scholar in Oxford (named Christminster in the book) because his beloved schoolmaster does so. So as a teenager, he works as a stonemason to make enough money to move there and pursue his dream. But one day when he's nineteen years old, as he's walking down the street thinking on his future plans, he's hit by something. When he bends down to see what it is, he finds it is a pig's penis! Yep, a pig's penis! Thrown at him by the flirty, uncouth country-girl, Arabella, who works in her father's slaughterhouse. She wanted to get his attention...and she sure does. As with many men his age, his hormones shout louder than his reason. Jude abandons his dreams of scholarly pursuits to spend time with Arabella, who wanting to trap him into marriage, seduces him and then pretends she's pregnant so he'll marry her. He does the honourable thing and marries her although they are completely unsuited for each other. Less than two years later Arabella leaves him to move to Australia with her family.
    Free from his responsibilities to Arabella, he finally moves to Christminster. He seeks out his cousin Sue Bridehead and quickly falls in love with her. They are completely suited to each other, but cannot marry because Jude is already married. When Sue finds this out, she marries Jude's ex-schoolmaster, to whom HE had introduced her. Jude is devastated and Sue immediately regrets her hasty marriage. Although in Christminster Jude cannot enter any of the colleges because he is too poor. So having completely lost hope of marrying Sue and of becoming a scholar, he turns to alcohol. In a bar one night he runs into Arabella who had returned to England and is working as a bartender. She tells him that while in Australia she got married again thinking that no one would ever find out she was already married. She wants a divorce so that her Australian husband can join her in England. Jude agrees to it. Sue, meanwhile, is completely repulsed by her husband and leaves him. She moves in with Jude, but refuses to sleep with him until both officially divorced. Her husband agrees to the divorce on the grounds that she is having an affair, so it is a faulty divorce.
    Living together, unmarried, in nineteenth century England, the couple is shunned by society. Jude cannot find work to support them because as soon as it is found out that he is living with a woman, not his wife, he is fired. It is even hard for them to find landlords that will accept them as tenants. They have to move from town to town throughout rural England. Then, Arabella drops a bomb on them...she had been pregnant when she had moved to Australia and although her parents had raised their son there, her parents have decided to send the child back to England to be cared for by his biological parents. Of course Arabella does not want the responsibility of raising the boy, so she sends him to Jude. The boy had never been christened so is nicknamed "Little Father Time" because he is so serious. He doesn't find joy in what most children enjoy. At school he is ridiculed because his "parents" aren't married, so Jude and Sue decide to marry. Yet every time they go to a church or before the justice of the peace they think that the marriage vows are anti-passion and decide not to go through with the ceremony. But they let those around them believe that they have married to protect "Little Father Time" from taunts at school. To show Jude that their "marriage" is serious, she agrees to sleep with him.
    Fast forward three to four years. The couple now has two children of their own and Sue is pregnant with a third. On impulse, Jude decides to move back to Christminster. They arrive completely unprepared and have to find a place to sleep for the night. They are rejected everywhere because they are unmarried. Finally they find a place that will accept Sue to stay with the children if Jude sleeps elsewhere. Being in Christminster reminds Jude of his failure to achieve his dreams, depressing him. Sue is overwhelmed by their poverty, taking care of three young children with another on the way, and also feels guilty that Jude never realized his goals. "Little Father Time," now nine or ten years old, in his uncanny sensitiveness asks Sue if she is upset because of life's difficulties. Instead of soothing him, she verifies that life is hard and that it would be better to die young than to have to suffer through it. He takes this to heart.
    The next morning Sue leaves the children alone to meet with Jude at his inn to decide what to do about finding a place for all of them to sleep that evening. When they return to her room they discover a ghastly scene. "Little Father Time" had hung his younger half-brother and half-sister by the neck to hooks on the door. Then he had hung himself. With the shock Sue also loses the baby she was carrying. Obviously Jude and Sue are in great distress. Sue decides that the tragedy happened to teach her that she should never have left her ex-husband, from whom she'd gotten the divorce on false grounds. She leaves Jude and returns to her ex-husband. Jude is completely devastated; he's lost his whole family. Arabella learns of the disaster and tricks him into marrying her again (her Australian husband had died by this time). Of course he is entirely unhappy with her and when he falls ill and can't provide for her anymore, Arabella comes to hate him. He becomes an invalid and his dying wish is to see Sue one last time and to try to mend their relationship. He sneaks out of the house while Arabella is gone and makes the long voyage to Sue in awful weather. Sue rejects him, so he returns home to die. When he dies, Arabella is out courting the doctor, so he dies completely alone and abandoned.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

SELLING OUT: version 1.0


I had just turned 21, never having tasted alcohol until the day before my birthday, and that was in taking communion. I was, and still am to a degree, a responsible, obedient citizen. I respected and listened to my parents who respected and obeyed the government. So, it wasn't that my parents were against drinking, Dad often had a beer with supper on smouldering summer evenings, it was just that I hadn't reached the age that had been decided on by wiser-than-we politicians as the moment I could start.

Now I had reached that milestone. At the time I wasn't at a party school at all. Far from it!
I chose to go to a conservative Baptist college in Tennessee mostly because it was cheap, so it would keep both me and my parents from going into debt. Again, a responsible decision. There I was taught that drinking was wrong for any Christian, even if they had passed the government-sanctioned age. What could this substance be exactly, I wondered, that it needed to be regulated and banned? Is it possible that something God created could be essentially evil? And wasn't Jesus' first miracle the changing of water into wine?

So I decided to write my essay for an English Composition class on whether or not Christians could drink in good faith. Desiring an objective approach, I decided to wait until after I'd done my research before proposing a concrete thesis statement as to alcohol's immorality or morality. Our professor brooded over us like an over-involved kindergarten teacher, explaining each and every step of the writing process in detail. When we came to "writing a clear thesis statement," he had us each read ours aloud. When it was my turn, I told him that I would study the stance Christians should take towards alcohol. Being completely imbued with the ideology of conservative Protestantism, he assumed I meant that I would write an argumentative essay outlining why Christians should not drink.

I didn't correct him.

So, although I found more Scriptural evidence supporting reasonable alcoholic consumption by Christians than not, I focused on the verses that could possibly, if interpreted within a conservative Southern worldview, convey alcohol as an immoral beverage for Christians.

I got an A.

But now I drink.



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Monday, October 26, 2009

Selling Out


The Sun Magazine's theme of the month of November is "selling out." I wrote this and sent it in in the spring and it was published! In fact it's the first one published in the "Readers Write" section! Now you can read it on their site. When I saw the theme at first I couldn't think of anything worth writing about, and then this flash:

I went to a conservative Baptist college in Tennessee mostly because it was cheap. There I was taught it was wrong for any Christian to drink. My parents weren't against drinking. Dad often had a beer with supper on hot summer evenings. Though I'd never tasted alcohol, I wondered why my instructors felt it should be banned. Could something God had created be essentially evil? Hadn't Jesus's first miracle been changing water into wine?

So I decided to write an essay for English on whether or not good Christians should drink. I would wait until after I'd done my research before making up my mind as to alcohol's morality or immorality.

Our professor said we would need to present a thesis statement before we began. When it was my turn to read my thesis for the class, I said I would "study the stance Christians should take toward alcohol." The professor assumed this meant I would write an essay on why Christians should not drink.

I didn't correct him.

Although I found more scriptural evidence supporting the consumption of alcohol than opposed to it, I focused on the verses that could, if interpreted a certain way, make drinking alcohol seem immoral.

I got an A.



This is the edited version that will be published. I think I actually like the version the magazine editor came up with better than my own. It is more toned-down and less negative. Perhaps I'll post the original later on so that you can weigh in on which one you like best. The only part that I wish they'd kept is that I had originally ended it with "But now I drink," which I think is much more fun. Oh well.



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Thursday, October 22, 2009

Jehovah-Jireh


Beaming
Overloaded with benefits
You just keep piling them on me
And I am thankful.

Providing abundantly,
Beyond the requests lurking in my imagination.

My heart pushes hard against it- for I do not deserve your grace.
I am no more than a wretch, most despised of all mankind.

But Alas! And did my Savior bleed?
The crimson trickling down
Oh yes, that sacred head, He gave for such a worm as I.

The perfect Lamb
The sacrifice
faint ashes on the altar
Crushed, broken, slain. Redemption paid.
And I am thankful.
(inspired by: Ps. 22:6, 68:19, Eph. 3:20, and "At the Cross" by Isaac Watts)
I wrote this one about 7 years ago. I'm not too happy with how it came out. I would like to edit it. Any suggestions?

Monday, October 12, 2009

Worms Dying


This is the story I sent into the Sun magazine for this month's theme, Rain.

As soon as I could smell the dying worms bloated in the puddles in the driveway, I knew it was fishing season.

Saturday morning before the sun's rays poured over the low Appalachian hills out my bedroom window, Dad lightly tapped me on the back. I burrowed under my covers, warm, before I drowsily let myself be lifted out of bed by my father.

Mom said the worms came up to the surface to keep from drowning from all the rain. Those that made it to the surface then died in the muddy puddles. And those we used for bait also drowned, I suppose.

Sitting on a black garbage bag to keep my backside dry, Dad showed me how to put the hook through the two thick purple pouches of the worms so that they wouldn't fall off the hook (certainly leading to drowning). I did, until he added that the thick parts were the bloated stomachs of pregnant worms. I couldn't bring myself to push a hook through a lady-worm killing her babies. So instead of fishing, I emptied out the styrofoam cup of worms onto the black trash bag. There, I let the worms crawl through my fingers, tickling me. It didn't bother my dad that I wasn't actually fishing; at least we were spending time together. And I didn't mind offering him one of the worms when he needed to rebait his hook.

Rainy days meant indoor recess. I'd stare out through the blurry window pane imagining all the worms I could gather for our next fishing trip. The day after a rainstorm was the perfect opportunity for digging up worms under the swing set. I figured they'd have come to the surface the day before, so that those that hadn't drowned would not have had time to burrow far into the earth. Kneeling under the swings with my hands trawling through the mud, I pulled the worms up from their tiny hollows. Then I thrust them into my jacket pockets.

As a quiet, almost silent, child, the gift of worms was my language of gratitude. I so enjoyed my moments with my dad. Even at a young age, I realized that our relationship was unique. My girl friends' fathers rarely spent time with them doing "masculine" activities. I hoped that Dad would correctly interpret the meaning of my gift as a plea to continue inviting me to go fishing with him on rainy spring Saturdays.

I imagined how pleased my father would be as I held out the worms in my cupped hands- a living sacrifice.

But when I stepped off the school bus and threw my hands into my pockets, I only felt their shrivelled, hardened corpses. I'd spill their parched bodies onto the driveway- a burnt offering.

Revolt of the Worms, Part One by Ben McLeod.
(this photo found in Creative Commons)

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Saturday, October 3, 2009

Rain

When I was in high school I loved to sit on the curb outside my house and watch the warm spring rain through the street light's rays. Inside the house, the air was charged with my brother's abusive anger, my father's misplaced guilt, and the fear that our family was falling apart. Outside, I could let that anxiety wash away in the illuminated streams of rain. I'd get up from the curb, where I'd been crying, dejected and discouraged, pull out my arms from across my chest, and spin, swirl, twirl in the grace of God falling upon me.

Heavy Rain Shower by AlmazUK.

This picture reminds me of the evening rain that inspired the following poem.

Liberating Rain


It's been raining a lot this fall.. cold, windy storms.

As the Sun Magazine's theme this month is "Rain" I offer you a poem I wrote several years ago on the very subject.


Liberating Rain,

Fall,

Fall,

Fall,

Upon my face,

Upon my bare legs,

Upon my arms extended toward heaven.



Rinse away the longing for my past.

Remove the impurities from my soul.

Reconcile my heart with all that's true.


Renew the life within.