Hitler has been on my mind a lot lately. After all, who can erase from their imaginations that classic, horriblized face with the steely eyes and the iconic moustache? The world rightly remembers him as one of the worst scourges ever to be let loose upon humanity, though few stop to consider the causative circumstances in the young Adolph's life that led him to such a loss of self and ultimately to the megalithic horror we remember today. I think I would have liked to meet that young Adolph to better understand how a heart once touched by art and love became so barren and embittered.
Although common knowledge among historians, many laypeople don't realize that Hitler spent his childhood being beaten and terrorized by his bastard father (a mark of shame in his day and culture) and watching his beloved mother endure the same. He rebelled against his father by blowing off his schoolwork and so was considered failure, though he had been an excellent student and a leader earlier; later on, his mother--whom he evidently adored--died of cancer. Adolph developed a love of art and painting but was rejected from art school twice and redirected toward architecture, which he was interested in but lacked the formative education because of his earlier rebellion, and so that didn't work out, either. His life was plagued with failures and sadness.
Then Adolph fell in love. His niece Geli evidently captivated his heart, and though their relationship was unclear and strained, it is believed that they truly loved one another. She was found dead, shot through the head with Hitler's pistol, and this event marked a devastating change in his character and behavior; he became depressed and ever more violent and vitriolic. The rest is a grisly history ending in mass murder and eventually suicide.
I've no temptation to try and justify the atrocities spawned by Hitler's diabolical and twisted mind, or to over-simplify the causes of the ideology that proved fatal to millions. But perhaps it's a worthwhile exercise to think about the ways in which his family dynamic affected his heart, and to consider the connection between a wounded heart, a keen but unfulfilled mind, and a terrifying onslaught of violence. What would we think of Adolph as a child? What would we see in his youthful eyes that were already tortured and misunderstood? And what does that tell us about the importance of nurturing children and honoring the fragility of young spirits? The biggest question looming in my mind is what kind of intervention may have stemmed the tide of failure and brokenness and given hope to what looked like a doomed life. We've all heard stories of people who overcame horrible circumstances to live lives of joy and fulfillment, and stories of those who were overcome by those same circumstances and somehow drowned in the deluge, taking countless others down with them. What's the difference?
--Teri.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
reign over me
I hate Adam Sandler. I hate movies with copious foul language. I hate Pearl Jam. And I especially hate movies with obtuse endings where you never know if it's going to turn out okay or not.
But I loved Reign Over Me. It was one of the most difficult films I've watched in a very long time, probably even harder than Schindler's List was. It wasn't funny, it was raw, it hurt to watch it. The pain of a man who lost his family in the September 11th attacks was almost too much to watch; I felt voyeuristic sitting through Charlie's utter inability to wrap his mind around his profound loss, and something close to obscene bearing witness to his intricate choreography of avoidance and denial.
This film was an uncomfortably close brush with the messiness of life and loss and a coarse rumination on the endurance of love way out past the tattered fringes of sanity. It was a sobering reminder that even these few years later, there are still scores of people suffering in their various ways from the consequences of that horrible day in September. It was a reminder that I needed, I think.
--Teri.
But I loved Reign Over Me. It was one of the most difficult films I've watched in a very long time, probably even harder than Schindler's List was. It wasn't funny, it was raw, it hurt to watch it. The pain of a man who lost his family in the September 11th attacks was almost too much to watch; I felt voyeuristic sitting through Charlie's utter inability to wrap his mind around his profound loss, and something close to obscene bearing witness to his intricate choreography of avoidance and denial.
This film was an uncomfortably close brush with the messiness of life and loss and a coarse rumination on the endurance of love way out past the tattered fringes of sanity. It was a sobering reminder that even these few years later, there are still scores of people suffering in their various ways from the consequences of that horrible day in September. It was a reminder that I needed, I think.
--Teri.
Monday, February 9, 2009
happy birthday, charles
As the world gears up for Darwin's birthday celebration, I'm finding myself niggled by the presuppositions of science in the past century or so and wishing that a civil discourse on the origins of life wasn't so difficult to achieve.
I have lost count of the number of times that any mention of intelligent design has provoked the heated and incredulous response, "Come on! Do you really believe that the Earth was created 6,000 years ago?!" Perhaps the better, fairer question would be, "Do you have any evidence to support that theory?" Is it possible that Darwinian evolution doesn't have the monopoly on good science, or that there may be evidence that contests or at least raises valid questions about the theory of evolution? Is it possible to discuss this evidence in a way that temporarily suspends the assumptions of biology and gives unbiased credence to both sides of the debate?
As an example, it's fairly well-known that the fossil beds of Montana have given up a T-rex skeleton, a femur of which appears to have red blood cells--marrow! Instead of challenging the notion that this tissue could possibly be as old as science assumes, the headlines read, "70 Million Year Old Bone Marrow Found!" If we're intellectually honest, is it really easier to suppose that blood cells could survive for 70 million years in the ground, than to raise the uncomfortable question of whether they're really that old?
Another issue that plagues my mind is the fact that biology was so unsophisticated in the 19th century, when it was assumed that, on a cellular level, structures were pretty simple and lacked the complexity of larger organisms. Darwin couldn't have imagined that, 200 years later, we'd be peering into the heart of the atom and being amazed to find still more levels of complexity and precision, something that likely wouldn't have fit well into the idea of macro-evolution. What will we find when we finally dismember a quark? My understanding here is vague at best and probably grossly under-informed at worst, but wasn't it Darwin's assertion that life arose out of simple structures and gradually became more sophisticated through selection, and that on a cellular level any organism would bear the imprint of its primitive self? As it turns out, pond scum is more complicated than we could possibly imagine, and the deeper we look, the more complicated it gets.
I realize that a good debate hardly ever changed anyone's mind, but I do believe that it's the spirit of informed, respectful dialogue that reveals the intellectual core of any system of thought. As much as I have a problem with half-cocked creationists dreaming up half-baked arguments to support their beliefs, I have an even bigger problem with self-assured Darwinian evolutionists smugly failing to ask honest questions. If one theory or the other is credible, it should be able to withstand the rigors of cross-examination, and I think it's only reasonable to assume there should be a reasonable discourse between the two.
--Teri.
I have lost count of the number of times that any mention of intelligent design has provoked the heated and incredulous response, "Come on! Do you really believe that the Earth was created 6,000 years ago?!" Perhaps the better, fairer question would be, "Do you have any evidence to support that theory?" Is it possible that Darwinian evolution doesn't have the monopoly on good science, or that there may be evidence that contests or at least raises valid questions about the theory of evolution? Is it possible to discuss this evidence in a way that temporarily suspends the assumptions of biology and gives unbiased credence to both sides of the debate?
As an example, it's fairly well-known that the fossil beds of Montana have given up a T-rex skeleton, a femur of which appears to have red blood cells--marrow! Instead of challenging the notion that this tissue could possibly be as old as science assumes, the headlines read, "70 Million Year Old Bone Marrow Found!" If we're intellectually honest, is it really easier to suppose that blood cells could survive for 70 million years in the ground, than to raise the uncomfortable question of whether they're really that old?
Another issue that plagues my mind is the fact that biology was so unsophisticated in the 19th century, when it was assumed that, on a cellular level, structures were pretty simple and lacked the complexity of larger organisms. Darwin couldn't have imagined that, 200 years later, we'd be peering into the heart of the atom and being amazed to find still more levels of complexity and precision, something that likely wouldn't have fit well into the idea of macro-evolution. What will we find when we finally dismember a quark? My understanding here is vague at best and probably grossly under-informed at worst, but wasn't it Darwin's assertion that life arose out of simple structures and gradually became more sophisticated through selection, and that on a cellular level any organism would bear the imprint of its primitive self? As it turns out, pond scum is more complicated than we could possibly imagine, and the deeper we look, the more complicated it gets.
I realize that a good debate hardly ever changed anyone's mind, but I do believe that it's the spirit of informed, respectful dialogue that reveals the intellectual core of any system of thought. As much as I have a problem with half-cocked creationists dreaming up half-baked arguments to support their beliefs, I have an even bigger problem with self-assured Darwinian evolutionists smugly failing to ask honest questions. If one theory or the other is credible, it should be able to withstand the rigors of cross-examination, and I think it's only reasonable to assume there should be a reasonable discourse between the two.
--Teri.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
voice
There's been a vague thought trying to surface in my mind for maybe years now, and it's only now becoming clear enough for me to identify the fuzzy edges of it and begin to see it taking form enough to make its way to my fingertips. I've been putting off writing in any appreciable way for years because I was afraid I didn't have anything to say, hadn't found my voice yet, I thought. But now that I'm in the thick of life and have arrived at the uncomfortable reality of being a real live grown-up adult person thing, it strikes me that I'm really afraid of losing my voice. I guess this means it must be in there somewhere already, waiting patiently to get out, not wanting to go away in the maelstrom of children and work and school and life and humanity.
I find myself thinking about the consequences of global events in terms of what'll happen to my voice if I'm caught up in it all--if the economy tanks and my family loses everything, what will become of my voice? Will I lose my voice if I have more children and end up drowning in homeschooling for 15 more years? If we move to a third-world country and become missionaries, will there be a place for my voice there?
Part of my reason for diving into blogging at long last, I guess, is really to give voice to, well, my voice. Maybe I should start capitalizing that, or give it a name, if it's going to become a friend of mine. For now, I'd like to introduce you to my voice; it's still young and somewhat timid, but I hope that my voice and your voice find something in common and find a nice place to get to know one another here.
--Teri.
I find myself thinking about the consequences of global events in terms of what'll happen to my voice if I'm caught up in it all--if the economy tanks and my family loses everything, what will become of my voice? Will I lose my voice if I have more children and end up drowning in homeschooling for 15 more years? If we move to a third-world country and become missionaries, will there be a place for my voice there?
Part of my reason for diving into blogging at long last, I guess, is really to give voice to, well, my voice. Maybe I should start capitalizing that, or give it a name, if it's going to become a friend of mine. For now, I'd like to introduce you to my voice; it's still young and somewhat timid, but I hope that my voice and your voice find something in common and find a nice place to get to know one another here.
--Teri.
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