if it offends you
it is good.
As I hope, someday, to have some of my work published I think a lot about what makes a good poem. The piece of "advice" above is somewhat borrowed from my high school theater teacher who was fond of telling us: if you are not offending someone then you are not doing your job. Also, it is something that struck me as I read a poem today in willow springs (another part of becoming a good poet is reading good poetry, something I am trying to become better about doing.) Below is the poem by John Hodgen:
Witness
Predictable to some degree that a man with a red and white striped
stick-on umbrella hat
and a portable public address system bullhorn would be working the
heart of Bourbon Street
in the name of the Lord. Telling all the jesters, masquers, Red Death
revelers, the God
will not be mocked, that His patience is running out, that He sees us
all, unblinking.
Predictable as well, perhaps, that his sidekick, his long suffering
Fortunato, would be hauling a life-size cross up
the street with him on the Via Dolorosa, the road to the Superdome.
Less predictable the college kid, clean cut, a Chuck Palahniuk Fight
Club type,
having to be restrained, pulled away by his friends, physically lifted
off the ground,
his feet moving in mysterious ways. Screaming at the Jesusers that
they don't belong here,
that this is our holy place, our last sanctuary, that this is where we
come for the sole purpose of getting away from Jesus, that
this is where we worship, that we should be free to mock
God whenever we want, that someone could get hurt tripping
over a cross like that in the street,
that we should just be left alone, that we are all being crucified each
and every day.
His friends haul him away, John the un-Baptist, God's true warrior
in sackcloth and ashes, His burning bush, His voice
in the French Quarter wilderness, blessed troublemaker,
not to be mocked, not to be saved, crown of thorns messiah
of the way things really are.
-----------------
This poem didn't offend me, exactly, but it does something close. I stand between these two men, the "Jesuser" and "the college kid." I am a fan of neither the kind of Christianity depicted here nor taking lightly the confession that Jesus is Lord. Perhaps this is what makes this poem so compelling to me. The end of the poem is especially weighted by this tension: it is, at once, heretical and reminiscent of the scandal Jesus' ministry was to his contemporaries. It seems to me that discussions on Missionality would greatly benefit from a reading of this poem.
These are my thoughts and reactions, what are yours? What happens in the pit of your stomach as you read Hodgen's poem?
5 comments:
This brings back feelings from the past--was it '73 or '74?--when I walked down Bourbon Street: myself a college kid caught between the lure of the surrounding worldliness and the compulsion to be Christ in spite of the revelry of my fellow students. Why did we four huddle in the back of the empty bus sharing communion--the holy wine--while our friends filled themselves with "unholy" wine. Was it from fear? Shouldn't we have been the ones on the street corner with the bullhorn? Or was it from arrogance or self-indulgent piety? Did I leave Bourban Street a better place? I think not. Maybe I influenced a couple of my friends for the better? I can hope. Somehow I think that the best thing I did was send my son some 32 years later to help those in need after Hurricane Katrina. But why didn't I go ... ?
Great thoughts Dad! I think you have your own poem to write from those thoughts.
I especially like the picture of the four of you in the back of the bus. I remember the trip to NO after Katrina - our trip down bourbon street was just about at a sprint - same kind of feelings that had you taking communion in the back of the bus I think...
I love you!
Yes, I love that memory of walking down Bourbon Street, so many things going on I don't know wether to laugh or cry, but I resort to laughing.
I am also built to try and break down little sayings like "if it offends you it's good." Say there is this bad poem. Then add in some cuss words and obsene things, maybe some imagery derogatory to women or something. It might offend me, but I don't think that would make it good. Or perhaps a poem could be insultingly ignorant so that it is offensive and not good. For example, I am thinking sort of along the lines of regular civilians issuing exhortations and advice to soldiers on the front lines. Oh well. "Good" can be subjective?
I like it when you type your own insight into the poems afterward, especially the part about the tension at the end of the poem. For me, whenever faced with ethical personal choices wether to act like one of these two characters, I want to know more about their motivation, the actual actions are less relevant. It just seems the Jesuser is too much for show. On the other side, for now i want to say just decide to not be heretical no matter your motivation.
Good thoughts Cam. You're certainly right that my little piece of advice doesn't always "work." My real point was that we often like poems (and literature in general for that matter) that we agree with, that affirm our perspective. Thus, if a poem or piece of work, which truly seeks to be "art," offends me it usually means it is doing it's job. Art can highlight what we often let go unnoticed and can challenge us, in fact that is the part of art that I like so much. If we don't read things outside our typical range of experience we run the risk of missing out on some really great stuff. Even in the bible this is true: Psalm 137 is an incredibly violent indictment and curse upon Israel's enemies (who I am sure would have been quite offended if they had read it) and yet there is a deeper human truth; that all people are created in the image of God and when we disregard that truth we cause great pain to our neighbors. if something offends you, it almost always says more about you than them.
Good advice at the end: don't be heretical --- ; )
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