The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis is not among my favorite books, but in it he does highlight one eternal truth: some people prefer a self-inflicted, self-contained misery to an experience of grace. As an extremely brief synopsis, the main character is taken on an eschatological bus ride, during which he meets many fellow travelers, each of whom carries a perpetual cloud of cantankerousness over themselves. The bus departs from a land of dreary grays and eventually arrives at what is basically the Microsoft Windows wallpaper--rolling hills, green fields, blue skies--rich colors and lush scenery all around.
Despite the improvement in their surroundings, his fellow travelers continue to find things to complain about. In fact, their bodies cannot physically adjust to the beauty of their new surroundings. While wandering through the greenery they discover that they are, in fact, ghosts who lack corporeal bodies. They cannot acclimate to the weightiness, the substantiveness of this new reality. The blades of grass are like sabers on their feet, and they cannot so much as lift a leaf. Despite being given the opportunity to acclimate to their surroundings by repenting (yes, we're talking heaven and hell, naturally), they choose to remain in a self-imposed hell. The narrator observes, "If we insist on keeping Hell (or even earth) we shall not see Heaven; if we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain even the smallest and most intimate souvenirs of Hell."
These are the same types of people who inhabit Sartre's play No Exit, which is about three people stuck in a room together who cannot stop tormenting one another, not physically but with their words and their petty jealousies and insecurities. Of course, they too are in hell. At the climax of the play one of them comes to the realization, "Hell is--other people!"
Why am I writing on such a bleak topic, especially when it's a gorgeous day here in Seoul, with the strong March winds having dispersed the lingering smog? Because I joined an expat group online and made the mistake of asking for advice on how to help someone who has come to the church with a host of needs that we cannot fully address. A few people did try to be helpful, but many of the replies were filled with snark, if not outright contempt (I made the mistake of saying that I worked for a church). Those are the comments that have stayed with me, of course, like a blanket of smog on an otherwise sunny day.
Despite the improvement in their surroundings, his fellow travelers continue to find things to complain about. In fact, their bodies cannot physically adjust to the beauty of their new surroundings. While wandering through the greenery they discover that they are, in fact, ghosts who lack corporeal bodies. They cannot acclimate to the weightiness, the substantiveness of this new reality. The blades of grass are like sabers on their feet, and they cannot so much as lift a leaf. Despite being given the opportunity to acclimate to their surroundings by repenting (yes, we're talking heaven and hell, naturally), they choose to remain in a self-imposed hell. The narrator observes, "If we insist on keeping Hell (or even earth) we shall not see Heaven; if we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain even the smallest and most intimate souvenirs of Hell."
These are the same types of people who inhabit Sartre's play No Exit, which is about three people stuck in a room together who cannot stop tormenting one another, not physically but with their words and their petty jealousies and insecurities. Of course, they too are in hell. At the climax of the play one of them comes to the realization, "Hell is--other people!"
Why am I writing on such a bleak topic, especially when it's a gorgeous day here in Seoul, with the strong March winds having dispersed the lingering smog? Because I joined an expat group online and made the mistake of asking for advice on how to help someone who has come to the church with a host of needs that we cannot fully address. A few people did try to be helpful, but many of the replies were filled with snark, if not outright contempt (I made the mistake of saying that I worked for a church). Those are the comments that have stayed with me, of course, like a blanket of smog on an otherwise sunny day.
I read the posts on Facebook because I am/was a member of PLUR and the other group. I know exactly how you feel: contempt towards the church, the perceived absurdity of faith, and the outright narcissism of the vast majority of expats who feel Seoul and her inhabitants are their personal sandbox plaything. Remember the handful that aren't asses; it's the only way to survive...even thrive!
ReplyDeleteI feel you man. And you're not alone.
ReplyDeleteSam, I laugh every time I read, "Remember the handful that aren't asses." And I've read it several times. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteSarang, thank you! It's good to be reminded.