Sand Opera
Lenten Journey Day 8
Jonah 3:1-10
The word of
the LORD came to Jonah a second time:
“Set out for the great city of Nineveh,
and announce to it the message that I will tell you.”
So Jonah made ready and went to Nineveh,
according to the LORD’s bidding.
Now Nineveh was an enormously large city;
it took three days to go through it.
Jonah began his journey through the city,
and had gone but a single day’s walk announcing,
“Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed,”
when the people of Nineveh believed God;
they proclaimed a fast
and all of them, great and small, put on sackcloth.
“Set out for the great city of Nineveh,
and announce to it the message that I will tell you.”
So Jonah made ready and went to Nineveh,
according to the LORD’s bidding.
Now Nineveh was an enormously large city;
it took three days to go through it.
Jonah began his journey through the city,
and had gone but a single day’s walk announcing,
“Forty days more and Nineveh shall be destroyed,”
when the people of Nineveh believed God;
they proclaimed a fast
and all of them, great and small, put on sackcloth.
Nineveh,
located in northern Iraq, was a place of mythic proportions, so large it took
Jonah three days to travel through. Before Jonah made it to Nineveh, of course, he avoided God’s call and
literally went in the opposite direction of where he was called, which led to
the whole episode inside the fish. Jonah, too, went through his own
incarceration. How many cells we find ourselves in—some imposed on us, some of
our own making.
Some, like Rush
Limbaugh, saw what happened at Abu Ghraib as nothing more than a fraternity
prank. Today, the words of Charles Graner, arguably the principal sadist of the
group, lay bare the falsity of such small-minded light-heartedness. Two
reflections on “The Blues of Charles Graner” take us in different directions—one
from Peter Molin, an Army veteran, and one from Joe Hoover, a brother in the
Society of Jesus.
The Blues of Charles Graner
The Christian in me
knows it’s wrong
but the corrections
officer in me can’t
help but love
making a man
piss himself
“The Blues of Charles Graner” by Peter Molin
Though only a junior enlisted soldier, Charles
Graner, a Gulf War veteran, former Marine, and experienced corrections officer,
held enormous sway within the ranks of the Army National Guardsmen assigned to
Abu Ghraib, especially among the women, one of whom, Lynndie England, he
impregnated and another, Megan Ambhul, whom he later married. It was Graner
whom the Army held directly responsible for Abu Ghraib atrocities, his lame
efforts to excuse himself on the grounds of following orders belied by the fact
that he was the one directing his peers and reassuring them that abusing
prisoners was OK. “The Blues of Charles Graner” consists of an artful rearrangement
of callous words purportedly spoken by Graner when finally confronted by a
fellow soldier. Graner probably tossed them off in jest, but they couldn’t more
truly convey the sadistic impulse given vent by unfettered power.
The poem’s title reinforces the impression of
Graner’s shamelessness. If Graner—who while working as a civilian corrections
officer was accused of terrorizing African-American prisoners—can lay claim to
the dignified authority of the blues, the proud populist artform of mid-20th-century
black America, then the blues have no meaning. A monster’s victim can have the
blues, but the monster can’t have the blues about that which makes him a
monster.
--Peter Molin is a retired US Army infantry officer who
currently teaches in the Writing Program at Rutgers University, New Brunswick,
NJ. He blogs at Time Now: The Iraq and Afghanistan Wars in Art, Film, and
Literature. www.acolytesofwar.com
Code (On “The Blues Charles Graner”) by Joe Hoover,
S.J.
Code of Ethics
of the American Correctional Association (founded in 1870, Ohio Governor
Rutherford B. Hayes its first president):
“The ACA
expects of its members unfailing honesty, respect for the dignity and
individuality of human beings and a commitment to professional and
compassionate service.”
And: “Members
shall respect and protect the civil and legal rights of all individuals.”
And: “Members
shall respect, promote and contribute to a workplace that is safe, healthy and
free of harassment in any form.”
It seems, then,
as if the speaker in this poem has it reversed.
It is not that Graner
has ignored his Christian side and done what is wrong (make a grown man piss
himself.)
Rather, it is
that he has discarded his corrections officer side and failed to do what is
right (follow a code and respect the dignity of a grown man.)
Graner has
wrongly opposed these two states of life: Way of the Christian v. Way of the
Prison Guard. When in fact you could say that, according to the code, a
corrections officer behaving well looks a lot like a Christian.
But take this a
step further. Even if it was his “Christian side” that did the wrong thing, is
that so bad? Is that so “un-Christian?”
The Christian
in me knows a lot of things are wrong and the Christian in me does them anyway.
And the Christian in me who eventually confesses and repents of the wrong gets
closer to God because of this. My sins can take me back to Jesus.
This is the
terrible thing about the Christian faith, for all those who come into contact
with Christians. Our sins are good. The awful things we do to other people can
bring us back to God. They return us to humility. They
deposit us into the shock of reality--the only place God lives.
So, you could
say it is the job of Christians to do wrong. Because how else can we get closer
to God?
And if none of
this makes sense, or even seems outrageous (humiliate a man and become a truer
child of God), consider what we are reflecting on. Men, piss, prison, torture,
war and a kind of hell blistering the world. None of it makes sense. The only
thing that makes sense is the most senseless thing of all: that God, as they
say, holds the whole blistered world in his hands as it continues to pitch and
sunder. Senseless, all of it. But to whom else shall we go? You, me, Graner. To
whom shall we go? To one who has the code of everlasting life.
3 comments:
I'd like to respond to the last part of Joe Hoover's reflection. Yes, our faith enables us to repent of our sins and come closer to God in the process. I'm not sure, however, why that means the sin itself should be regarded as "good." And if I were the human being who was the victim of the sin/torture, I could grow stronger and more compassionate if I were willing to rejoice that my tormentor repented and was forgiven. Yet I doubt I could ever call the sin good. In fact, it might be a sin against human dignity to do so, it seems to me.
Josie, I think you make a very good point. I can't speak for Joe on this particular point, but what struck me most about his reflection is that it set us alongside Graner in a most discomfiting way. Perhaps it was a sort of provocation, to remind us that Graner is still part of us.
OK< yes, to be provocative in this way is "good." I consent to being discomfited!
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