Ever since I started working at Boston University School of Theology (and, in hindsight, at every moment in my life leading up to my job here), I have been seeking to define and refine my "theological position"--that is, what I think about God and the manifestation of God (or lack thereof) in my world, relationships, faith, and life. As I sit here at my desk, wondering if my back will ever become permanently slouched from my poor sitting posture, I realize that many of my "first order theological questions" (as Sir Linscott calls them!) are connected to a quote that I often saw etched into the then-brand-spanking-new Ho Science Center during my time at Colgate University: "Why are things the way they are and not otherwise?" According to Wikipedia, Johannes Kepler, the author (speaker?) of the quote, was a mathematician, astrologer, and astronomer-- a key figure in the 17th century scientific revolution. In my mind, the mastermind behind such a quote must have often been lost in thought, questioning the nature of each and every aspect of his life. His questioning is even evident in his portrait:
Clearly, Kepler was a man who questioned the nature of collars, facial hair, and accessories. Above, he appears innocently pensive, but I feel he is also insisting that I question the nature of my own shirts, hairstyles, and compasses. Thank you, Johannes.
All jokes aside (unless you didn't think that Kepler picture bit was a joke--then it definitely wasn't), I have been thinking about Kepler and his "otherwise-ing" thought experiments as I brainstorm ideas for this theological position paper. Except instead of asking questions related to my theological position, such as "Why has my idea of God come to be the way it is and not otherwise?" or "Why do I think of religion in a particular way?", I find myself looking up videos of tango performances on youtube and wondering what my life would be like if, instead of never having danced tango, I was inclined, or even ordered, to tango. Stay with me...
This all began in my procrastination, a procrastination that is perhaps rooted in not wanting to delve into those first order questions in such a serious way. "What do I think about the nature of God?" Well, I don't know...it just seems like too intense of a question to contemplate after eating Girl Scout cookies while listening to Third Eye Blind. My mind started wandering, and I began to think about a conversation I had with my co-worker earlier today in which I made it very clear that if I ever marry I would want to somehow execute an elaborate, beautiful first dance with my partner. Then, I started thinking about how much preparation this would require since I am not a skilled dancer. This led me to really think about what things would be like for me if they were otherwise in this situation. What would my life be like if I were a phenomenal, graceful dancer? What would people say? What would people think (not that I care what other people think...)? How would such poise and skill influence my self-esteem? What if I were an amazing dancer in middle school--through the braces, (semi-disappeared) acne, and (ever-present) awkward moments. How different my life would be!
I wanted to make my musings more tangible so I searched "amazing tango performance" on youtube. Ah, the wonders of the internet! As I watched these beautiful (amazing) performances, I started picturing a version of myself that could not be defined outside of tango. At school talent shows, I would be "Katalina, the one who can tango!" I would have started at an early age in this fantasy so I would have quickly become the leading partner. I imagine myself remembering all my steps, not tripping in heels, embracing constructed gender roles, smiling and making eye contact with the audience (and judges) without ever missing a beat.
As I watch the fifth video of amazing tango, the nagging Microsoft Word icon keeps reminding me that I have a paper to write; a fantasy to let go of. I feel anger well up inside me when I realize that my parents could have pushed me into tango. My life could have been soaked with tango; my identity defined by it. Why did my mom tell me to say my prayers before bed? If she would have instructed me to practice tango for a half hour each night instead, things would certainly be "otherwise." I would be critiquing these videos on youtube right now, scoffing at the woman who calls herself a tango dancer with those sloppy turns. The chemistry between the tango dancers would spark memories of my time in Tango Dance Camp in Buenos Aires--which was one big fiesta (to say the least!).
I throw my fists in the air when I realize how limited my life is without tango. The graceful movements, the stage presence, the passion for dance, a longing for the stage, a tango-infused understanding of beauty, love, and partnership...I have none of this because my life is the way it is and not otherwise (*said with fists thrown in the air!*).
Ah, but alas, I must return to my paper--to my thoughts about my theological position. There are so many ways I could neatly wrap up this blog post. I could relate the tango metaphor to my Catholic identity and talk about all of the theological insights I gained from realizing that I just happened to be born into the Catholic tradition but I could have been raised otherwise (in a different tradition or in no tradition at all). My religious identity is just as arbitrary as my lack of a tango identity...what does this all mean?
Or perhaps I could discuss the beautiful "dance" of faith or of theological ideas that takes place in our lives all the time: our experiences cause us to constantly adjust what we think about God, love, suffering, life, and death. The spirit, memories, and tradition of tango never die, but sometimes songs end. Or maybe the tradition of tango will die once it is no longer relevant in a particular context. But still, it serves a purpose; it is a meaningful, beautiful mode of expression; the spirit of tango is transcendent, and transformative. I could pass the torch to my friend, Chihoon, so he could describe his art exhibit from last semester, which beautifully captured the relationship between tango and God: our elusive, intimate dance of faith in this life.
Now that I have just procrastinated another twenty minutes by revealing the ways I could have ended this post, I am left wondering how to actually end it. For the sake of time, I guess I will just have to end this post knowing that we can't always wrap everything up neatly, and that we often struggle to adequately capture our deepest longings and convictions with words...
All jokes aside (unless you didn't think that Kepler picture bit was a joke--then it definitely wasn't), I have been thinking about Kepler and his "otherwise-ing" thought experiments as I brainstorm ideas for this theological position paper. Except instead of asking questions related to my theological position, such as "Why has my idea of God come to be the way it is and not otherwise?" or "Why do I think of religion in a particular way?", I find myself looking up videos of tango performances on youtube and wondering what my life would be like if, instead of never having danced tango, I was inclined, or even ordered, to tango. Stay with me...
This all began in my procrastination, a procrastination that is perhaps rooted in not wanting to delve into those first order questions in such a serious way. "What do I think about the nature of God?" Well, I don't know...it just seems like too intense of a question to contemplate after eating Girl Scout cookies while listening to Third Eye Blind. My mind started wandering, and I began to think about a conversation I had with my co-worker earlier today in which I made it very clear that if I ever marry I would want to somehow execute an elaborate, beautiful first dance with my partner. Then, I started thinking about how much preparation this would require since I am not a skilled dancer. This led me to really think about what things would be like for me if they were otherwise in this situation. What would my life be like if I were a phenomenal, graceful dancer? What would people say? What would people think (not that I care what other people think...)? How would such poise and skill influence my self-esteem? What if I were an amazing dancer in middle school--through the braces, (semi-disappeared) acne, and (ever-present) awkward moments. How different my life would be!
I wanted to make my musings more tangible so I searched "amazing tango performance" on youtube. Ah, the wonders of the internet! As I watched these beautiful (amazing) performances, I started picturing a version of myself that could not be defined outside of tango. At school talent shows, I would be "Katalina, the one who can tango!" I would have started at an early age in this fantasy so I would have quickly become the leading partner. I imagine myself remembering all my steps, not tripping in heels, embracing constructed gender roles, smiling and making eye contact with the audience (and judges) without ever missing a beat.
As I watch the fifth video of amazing tango, the nagging Microsoft Word icon keeps reminding me that I have a paper to write; a fantasy to let go of. I feel anger well up inside me when I realize that my parents could have pushed me into tango. My life could have been soaked with tango; my identity defined by it. Why did my mom tell me to say my prayers before bed? If she would have instructed me to practice tango for a half hour each night instead, things would certainly be "otherwise." I would be critiquing these videos on youtube right now, scoffing at the woman who calls herself a tango dancer with those sloppy turns. The chemistry between the tango dancers would spark memories of my time in Tango Dance Camp in Buenos Aires--which was one big fiesta (to say the least!).
I throw my fists in the air when I realize how limited my life is without tango. The graceful movements, the stage presence, the passion for dance, a longing for the stage, a tango-infused understanding of beauty, love, and partnership...I have none of this because my life is the way it is and not otherwise (*said with fists thrown in the air!*).
Ah, but alas, I must return to my paper--to my thoughts about my theological position. There are so many ways I could neatly wrap up this blog post. I could relate the tango metaphor to my Catholic identity and talk about all of the theological insights I gained from realizing that I just happened to be born into the Catholic tradition but I could have been raised otherwise (in a different tradition or in no tradition at all). My religious identity is just as arbitrary as my lack of a tango identity...what does this all mean?
Or perhaps I could discuss the beautiful "dance" of faith or of theological ideas that takes place in our lives all the time: our experiences cause us to constantly adjust what we think about God, love, suffering, life, and death. The spirit, memories, and tradition of tango never die, but sometimes songs end. Or maybe the tradition of tango will die once it is no longer relevant in a particular context. But still, it serves a purpose; it is a meaningful, beautiful mode of expression; the spirit of tango is transcendent, and transformative. I could pass the torch to my friend, Chihoon, so he could describe his art exhibit from last semester, which beautifully captured the relationship between tango and God: our elusive, intimate dance of faith in this life.
Now that I have just procrastinated another twenty minutes by revealing the ways I could have ended this post, I am left wondering how to actually end it. For the sake of time, I guess I will just have to end this post knowing that we can't always wrap everything up neatly, and that we often struggle to adequately capture our deepest longings and convictions with words...
No comments:
Post a Comment