Songs of Pain and Hope

(From the Indiana years)

I wrestled with putting this up but decided to.  I write with the knowledge that I am blessed and that what I have experienced does not compare with the worse things that others have experienced.  But these were real to me and so were the lessons.  Perhaps there was some value to writing this.) 

Better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.

I write here for every kid who has ever felt left out, alone, picked on, weak, or misunderstood. These days, I reminisce about my experience as an immigrant in the United States.  I think about those times after seeing my international students here get mistreated by people around them.  Being called names, not allowed into certain places, having bottles thrown at them in bars.  

I also think about those people who feel isolated in the church community, who feel judged and lonely.  I remember going to school.  Having an accent, not dressing properly, being socially awkward, being picked on, getting into fights, getting the racist crap.  I never quite knew who to trust, whether it would be my peers or even my teachers.  Never quite knowing whether I would measure up academically, athletically, or socially.  But I do not write here to condemn them; they were just kids or ignorant. I remember going to church.  It’s funny how the place where you would expect to find the most solace and grace turns out to be the place that you find the least of those things.  Maybe all they needed to do was ask the right questions.  Maybe what they needed to show was grace.  Maybe what they needed to teach me was to show grace.  

But I do not write here to condemn them either; many of them were too hurt or lost themselves. I remember home life too.  Having parents who were equally experiencing displacement from our country of birth.  I will not write more about this topic here, but I will just say that home life was difficult.  This topic is something that few people would understand anyway. These experiences are why I fight so hard.  Why I shot a hundred jumpshots a day after school, why I read books, why I taught myself not to speak with an accent, why I have asked girls out who I knew I had no chance with, why I play my guitar the way I do even though my musical abilities are limited.  Why I do not quit when I want to so badly; why I still hope.  Why I cling on to my God and rely on His grace.  

But these experiences were not just for personal development; God has used them for others.  I concede that at those times, it was difficult to see and trust God.  It is only in looking back that I could see His hand.  When I say “I understand” when one of my current students tells me about his or her problems with racism, I really do.  When one of my kids tells me about some major sin he or she has committed (and believe me these are not minor ones), I can say “It’s ok, God is compassionate and forgiving” and mean it.  I can also see God’s amazing patience with me as a sinner. 

These experiences have helped me to be a better teacher, counselor, to protect people and to be a better prosecutor in a couple of months.  Without these experiences, I do not think I would have had the courage or the desire to protect the community one day.  I do not expect everyone to understand or to believe what I am writing here.  But I think some will.

At my son’s birth, I wore a shirt honoring Bruce Lee with the inscription “No way as way.  No limitation as limitation.”  Echoing one of his greatest teachings and contributions to humanity, this is about the way of fluidity, being open, unfettered, unchained.  It is the way of water.  It is what is often not understood or practiced.  

This one is about freedom.

In my fields of study and practice, I often encountered what I thought were ridiculous hills that people would die on.  What causes crime?  Poverty, free will, strain, self control, ties, etc.?  It’s all of these to some extent – it depends on the individual, environment, situation.  Or in policing.  Should we go all in broken windows or community policing?  How about both?  Go learn from a Malaysian – hearts and minds with the threat of and use of force.  I even and especially saw this in matters of faith.  Are we predestined to go to heaven-hell or do we have a say in that matter?  How about maybe a bit of both and this isn’t something a mere mortal can even fully comprehend?  

These unnecessary limitations and strict black-white, either-or thinking is pretty ineffective and inefficient.  It will at times get you even killed.  And also makes for very boring academic publications.  I remember going to these academic conferences and realizing the highlights for me were the bathroom  and coffee breaks.  It was the same thing in my politically motivated jobs.  Instead of trying to reconcile or unify these concepts, the end result would be some type of bickering.  Followed thankfully at times by donuts and coffee.

I teach my kids why Bruce Lee named his style or philosophy of fighting Jeet Kune Do, translated as intercepting fist.  It captures the concept that an opponent is most vulnerable when he or she is attacking you.  This can be the best time to strike.  But even this can be a limitation.  Sometimes you may not want to strike back but deflect, harness, even absorb.  It just depends.  Even the philosophy of Jeet Kune Do isn’t immune to evolution and change.  It’s not supposed to be static, dogma.  An idea consistent with other influential thinkers – maybe even God Himself.  

The son asked me whether he should be an artist or author.  I told him he can be both.  His Chinese name is Bruce’s and who was really his namesake?  An actor, teacher, writer, warrior?  He was all of the above – and more.  He was Bruce Lee.  Undefinable, immeasurable, unlimited.

Like water.

If I had given the boy this as a middle name, I know many would have thought it would be connected to the great Mandela.  It would have actually be inspired by Horatio Nelson, one of the greatest naval commanders in history and the reason why England doesn’t speak French.

Nelson was a physically frail man.  Blind in one eye, missing an arm, constantly sick, he also struggled with seasickness.   He did not look like a fearsome warrior at all. 

And that would be dead wrong.  

Nelson had what the Germans call fingerspitzengefuhl or fingertip feel – the ability to intuitively assess a situation and respond appropriately.  A quality that served him well in many key battles.  

He also knew how and when to disobey orders.  At one major engagement where he was the second-in-command, the lead admiral got spooked and ordered Nelson to stand down.  When one of his sailors informs him of the flag signal to withdraw, Nelson places the telescope to his blind eye and says that he really doesn’t see the signal.  He then wins the day.  

In the movie Master and Commander, there’s a scene where Captain Jack Aubrey / Russell Crowe narrates a story about Nelson to his staff.  Aubrey recalls a time when he heard Nelson talk about duty to King and Country, and from most people, it would be dismissed as empty sentiments, but from Nelson, you felt and believed it.

Nelson dies at the moment of his greatest victory – the Battle of Trafalgar.

I told my first love that I had an uncanny gift for finding the most intelligent, emotionally complex girl in the room (I used a different term but I want to remain alive a big longer, so the euphemism here).  It was like my late boy cat being addicted to catnip or moths drawn to the flame.  And if wasn’t looks for sure – the variation was quite large.  

I just laugh.  

My son has always been drawn to good looking girls since he was a baby so hopefully his radar is more attuned than mine.   He has little boy curiosity about girls and his sister makes fun of him but I assure him that he is normal unlike the harsh Christianity I grew up in that assumes anyone with a normal sense of sexuality will become a serial rapist or worse.  I just wave off the girl and ask her which guys she likes in class to embarrass her.

This one is about backstories.

I won’t disclose details but I noticed an interesting pattern.   As I grew older, the ones I’ve loved trended toward lighter backstories.  I ponder whether it’d  make more sense to be with someone who has a heavier or lighter one.  I guess there are pros and cons of either approach.  

I once asked a mentor whether I should date a girl with baggage.  His answer was profound – date the one you love.

But this isn’t just about romantic relationships.  It is also about real connection.  When I reflect on those that understand me or at least appear to, I find that many of them have backstories that trend in the heavier direction.

This isn’t really about suffering but maybe life experiences and how it has been handled.  The empathy and compassion arises out of this – the ability to understand or the curiosity to inquire.

I have also thought about the difference between two of the protagonists in the Dark Knight movie in the Batman trilogy.  Both Harvey Dent and Bruce Wayne fight corruption and crime.  The latter’s backstory is presented as darker – watching his parents murdered in a street robbery.  The former is presented as more of a swashbuckling white knight prosecutor.  The difference is that both ensure trauma in the movie – losing the woman they both love.  But one breaks and becomes a killer while the other remains Batman.  I guess one also has half of his face blown off but let’s just forget that conveniently for now.

I used to hope that my children wouldn’t see or experience as much as I did.  I think that still holds true but not wholly.  Too light a backstory and it affects factors like resilience and character.  Too heavy and it’ll break you I guess.  

But back to the original topic.  I think a very real question I did not seriously consider was who could handle my backstory.  That one is a dissertation in the making.  I barely told anyone anything.  

But I always go back to the wisdom of Led Zeppelin.  It speaks for itself with its layered and deep rooted meaning.  It’s even consistent with the Biblical verses of what constitutes a godly woman in the book of Proverbs –  but a little hard to memorize all the way through – so this will do.

Find a queen without a king.

They say she plays guitar and cries and sings.

A few weeks ago, I took the kids to watch a movie in a real life theater.  It’s nice once in a while to get unglued from the small screen although I find the Nicole Kidman shout out for AMC to be slightly disconcerting and off.  For those who know, you know what I mean.

I do like the Maria  Menounos segments in the previews.  I don’t even know what she does – is she an actress or singer?   But her laugh – it is priceless and unique.  I heard it compared to a goat’s.  That’s not very nice but it is what it is.  Anyway, in this particular segment, she was touting mental health for victims of bullying.  I turned to my daughter and said that’s all fine and good but that’s not the only thing that should be done.  

You must take out the bully.

This one is about how the real world works with there types of people.

I have enough stories from my professional and personal life to write at least a book chapter on this but it’ll give me an aneurysm so I’ll pass for now.  But here’s the main point.  If you want to counsel, therapise, evangelize, convert. or whatever a bully, it’s usually after you neutralize, contain, or restrict them.  I do not discount the power of empathy, reason, and compassion – far from it – but that is rarely the language needed initially.  Let me reiterate, this approach should not be ruled out but you know what I mean.

The use of force should be carefully administered.  But to rule it out is pure foolishness.  I asked a friend why there is still a predator walking around scot free at my former church.  He said he had no answers.  I stupidly accepted this reply but after some thought, the answer is obvious – those in charge didn’t do their job.

When I was in Philadelphia, my office investigated the city’s archdiocese for crimes against children and related cover ups.  I found it hard to read after the first few pages.  To make it clear, this isn’t strictly a Catholic Church problem, it is everywhere.  One of the pastors at my former church pointed at them to which I wanted to reply with something about the kettle and the pot.

I will tell the story of a bully I had in 7th grade when I was just a recent immigrant.  He tormented me for a  while. I told the teacher to no avail.  Until one day in gym class when he fouled me dirty in basketball and I tumbled to the ground.  I then took a basketball and threw it at his head.  I narrowly missed.  Stunted, he looks at me with a threatening but also scared face.  I just reached for another ball at that point.  And that was the last day he did anything to me.

The bullies, often grow up but don’t change.   It’s harder when older to throw basketballs at them so the way to fight back is different.  I haven’t figured it out perfectly but one way to do it is to grease their path to hell.  The same pastor told me he wished that bad things would happen to bad people.  An honest feeling for once.  I told him that the better path would be to do nothing so long as victims were protected and accounted for.

I used this technique at work.  I told the snake how much I respected and admired him, how I hung on to every one of his words of wisdom.  And then protected my unit in the best way I could – and I did that well.  I still get letters from them.  I wasn’t going to correct this fool.  It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.  The Jesuits teach that when someone is going down a wrong path,  the evil spirits encourage them further.  A friend aptly remarked that I was playing the role of Satan here.

Lord, forgive me.  It was for the greater good in this case.  I’m a red-headed stepchild of a Protestant but I think I need to be a Catholic for a day to confess this to a priest.

But take the bully out.  Use words if necessary.