My Interpretation of "The Traveling Onion"

 This poem by Naomi Shihab Nye is about  an onion. The author comtemplates the importance and beauty of the onion and the fact that it is often overlooked and forgotten. Of the onion she says, "crackly paper peeling on the drainboard, pearly layers in smooth agreement, the way knife enters onion and onion falls
apart on the chopping block." In these lines Nye is describing the onion in an admiring, dreamlike fashion,
indicating the fact that she holds great respect for this particular vegetable.
At first, it appears that the only way to interpret this poem is as a praise to the onion. However, The Traveling Onion is a deceptively simple work, or a work that appears simple to understand on the surface but in reality has a deeper meaning that has to be searched out. The poem needs to be seriously interpreted in order to discover even just a single meaning that may be hidden behind the obvious one. The phrase at the end of the first stanza, "and onion falls apart on the chopping block, a history revealed, " doesn't quite make sense. What history is "revealed" and why does the onion coming apart have anything to do with its history? There are other phrases in this poem that are just as complex and, therefore, one needs to make a valiant attempt to interpret the poem.
 To me, this poem seems to be communicating the fact that some of the most important things and people of this world frequently go unnoticed. They perform a special or needed work in our society but rarely are acknowledged with the recognition they deserve.  I draw this conclusion from the phrase, "I could kneel
and praise all small forgotten miracles." These "miracles" are most likely not the supernatural kind that we're
so familiar with. More than likely these miracles are the everyday things we take for granted: the laughter of
children, a cool summer day, a convicting chapel sermon, the knowledge found in God's Word. All these and
more could be classified as the "small forgotten miracles" that Nye is referring to. They are apart of our everyday existence and add something special to our world, but they frequently go unnoticed or, if noticed, don't receive the appreciation they deserve.
The onion, the central object in this poem, is both a representative of the unnoticed and an unnoticed object itself.  Many of us eat onions on a regular basis in some form but rarely, if ever, think about or consider them in any real depth. It adds flavor and a kick to various foods, such as soup, but unless it's an onion dish, most people probably don't pay attention to this vegetable. Nye says, "How at meal, we sit to eat, commenting on
texture of meat or herbal aroma but never on the translucence of onion."  Here, she openly acknowledges the fact that while other foods receive the benefit of compliments and recognization, the onion is not discussed.
In the second stanza Nye says "It is right that tears fall for something small and forgotten." Nye is speaking of the onion but it's very possible that she could also mean something more. The pungent smell of onions does cause one's eyes to well, however, the first half of the phrase, "It is right that tears fall," doesn't seem to be conducive with this fact. As forgotten as the onion might be, it isn't so important that someone would shed
tears over it. For it to be "right" for someone to cry over something it has to be something extremely important. Therefore, the tears must be for sadness or grief over the lose of something more important than an onion. The second half of the phrase, "for something small and forgotten," is also speaking of the onion.
However, one can make the conjecture that these lines might have a deeper meaning. Yes, the onion may be small and forgotten, but so are the disabled, so are the sick. The onion, as well as being unnoticed itself, might also be a representative of other unnoticed things.
So, why should any of this matter to you? It matters to you, and to me, because all of us, at one time or another, have experienced the pain of going unnoticed or unappreciated by those around us. We've operated
on the fringes of society while people take little or no notice of us. We've done nice things for other people
and were offered inadequate gratitude, or worse, none at all. What's more, we've acted that way toward other people. We deliberately avoid them or find ways to get out of interacting with them. We see the elderly man at the store who needs help and turn away. A loved one needs talk to us about something important and we refuse to acknowledge them. My interpretation of The Traveling Onion matters because it grabs the essence of the poem: The fact that we oftentimes ignore, whether intentionally or unintentionally, the things and people that should be the most regarded by us. The poem itself is  insightful because it uses an ordinary item to explain a great truth. Like I said earlier, most people don't take notice of onions. They add flavor to a
variety of foods but don't receive much recognition because their filmy, transparent  substance causes them to almost disappear and be superseded by whatever else is in the dish. Therefore, since we don't see the onion
we can't comphrend its worth in the overall dish.

Imago Dei

What does imago dei mean? Well,  Imago is the Latin term for image. Dei is Latin for God. Therefore, imago dei literally means the image of God. But what, exactly, does it mean to be in the "image of God?"
Does it simply mean that we physically look like God, having two arms, two legs, a nose, etc? Or does it
mean that we display some of God's personality traits, such as love, gentleness, and creativity? If the second
definition is true then that means that everyone-from the criminals in your local prison to the Good Samaritian worker-are made in the image of God, having displayed some level of the personal attributes of God. However, there is a complication in that belief. We believe that God is loving. So if we are made in His image
then why we do oftentimes act in unloving ways? Is it because we have somehow detracted from or thrown off any plans of acting like we are made in God's image to do our own thing? Or is possible that God is not loving, and therefore could not create beings capable love? But if so, then where did such people as Mother Theresa get their love and compassion for hurting individuals?
In his essay, Steven Fettke deals with this concept of imago dei but from a completely different angle. Instead asking how the image of a loving God can exist in the immoral human race, he asks how the image
of God imprints itself on the human race. In other words, in what way does the image of God appear in everyday life? Eichrodt claims, "For man (sic) to be created in the likeness of God's image can only mean that on him, too, personhood is bestowed as the definitive characteristic of his nature (3)."  Fettke relates
this concept to the mentally challenged. It is difficult to pin down exactly how the mentally challenged are made in God's image because we generally can't get past their problems and needs to see the true person. Fettke believes that this is one of the issues within the church community; many of them are stuck in the belief that because the mentally challenged can't contribute to the community or can't overcome their disability the way the community believes they should, they are not worth the time or effort.

The Boys Next Door

This was an interesting play. It gave a very unbiased glimpse of what mentally challenged individuals have to deal with: day-to-day living in the world while knowing their disability prevents them from doing certain things, interacting with others who are mentally challenged and those who are not, and attempting to find their
niche in a society that doesn't quite understand them. We may consider the mentally challenged as being strange, retarded, and even stupid. But in reality they're ordinary people who have some of the same emotions as we do. Barry experiences sadness and fear when his father, in a fit of rage, hits him on the side of his head. Arnold is hurt when Jack loses his temper and yells at him.Lucien is nervous about going before the State Senate to convince them that he is not ready to leave his group home. Norman is in love with Sheila. All the guys become very upset when Jack informs them that he is leaving them and taking a job as a travel agent. The play ends sadly and poignantly. It's sad not only because Jack is leaving the guys but also because Barry, as  a result of the incident with his father, has some type of breakdown and has to be sent to an institution. But the end is also poignant because even though Arnold tells Jack that he "hates" him, the last thing Arnold tells Jack before the play ends is: "Jack, and I emphasize this, you've got better behavior patterns than a lot of, I repeat, people" and the two men laugh (65). Go back to the end of the first act and read the part where Arnold tells Jack that his "behavior patterns are not one bit fun (33), " then read the first quote again, and I think you'll figure out why Arnold's comment to Jack at the end of the play is so important.

The Polk Museum

The Tampa Orchid

Two orchids. One gray against black,
the other blue against silver.
Constrasts. Like rich and poor,
darkness and light. What does
the contrast mean? I don't know.
Gray might be lifelessness and depression.
Blue might be vitality and life. Black could
represent darkness, silver light. Contrasts,
like black and white, strength and weakness.
Again, what does it mean? I don't know but
contrasts are wonderful things. How boring
the world would be if everything and everyone
were the same? Contrasts and differences give
the world spice and excitement. I believe God
meant it to be this way for He is a God of contrast:
human yet divine; loving but capable of righteous
anger. A God of contrasts, therefore, enjoys a world
of contrasts. But again, the tampa orchid, one gray
on black, the other blue on silver. What was the photographer's
purpose making it so? I am sure I do not know.

I went to the Polk Museum of Art for this assignment and stayed for at least forty minutes. The museum was a very interesting trip. I expected to only see paintings but I was surprised to see other things there as well. I looked at several Japanese kimonos, pieces of pottery, and bonsai trees as well as paintings. On the second floor I saw several photos that kept my attention for several minutes. Each photo depicted a family posing outside with their household items. Each family was from a different part of the world and most were of low economic status. Beside each photo was a plaque which included information about each family, such as how
many hours a week the parents worked and the family's most valuable possession. Reading these plaques made me rather sad. One family's plaque said they had no possessions of value, while another said they had no wishes for the future, probably because their economic situation was so bad the family didn't expect anything to elevate them even slightly. Two plaques stated that the family were their most valuable possession. These photos struck me because it made me realize anew that not everyone is so fortunate as to have a decent home or a nice car constantly at their disposal. It was good to see a glimpse of families who live outside America and to get a bit of history, of sorts, about other cultures. The photo of the tampa orchid, the subject of my "poem," was one of two works that caught my attention and which I kept returning to. The contrasting colors made a good effect on the overall work. The contrasting colors, in fact, was the detail that caused me write the "poem" about that particular work. I would have taken a picture of it and probably posted it on my blog if taking photos inside the museum hadn't been prohibited.

Reading for Transformation through the Poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins

With this essay I took another sojourn into the wonderful world of lectio divina. The auther, Francis X. McAloon, told his inspiring story of using lectio for the poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins, an English Jesuit
priest of the nineteenth century. McAloon explains that during his year-long engagement with Hopkins' poetry he was able, through both lectio divina and other intellectual means,  to interact with the texts on a spiritual  level. By doing so, McAloon utilized the practice of "reading for transformation," which, according
to Sandra Schneiders goes "beyond simply discovering what the text says to asking if what it says is true, and if so in what sense, and what the personal consequences for the reader and others might be."
This pratice can apply to a number of texts from the Bible to the Qu'ran, from Hopkins' poetry to science fiction. No matter the literary text, reading for transformation is very important. You shouldn't just read the text, you should really think about and consider whether or the not the text is true and if so how, and what you, as the reader, might be required to do about it. This kind of reading can be very difficult. It requires you to step away from your comfort zone and explore thoughts and ideas that you may have never considered before. Those new thoughts and ideas will challenge how you viewed the world previous to uncovering this new knowledge. Then you have to make a decision: Will you accept these concepts as truth and act on them accordingly or will you turn your back on them and go back to the safe and familar worldview?
But "reading for transformation" can also be very exciting. Discovering new ideas or realizing the existence of
ones you were previously unaware is stimulating a event. It expands your understanding of the world around you, compels you to interact with it ways you never did before, and, most importantly, allows you to experience God in ways you could never have imagined.

Darkness, Questions, Poetry, and Spiritual Hope

"Religious optimism--denying, ignoring or sidelining darkness--offers us no hope because it isn't even aware of the question." In other words, religious optimism does the suffferer no good because it offers no real hope in the midst of their brokeness. Though individuals who easily declare religious cliches to hurting people mean well, they often don't understand the deep, unbearable suffering the hearers are going through. They don't realize that while what they're saying is true the hearers will walk through their personal deserts before they're able to accept to these truths for themselves. In fact, these people must allow themselves to suffer in order to ultimately deal with their moments of darkness. Sometimes, hurting people will suppress their pain or attempt to move on too quickly, believing that is the best thing for them. But it isn't. The hurting person must, instead, give themselves permission to feel the pain of their situation even as they allow God to walk them step by step through the darkness. This concept of facing the darkness of this world instead of fleeing from it reminds me of what C.S. Lewis did in his book, A Grief Observed. After his wife died, he faced the darkness of his doubts about God and his faith head-on. Cornel West says that, "Despair and hope are inseparable. One can never underand what hope is really about unless one wrestles with despair."
On January 12, 2010, the nation of Haiti suffered a devastating earthquake. Many of us have seen the heartbreaking news images: Injured people in tent cities, dead bodies in the streets, crying children. During a memorial service for Haiti that my university presented, the students watched a video of a young Haitian who told his story of what he experienced that day. He talked about being in one of his classes on the day the earthquake hit. He fell through the floor of the building and another man landed on top of him. This person died just moments later when he was crushed by concrete. The young man who was telling the story was trapped under this person's body and tons of concrete for eleven hours before he was rescued. Yet, after he was brought out, instead of trying to forget this harrowing experience, he used it to reach out to his fellow countrymen.