William Lloyd Garrison's "To the Public"

     When we are far removed from things it's easy to be apathetic about them.  We are susceptible to this in America; while people in other countries starve and shiver in refugee camps, we go to sleep sleep in our warm beds with full stomachs, without a care in the world, taking for granted our blessings and not caring to step in and help those who are not as fortunate, if only because it doesn't affect us directly.  It seems that the northern states shared a similar attitude towards slavery in the south in 1831.  This is what Garrison was so worked up about in "To the Public," that because slavery didn't affect people in the north directly, they did not see slavery as the big problem it actually was.  They didn't want to take immediate action, assuming slavery would run its course, that over time moderate steps would be taken to gradually end slavery.  But Garrison will have none of it.

"I will be as harsh as truth, as uncompromising as justice.  On this subject, I do not wish to think, or speak, or write, with moderation.  No! no!  Tell a man whose house is on fire, to give a moderate alarm; tell him moderately to rescue his wife from the hands of the ravisher; tell the mother to gradually extricate her babe from the fire into which it has fallen; --but urge me not to use moderation in a cause like the present."

Real people, real lives are effected by slavery, Garrison says; imagine yourself as one of them.  I know I fall into the apathetic category more often than not, but real lives are at stake here.  We need people like Garrison to remind us of this and to call us into action.

Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart"

     I've read "The Tell-Tale Heart" several times before, and what is always discussed is the obvious case of an unreliable narrator.  I am always amused by the way the narrator tries to convince us, and himself, that he is not crazy.  "And now--have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over acuteness of the senses?" the narrator says to explains his hatred of the old man's "vulture eye."  Earlier when describing his carefulness and planning killing the old man he says, "You fancy me mad.  Madmen know nothing."  As if premeditated murder is not something a madman/serial killer would come up with.
     But another theme I noticed after reading it this time, probably because we just covered this theme in The Scarlet Letter, is the power of confession.  "The Tell-Tale Heart" is itself a confession to the reader of the sin committed against the old man.  And although the narrator does try to explain away his madness, it seems that the narrator is aware of his madness and explaining it this way is a hidden confession of its own.  Perhaps confession is what's keeping him from losing it altogether.  The guilt after killing the old man is so much that he believes he can hear the old man's heart beating while the police are chatting with him.  He can't keep the crime to himself any longer and blurts out his confession to the policemen.  Sinning and keeping the sin to himself is driving him crazy--he hears things and he imagines himself to be pacing back and forth, "I foamed--I raved--I swore," while the police sit pleasantly chatting, not seeming to notice.  I assume this was not actually happening but a figment of his imagination--an effect of keeping sin in the dark.  "I felt like I must scream or die!" the narrator says.  But confession will do just fine.  Once the narrator confesses, the story ends--a story written by a man confessing and attempting to keep his sanity through it.

Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven"

     When I'm having a bad day, I try to find pity wherever I can get it.  On those days, I'm in a slump that I don't want out of; I just want to wallow in my sorrow and I want others to make me feel like I have a right to do that.  Well, this is precisely what the speaker in "The Raven" is doing.  This bird shows up, trained to say one word and one word only, "Nevermore," and the speaker, in his pity slump, decides that this is just the way to get the pity he is looking for.  He begins to frame his questions and conversation with the bird around the answer of "Nevermore."  He wishes to forget his lost Lenore, the raven replies, "Nevermore."  He tells the bird to leave him alone, the raven replies, "Nevermore."  The speaker knows exactly what he's doing when he speaks to the bird, and he knows exactly the answer he will get every time.  He frames the conversation around his sadness.  I believe this is the 19th century version of listening to sad music when you've just gone through a breakup.  Yet the bird does not leave the speaker, as many have been prone to do. This at least can be comfort, I suppose.

The Scarlet Letter: The Confession

     Dimmesdale's confession is a dramatic one: it's as if after all this time, bringing his sin to light is such a feat that he can no longer live.  Even though it's a classic tragic romance scene, it still hurts my heart a little to read.  At last, the family is brought together and sin has been addressed, but it still doesn't turn out for the best.  This is what Hester and Pearl have wanted, for their family to be together, but they never get to enjoy it--still they suffer.  When Hester asks Dimmesdale if they will spend the afterlife together, it's so romantically tragic, because we know that she still cares for him and wants a chance at reconciliation.  The scene where Hester is buried next to Dimmesdale but still far enough apart because "the dust of the two sleepers had no right to mingle, even in death" suggests the tragedy that the two lovers are still kept apart to suffer the consequences of their sin.  What a sad, tragic ending--a close second to Romeo and Juliet.

The Scarlet Letter: Dimmesdale

     I find Dimmesdale to be an interesting character.  He is a minister, yet he is unwilling to confess sin--something a minister teaches their congregation to do.  He both wants to and doesn't want to come forward as Pearl's father.  In chapter 12, he stands on the scaffold with Hester and Pearl during the night, but refuses to do so in the daylight for everyone to see.  He goes to meet Hester and Pearl as a way of asking for forgiveness yet is unwilling to come forward and ask for forgiveness from the whole town.  He seems like sort of a coward and a hypocrite to me.  Hester is brave and honest; he is the opposite.  I can't blame Pearl for washing off the kiss he gave her in chapter 19--if he truly loved her he would confess his sin and suffer with Pearl and Hester.  But his consequence for sin seem to be worse than Hester's, because although kept in secret, it is eating him up inside.  He is suffering physically because of his guilty conscience, while Hester can move forward and make some meaning of her life.  Dimmesdale's character proves the good that can come of confession, even if the punishment for sin isn't fair.

The Scarlet Letter (ch. 7-8)

     I can't imagine having been ostracized from my society because of having a child out of wedlock, having that child as my only companion, and then being threatened to have the child taken away from me.  I would be desperate at this point, as Hester is.  When she pleads for Dimmesdale to speak for her and her child, it's almost like begging him to do something since he has been absent from her public suffering and has kept his sin, the same sin she is being punished for, to himself.  Dimmesdale bears no consequences for the same sin that Hester is being punished for.  If I were Hester, I too probably would have been losing my faith at this point and been tempted to turn away from God, who seems to have turned away from her.  However, Dimmesdale's eloquent words saved Hester and her child from being split apart, which gave Hester a small glimpse of hope that God may still be with her.  If that is the least Dimmesdale can do, I suppose it was the best that could come out of this situation.

The Scarlet Letter (ch. 5-6)

     These chapters highlight how the town's way of dealing with Hester has only served to further alienate her from community, even the church community who is supposed to forgive her and welcome her back.  And this alienation is taking a toll on Hester's child, who rebels against the Christian faith probably because she sees no benefit for following Christ, she only sees an angry, judgmental God and not a forgiving one.  Through the way they chose to deal with sin, the church is warping Pearl's vision of what the church does.  She doesn't see it as a place that welcomes sinners and is merciful, therefore she doesn't see God as one who does that.  This is evident when she tells Hester, "I have no Heavenly Father!"  And the way the townspeople treat Hester and Prynne is an awful example of how the church is supposed to treat people and care for "the least of these," people who need the most help, including single women and children.  The church could be setting a way better example for being the people of God, yet they choose to distance themselves with a "holier than thou" air about them.

Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter (ch. 1-4)

     One thing pointed out in these first chapters of The Scarlet Letter is how easy it is for us to judge other people, to point out the speck in others' eye while neglecting the plank in our own.  Although I see the merit in confession and in bringing sin to light and dealing with it appropriately, I think the way the townspeople dealt with Hester Prynne was not an appropriate way to deal with sin.  Confession is supposed to bring sin to light but also restore people back into the community of faith, a community that is gracious and forgiving because they too have sinned and understand.  But putting Hester up on a pedestal with the scarlet 'A' as a way of punishing sin did nothing to help the greater community recognize their own sin, nor did it restore Hester back into the community.  The community gave her no grace, but rather further alienated her from themselves.  It is quite possible that many other in the community had committed adultery, but are not being punished because they got lucky and didn't bear the consequences of their sin through a child, as Hester did.  Although the community of people probably didn't think so, I thought they could have learned from Hester, who was unwilling to point out the speck in someone else's eye--specifically, the father's child--but instead was only concerned with dealing with the plank in her own eye.

Thoreau's "Economy"

     I found the first chapter of "Economy" to be rather compelling, because I think Americans could learn a lot from Thoreau's ideas of simplicity.  The standard of living he writes about is a lot lower than the standard of living many Americans think they deserve.  We want nice things, and a lot of them.  Many people, myself included, even own things they never use, just because they can.  Thoreau criticizes this materialistic way of life, saying that we live this way because we've been trained to by our society.  What he suggests is to throw off the expectations of society and learn to live differently, and he suggests we do this by experiencing nature.  Nature offers simplicity, and one can realize that they need only the necessities in life, and not much more than that.  This is something that is challenging for me, because even though I am well aware of the consumeristic, materialistic ways of our society, it's still difficult to stay away from the influence it has over me.  I fall into the same camp as many other Americans, believing that material things can make me happy.  But in order to have these material things, we must work--a lot.  And as Thoreau points out, if we had a lower standard of living and wanted less things, we wouldn't have to work as much.  We could live a life of leisure and be content having just what we need.  These are good things to be aware of as Americans, especially as Christians living in America.  How we choose to spend our time is important to think about, and we don't want to waste it away on the clock.