Thursday, December 15, 2011

The Selfless Prostitute


Charity cannot be accomplished without selflessness. If one is completely selfless, the human tendency to think of oneself is conquered and the ability to go forward in charity is established.
So, the question is: Who is the most selfless character in the novel Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky? While analyzing the characters and having many class discussions over the subject, I came to a personal conclusion, especially after reading the epilogue. Sonia, the prostitute (and ironically the most spiritual character as well), lends her entire self to the preservation of her family. She, quite literally, sells her body to keep her family financially afloat in the harsh environment of St. Petersburg, Russia. She constantly strives to help Raskolnikov (who, until the end, treats her rudely in return), even after he tells her of the murders. She encourages him to confess, and when he does end up confessing, her presence is what gives him the strength and courage to do so. Sonia does not get immediate reward for her help. Both her parents die, despite her efforts in providing for them, Raskolnikov is cold and rude to her (what's new?), and she is also looked down upon by the community because of her prostitute status. Only one who truly has pure selflessness and intention can continue in their charity despite the odds pressing their full weight upon his/her situation. Because of her persistence and faith, her reward does come, but only after much suffering on her part. She goes to Siberia with Raskolnikov, where he finally realizes his love for her, and his mental and spiritual stability is restored. His only hope is Sonia. Without Sonia, poor Rodya would probably be in some dark, creepy alley of St. Petersburg, muttering madness about the murders he never had the courage (or humility) to confess. Sonia, being the most selfless character, exemplifies the purest form of charity there is, a charity not hindered by any human selfish intention. She was not in it for herself, but rather for the ones she loves.

Monday, October 31, 2011

Pride to Humility-King Lear

Kings do not bow down to others, but are bowed down to. They do not wait upon their servants, their servants wait upon them. They do not stand by while decisions are made, they make the decisions. So why, in Shakespeare's King Lear, is this standard of kings and their entitlements and duties done away with? And how does this have anything to do with charity?
Okay, so the charity part might sound like a stretch right now, but let me get to it in a little bit, after I've explained some things. First of all, Lear's tragic flaw is pride, a characteristic we often associate with kings in general. Pride, also, is the opposite of humility, and both cannot exist at the same time. At the beginning of the play, Lear is as far away from humility as a man can be. He may think his actions of slicing up his kingdom and dishing it off to his daughters is very charitable and humble indeed, but his intentions are all wrong. In return for his daughters answering the question "How much do you love me?" he gives them a piece of land, the size according to the love his daughters express to him. By attempting to quantifying love, Lear is showcasing his hubris perfectly. Little does he know, two of the daughters that say they love him "more than than word can wield the/matter,/Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty,/No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor...", will be the ones who banish him from the kingdom and seek to kill him. With this realization, after both daughters (Goneril and Regan) kick him out of their own homes, Lear goes mad. As in insane. He is so abhorred by his daughter's treatment of a king, he becomes raving mad. At this point (read carefully now, because this is the part that actually connects to charity) Lear begins to let go of his pride, and humility settles in. He literally sheds his kingly, fancy clothes, and strips down to the clothes of a beggar, humbling himself to the extent not only mentally, but physically as well. Ironically enough, this is when charity also becomes present in Lear's actions to his servants, the Fool and a disguised Kent, "Come on, my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold?". As soon as his pride is gone, though he is mad, humility allows Lear to be charitable towards those around him, despite any sort of social standing.
May I be so bold as to connect this to charity today. The charity we do should hold no bounds as to who. We should not think ourselves better than anyone else according to "social standing". With charity, social status should not even exist. Once we are able to humble 0urselves, and not let the flaw of pride get in the way of our serving others, charity will become significantly more present in our lives.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Life, at Death, a Memory Without Pain


“Let every man in mankind’s frailty

Consider his last day; and let none

Presume on his good fortune until he find

Life, at his death, a memory without pain.” (1474-1477)

How do we find life at death? Or life a memory without pain? Can either be an element of redemption? Or are both, when put together, the core of redemption?

Oedipus Rex, the Greek tragedy (like most Greek tragedies) has the effect of catharsis or a sense of purification felt at the ending. Oedipus is damned from the start, with a fate thrust upon him that will eventually lead him to discovering he is his father’s murderer, blinding himself with his dead wife/mother’s brooches, then banishing himself from Thebes. Through this journey, the reader (if not heartless) should feel some sort of catharsis, or perhaps redemption because of the knowledge gained and the emotions felt throughout the course of the tragedy.

The lines quoted above are the last lines of the tragedy, spoken directly to the audience. I interpret it as a warning to not rely on good fortune, for it is fleeting. Because of good fortune’s instability, we must rather look towards finding life at death, a memory without pain.

So, the question is: How? Both finding life at death and remembering life as a memory without pain are extensively paradoxical, and therefore difficult to define the means of achieving either. Going back to my big question, I believe a core part lie in charity. If we do not lean on our “good fortune” and rather look outside ourselves, we can achieve life at death and remember life without pain, because death won’t be the end of us and the pain will be overrun with our pure love for others and life in general. Which leads me to another question: Does Oedipus find either? And if he does, is it through charity?

Thursday, September 1, 2011

The BIG Question...

"It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life that no person can
sincerely try to help another without helping themselves."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person." -Tennessee Williams

Milky eyes searching but not seeing, squinted in chronic pain. A lopsided mouth speaking muffled words, barely audible. A smile lights up her face and a whispering, yet undeniably joyful laugh floats across the room. Though physically mangled, her intellect and wisdom is far beyond mine. I am awed by the pure wit and understanding that is hidden behind this age-ridden face. My heart is full of genuine love for this woman, and a passion for charity has overtaken my mind and soul... a redemption of some sort, has washed me clean of any selfish thought.

Before meeting Mary Jane, I originally went to Sunrise Assisted Living Center to call out bingo for the ladies still mentally "there". These residents are a hoot, and therefore enjoyable to be with, so I was a little disappointed to find someone else already calling bingo when I arrived that Saturday morning.
"I can just come back another time," I told Glenda, a woman who worked there. Despite my attempt in rescheduling, Glenda was insistent in finding something for me to do.
"Would you feel comfortable reading to a resident?" She asked hopefully, probably recognizing my intentions of skipping out on volunteer work for that day. My heart sank. I didn't feel my skills in reading out loud were quite up to par. In fact, I didn't feel comfortable at all.
"Sure... I'll do whatever you need me to do," My voice betrayed the offer, but Glenda didn't seem to notice. I followed her into a dimly lit room, with an old woman hunched into an arm chair. I was slightly taken aback. Quite frankly, this woman looked scary. Her age was apparent in both sight and smell. There was a sign on the wall that stated "Please keep the blinds closed, the light hurts Mary Jane's eyes".
When the initial shock had passed, a wave of compassion and pity flooded into my heart. I was determined to make this lady happy, even if reading to her was more like reading to a wall than to a woman. First impressions are often way off the mark... and as I mentioned earlier, this woman left me in absolute admiration and I felt love, not pity, for her. I was temporarily renewed, redeemed, from my own mortal selfishness.

In the novel Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier, former Confederate soldier and current outlier, Inman embarks upon a journey that will test him in every way imaginable. He considers himself "empty" and stripped of any emotional capacity, I think he is wrong. Along his path, charity is both given and received. Inman is given places to stay, food to eat, which ultimately save him from perishing of fatigue and starvation. He offers in return protection and even the preservation of life for many with his extraordinary, innate fighting ability. All of these actions done out of charity. In Inman's return back to Ada, their love is renewed and intensified. Both helped themselves by helping each other. Charity and love are central to Inman's survival, and in the end, his redemption.

Charity is defined by Mormons (and Christians in general) as "the pure love of Christ". This intertwines "love" and "charity" in quite an inseparable manner. Continuing on the religious spectrum, Christ is the only person able to redeem us from our own demise as humans.
Therefore, to what extent does charity bring forth redemption?