Elephant in the Room

Robert called late last night. The retreat with the teammates was good but ended early because the teachers are threatening to step up their protests Saturday and Sunday to stop Sunday's elections. There is still no gas anywhere. The federal police might step in... It’s strange to be here, waiting for news about the place I’ve lived for the past twelve years and the people I consider my teammates. Life goes on: kids graduate, power struggles flare, ants move in…

The night before Robert left for Mexico, or tried to leave, we watched a documentary lent to me by my Compassionate Nurse friend. I have the most awesome nurses in my life. There’s Competent Nurse, who mediates between me and Dr. Blue and Brown, thank goodness. Then there’s Home Care Nurse, who changes my dressings and gives me shots. Then there is Compassionate Nurse, who organizes Quiddler games and trips to movies and who is willing to rescue me from (ex) Pig Farmers if their shots go wrong. I must say that none of my nurses are unempathetic. (I wonder what Dr. Cynical’s nurse is like, because I should be hearing from her in a while. I’ll let you know.)

So we sat down to watch Exit Through the Gift Shop, one of the most ironic documentaries I have ever seen. You think it’s about Banksy, but it’s not. It’s about a guy who wants to film all the great street artists, including Banksy, but all he does is take miles and miles of film and does nothing with any of it, but instead learns how to become a “great” street artist himself, and puts on an enormous exhibit in L.A., and earns a million bucks from selling all his stuff. So…exit the scene of risky, underground, subversive street art through the cha-ching in the gift shop? Hmmm. He tries to imitate Banksy’s own art exhibit, in which there was a real, live wall-paper-painted “elephant in the room,” among other things.

Graffiti, or street art, is all about the elephant in the room. Maybe all art is about the elephant in the room, at some level. Right now I’m thinking about the graffiti in Oaxaca. Most of it pretty unattractive stuff. But whether you agree or disagree with the artist, he or she is trying to tell you something he or she thinks you are missing. Something he or she thinks is staring you in the face. Like government corruption, for example, the kind that allows mayors’ 

You took them alive; we want them back alive

wives to get away with murdering students. Or like the injustice of losing your job because you can’t pass a proficiency test. (Think of the reasons for that: were you taught poorly? Did you buy the placement without ever getting a degree? Is the test unfair? Just another power play?) Graffiti has raw emotion behind it and demands for us to take notice, whether we want to or not. You have to give it that, and any time the people around us are feeling that raw, whether we agree with their position or not, we should probably at least listen.

The establishment, of course, is constantly putting up its own art, all legal, communicating how well it’s doing. As the person just walking by, you have to decide how much of either message to buy.

Everyone promises, nobody fulfills. Vote for nobody.

As union and government contend for power in Oaxaca, catching us in the crossfire, we know there has to be truth on both sides, but as Cleo said, it’s most likely both are fighting corruption with more corruption.  As Jesus said, “You know that the rulers in this world lord it over their people, and officials flaunt their authority over those under them.” Stories abound of government corruption in Mexico, but the teacher’s union is also guilty of corruption, as we know who have lived there. There is stealing, and cover-ups, and power plays that cost everyone so much. You don’t see this splashed on walls as graffiti.

The kind of art I like is the art that calls both sides to account, that names what they do selfishness. You don’t see much of this kind of art. Banksy manages it, I think. And Jesus was the Master.

Jesus’ art tackled the elephant in the room head on. Of course, he didn’t have spray cans, and he did his acts of protest right out in the open, and his art was not visual but oral. It was story-telling, parable-telling. It was kind of like street art, because he just handed it out to the public for free, and his public wasn’t the “in” crowd, either.  He made the establishment mad by accusing them of godlessness and injustice, but he made the crowd queasy, too, with his insistence on praising generous Samaritans, and throwing parties for Prodigals, and selling everything and giving it to the poor.

The showdowns in Oaxaca might force the two great powers to negotiate a settlement so people can get back to normal life. It might even resolve some of the issues. But it won’t solve the underlying problem. That is up to us as we follow the example of Jesus, “But among you it will be different. Whoever wants to be a leader among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must be your slave.” Slave? Did he say “SLAVE?” If only this weren’t just plain IMPOSSIBLE! Jesus is a Master at irony, too.