Theological Insight goes “Boink”

One night this semester I was in class, and we were discussing the process of sorting out things we have to do, get to do, want to do, and don’t have to do. It was insightful, and felt very mature in that peculiarly “pastoral” way that many of us here in seminary are aiming for. And a quote came to my mind that felt very apt. Not thinking much about the source, I started to type it into the chat box of our zoom lecture-- something along the lines of “I might not have everything that I want, but I’m grateful for all the things I don’t have that I don’t want.” It then occurred to me that that quote, I was pretty sure, came from the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes. I laughed at myself, and threw that citation into my message. When I sent it, I saw some of my classmates smile, and one or two replied.

That night, I went to bed, tired from a long day of pandemic life and school. But I woke up, suddenly, in the middle of the night, with a feeling that I’d made a serious mistake. That quotation wasn’t from Calvin and Hobbes, the legendary 1985-1995 strip by Bill Watterson, but rather the criminally underrated strip Zits by Jerry Scott and Jim Borgman. Or was it Calvin and Hobbes? Or was it Zits? My mind flipped back and forth until I eventually fell back asleep.

I woke up the next morning with the same thing on my mind. But it was different, because what had finally dawned on me was the hand-in-hand absurdity and appropriateness of these two childhood obsessions appearing in my pastoral care class during a global pandemic. Psychologists say that when confronted with trauma, we can “regress” to earlier stages in our emotional development. In the midst of worldwide trauma, and even surrounded by resources for developed, theological, spiritual meaning-making, what made this lesson the most meaningful for me was a vaguely-recalled comic strip from my childhood.

I think my point is that, for all of us who work so hard to learn about meaning-making and the divine, some occasional regression might not be such a bad thing. I know there are times when I need my challenges met in grown-up ways by people with nuanced understandings of the mind and spirit. But there are other times when it’s best to step back, and realize that something simple, and maybe a little goofy, is what’s called for. There’s no reason that a serious, concerned theologian can’t also, sometimes, admit to being a big kid having a rough day.

Ben Heaney (he/him) is an MDiv student at Union, concentrating in Interreligious Engagement. Originally from the Chicago area, he enjoys skateboarding, reading, and being outdoors.