Misfits

Listen: “Creep” by Radiohead

I like hanging out with misfits. I always have. I have felt like one myself at various times in my life—never more intensely than the last three years. I have joined a special group of people who are called by some: “Fallen Megachurch Pastors.” Isn’t that special? Something to which I always aspired. (Pardon the sarcasm. I actually prayed a million prayers to finish well. If you belong to this special group, please contact me. I need some friends!) I have also joined a special group of people who are called by some: “Recovering Substance Abusers.” I heard a recent lecture about stigmas associated with substance use disorder and learned that 45% of the public is unwilling to live next to or be close friends with someone with a substance use disorder (SUD); and similarly, about 45% of the public don’t want a person in recovery marrying into their family.

Based on my pastoral experience and thousands of hours of listening to people (pastoral counseling), I’m guessing most people have felt like they don’t fit in at some point in their life. It could be as simple as not fitting in with the “cool” kids at school or the “in-crowd” at work. Minority groups and individuals are most vulnerable to feeling like misfits based on color of skin, physical disabilities, diseases, mental disabilities, SUDs, behavioral addictions, economic status, intellectual disabilities, ethnicity, abuse victims, sexual orientation, and convicted criminals—to name a few.

I remember on a few occasions counseling with women in my church who were professional models—super models in my book. And yet, the women had horrible self-image problems. They hated their bodies. When they looked in the mirror, they only saw flaws. Their self-hatred resulted in eating disorders like anorexia and bulimia. From the outside, no one would have thought these women were misfits. But they were.

I have always been drawn to music and movies which highlight the plight of misfits. Whether it’s Radiohead singing “Creep” or Garth Brooks singing “Friends in Low Places.” I’ve always liked the comic, superhero genre of movies (DC Comics or Marvel) because most superheroes are misfits like Daredevil or Jessica Jones, or a collection of misfits like Suicide Squad, X-Men, and the Watchmen.

One of my favorite independent films is called “Love Song for Bobby Long” which was written and directed by Shainee Gabel, based on the novel Off Magazine Street by Ronald Everett Capps. Its world premiere was at the 61st Venice International Film Festival on September 2, 2004. It stars John Travolta as a brilliant, aging alcoholic who was once a famous English professor, and a young Scarlett Johansson as a headstrong woman who returns to New Orleans after the death of her estranged mother. The film features a collection of misfits who form a community of love and acceptance despite the tragic flaws of each person. This grace-based community of misfits offers surprising elements of redemption to each other. The soundtrack is one of my favorites as well.

After watching the film, I went down a rabbit hole. I ordered the book upon which it was based: Off Magazine Street. I found the book even more enchanting, and the author, Ronald Everett Capps, was a big fan of playwright Tennessee Williams. After reading Capps novel, I started reading Williams’ plays, and I fell in love with Tennessee Williams’ plays. Williams is best know for plays like A Street Car Named Desire, Cat On a Hot Tin Roof, The Glass Menagerie, and The Night of the Iguana. His characters are beautifully flawed, both tragic and resilient. Williams says, “My chief aim in playwriting is the creation of character. I have always had a deep feeling for the mystery in life, and essentially my plays have been an effort to explore the beauty and meaning in the confusion of living.” In my view, Tennessee Williams displays an ability to capture redemptive notes in tragically flawed human beings—a gospel for misfits. “What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains” said Blanche DuBois in A Street Car Named Desire.  Blanche, in her desperately dignified resilience, utters a famous line at the end of the play: “Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

As misfits, we find ourselves grateful for any act of kindness, whether from a stranger or friend. The world and its inhabitants can, at times, be so harsh, so critical and judgmental of misfits. Kindness feels like a drink of fresh, cool water to a parched and carped soul.

Which brings me around to one of my favorite themes for misfits—Grace. I remember reading for the first time in 1997 one of my top ten books of all time, What’s So Amazing About Grace by Philip Yancey. In one of the chapters, “No Oddballs Allowed,” Yancey attempts to unpack the quirky dietary restrictions found in the Old Testament (Hebrew Bible). In some of the ancient purity codes found in the Hebrew Bible, it seems that anything that was diseased, blemished, or even odd was considered unclean. In order to stay clean, one must not touch or associate with anything that was unclean—people, places, or things.

Christians today who enjoy pork chops, scallops, oysters on the half shell, and lobster may easily miss the revulsion 1st century Jews experienced around this behavior. Maybe we could compare it to someone eating a cat or a rat in America today, but infused with religious objection and judgment. By Jewish law, these animals were unclean, maybe because they were oddballs (like fish with no scales or birds that can’t fly). According to Jewish writer Herman Wouk, “fit” is the best English equivalent for “kosher.” Something is not “kosher” because it is abnormal. It doesn’t fit. A misfit. (The Rabbinic tradition is rich with fresh, positive insights on kosher practice today. It’s easy to contaminate ourselves with things like bitterness and self-hatred.)

Jesus dismantled the ritual purity culture rung by rung. He taught that purity is a condition of the heart—a heart filled with love and grace—not something unclean from outside the body which might contaminate the body (Mark 7:20-23). According to Yancey, “In essence, Jesus canceled the cherished principle of the Old Testament, No Oddballs Allowed, replacing it with a new rule of grace: ‘We’re all oddballs, but God loves us anyhow’” (p. 153).

I like hanging out with misfits. I feel at home with the homeless, and a fit with the misfits. I look forward to connecting with a community of grace-filled misfits who find surprising elements of redemption on this journey we call life.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2021