I owe my life to a manic-depressive.

During my last year in nursing school, I had to spend 3 months at Chicago State Hospital….a truly horrible place in the 1960s.  At one point, I was assigned to a female lock-up ward with some pretty disturbed patients.  We were instructed to never attempt to take the blood pressure of one of the women.  I knew that, but one day I felt as though I was in a real predicament with her.

I had been assigned to check the blood pressures of all the patients on the unit.  After taking the blood pressures in the day room, I proceeded to the corridor outside where there were a few chairs in what amounted to a “dead end.”  As I checked the blood pressures of the patients in that little cul-de-sac, I realized that my exit from the area was blocked by the patient whose blood pressure was not to be checked.

Standing between me and a way of escape, she asked, “Why don’t you take my blood pressure like everyone else’s?”

My brain was spinning weighing the possible answers and what she might do as a result.  No other staff members were in sight.  Partly in naiveté and partly stalling for time, I replied, “Do you want me to check your blood pressure?”

“Yes,” she said.

I thought to myself, OK…I will just wrap the cuff on her arm but I won’t pump it up.  Maybe it is the pressure on her arm that sets her off, and I can get away with faking this.

But, I had no sooner wrapped the cuff on her arm, than she was on me with the agility of a cat and had her hands around my throat.  She squeezed, and things started to go gray.

But then….I heard a cheerful voice.  A heavy-set lady who was manic depressive, and fortunately for me, in a manic state, came bouncing down the corridor saying, “What are you doing to the little nursie?”

She grabbed my attacker and pulled her off in one swift movement…not even a struggle.  I rapidly retreated to the safety of the nurses’ station grateful to have survived.  I had finger shaped bruises on my neck.

A few weeks later, while assigned to another ward, I was asked to take a group of sociology students on a tour of the grounds.  It was winter, and I was wearing a blue wool coat over my uniform, as we went between buildings.  We entered one of the units as the patients were finishing their meals.  A lady hopped up and came running toward me with her hands covered in mashed potatoes.  “Oh, Nursie,” she said, and gave me a big hug.  My nice winter coat now had mashed potato handprints. 

I had to forgive her, because she was the patient who had earlier rescued me.  

Rage of the Virgin

The recent murders in Santa Barbara have prompted criticism of multiple groups.  Some people fault law enforcement for not picking up on the extent of the young man’s problems in their recent encounters with him.  Some criticize the mental health network for inadequate assistance to the man and his concerned parents.  The father of one of the victims has come out strongly against the NRA and against legislators for failure to enact more stringent gun control laws.  I would like to point the finger at yet another “guilty party.”

We as a society are guilty of allowing young people to think that sexual activity is the norm and is, in fact, their right.  The young man’s primary complaint seemed to be that he was still a virgin and had never had a relationship with a young woman.  Having sex while still in high school seems to be a cultural norm.  We teach young people about “safe sex” and make sure they have their HPV immunization, because we expect they will engage in sex.  Sexual encounters among young adults prior to a committed marriage relationship are routine in the media.  It is portrayed on television and in the movies.  It is unavoidably described in the lyrics of songs.  

Recently my nine year old grandson asked me to find music on the radio while driving in the car.  I had a hard time finding a station that I felt comfortable with him hearing.  A song might begin with reasonable lyrics, but it then progressed (or regressed) into foul mouthed descriptions of activity not appropriate for nine year old consumption.  We have allowed ourselves to become a society in which our young people are constantly slapped in the face with their sexuality…or lack of it.

If one dares to suggest that this is WRONG, that person is out-of-touch, Puritanical, rigid, intolerant, and lots of other nasty things.

I DON’T CARE….IT IS WRONG!

Young people are rarely ready for the commitment that should accompany engaging in sex.  Sex outside of a committed marriage relationship is never “safe sex.”  We have failed our young people by allowing them to believe that it is just a physical function and can’t be helped.  Everyone must do it….like eating and having a bowel movement.  The connection that sex has to ones very soul is ignored.  The intricate dance of exploring the heart, mind and soul of another human being before exploring his or her body has been lost.  But, sex is much sexier when it does not involve instant gratification; when it is the culmination of getting to know a person socially, emotionally and intellectually, prior to hopping between the sheets. 

A young man in a rage over his virginity is only one of many fall-outs from our negligence.  It is, however, a particularly obvious and tragic one.

Experiment Gone Awry

A student I tutor is currently required to read “The Wave,” which is a book about a social experiment inflicted on high school students with a frightening and unexpected outcome.  I read it yesterday, and it reminded me of an “experiment” I was part of my first year in nursing school.

In 1962 when I began nursing school, our class learned that we were to be part of a program which had not been tried previously.  In addition to our normal classes, we were required one evening a week for several weeks to attend a class in “Gracious Living” taught by the staff of a local charm school. 

From the very first class, it was clear that a large percentage of us were of a different philosophical bent than the instructors for this class.  Because of the affiliation between our nursing school and a college with a reputation for being academically excellent and socially conservative, the school attracted young women who were bright and ……hmm….not frivolous and empty-headed.  Physical appearance and impressive manners were not paramount for most of us.  True, many of the girls were absolutely beautiful.  Some actually had been Miss Something-Or-Other in their home towns.  In the insecure fashion I operated under at that point in my life, I felt like I had been plopped down in the middle of a beauty pageant and didn’t measure up.  As to manners, no one was boorish in their conduct to begin with. 

We were an agreeable lot, so initially we all participated as expected of us.  We made it through the classes in etiquette and manners, exercises to enhance our figures, correct posture, and I-don’t-remember-what-else.   Then came the night we were to learn about correct application of make-up.  This took the form of the charm school ladies doing the make-up for one of our classmates. 

The girl they picked as their model was a truly pretty girl.  She had lovely features and wore make-up in a very tasteful fashion which enhanced her appearance without being obvious.  As they applied the various products to her face, she was seated so that we could not see clearly what was happening.  Finally, they had her turn toward us and one of them said, “Doesn’t she look lovely?”

A brief silence was followed by a chorus of voices, simultaneously saying things like:

“No!  She looks awful.”

“You have made her look like a hooker.”

“Oh…that’s terrible”

“You’ve ruined her!”

I suppose the administration of the school may have been embarrassed by this mutiny, but to my knowledge, they never tried to inflict this course on another group of students.

And sweet Mary Ann went back to wearing her normal make-up.

The Bacchantes by Euripides

Dionysus (also known by the names Bacchus and Bromius) opens this play by describing his origin.  He is the son of Zeus and a mortal woman named Semele.  Semele was struck by lightning and gave birth prematurely.  (I am unsure from this account whether it was Zeus or his jealous wife Hera who struck Semele.)  Zeus concealed Dionysus from Hera by sewing Dionysus up in his thigh until he was full term.  Some of Semele’s family members do not believe that Dionysus was the son of Zeus.  They assume he was fathered by a mortal, and so, do not worship him.  Dionysus is angry about this.  He shows up at Thebes in mortal form to confront Pentheus, who is the son of one of Semele’s sisters. 

Dionysus is the god of wine and revelry.  He has influenced the women of Thebes to go off in the woods celebrating him with dancing and lots of wine.  They are in ecstasy and not in full control of their faculties.  Pentheus is concerned about their behavior and afraid this will lead to impropriety and lustful encounters.  Cadmus is Pentheus’ grandfather and was king of Thebes until he put Pentheus on the throne in his stead.  Cadmus and his friend Teiresias have decided to worship Dionysus and are heading off to dance and drink in spite of their age and instability.

Dionysus appears to Pentheus in human form…apparently very attractive male form, but doesn’t tell Pentheus who he is.  He encourages Pentheus to give in to worship of Dionysus, but he is unsuccessful.  So, he wants to extract a horrible revenge.  He manages to convince Pentheus to dress up like a woman to go spy on the women who are reveling off in the woods.  However, Pentheus falls into the hands of the women, who are in a drunken frenzy and don’t recognize him.   The women literally tear him to pieces with no weapons but their own hands.  His own mother Agave carries his severed head into the city of Thebes convinced they have vanquished a horrible beast, and that it is the beast’s head she is carrying.

She encounters Cadmus who helps her to understand what she has done.  She is grief stricken.  At this point there are apparently some missing lines in the manuscript from which the play was translated, but it seems that Agave is sent into exile, and Cadmus also must leave Thebes.

Interesting quotes:

Pentheus: …where the gladsome grape is found at women’s feasts, I deny that their rites have any longer good results.

Teiresias: …came this god, the son of Semele, who discovered the juice of the grape and introduced it to mankind, stilling thereby each grief that mortals suffer from, soon as e’er they are filled with the juice of the vine; and sleep also he giveth, sleep that brings forgetfulness of daily ills, the sovereign charm for all our woe.

Chorus: …Both to rich and poor alike hath he granted the delight of wine, that makes all pain to cease; hateful to him is everyone who careth not to live the life of bliss, that lasts through days and nights of joy. True wisdom is to keep the heart and soul aloof from over-subtle wits.  That which the less enlightened crowd approves and practices, will I accept.

Pentheus talking to Dionysus:  …thou art not ill-favoured from a woman’s point of view, which was thy real object in coming to Thebes…,.

Messenger speaking of Agave’s attack on her own son:   But she, the while, with foaming mouth and wildly rolling eyes, bereft of reason as she was, heeded him not; for the god possessed her.

Agave protesting to Dionysus concerning what he caused her to do to her son:  Gods should not let their passion sink to man’s level.

Ah…but that is the problem with the Greek gods.  They routinely behave no better than we humans.

And…

That is the problem with drinking to excess.  People become “bereft of reason.”

And…

That is the problem with Euripides….once again he has made women look bad.

Perversion of Divine Intent

I am horrified, as are many other people, by the news that South Sudan (see correction in comments below...this is happening in North Sudan)  has sentenced a woman to death, because she will not recant her Christian faith.  She is apparently married to a Sudanese man, who is a Christian and who has US citizenship.  Her father was Muslim, but left the family, and she was raised by a Christian mother.  She has never practiced Islam herself, but is being accused of apostasy for “leaving” Islam and adultery for being married to a Christian.  She is pregnant with their second child.

Sitting here in the United States, this news seems preposterous, barbaric and beyond comprehension.  We have come to expect certain “rights.”  As a Christian, I am also struck that Islamic law, specifically Sharia law, demonstrates a horrible perversion of God’s intent for a man and a woman.  Islam and Christianity, although calling Him by different names, share the idea that there is one God who is creator and sustainer of the universe and to whom we are responsible.   Sharia law totally ignores the notion that man and woman were created by that God to be mutually supportive, to complement one another, and to work together to raise a family and accomplish God’s purposes in the world.

I am in NO way defending Sharia and this totally repugnant ruling in South Sudan.

But

As a Christian, I am struck with the horrible perversion of God’s intent for a man and a woman that I see around me every day in our culture.  The fictional characters in the media and real-life celebrities flaunt their sexual freedom making it seem like it is “the norm.”  Women and even young girls come to believe it is acceptable to expose themselves in seductive attire.  Lyrics of songs are blatantly sexual.  The idea that one could be chaste and not engage in sex until marriage is viewed as a ridiculous impossibility.  What happened to God’ design for one man and one woman to be faithful for a lifetime?  I am horrified by the young women I see having babies with multiple partners.  They jump into bed with a man they don’t even really know.  It doesn’t seem to occur to them to develop a relationship first.

So, on the one side there is a culture in which women demand the right to express themselves and expose themselves.  On the other side is a culture of repression that looks for ways to subjugate women to punish in excess, and to make women property rather than human beings.

Both are perversions of God’s intent.  His plan is for the relationship between a man and a woman to conform to the immense love that Christ has for His bride….the collective body of those who believe in Him.  He sacrificed His life for His bride.  She is to keep herself pure.

My heart grieves over what I see and hear in this world.

What must it do to God’s heart?

Oblivious

Oblivious…

That is what we are.

Going about our mundane lives,

While the inside of the earth boils and bubbles.

Oblivious…

And feeling so secure.

As though the ground under our feet,

Was actually terra firma and not resting on liquid.

Oblivious…

So much on our minds.

While enormous tectonic forces shift and sway

Gigantic plates threatening to crash into each other.

Occasionally…

Our attention is drawn,

By a volcanic eruption that imperils human beings,

Or an earthquake that destroys the work of human hands.

Oblivious…

To the undercurrent of evil,

Permeating society and threatening our values,

Unless it erupts in violence directed at our town or family.

Oblivious…

To the possibility

That there might be a God who desires our attention.

That the forces of the physical world may not be random.

Oblivious…

As we hear the latest news,

To the notion that God Himself may be moving pieces,

As in a chess game aligning them for His ultimate win.

Occasionally…

We throw a prayer in His direction,

When great distress or grief comes to us,

And we realize with horror that our terra firma is shifting sand.

Our Time?

Last night while sitting on the couch together, Bill and I saw an ad for Our Time, a dating site for singles over 50.  This particular ad featured an attractive couple expressing their desire to pretty much do what they wanted to do during this era of their lives.  I don’t think all of the Our Time ads carry quite the same message, but as this one finished, I said, “huh….sounds pretty self-centered.”  Bill replied, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

I guess when people have raised their families; they are supposed to have some time for themselves.  We still haven’t figured out how this is supposed to happen.  The needs of an elderly ailing parent, adult children and grandchildren tug at us on a daily basis.  We manage to steal little bits of time here and there for the two of us as a couple, but the needs of others swallow up big chunks of our days.

If someone had told me 46 years ago on our wedding day, what our lives would be like now, I would have thought the prophet had me mixed up with someone else.  I could not have imagined the full picture of both joys and sorrows.  However, the fact that there would be demands on our lives was not unexpected.

In June of 1968 about 2 weeks before our wedding, Bill arrived in the Chicago area a few days before my college graduation.  I had finished classes and had scored high enough on an earlier comprehensive exam, that I was exempt from taking any finals.  We drove down to Peoria where his sister and brother-in-law were living and spent a couple of days enjoying their company.  We returned to the Chicago area, and my parents arrived for graduation.  Bill began to act strangely.  I couldn’t put my finger on what was going on.  When I finally asked him, he said, “I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

After a few seconds of silence, I replied, “You do know don’t you that we are going to spend the rest of our lives having to share each other with the rest of the world.  Lots of people are going to want a piece of us.”

“I understand that,” he responded.  “It’s just that right now, I want you all to myself.”

We have worked at making time for just “us” over the years.  But, being able to work together in meeting the needs of others is also valuable for a couple.  I think of one time when a complicated family need caused Bill to say, “If you can figure out what to do, I will help you do it.”  Neither of us makes that statement regarding every issue that confronts us, but we both know that it expresses the underlying attitude of mutual support. 

Part of my favorite passage in the Bible is Isaiah 58:6-11

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:

To loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke,

To set the oppressed free and break every yoke?

Is it not to share your food with the hungry

And to provide the poor wanderer with shelter,

When you see the naked, to clothe him,

And not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

Then your light will break forth like the dawn,

And your healing will quickly appear;

Then your righteousness will go before you,

And the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.

Then you will call and the Lord will answer;

You will cry for help, and he will say; Here am I.

If you do away with the yoke of oppression,

With the pointing of the finger and malicious talk,

And if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry

And satisfy the needs of the oppressed.

Then your light will rise in the darkness,

And your night will become like the noonday.

The Lord will guide you always;

He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land

And will strengthen your frame.

You will be like a well-watered garden,

Like a spring whose waters never fail.

So... “Our Time” is not as important as “His Time.” 

What does God want of me today? 

What does God want of us today?