Yesterday, I talked quite a bit about the dragon. I said, with an appropriate degree of reluctance, that Padre had been destroyed by the dragon.
In my version of Padre’s story, the dragon represents a certain vision of the Great American Dream: a steady job, a wife, two kids, house in the ’burbs with a white picket fence. I know I’m doing some post-mortem mind-reading, but it seems to me that Padre expected “the system” to treat him with the same integrity that he strove for in his life. When his job of over a decade gave him an impossible choice between being laid off and retirement, he felt incredibly betrayed by both the system and the American Dream.
The figure of the dragon has gotten considerably bad press in the Western canon. Along with the serpent, the snake, and other reptiles, it is considered "evil". On the other hand, as you may know, the Orient considers dragons omens of good fortune.
This point is made especially well in one of my favorite books, St. George and the Dragon and the Quest for the Holy Grail, by Edward Hays. George is an ordinary suburban male, in his mid 30s (one of those crisis points), and hears a voice sending him on a quest. Upon reflection, he chooses to start small, with a hermitage in his tool shed.
Then the dragon comes. George immediately takes this a sign that he’s on the right path (if you’re on a quest, you’re likely to meet a dragon — right?). The dragon quickly assures George that he’s a Chinese dragon, gives George a title worthy of a quest (Sent, or St., George), and offers direction for the quest. In fact, he invites George to climb on his back!
When St George climbs on the dragons back, he sees several wounds — some of which are glowing. He asks the dragon about them, and the dragon responds:
I have been slain a thousand times, but I have risen again. These old wounds are the source of my power and my insight. ... our greatest and worst enemies are not the monsters who roam the forest or even wicked witches or evil wizards. No, it is our scars, our wounds and old injuries that we must fear...Life wounds us in a number of ways. We have only hints of how Jesus may have been wounded prior to his passion, but there is no denying the severity of wounds he received within 24 hours.
Both the musical Jesus Christ Superstar and the movie The Passion report 99 lashes (the latter in lovingly sadistic detail). I don’t find such a figure in the canon, so I suppose this number to be from non-canonical tradition. Odds are there were bits of sharp metal tied into the knots. Odds are the man lost an incredible amount of blood.
I think Jesus had choices during every step of his via dolorosa. At this point, I think his choice might have been to give up the ghost and die. He didn’t.
Although our wounds are generally less severe than sharp metal ripping flesh, we have the same choice. We can allow the wound to become our total experience of reality, or we can keep walking.
We have the choice, like the dragon in the story, to find insight and strength in our wounds. For example, one scar teaches me compassion for others. This same scar makes me painfully aware of how easy it is to judge others by mere physical appearance. The scar of Padre’s betrayal has made me suspicious of the American Dream. Other scars have taught me other valuable lessons.
The dragon in Hays’ story speaks to a notion of the Wounded Healer. This phrase was coined by Henri Nouwen, and it means that we minister to each other through our woundedness. Through our wounds, we may heal.
What do your scars teach you?
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