The Belly of the Beast

The first written reports on the current events topic of the month, The American Prison System, have been handed in. I chose the topic in response to a suggestion from a student--not necessarily because I have always been curious about it, or because I already loved learning about it. Because of my brother's long incarceration, I find the subject painful, and do not gladly dredge up the memories of having him isolated from us except for brief visits. I hated walking away from him after each visit was over. I can still hardly believe how good it is to have him free and accessible as a friend and family member.

Still, I wasn't quite prepared for how profoundly affected some of the students would be during their research of the subject. One person today told me she almost threw up when she read what happened at Abu Grhaib. Another person told me he could hardly believe how horribly and abusively children were treated while incarcerated with older inmates. He said this, holding in his hand the first-person book I remember from its sensational release in 1981, under Norman Mailer's mentoring, In the Belly of the Beast. I hadn't thought of that book in years, and didn't even recognize it among the many books Hiromi checked out from the Hutch library for the students to consult.

Is it OK to hand students such upsetting material to investigate?

In general terms, I find it easy to defend the practice of making students aware of how the world is--good and evil. But I recognize that carrying this concept to every extreme would be wrong. So how do we know when we've hit upon the right combination of exposure and protection?

Last month the students read Black Like Me, which is an autobiographical story. In one recorded conversation, a white man very clearly demonstrated a terribly unfair and stereotypical view of African American male sexuality. Yet the passage was tastefully written--as much so as was possible, while still preserving an accurate account of what happened in the conversation. I thought it was just right--abhorrent, to be sure, but honest, and not filled with gratuitous detail. But the passage elicited concern from some. What to do?

One of my wise fellow-teachers offered to summarize the passage and let students skip it if they found it troubling. But how were they to know how they felt about it if they hadn't read it? In reality, any protests were almost guaranteed to follow the reading of the passage. In the end the teacher's offer was never accepted. But unfortunately, all the hoopla almost guaranteed that, for whoever was offended, the passage became one of the most memorable aspects of the story. The backfiring of sensitivity, it might be termed.

Is there a difference between a disturbing news article and disturbing details in a book?

I admit to not having made it all the way through a clip of footage from the aftermath of Haiti's recent earthquake--because I found it too upsetting. So I do know the feeling of wanting to turn away from pain and suffering that seems too overwhelming to address helpfully from here. Yet it is partially because of those images that I remember Haiti's plight often, and pray for relief for their needy people. In fact, I have never prayed so many times in so short a time for Haiti's people. Almost certainly, opportunities to give will follow.

Perhaps the students are finding it the same way. Perhaps they are remembering now to pray for people in prison, especially for those who are young, or who are military prisoners. Maybe they are praying for integrity and compassion among prison guards. They might pay attention the next time a prison reform story makes it into the news. They might have new respect for our church brothers who invest time in prison ministry. The ex-convict who attends our services can be welcomed with some knowledge of what his life in prison may have involved. When they interact with African Americans, they might be able to see a worthy human being rather than a novel skin color.

This is why I am willing to "go to bat" for requiring students to learn about some things that make them uncomfortable--because I believe Christian people should be willing to feel some of the pain that suffering human beings feel. From this perspective, I find it more distressing to observe a flippant I just don't like to read about stuff like that (which may initially have been cast in the terms of a conscience issue) than hearing reading about this made me feel like throwing up.

Several days ago a young person shared with me how considering the concept of "suffering love" has ministered to her recently, revealing the need for it in her own heart--specifically with regard to an ever-present difficult relationship. The Christian discipleship call to suffering love is so compelling and so ultimately rewarding that momentary discomfort in its pursuit and practice can surely be endured--perhaps even welcomed.

Caution is certainly in order all around, but it's clear to me that studying current events and reading about others' painful experiences can be part of developing a Christ-like spirit of compassion and service, and should not be summarily avoided. Perhaps we've hit the right balance between protection and exposure when we require enough exposure to prompt prayers rather than dismissive or disdainful attitudes, but enough protection to prompt long-term gratitude for whatever safety and freedom students are personally blessed with.

If Christians have to go into the belly of the beast before the healing grace of suffering love can be extended to others, then let's pray that we'll be able to emerge with a prayer in our hearts. If that can happen, we'll have all the balance we need.