Читать книгу Beyond Me - Carroll E. Arkema - Страница 12

I was probably younger than I can even remember

When I first saw death and whatever was left.

Early on was the smell from the Rendering Truck

As it groaned up the hill of the lane past our house.

Pulling into the yard, the driver jumped down

To ask Mom or Dad what he needed to pick up.

The odor was unique, and lingered for hours;

The truck always reeked with its load of dead animals.

It was usually a hog it had come to collect.

We’d bury a dog, because it was a pet.

It was rarely a cow; they’d leave the farm alive.

I’m not sure where they’d go; rarely sick, they didn’t die.

Cows lived quite a while, were valued for their milk.

When their udders went dry, they’d give birth to a calf.

Within hours of birth, the calf was taken from mother,

Put in a pen in the barn and fed milk from a bucket.

Days later it was sold, sucked no milk from its mother.

Cows’ milk was like gold; the calves a cute bother.

One thing we learned early from living on the farm:

Protect yourself hurriedly from emotional harm.

My Dad told the story of when he was a boy,

How he’d had a pet pig whom he really adored.

The pig followed him ‘round wherever he went . . . .

Then the story ran aground, ‘cause we knew how it ended.

Farming is a business, he was implicitly saying;

Getting attached to the pigs will result in much pain.

I didn’t realize till later that death was pervasive;

We raised pigs for slaughter and were afraid of diseases.

The death of one’s livestock, when it’s all about business,

Was the loss of a product, plus work and feed vested.

Pigs easily got sick; I never knew why.

We worked hard to prevent it, but sometimes they’d die.

I remember Dad’s panic: our hogs had caught cholera!

He couldn’t sleep, was frantic; normal talk became hollering.

Next day the Vet came, very early in the morning;

He had the vaccine. We all would be helping.

I remember we were daunted, because the pigs had gotten big!

With pre-exhaustion we were haunted at having to hold up each pig.

We’d stand behind each hog, reach over to grab its front legs,

Lift it up and sit it down, holding it pinned between our legs.

With needle and syringe it got a shot under its arm;

It squealed as if unhinged, too shocked to cause harm.

Five pigs died that summer, out of one-fifty-six.

We’d lose a couple each season; it just went with the business.

II

If the truck didn’t come soon, the dead body would bloat;

It would swell up like a balloon, then burst open and rot.

The smell was like a wall one could hardly penetrate;

But a child can’t be put off; the unknown would fascinate.

As I ventured in closer, I was scared back by flies,

Who swarmed out in anger, seemed to head for my eyes.

I jumped back in fear; almost ran away;

But then, undeterred, I decided to stay.

All this was new to me: what’s with all these flies?

I didn’t know then that death nurtured new life.

My next approach was slow, so as not to disturb.

The flies had settled down; a low buzz was heard.

The pig’s body had split open: I carefully peeked inside;

I was almost revolted, for a second closed my eyes.

Inside the pig’s pink flesh was this writhing black mass,

Atop a wormy white mess, which I later learned were maggots.

Full of awe and revulsion, this was all I could take.

But I’ve never forgotten the knowledge I gained that day:

What once was alive was not simply dead,

But hosting new life and food for flies instead.

III

All through my childhood, just after we’d climbed in bed,

I looked forward to and loved the Bible stories Mom read.

A favorite was about Samson,21 the strongest man ever,

Who’d killed a young lion with no weapon whatever.

En route to see his girlfriend, a young lion threatened him,

But “God’s Spirit came upon Samson,” and he killed it bare-handed.22

Days later on another visit, he turned aside to see the carcass;

A swarm of bees were inside it, making honey in the lion’s corpse.

Samson took honey in his hands, and went on his way eating it;

He gave some to his parents, not telling where he’d gotten it.23

As a child, I loved the secrecy, because I too was scared of anger,

Trying to make sense of mystery, navigate a world full of danger.

In a rage at my brothers, I’d slammed a basketball;

It came down on a kitten—my favorite one of all.

It hobbled away, and I assumed it was all right.

We couldn’t find it for days. In a window-well it died.

Other deaths I’d observed, but I hadn’t been the cause.

I was deeply unnerved; my outburst gave me pause.

I’d killed this little kitten in my impulsive anger.

I’d been afraid of my Dad, now I was a danger.

In a frightening world, both outer and inner,

I was told of God’s love, and that I was a sinner.

But those old bible stories reached me more deeply;

About flawed human beings, whom God would love anyway.

That story about Samson was profoundly relieving

In ways I couldn’t fathom, but nonetheless healing.

My conscious attention was captured by his rhyme

At his wedding celebration, trying to outwit with his mind.

“Out of the eater came something to eat,

Out of the strong came something sweet.”24

As a child I was intrigued by the playful irony;

Things ain’t what they seem, but inverted can be.

Samson too had discovered that death’s a mystery:

What seems like a dead end, may nurture new energy.

IV

The power of this story is that it’s seemingly simple;

It isn’t clear till later that Samson himself’s a riddle.

The riddle and its answer are part of a whole,

And there’s layer upon layer as the story unfolds.

The answer to the riddle is given as a poem:

“What’s sweeter than honey, what’s stronger than a lion?”

On the surface it’s about a lion upon whom the tables are turned:

The eater is eaten even though frighteningly strong.

From a being that strong, one wouldn’t expect sweetness.

Only gradually does it dawn that wholeness holds opposites.

Just so is Samson a bundle of contradictions,

A man of pro-action who will later become a victim.

His wit and his strength are his positive qualities,

But he’s also a man with his own vulnerabilities.

All these contradictions, seemingly opposed,

Are part of the fabric, parts of the whole.

The layers of meaning are artfully entwined:

The various themes are there in the rhymes.

The riddle only hints that he’s stronger than the lion.

He’s still sorting out: “Is this strength really mine?”

An answer still deeper that he’ll come to realize later:

A strong man is weaker without the Source his Creator.

His riddle is a metaphor with layers of congruency:

It captures the core of his character and destiny.

He’s stronger than the lion and uses his power at will,

But he’ll end up being weakened and put to work in the mill.25

He seduces the women with his games and his strength,

And in feigning surrender he shows a side that is sweet.

But he betrays who he is in relationships with women;

Trusting only his own wits, he ends up betrayed by them.

The riddle-game he plays seems to be mostly innocent,

It’s brains over brawn, but winning’s still his intent.

But his wife and her friends refuse to be bested.

He naively assumed they’d accept that he was special.

They outwit him at his game by resorting to deceit,

Turning the tables on him so he’s darkly defeated.

Just as the answer to the riddle is divined through deceit,

So the key to Samson’s mettle includes betrayal as a theme.

V

What fascinates me next, as it did when I was a boy,

Is this theme about Spirit sprinkled through the story.

His expression of “hot anger” through vindictive killings,

Is prefaced by “the Spirit of the Lord rushing upon him.”26

How are we to understand this? Is Samson just crazed?

Are we to go and do likewise? Violently rage?

Yet a third time it’s written that God’s Spirit rushed upon him,

And with the jawbone of an ass he kills one thousand men.27

VI

Up to this point in his life, he seems a bit entitled;

Demanding that God give him water so that he won’t die.28

It must have been difficult for Samson as for us,

To understand what’s going on here, to not be nonplussed.

Who here’s responsible? Is it God or is it him?

Can he hold God accountable? Or is he on his own?

We imagine Samson wrestling with who he is and why?

What’s the nature of his identity and how is he to live?

If at times God “took him over,” how would that feel?

Perhaps he felt grandiose; but what about free will?

His parents must have told him that before he was born,

They’d been visited by an angel and told they’d have a son.

They’d dedicate him to God if his mother would not stay barren.29

On the one hand he’d feel special; on the other hand bound.

It’s fascinating to read then about Samson’s development;

The way things unfolded is complex and compelling.

He knew he was consecrated, a nazirite set apart:

Couldn’t drink wine nor strong drink, nor ever cut his hair.

Amidst such restrictions, how could he be his own man?

Would he defy prohibitions, or take a compliant stance?

His parents had expectations, as well as did God.

How he became his own person is what the story’s about.

He resisted parental pressure about whom he should marry.

Instead of choosing ‘mongst Israelites, he chose a woman from Timnah.30

In various relationships, Samson’s identity is created;

In relation to Spirit, too, he gradually individuated.

VII

This story about Samson is amazing in its own right;

But that it’s a story used to tell a story, we must not lose sight.

It’s announced in the beginning that God will use this man

To humble the Philistines, who were oppressing the land.31

When we read about this dynamic, it’s easy to resent it.

If this is the way God would have it, isn’t Samson a puppet?

So the story makes us think about what life’s all about:

Do we just make the most of it, live for self, then die out?

Or if we’re open to God’s Spirit and its power in our lives,

Can we then be ourselves without sacrifice?

Do we really have free will, or are we in fact trapped?

Once we’re conscious of God’s call, can we really turn back?

Let’s look again at Samson and how that worked out;

Is there something we can learn from the book of holy writ?

VIII

The back-story of Samson’s birth rings out the tone here:

The way the Lord works, turns everything on its ear.

But before we delve into the details about that,

The preface makes it clear that God’s behind the action.32

God’s actions are not bound within ritual constructions.

The fact that they aren’t, reveals the relativity of such structures.

In a patriarchal society, the story first mentions the husband;

But the thrilling exigency is that God appears to the woman.

“Although you are barren, you will conceive and bear a son.

He’ll begin to deliver Israel from the hands of Philistines.”33

When the woman tells her husband, he finds it hard to believe.

But the patience of the Lord is something to perceive!

Manoah entreats the Lord, praying that the angel return,

Under the pretense that he teach them what they need to learn.

God listened to Manoah: but appears again to the woman!!

We imagine her smiling as she runs to get her husband.

The woman had told her husband that the man was like an angel;

But he seems not to get it: treats him only from a human angle.

Manoah wants to detain him, in accord with hospitality;

Wants to know his name, perhaps for accountability.

Seems he can’t see Transcendence when looking it in the face;

The angel gives many hints, remaining elusively full of grace.

When asked for his name, he says, “Why? It’s too wonderful.”34

Not seduced by praise: “Worship the Lord,” he tells Manoah.

Manoah finally breaks free of his rigid human blindness,

At long last he’s able to see that this is a divine appearance.