In previous posts I wrote about the importance of how we speak about things as well as the importance of how we frame things.
It’s important because our survival depends on our ability to see reality clearly. The way we frame things helps us to see clearly (or not) so we can make necessary changes.
Here’s an inspiring short film – Story of a Sign – that demonstrates this.
Perhaps you remember the British TV series, Upstairs, Downstairs? It was about lives of a privileged family and their servants during the 19th century. Recently I was watching a similar series, Downton Abbey. It occurred to me that something was very wrong with an economic system that allowed an elite few to live in unearned luxury owed to the labor of many – simply because of birth into a particular social class.
However, on further reflection I realized that my own life was no different. I live a life of comparative comfort, also due to the labor of many. It’s just that the “many” are out of sight on the other side of the globe. We’ve managed to hide the poorly paid or enslaved labor of many. They are out of our view unless we make an effort to be aware of their existence.
Not too long ago I came across a someone who was profoundly fundamentalist. What do I mean by “fundamentalist”?
Fundamentalists believe that not only do they know what God wants them to do – they know what God wants me to do too! This is appallingly arrogant and narcissistic on two counts. First, it insists that the fundamentalist somehow knows more than other people know about others’ own lives. Second, it insists that the fundamentalist knows more than God (Spirit) working in the heart of the other person! This is pathological narcissism at its worst.
I was raised in a fundamentalist home by parents masquerading as Catholic. Catholicism, by definition, rejects fundamentalism. The term “Fundamentalist Catholic” is an impossibility and an oxymoron.
Catholicism requires on-going reflection and listening to the Spirit; in one’s heart, in one’s life, in one’s prayer. We can never know what God is calling someone else to do. The truth is that it’s often difficult to know for sure what God wants us to do. One of the fruits of the Spirit is that God will often lead us to a surprising decision, one we hadn’t considered or thought of. Usually, it’s a decision others haven’t thought of either. This belief that every person must search and follow their own conscience is called “Primacy of Conscience.” It’s a cornerstone of Catholicism.
From my upbringing I do know that fundamentalists are closed-minded, controlling and judgmental. Any attempts to convince them that they may not know best for others will result in denial, inappropriate displays of anger or manipulative behavior.
On the other hand, living in the Spirit is welcoming, curious, engaging and joyful. One is death-dealing, the other life-giving. We must choose with whom we spend our brief, but precious lifetime.
Fundamentalists repel others the way oil repels water. In the end, I think it’s true that God/reality separates the wheat from the weeds (Matt 13:24-30).
No, this isn’t a post on picture frames. This is a post on the way we frame, view or understand the world. Frames are powerful. Once we are in a frame it is almost impossible to see our way out.
However, sometimes something happens that will snap us right out of our frame. Language can help us reframe. Read this post by DH to learn how the language we use determines how we understand or frame crucial issues.
An accident, a trauma, a comment or even a story can quickly pull us out of our frame.
Jesus told stories, called parables, to shock people out of their frames. Jesus was adept at the Judaic tradition of parables. An example of this is the story of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:30-37).
Jesus tells this story in response to the question, “Who is my neighbor?” In this story, both the priest and the Levite – upstanding people in this social “frame” – refused to help the traveler who had been robbed and left on the roadside. Yet, the Samaritan not only helps but takes the traveler to an inn and pays for his care until his return. This is a shocking story because Samaritans were considered unclean and undesirable people. In our day perhaps the Samaritan might be a homeless person. In the shock of the story, Jesus re-frames the question. Ask not, “Who is my neighbor?” Rather, ask “What must I do to be neighborly?”
All of Jesus’ parables were meant to shock us in this manner, to jolt us out of our distorted view of reality. Jesus used the word metanoia, a Greek word meaning change your mind, change your view of reality. It was directly translated as “repent” but the modern meaning of this word misses what Jesus was communicating. It wasn’t about stopping a particular action or behavior. It was about changing one’s entire orientation to life.
We have other examples of reframing. Aesop’s Fables served a similar purpose.
In ancient Greece, Plato’s Allegory of the Cave is probably the most famous frame-breaker. In this story people, chained to a wall, labor deep in a cave. Their world is very small. All they can see are shadows on the wall before them. They can’t even turn around to see the fire behind them that causes the shadows.
One day, one of them escapes. In leaving the cave she sees the fire that casts dim light into the cave and creates the shadows. Climbing further out of the cave she sees more light reflected from a pool of water. Moving higher still, she finally sees daylight far above at the mouth of the cave.
She returns to tell the others. But they don’t believe her. They won’t even try to turn around and see the fire, much less move towards the light reflected in the pool.
In the end, she must climb upward into the daylight and leave the cave behind.
The cave is a metaphor for being trapped in cultural or family systems, or perhaps being trapped in a life story that is limiting or a narrow worldview. It results in a lack of real freedom to choose better possibilities.
Life is full of possibilities. Full of light. Do we want to live in the shadows? Or in the light? Re-frame.
“It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then
— just to loosen up.
Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than
just a social thinker.
I began to think alone — ‘to relax,’ I told myself — but I knew it
wasn’t true. Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I
was thinking all the time.
That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I turned off the
TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at
her mother’s.
I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don’t
mix, but I couldn’t help myself.
I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Thoreau, Muir,
Confucius and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused,
asking, ‘What is it exactly we are doing here?’
One day the boss called me in. He said, ‘Listen, I like you, and it hurts
me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don’t
stop thinking on the job, you’ll have to find another job.’
This gave me a lot to think about. I came home early after my conversation
with the boss. ‘Honey,’ I confessed, ‘I’ve been thinking…’
‘I know you’ve been thinking,’ she said, ‘and I want a divorce!’
‘But Honey, surely it’s not that serious.’ ‘It is serious,’ she said,
lower lip aquiver.
‘You think as much as college professors and college professors don’t make
any money, so if you keep on thinking, we won’t have any money!’
‘That’s a faulty syllogism,’ I said impatiently.
She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to
deal with the emotional drama.
“I’m going to the library,” I snarled as I stomped out the door.
I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into
the parking lot with NPR on the radio and ran up to the big glass doors.
They didn’t open. The library was closed.
To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that
night. Leaning on the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a
poster caught my eye. ‘Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?’ it
asked.
You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinkers
Anonymous poster.
This is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker.
I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational
video; last week it was ‘Porky’s.’ Then we share experiences about how we
avoided thinking since the last meeting.
I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home. Life just seemed
easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking. I think the road to
recovery is nearly complete for me.”