As Stanley sat, Ronald held the phone up to Stanley: “This is my friend you love to criticize, Jurgen Moltmann. He’s in Germany right now. Want to say hi?”
Stanley hesitantly answered the phone, “Is this Dr. Moltmann?”
“Yes,” said a thick German accent on the other end. “You’ve read my work?”
“Yes, I think it’s silly. You’re a survivor of war and abuse, and you think that hope is what will ultimately save us? No. It will be either hopelessness or an end to the memories of pain.”
Jurgen laughed, “You have a grim view of the world there, Professor Redlaw. Memories of pain are where God is the most. What breaks his heart is what breaks yours equally. On the cross, we have a divine brother in our suffering and loss. His wounds weren’t gone after his resurrection. No… those wounds stayed because he wants to show us that he weeps with us so that we may one day laugh.”
“If his wounds remain and there’s still pain in the world, then he should’ve stayed up on that cross. We would’ve been a lot better off. The world doesn’t need pain.”
“God suffers with us. He is there, even with you.”
“Why do we remember the worst things done to us, Dr. Moltmann? Why is it that you have to carry around the wounds yourself? None of it is fair, nor does it make sense.”
Jurgen paused on the other end of the phone, “I came to a point in my journey where I realized I remembered the most painful things done to me that I might one day forgive them.”
That answer infuriated Stanley, but then he realized he didn’t know what he was angry about. The vague memories of injustice started to flash before his mind’s eye again. All at once, dizzying and confusing. Blurriness. Is this what Dolphy talked about?
“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” Stanley said as he handed the phone back to Ronald.
Ronald chuckled again, “Optimistic as ever!”
***
Ronald and Stanley sat across from each other quietly.
“If you could forget the painful memories in your life, would you be grateful?” Stanley sipped his eggnog.
“Grateful?” Ronald raised his eyebrows. “I suppose I would. I’ve lived a long life, and no long life is lived without its regrets.”
“What about your retirement speech?”
“I’m grateful for the way those events pushed me forward, but I don’t think anyone, in their right mind, is inherently grateful that bad things happen to them. They’re, instead, grateful for the freedom found on the other side of them. But I know one day those memories will be no more when all is said and done. What’s in the past is in the past. In a way, it both exists and no longer exists.”
“I’m so numb, Ronald,” Stanley whispered. “I’m so numb. I can’t find meaning or purpose any more. I thought a life lived without pain would be amazing, but instead, it’s its own hell. Everything is gray and lifeless. I can’t bring myself to feel… anything.”
Ronald touched his shoulder gently, “You’ll find it again. I know you will. I’ve seen you survive some horrible things. You’ll get through this like you’ve gotten through everything else.”
“It’s not even that… it’s that I can’t find purpose in my life any more. I stand in front of the news and I don’t feel anything. I see death, destruction, poverty. I don’t feel anymore.”
“It’s a sad state to watch the world fall apart and not feel anything about it.”
“Yes! Yes. And I want to get better, Ronald. I really do, but I’m not sure how.”
Ronald touched his hand. Stanley felt some electricity flow through him.
“Oh, no,” Stanley whispered.
Ronald’s eyes glazed over and then he backed away suddenly.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Stanley stood up, knowing what was happening, “Ronald… it’s me! Stanley! Professor Redlaw! Can’t you recall anything?”
Ronald shook his head blankly.
“We were talking about…”
Stanley sighed.
Ronald continued to stare at him confused and frightened.
“I’m no one,” Stanley put down his coffee and put on his coat. “I’m no one, Ronald. At least that’s what I deserve to be. Have a merry Christmas.”
As Stanley started to walk out, Ronald let out a confused Christmas greeting in return.
***
Outside Tetterby’s coffee shop, Stanley observed Sophia crying inside. Her husband, Marcus, was trying his best to comfort her. She couldn’t stop.
“You did this,” Stanley whispered. “You did this.”
He started walking away, reviewing all the people he met that day. How was it he could see a homeless woman commit suicide and not feel anything? Was this what it truly meant to be a part of a new, improved humanity? To be so disconnected from pain that others in distress can’t see it?
Is this really the miracle Stanely was waiting for?
***
Stanley stared at the Chicago River silently, occasionally looking up at the Sears tower, sometimes the sky. He heard the phantom voice behind him.
“How is your gift?” the phantom asked.
“I’m… I’m not sure,” Stanley answered. “I get these vague hints of feelings… these flashes of memory. Things that have happened to me, maybe. But I feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’m starting to wonder if this whole thing was a mistake.”
The phantom stood next to him, “I was here when this all burned down decades ago. They had the right idea, maybe. Starting brand new without former buildings.”
“Some still remain, however… and the reason those other ones burnt down was because everything was made of wood. It’s not some existential statement, really.”
The phantom smiled, “Sometimes you need to burn down all the carnage and everything around you to build new. Maybe this gift is a blessing in disguise.”
“I watched someone die tonight. I felt nothing. You tell me that’s normal and I’ll tell you that you’re full of it. I miss the old feelings. At least I saw clearer. Is there a way out of this?”
The phantom remained silent.
“Please… tell me there’s a way out of this.”
“There is a way.”
“What is it?”
“You must love, Stanley. You must love. But to do that will bring back all your pain. You will wake up and feel everything all at once.”
“What of the people I’ve harmed?”
Silence.
Stanley saw that the phantom had disappeared.
He walked closer to the edge, and considered throwing himself in. This was it. This was his hell. Not the immense pain and sorrow that came before. The numbness. The emptiness.
In the distance, the church bells to Old St. Pat’s rang.
***
Stanley sat in the back of the sanctuary and observed mass. He kept eying Jesus on the cross behind the priest. They sang familiar hymns, gave the usual advice. Everyone there was with their families.
Stanley kept looking at Christ’s wounds. He thought about Dr. Moltmann’s words. Jesus is a divine brother in the suffering of humanity. To suffer is, in a mysterious way, to also experience God.
“For unto you on this day a child is born,” said the priest. “When we hear these words, we think of a perfect child. But really, I want us to imagine the impact of this. Christ became a child so we may become children again. To experience joy and wonder as only they can. Do you remember what it was like as a child?”
Stanley closed his eyes and tried to remember as best he could, but nothing came up. A single tear flowed down his face. He bit his lip, nodded, his head, and quickly ducked out of mass as soon as the hymns started again.
***
Shadows and spirits were dancing along the walls of the skyscrapers as Stanley ran briskly. He didn’t want these feelings. He didn’t want to live. He wanted to get out of Chicago as fast as he could.
“Professor Redlaw, enjoying your gift?” the Phantom’s voice boomed with a laugh. “This is what you wanted.”
Stanley stopped at a storefront window and saw reflections of pale children staring back at him. They opened their mouths to speak but nothing came out.
“No, no…” Stanley backed away and kept walking.
“Look at humanity’s sins, Professor. Look at them,”
***
Walking through the streets of Lawndale, Stanley couldn’t help but notice the massive disparity between himself – a white middle-aged man – and the black families around him. He walked over homeless people and younger kids smoking on the sidewalk. He kept his eyes down, knowing that he may not be welcome.
“Excuse me, sir,” Stanley looked up and saw an elderly man. He smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol. “I was wondering if you could find it in your Christmas spirit to give my family dinner tonight.”
He looked the man in the eyes and struggled to find the words to reply. He felt nothing. He remembered nothing. All he could think about was the man in front of him, and Stanely tried to piece together why he should help.
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- A Chicago Carol - December 24, 2024
