So, Tuesday was King´s convocation. This means that I am now officially a university graduate. Crazy! In any case, it has often been asked of me, "What are you going to do with philosophy?" My answer is usually, "Nothing..." or ...nothing. That is, I don´t answer the question. Of course, this answer is not exactly true. During my time here I´ve worked through a book by the philosopher Edmund Husserl; his Cartesian Meditations: An Introduction to Phenomenology. Now, what phenomenolgy is exactly is difficult to explain. I don´t think I can actually do it. But, what I can say is that is has a lot to do with perception, with consciousness and seeing. And so, I want to begin to talk a bit about consciousness of culture, particularly a different culture.
First of all, it should be mentioned that different languages see different worlds. I have been wondering how to penetrate into this other world-this other culture-for just a peak. To see it in a fuller, more rich-a thickened-way. One cannot experience another culture but by experiencing the other experiencing their culture. Culture does not exist independently of people. It does not exist outside of, separate and apart from them. It is not food, or music, ways of using the toilet or ways of speaking. It is people living together, doing these things, making this way of being. Its not that I eat Ecuadorian food that I experience Ecuadorian culture. It is by eating it with others; seeing how they prepare it, how they serve it, how they use a spoon almost always, how they say "Gracias" at the end, how the scraps are put in a bowl for the dogs, and so on. So what is this experiencing?
Husserl says, "We see that in this fashion the cultural world too is given "orientedly", in relation to a zero member or a zero "personality". Here I and my culture are primordial, over against every alien culture. To me and to those who share in my culture, an alien culture is accessible only by a kind of "experience of someone else", a kind of "empathy", by which we project ourselves into the alien cultural community and its culture. This empathy also calls for intentional investigations." This is what I would like to carry out, these "intentional investigations".
I suppose it is interesting, this use of the word "empathy". Husserl has been criticised for it, for one´s experience of another must surely be more than empathy, nevertheless, let´s see where it can take us. Let´s assume empathy is required to truly experience the other. There is another mode-which I think we should say is still an experience, though a different one, of course-called sympathy. It seems often we sort of "look down" on sympathy because it is very much a "downward movement", whereas empathy comes on a level of equality. I think though, sympathy is, perhaps, a first step towards empathy.
Anyway, empathy implies a sense of common ground, of a connection available besides the natural difference of being separate people, despite being "alien". One reaches into one´s own experience, sees into the other´s experience and recognizes the similarity; gains understanding; "sees through their eyes". Now, this is supposed to happen in the background. It is a "condition for the possibility of experience of the other". But, when it is reflected upon after, or even during, the experience one gains a stronger sense of what occurs. Or, in the way I put it before, a "thickening".
This discerning of empathy, of common ground, "in the moment", and applying it to the situation at hand, is generally difficult for me to do. Largely this comes from the basic fact that my interactions are mostly with women. It is, however, an extremely important thing to do; to break out of my enclosed "monad" (for what this means, look to wikipedia and its article on Leibniz) to experience the other as other. In any case, for example, I think I have had a few moments of this type of experience with my host mom. Of seeing her deeper, of experiencing her through this "empathy".
Olimpia is much older than me, over forty, I think. She has given birth to six children. It is unlikely I will ever give birth to one. I am much taller than her. Her dress is in the traditional Kichwa way, mine is...I don´t know what you call it. She works harder than me and, very likely, is stronger than I am. She is missing the teeth between her upper canines. She sticks her tongue out from side to side while doing things like stirring a pot, slicing onions, peeling potatoes; essentially whenever she uses a tool. I do not. I am very white (though tanned...in some spots..now) while she has dark skin, like the other Kichwa people. She speaks (apparently) only Spanish. I speak English...and some Spanish. It is tough to talk with each other. She does not read or write (thus, she cannot use a dictionary, which makes communication even more difficult). She has, then, seemed "cold" to other people.
Olimpia is shy. This is something, I suppose, we have in common. This is not where one stops looking though. What else is seen in light of this, or despite this? And what insights into this culture are uncovered? First of all, it is immediately apparent that she has invited numerous students into her home. I am by no means the first. I am the fourth or fifth. We have all been cooked for and taken care of. When my stomach was a little upset the other week, Olimpia went out and found a special plant to make a special tea with. This tea was then made for me and brought up to me in my room. For the next few days her concern over my stomach´s condition was well made. It was obvious that she wanted the best for me, for my stomach to be healed.
There is another way in which I see deeper in to who Olimpia is. This is through her granddaughter, Maribel. Last week, in the kitchen as lunch was being cooked, Olimpia was talking to Patricio, Maribel´s brother. They were talking about Maribel, though what exactly was being said, I could not tell. I think, and this comes after recent events, they were talking about Maribel´s future place of residence. In any case, all of a sudden Olimpia began weeping as she talked. There was no attempt to hide them, no "Jordan, please leave the room". She was feeling deeply and was allowing us to see. Shortly after Patricio was in a similar state. My experience of Patricio has been limited, but I know that he is seventeen, has some large scars on his right arm, does not go to school, but works instead. I´ve begun to wonder if Maribel will have a similar future.
On Tuesday, I came down to see how dinner preparations were going. Olimpia told me that Maribel was at her father´s house. A little while later Maribel came in and her dad as well. Olimpia and Maribel´s father talked for awhile. They were obviously talking about Maribel. And Colegio, which seems to basically be high school. Seemed like there were doubts about Maribel attending one next year. In that conversation Olimpia began to weep again. Again, I was a witness to all this that was going on. It was becoming increasingly clear that Maribel was not just going for a day or so, but was actually moving in with her father. Just before leaving Maribel turned back and charged at me, throwing her arms around me. I was pretty taken by surprise and so, she pinned my arms at my side. She was squeezing so hard I couldn´t get them free. It was a five to ten second hug. The first real hug I´ve had since getting here. In that moment it was very very clear what was happening. And then they left. It was just Olimpia and I left in the room. And we both started to cry. Supper was long ago ready so she went into the kitchen and brought out soup for each of us. We ate in silence, mostly. Tears ran down each of our faces for most of the meal. A few times we looked each other in the eyes, knowing much of what the other was feeling and understanding why. It was clear. The situation was rotten.
I´ve thought back on this moment and wondered if perhaps this was also similar to the feelings and emotions expressed by my own grandparents (and other family members) and various "partings" in the past. When we moved to Yellowknife, for instance. Or, before I left for here.
In any case, the title of this post has Jesus in it, so I should make that clear. It stems from the idea that Jesus is the incarnation of God. That "the Word was made flesh" and that it "dwelt among us". That in becoming human there is this greater sense of empathy, of "knowing what its like". That, in Jesus experiencing pain and heartbreak and temptation his love takes on a deeper meaning. It is, perhaps, "thickened". But it goes the other way too. Because through seeing the Son, we see the Father. It is our experience of Jesus that is our experience of God. So, in seeing the love that was expressed by him, we see the love that the, more or less, incomprehensible father has. We see as well, the new "culture" that was preached; the Kingdom. In experiencing Jesus, we experience his kingdom. But how do we experience Jesus? There are a few aspects, I think. One of seeing the "image of God" in others and the other, which is perhaps similar, that when one feeds another, or gives water to them, one is giving it to Jesus himself. Both of these are, well, difficult. Later I will go more into my experience with these things, here and back home. But, I´ve been too long here...and this last bit needs more thought. And probably more phenomenology (since its what I´m pretending to talk about). I was, of course, only drawing a bit of a comparison. He wasn´t really.
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