And so it begins again, that reoccurring summer Service-Learning Center angst around what this year’s StreetFest theme will be. After much deliberation on the part of Rebecca, our StreetFest coordinator, and a brainstorming session or two, we seem to be circling in on a few possibilities.
Interestingly, as we have been discussing the possibilities for this year’s theme, one of the topics that has come up a number of times is the beauty of/in brokenness.
Is there something beautiful about brokenness, brokenness experienced on both individual and societal levels? If so, what is it that makes brokenness beautiful? Is it the “stuff” born of brokenness that is beautiful or is beauty inherent to brokenness itself? What does the relationship between beauty and brokenness have to do with service-learning or, more specifically, StreetFest?
We are hoping to start a discussion about the relationship between beauty and brokenness in the comments section below; please feel free to join in the discussion with your own thoughts, comments, or questions.
6 comments:
As Ryan mentioned, this week has been a time of brainstorming. Embarking upon this process has involved several methods: creating categorized lists on the SLC's white boards, adlib-type formulas, reading poetry, looking at artwork, and talking quite a bit.
What I have come to realize (a bit to my surprise) is that I am very much invested in the project of StreetFest, more than I had originally intended to be. The theme-making process has thus become a challenge because I now recognize how much I feel a part of what it is that I am working on this summer. In deciding a theme, I want to communicate how deeply I care about the purpose of StreetFest. That is, to embrace our place.
My starting point for the direction of the StreetFest theme this year actually came from my second visit to ICCF, a non-profit housing corporation in Grand Rapids. The director, Jonathan Bradford, explained that one of the basic tenets of their organization is "beauty." It struck me how wonderful it was to see an organization fulfill their purpose well, and to do so by careful consideration for the quality of physical space.
As ICCF engages this process, they do so by highlighting the existing strengths of a neighborhood. This brought me to understand more fully why it is I am so attracted to "brokenness."
When we are broken, we are vulnerable. When we are exposed in this way, we are humbled. In this position we realize that beauty is not something to own, it is not something we are responsible to define.
In acknowledging the brokenness that is within each of us we are humbled and then freed to look to one another. It is as if the scales are removed from our eyes, enabling us to see goodness in the natural order. I find that there, in brokenness, we are able to see and delight in the details of the people with which we share our place. This careful observation is surely messy and complex, but it is also beautiful!
And so, the theme? It's coming along. I am encouraged as the process continues, and I think we are very close.
I will make sure to post once the theme is decided. Until then, feel free to provide feedback. Also, make sure to check out ICCF's website. http://www.iccf.org/about/ I also encourage people to visit their new building on Cherry Street, it's an absolutely wonderful space.
I am often troubled by talk of seeing beauty in brokenness. While I do believe that good can come from tragic situations, I think that is something that is primarily understood in hindsight. I feel that talk of there being beauty in brokenness can often only be said by those that occupy a position of power and comfort. Frankly, I think it is the kind of rhetoric that feigns an understanding of tragedy and suffering, but profoundly misses the mark, which is to rage against suffering and evil. For instance, as students we might go downtown and see a homeless person, and believing that we are being insightful then remark to ourselves that there is a beauty in this person's brokenness, but then we continue to walk by, and return home to our comfortable surroundings where all of our needs are met. In the meantime we have failed to mourn the tragedy of any human being living in lonely poverty. The significance of this is that it runs contrary to service-learning. Service-learning seeks to abandon the model of savior coming to help those less fortunate, or more basically leveraging a position of power for one's own gratification while pretending that it is for someone else. From my vantage point, the "beauty in brokenness" theme is exactly that, a pretending to understanding, while all along maintaining the divide, the power relationship.
While I'm a little sympathetic to Bryan's cautionary tone regarding beauty in brokenness, I think the issue is much much larger. I disagree that seeing beauty in brokenness can only be done by those with power, as a matter of fact, I would suggest that this suggestion pre-supposes an unhealthy amount of power in people with alleged positions of power. Brokenness does not only apply to the poor, or the homeless, or the disadvantaged in society. As both Ryan and Rebecca suggested, brokenness is rightly understood as having invaded everyone's heart, regardless of their socio-economic or racial, or national status. I am broken, and so are each of you (it seems to me).
Consider: "'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."
One question I might raise is how to think about beauty in light of weakness or brokenness - I'm not sure how to answer Ryan's original question about where the beauty comes from in brokenness - whether there is sometimes inherent beauty, or whether the beauty is only in the resulting outcomes. I think Bryan provides a good reminder of our need to rage against most brokenness, to desire the time when there won't be any more brokenness. But I'm left with questions about what to do now with some brokenness - like the brokenness of a physical or mental disability that seems to produce a person of such character that brings unmatched beauty into corners of life and society? Or seen another way, art comprised of items of trash?
A response to Jeff:
I do NOT believe that only the powerful can see beauty in brokenness. Rather, I don't believe it is possible at all, by anyone, to actually see genuine beauty in brokenness itself. Thus, the affluent and powerful are merely more prone to speak of beauty in brokenness without facing what is actually there, which is the ugliness of pain and suffering. This type of beauty is a perversion, a superficial rendering of the deeper truths of God-infused beauty. ***By the way, I do not pretend to be perfect myself, I often make remarks from a believed stronghold of comfort and luxury. I can be an elitist snob at times, and it is my hope to realize this and avoid those tendencies.***
It is probably helpful at this point to seek to define the terms as I see them. When I talk about brokenness, I am imagining that very specific kernel of actual pain and suffering. I do not include all the things which surround, and often nestle close to that kernel that is brokenness. Therefore, if someone displays strength and courage amidst terrible suffering, I will call those things good and beautiful, however I will not call their brokenness, which I see as the evil that is attacking them, debilitating them, isolating them or doing anything else unpleasant to them, as beautiful in any way. I feel that this distinction often goes overlooked and leads to a watering down of the Christian faith. For instance, in some circles of Christianity I have heard people describe death as beautiful, which I find unbelievable. There is nothing beautiful about death. However, I understand the Christian belief that the person has passed through death to a better life with God, and thereby that is a wonderful and joyous thing. But this distinction must be kept between detesting and raging against the evil things in this life and recognizing the good and beautiful things, which are often wrapped up together, but never the same. G.K. Chesterton put it well, "Christianity got over the difficulty of combining furious opposites, by keeping them both, and keeping them both furious." I think it is good to see beauty in people, places, and events, however I also believe we must exhibit a rage against all things evil. Therefore, I worry about a phrase like seeing beauty in brokenness, because I think it fails to capture the complexity of what is at stake, and leads to a blending of opposites.
Additionally, to clarify, I do not believe that brokenness only belongs to the poor, homeless, or disadvantaged in society. I do think we are all broken, though some in more physically obvious ways. However, I think it is important to keep in mind the fact that the community partners that the Service-Learning Center works with are often non-profit organizations that are often striving to support and care for exactly those people, namely the homeless, the poor, and the disadvantaged members of society. Therefore, when thinking about Streetfest themes, the concept of beauty in brokenness will likely be associated with the homeless, the poor, and the disadvantaged members of society.
One final point, I am highly suspicious of talk about beauty in the midst of a physical or mental handicap. I ABSOLUTELY believe that it can sometimes be the case that a person who happens to have a physical or mental handicap exhibits extraordinary beauty, but I think that such beauty is entirely set in things surrounding the brokenness, and not the brokenness itself. I have a friend who has cerebral palsy, and I think that he displays a tremendous sense of humor along with courageous determination that I imagine has been cultivated amidst a life beset with ongoing physical struggles. However, I would never go so far as to say that his cerebral palsy is a good thing or a beautiful thing. In the same manner, I think that people can sometimes look at a person that happens to be mentally handicapped and mistake the good, wonderful, and beautiful things about them as part of the mental handicap that results from having an extra chromosome, or a confused sequence of genes, and thereby reduce the good and the evil as one thing beautiful. Thus, I am advocating for greater qualification. The person that happens to be mentally handicapped can be seen as beautiful and wonderful, just like any human person can and should be. However to affirm their beauty does not mean that we need also call the physical symptoms that lead to pain, hardship, suffering, and loneliness in their life as beautiful or good as well. The same could be said for all of us who are broken in our own ways as well. A person that happens to be mentally handicapped does not have a monopoly on brokenness, but rather only displays the symptoms more obviously at times.
Therefore, I maintain that there is a need to rage against all brokenness while still affirming what is good and beautiful surrounding it. I struggle to think of a type of actual brokenness that should not be mourned. ***Jeff, you mentioned the case of art made from trash as a possible case of beauty in brokenness. But I think that example falls short in that the cultural concept of what is actually trash is rather fluid, whereas a recognition of brokenness amidst humans has a more consistent history and I might even venture to say intuition and certainly, in a Christian framework, a spiritual prompting. I am not saying that humans are always good at recognizing all of the brokenness in life, but there is something pressing about the presence of say a physical disease in some person's life, which prompts certain convictions about the way things are supposed to be. While trash on the other hand does not seem to inspire anywhere near as strong a conviction about the natural order of things, since it is far easier to just re-conceptualize your definition of trash.***
Good conversation, everyone. Bryan, I too am sympathetic with your apprehension to talk about beauty in brokenness; awareness of how privilege and power play into these discussions is always important and is especially so for those like us doing the delicate work of organizing service-learning. I’d say that that caution is something Jeff, Rebecca, I, and others in the office all care about quite a bit and is very much a part of our consciousness, especially when thinking about our potential for damage in a program like StreetFest. Here are a few thoughts and clarifications that may help the conversation.
First, the possible beauty of/in brokenness was and is not something we have discussed as an actual StreetFest theme; we recognize the ways in which that phrase can be problematically construed and acknowledge that the relationship between beauty and brokenness is nebulous and complex—the very reason we thought it’d be an interesting discussion topic on our blog.
I think you were right, Bryan, to point out the need to define our terms; that seems to be out of where most of our disagreements seem to be coming. You articulated your understanding of brokenness as “that very specific kernel of actual pain and suffering.” This definition is much more specific and fixed than the concept of brokenness we have been working with in our discussions in the office. I think our idea of brokenness is much more tied up in the idea of experienced reality. While it may be helpful for philosophical and theological purposes to think of constructs such as absolute goodness and absolute evil divorced from one another, that is not how we experience the world. The reformed idea of total depravity involves the understanding that all things were created good and that all things have in turn been affected by sin/evil. In the here and now, we cannot experience that original goodness untainted by sin; rather, we live in a state of brokenness, a state where good and evil are embroiled in and with one another in an indistinguishable (maybe at times even beautiful?) mess.
The question then is whether using this idea of brokenness, i.e. brokenness being our experienced reality of evil and good blended and blurred together, actually has merit and what implications this concept has on our discussion of beauty and brokenness.
I have my opinions, but I have already written a lot and would like to hear what some others have to say first. Let’s keep the conversation going.
Hi everyone! The discussion here is seriously intellectual, intellectually serious. Perhaps life on my tropical island has made me less sharp, but here’s my two cents worth (never mind the inflation).
I think "beauty," regardless how it is socially and/or culturally defined, is beautiful in its own right but sometimes wrapped in broken conditions, which is whatever that is less than ideal in the viewer’s mind. The broken conditions that wrap around beauty have, sadly, sometimes "blinded" the viewer to discount broken entities in quick fashion. Because each of us views this world in uniquely different ways, it might take a long long time to arrive at a common understanding to what “beauty” and “brokenness” mean. Thus, what's involved in this topic is so great that it is difficult to simplify it without making it sound too simplistic.
What’s of essence is that beauty can potentially exist within brokenness, that this quick-paced and unfortunately merciless world has dictated the way how people should view things and events. I think the idea to identify beauty within brokenness suggests that perhaps individuals should take time to observe, think, and debate on the meaning of things and events. That is, the whys and hows. Passively accepting and being content with the status quo should not be the modus operandi that people concerned about social issues adopt. Fortunately, we have enough people in the office who care deeply enough to question how this broken world could be made a little better, and work hard enough to make tangible changes.
It is usually good to discuss ideas before implementing them. That is, scrutinizing theoretical concepts before bring it to practical applications. However we are, in some sense, social scientists and not natural scientists. Unlike natural scientists that can test most concepts in their labs, social scientists do not have the luxury to control every element that they wish to bring to the real world. This is one of the reasons why I like the ABSL idea, because it operates in a small yet influential scale. The truth is that we will win some, and we will lose some. But the venture is worth pursuing as long as we learn, improve, and act in socially responsible ways.
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