On my way home from work and I’m 200 pages deep into Rex Weyler’s book unraveling the political mayhem that capitalized on the early simple teachings of Jesus. I can trace the history up to my bi-weekly confessions to Father John from the age of 8 and onward in my Catholic elementary school. One thing that most Catholics eventually discover about each other is that anyone who has gone to confession enough has inevitably lied in confession. I simply did not commit as many “sins” as I was expected to at that early age so would embellish my stories each week to fill in my 5 minutes with our parish priest. If feeling slightly angry at my mom that week was the only thing I could think of I would embellish my story and say that I kicked my brother, something I have never done. This would somehow satisfy both the priest as well as myself that I had really confessed something worth while, my sins simply weren’t good enough. So many of us laugh when we discover that we all did this.

Guilt lead me to feel guilty about not having enough sins, about the sins, and then about sinning by lying in confession. (Jesus told us to “not trust authority and seek the light within…”) but what a bounty to be made from our guilt that lead us back to the churches to confess through all those years. The seeds of guilt in my little heart are something that religious authorities have been masterfully profiting from for hundreds of years. Just think of the waves of guilt, and then the relief of confession – a confession that made no real difference in the world regardless whether it was true or not. A certain kind of pornography of remorse left behind encapsulated. I have often wondered about what good guilt does. Does it help me to be a better person? Certainly an awareness of the consequences of my actions does but if the confession is seen as a form of repentance for guilt – does it really tell us that our actions matter?

I continue to muse about this as I walk down Yonge street, south of St. Clair. Flowering trees refresh me, the night is bright and kind. “Do you have a watch?” a young man half turns to face me, his pale face and red eyes squinting out from a soft black hoodie. “NO, sorry, I say…but you can look into any store and probably find a clock.” “Approximately what time is it? ”he asks…”I’m a war veteran, I think I deserve to see a movie.” I explain that what looks like a movie theatre on the other side of the street is really a glamorous office for Cineplex Odeon, that the Carlton has late night shows. I offer to walk him to the nearest subway stop and swipe him in with my metro pass. We talk war.

“I served for three years and now I don’t even get benefits he said.” “I’m sorry” I said. “Yeah, I even killed a couple of guys”. I try and stay calm, and ask him if he knows what CODEPINK is and mention that I am working to help stop the war. “Can I have a hug?” he asks. “Yes, when we get to the subway I say…” he is pretty intoxicated and I have learned from experience the best times to give hugs in these instances. Three skateboarders are using the posh brick sidewalk and steps to do pull some sweet stunts, Justin stops to watch, I ask one of the skaters to follow us and come with me to the subway entrance. I feel safe now. I want to hug, but I want to feel safe. I really like Justin’s company. I’m so lucky that he is teaching me about his life, I want to walk together. I’m also on the verge of nausea. He has killed. How shitty that I am working to overcome this while getting to know him, I don’t suppose it was in the contract.

“The recruiting guy said that this would be a really good choice for me, he said that it was a great first step” Justin said. “I had no choice at the time, I had no money.” “It was not a great first step, I have mental problems now” he said “from the war”, I already drank an entire mickey today. “I know” I say, c’mon, and we continue to walk. “Are you going to hug me yet”? “When we get to the subway” I say. Justin slows down his walk. I feel like an asshole not just hugging him, delaying a moment that is so necessary, I am probably doing so for absolutely no good reason save some bad memories.

Justin and I continue on. We exchange e-mails. We stand in the subway station and I ask if he wants a hug. I lean in, come on to my tip toes and wrap my arms around his thick, black fleece. His shoulders are soft, he is soft. “You smell good” he says. I squeeze a bit harder, then quickly step down and smile. I use my pass to swipe him in, I hope he gets a good flick at the Carlton.

Back outside I turn to go when in the corner of my eye 3 skaters are perched on their boards between trees up off the road, resting as high up as their skateboards would take them. They seem so far away and quiet, smart young eyes in a midsummer nights dream moment – keeping me safe to be kind at the side of the road. “Thanks, I say”. “He’s a war vet and having a bad night, he wanted a hug and I said yes but I knew I needed back up.” “Have a good night” one skater replied and tossed his long gold hair over his shoulder. They watched me in the trees until I turned the corner. “Don’t go to war” I wanted to say.

The forest of their protection lasted as I walked back through the flowering trees on my way home. I thought about the flowers here so safe and our money going to war. The lies that keep the money going. Of Justin. I said I should interview him for Code Pink “No one has ever interviewed me before” he said. I wondered why, no one knows about him as Stephen Harpers new military plan rolls in. The smell of new lilacs arose from the shadows.

I’m home now typing this. I just wrote Justin and told him if he wants to have tea I will treat. I have to stop often and put my head in my hands as a wave of some feeling makes my mind black, this moment has been bought to me by my taxes . Killed. Small moments of a feeling of oblivion interrupt my typing while I notice my brain trying to rationalize them away. Earlier when I asked him where he had been born he moved back and almost looked stunned, I was afraid of him, he completely sideswiped the question. He never did tell me where he was born. I wondered if he just felt too different before and after to create a line to the past.

My rational mind notices that I still feel anxious. Black comes back into my mind and I label the moment as anxiety. No I can get through this on my own, that is what makes me an adult. Oh yes, guilt. Can I somehow tie this all in? This evening started with a potential blog entry on guilt. Can I make the earlier theme of this night run through to the present as though the whole thing isn’t so harsh and random… my rational mind seeks to save the day in futility. Inside I feel nothing, the feeling of a sudden end, I don’t have a train of thought. Not silence but a void, blackness, and a stunned stillness beyond shudder. Perhaps I could call Justin’s recruiting agent and tell him about our night amidst the flowers, about having to delay a hug for him. Or I wonder if he would think that I was just trying to make him feel guilty.

Spirit and action: Rex Weyler responds:

Dave, you make an interesting point, but I’m not sure what your objection is to mixing spiritualism with environmental action. My observation is that both spiritualism and social action need each other. Religion must result in what Karen Armstrong calls “practical compassion,” or it is fairly irrelevant. Meanwhile, social and environmental activists could learn a great deal from those who share their spiritual insights. The great social change heroes of history applied spiritual insight to social action: Buddha, Jesus, Francis of Assisi, Gandhi, Dorothy Day, Mairead Corrigan, Nelson Mandela, Susan B. Anthony, Aung San Suu Kyi in Burma today, and many others.

The early Greenpeace and Deep ecology movements recognized our spiritual connection to the earth, and pointed out that part of the environmental solution is to actually worship what sustains us, the earth and its diverse creatures. This sort of spiritual humility and self-awareness (big self, connected to all other living things) is necessary. Most mistakes in social action are not mistakes of strategy, but mistakes of the ego. So, it seems to me that mixing spiritualism and action is a good idea.

Also, not sure what your point is about living in a country “built on the destruction of others.” I live in Canada, and yes, it has been build by dispossessing indigenous populations and exploiting the environment, similar to every other industrial nation — China, US, Russia, Australia, NZ, South Africa, and so forth — so I’m not sure what your point is. Can you explain? Where do you live?

All the best, Rex.

When Derrida spoke about Jesus he talked about turning the other cheek to a Roman soldier as a great insult in the mind of the soldier (“a double slap”). To fight was an honor and to disengage from this contract was giving the action of the aggressor back to them. Yet it was an act of love from the peace keeper. It was a difficult shock for a soldier but brought them face to face with their own action and also saved the early Christian from entering a world of violence from their own actions. I was repelled by the image but it made sense of something for me.

It clarified the effectiveness of non-violent action carried out by Gandhians and others. To turn the other cheek do is to leave the person with their action. By retaliating the violent action would have succeeded in “jumping to a new host”. They disengage from the loop of violence or separation and the person who instigated it has to face what they have done rather than react to more retaliation. The opportunity for reflection and change lies in this moment.

This makes me understand anew Audre Lorde’s words: The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.

But beyond this, it is only through love that others can also learn to love.

I agree: Jesus’ teaching of action over reflection allows us to go beyond ideas to change our habits and the habits of the world.

I also love the thought of how we in Canada, CAN put a different spin on “turning the other cheek”. or at least I was chi ki ’nuff to turn my backside on any one who thinks they know better for me, than I do myself.

since feeling speak the language of the soul, The cosmic energy which flows through all creation. I find it most interesting that Business 101 has come to speak of “you cannot let your feeling enter into your decisions” This is the greatest disconnect through which we abused the earth and will others to our way. . Presently we are awakening to our inner sense of being.
This is a happening to us, and so I have come call it the Spiritual Puberty of Humanity.