Reading Freud on a Beach

If we are to consider the heavens, how much more are we to consider the magnificent energies of consciousness that make whomever we pass on the street a far grander marvel than our galaxy?  Marilynne Robinson

965537_10151427724136361_427207441_oIt’s summer and I’m sitting on a flat white beach on the northern Oregon coast. We (Amy, her brother and sister-in-law and all our various children) are celebrating my in-laws wedding anniversary. The weekend – and 50 years of fidelity to vows –  are a gift to us all. Amy is building a sandcastle with Robby who is 7 years old and he does everything with great intensity, all his considerable focus bent on the task at hand. And for this moment he is simply an extraordinarily beautiful boy, all long lanky energy, sun-bleached hair and knobby-knees, his body still fluid and careless.  He is unworried and unhurried and he yells, “Daddy, come look at the castle.”

So I go to look, thankfully putting down Freud’s Civilization and Its Discontents, no light beach reading to be sure, but an assignment for my last class at Fuller Seminary. Freud is a hard, jarring read. In his analysis, we are instinctively driven to maximize pleasure in the face of the inexorable lessening of pleasure’s possibility. Fate (the blind and meaningless passage of time) simply deals this harsh hand to us all, and our efforts to avoid suffering are futile. Worse than futile, the insatiable drive to avoid suffering reflects a defect in human maturity, an infantile clinging to a projection (God, goodness eternal) for which we hope most – that justice will be known, forgiveness too, and every tear will be wiped away. Instead, Freud gives us a cold world, devoid of hope or awe, except awe at the roiling, unknown forces that drive us all and of which we are at best only vaguely aware. His vision is bracing, at best. Continue reading “Reading Freud on a Beach”