Loyola University Chicago Loyola eCommons Master's Theses Theses and Dissertations 1992 Representation and story : a conversation between the theology of John Shea and psychoanalytic object relations theory Philip Patrick Baxter Loyola University Chicago Follow this and additional works at: https://ecommons.luc.edu/luc_theses Part of the Religion Commons Recommended Citation Baxter, Philip Patrick, "Representation and story : a conversation between the theology of John Shea and psychoanalytic object relations theory" (1992). Master's Theses. 3828. https://ecommons.luc.edu/luc_theses/3828 This Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by the Theses and Dissertations at Loyola eCommons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Master's Theses by an authorized administrator of Loyola eCommons. For more information, please contact [email protected]. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License. Copyright © 1992 Philip Patrick Baxter , ;' \ ,,.._ . ~ ,~' REPRESENTATION AND STORY: A CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE THEOLOGY OF JOHN SHEA AND PSYCHOANALYTIC OBJECT RELATIONS THEORY by Philip Patrick Baxter A Thesis Submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Loyola University of Chicago in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts in Pastoral Counseling May 1992 01991 Philip Patrick Baxter All rights reserved Dedicated to my father, John Baxter, whose journey ended while this thesis was in process, and through whom, God's fairness and fun came to me, and to my mother, Elizabeth Conboy, who mediated God's consoling presence and faithfulness to me. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS At the beginning of this essay, I want to acknowledge the gratitude I owe to so many people. I appreciate the affection and generosity of my brothers of the Capuchin Vice-Province of Zambia. I offer a special word of thanks to Noel and Malachy who had to accept an additional workload in agreeing that I come to Loyola. Ni tumezi hahulu Eustace Mcsweeney, first as my Provincial, and later as Definitor General of the Capuchins, constantly encouraged me, and found the necessary dollars to fund my sejour in the United States. Gaibhim buiochas do. Thanks too, to my classmates and the faculty of the program, who welcomed me into their lives. Their perspectives frequently excited me, often challenged me, but their companionship always supported me. Throughout the writing of this thesis, my readers, Allan Schnarr and Fran Belmonte, not only encouraged me, but their availability and kindness helped me through some dark moments. In the background, and helping me to live, not only in my head, but out of my heart too, Denise Simmons-Giblin has been a gracious companion and soul­ friend. This list would be incomplete without acknowledging the delight I have experienced, not only in reading the books written by John Shea, but most especially, in the conversations we have had. I hope that he can accept Chapter V of this thesis, not only as a tribute to his courage, and to his willingness to talk to me about some of the most intimate and formative experiences of his life, but also as an iii expression of gratitude for the hope, joy, and vision that his writing arouses in me, and in so many other readers. iv TABLE OF CONTENTS Page INTRODUCTION iv Chapter I. STORIES OF DWELLING IN EXCEEDING DARKNESS AND UNDESERVED LIGHT . 10 II. MEANING AND PSYCHOLOGICAL BIRTH 85 III. FAITH RESOURCES IN A PSYCHOLOGICAL KEY 151 IV. REPRESENTATION ENGAGES STORY AND VISA-VERSA 180 V. FALLING THROUGH DISENCHANTMENT--AND THE RETURN 240 CONCLUSION 264 REFERENCES 284 v INTRODUCTION Wisdom does not burst forth fully developed like Athena out of Zeus' head. --Bruno Bettelheim The sun shone while we were on the lake. The light breeze helped keep us cool. When we docked it was just two in the afternoon. There was plenty of time to have a bite to eat and to catch the number six bus home--the last bus runs at 7:00 P.M. from State Street. As I came to the bridge on the Chicago River at Michigan and Wacker, a young man, beating drums·, with a sign before him which read "unemployed," looked me straight in the eyes. I had a handful of loose change in my pocket, the day's collection. I put the coins in the box and kept going, quickly. I crossed the bridge going south, and reached the Public Library, on Michigan Avenue. There I met a second man, this time old. He simply shouted his needs. "Spare some change. I have no bed for the night." I deftly moved to the right of the sidewalk and then ~eyes squarely met mine. She was an old scrawny woman, with grey thinning hair and her hand out. This was too much. I could find my anger rising. My shame and guilt were engaged. Gruffly, I edged my way passed her. The evening had turned suddenly chilly, and I shivered a little. I no longer noticed people on the street, and I muttered my depression to myself: "what do these people expect me to do for them?" "What have I ever done to them, that they should make me this upset." l 2 This self-talk became more accusatory. I began to repeat "there must be something I can do. I must do something. I must do something." It was as clear as dish-water to me what I must do, and I could feel my anger escalating, each time I repeated"! must do something." All this was going on as I rounded the corner into Washington Street, and then into State Street, where I stood, numbed, at the bus stop. After a few minutes, I began to look around. I could not believe it! Right there across the street, sitting on the cement casing of a flower bed was a fourth--again an old man--just staring, staring, staring, vacantly into space. Behind him a fifth trudged by. This time, an old woman carrying two carrier-bags. The words of a song from the seventies, "The Streets of London," came to mind and I began to hum the words . so how can you tell me your are lon-o-n-ly and say for you, that the sun don't shine ... This reverie was suddenly sundered by a shout from behind me. And, My God!, here was a sixth! This time, a young man again. He hopped along, I suppose one could call it, in the most grotesque manner, for he bent his knees and consequently moved along in a manner reminiscent of a monkey. His arms were rigid, fingers extended, he moved his head jerkily from side to side. He literally was in peoples' faces. He jumped at them as he passed by, and shouted something at them, not six inches from their nose. I could feel my numbness deepening, I began to stare in front of me--not unlike the man on the opposite side of the street. To relieve the depression, the shame, the guilt, the helplessness, and the boredom that I felt creeping all over me, I reached into the bag I was carrying, and pulled out a book I had bought earlier in the day, by Bruno Bettelheim. I began to read the first 3 paragraph. This is how Bettelheim began his introduction to The Uses of Enchantment, "If we hope to live, not just from moment to moment, but in true consciousness of our existence, then our greatest need and most difficult achievement is to find meaning in our lives" (1989, p. 3). I stopped reading. I thought for a new moments, stunned at the coincidence, and I reread the passage. I was having one of these "ah­ a" moments people speak about. My own depression, my sense of uselessness, and isolation, had its roots in the utter meaninglessness that I felt, as I failed to relate to these six people-who had crossed my path, in a time-lapse of less than five minutes. Meaning for me, is that sense of connectedness that I feel at times, when I recognize, more, when I know, in my heart of hearts, how I am related to the important people, events and circumstances of my life. Meaning goes hand in hand with a·sense of "wholeness" of my life, each part, like a piece of a jig-saw puzzle, fitting, with precision, into the next part. As I put words on what I felt happening deep within me, some of the awfulness, and the boredom lifted. I began to think a little more clearly, reflecting on how important connection with other people is to me, how vital it is for me to see and feel meaning in my relationships with other people. I remembered how humiliated I feel on those occasions when I respond to people out of shame or guilt. As I meditated in this way, I began to think of the weeks and weeks of work that has gone into this essay. I realized it was that I had chosen to work with the theology of John Shea and the psychological discipline of Object Relations Theory. Shea explicitly sets out to uncover the depth dimension to all our relating, whether it be to human beings or to the 4 cosmos and all the things it contains .. Object Relations is a powerful tool with which to uncover the psychological byways and highways we travel, on the journey to a cohesive self, and hence to meaning--for those of us who are lucky, that is--and the psychological detours, cul- de-sacs, and the landmined-highways that those who are less fortunate take, all the time.