Tuesday, November 2, 2010

"I know I'm a good person"

Reading last Sunday's selection from the Book of Wisdom, got me thinking about a conversation I've had a number of times over the years. I've had this conversation with people who have just gotten bad news. Their boyfriend, girlfriend or spouse has has left them leaving them feeling like their lives have lost all purpose or like they have wasted years or as if they can never start over. I've also had the conversation with people who have been diagnosed with cancer and once with a woman whose daughter had moved out of the house and was forced to confront the fact this daughter was eager to move out and stay out because she rejected her mother's values.

The key moment in the conversation is when the person says either
"I know I'm a good person,"
or
"I know I'm not a bad person."
Of course they know nothing of the sort. If someone really knew they were a good person they would have no need to say it and they especially would not need to say it in a plaintive way that clearly asks for approval and reassurance.

But when someone is plainly in distress it is not the right time to challenge them. I don't, and I wouldn't have anyone else, ask them if they might not be wrong about their being good. You could, of course, humour them by doing exactly what they want and tell them that yes they are good or that they are not bad. I don't think that's a good idea though. Why? Because I think it is one of life's great comforts to recognize that I am a bad person. A sinner.

Of course this also requires that we believe in the possibility of redemption for ourselves and others. And I will require a redeemer if I am a bad person.

This is anathema to many people in the modern "caring" professions. But their "comfort"—the comfort offered by our modern therapeutic culture—is a false comfort. You might think, hooray, I'm a good person but that comfort rapidly pales when you realize that, the way the therapeutic culture tends to see things, almost everyone is a good person. The person who tore your heart out and stomped on it by walking out of your marriage? Their therapist is propping up their self esteem too.

Yes, I'm wounded and I may be in the right or even perhaps somewhat in the wrong but more in the right than my tormentor all things considered but I'm also a sinner. Victimhood does not exalt me.

Of course it is too late to do this when the crisis is already upon us (another reason not to question the person who insists that they know they are good or not bad). At that moment, the truth will be closed to us.

1 comment:

  1. Well, people try to understand or find meaning in why bad things happen to good people, Rabbi Kushner wrote a book with that title. Its been my experience as a "helping professional" that people who know they've done bad things have an easier time accepting misfortune, that it was payback that they deserved. Of course that's nonsense, because bad things to happen to genuinely good people, while some of the worst creeps seem to sail through life. But it helps people make sense of things and move on.

    Henri Nouwen's "The Wounded Healer" is a classic, and required reading in the various programs for the helping professions: medicine, divinity, counseling, nursing, public health, where I went to graduate school. I had the priveledge of meeting Henri--which he preferred over "Father"--a year or so prior to his death at a symposium where he discussed his work with the L'Arche Community in Canada. I had just begun working with this population, and in conversations we had he provided me with helpful insights. The relevance here is that we're all wounded, and in helping to heal others we heal ourselves.

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