The Miracle Worker

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, we watched "The Miracle Worker" last night - a 1962 film about Anne Sullivan, who was the blind tutor to Helen Keller. We decided to watch it after Elder Christofferson's talk on Divine Love came up in our family scripture study sometime last week. He talks about how Anne challenged Helen to become more. 

The story of Helen Keller is something of a parable suggesting how divine love can transform a willing soul. Helen was born in the state of Alabama in the United States in 1880. When just 19 months old, she suffered an undiagnosed illness that left her both deaf and blind. She was extremely intelligent and became frustrated as she tried to understand and make sense of her surroundings. When Helen felt the moving lips of family members and realized that they used their mouths to speak, “she flew into a rage [because] she was unable to join in the conversation.”²⁶ By the time Helen was six, her need to communicate and her frustration grew so intense that her “outbursts occurred daily, sometimes hourly.”²⁷

Helen’s parents hired a teacher for their daughter, a woman named Anne Sullivan. Just as we have in Jesus Christ one who understands our infirmities,²⁸ Anne Sullivan had struggled with her own serious hardships and understood Helen’s infirmities. At age five, Anne had contracted a disease that caused painful scarring of the cornea and left her mostly blind. When Anne was eight, her mother died; her father abandoned her and her younger brother, Jimmie; and they were sent to a “poor house,” where conditions were so deplorable that Jimmie died after only three months. Through her own dogged persistence, Anne gained entry to the Perkins School for the Blind and vision impaired, where she succeeded brilliantly. A surgical operation gave her improved vision so that she was able to read print. When Helen Keller’s father contacted the Perkins School seeking someone to become a teacher for his daughter, Anne Sullivan was selected.²⁹

It was not a pleasant experience at the beginning. Helen “hit, pinched and kicked her teacher and knocked out one of her teeth. [Anne] finally gained control by moving with [Helen] into a small cottage on the Kellers’ property. Through patience and firm consistency, she finally won the child’s heart and trust.”³⁰ Similarly, as we come to trust rather than resist our divine Teacher, He can work with us to enlighten and lift us to a new reality.³¹

To help Helen learn words, Anne would spell the names of familiar objects with her finger on the palm of Helen’s hand. “[Helen] enjoyed this ‘finger play,’ but she didn’t understand until the famous moment when [Anne] spelled ‘w-a-t-e-r’ while pumping water over [Helen’s] hand. [Helen] later wrote:

“‘Suddenly I felt a misty consciousness as of something forgotten … and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew then that “w-a-t-e-r” meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free! … Everything had a name, and each name gave birth to a new thought. As we returned to the house[,] every object … I touched seemed to quiver with life.’”

As Helen Keller grew to adulthood, she became known for her love of language, her skill as a writer, and her eloquence as a public speaker.

In a movie depicting the life of Helen Keller, her parents are portrayed as satisfied with Anne Sullivan’s work once she has domesticated their wild daughter to the extent that Helen will sit politely at dinner, eat normally, and fold her napkin at the end of the meal. But Anne knew Helen was capable of much, much more and that she had significant contributions to make.
Even so, we may be quite content with what we have done in our lives and that we simply are what we are, while our Savior comprehends a glorious potential that we perceive only “through a glass, darkly.”
 Each of us can experience the ecstasy of divine potential unfolding within us, much like the joy Helen Keller felt when words came to life, giving light to her soul and setting it free. Each of us can love and serve God and be empowered to bless our fellowman. “As it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.”

Ok, so that was on my brain, and then tonight, going along with the Come Follow Me lesson this week, Corey showed us a video of how fathers are TOTALLY destroyed and made fun of in television and movies and have been for years. 

This was from a video by the Joseph Smith Foundation (see minutes 12:17 - 15:14 to see the clip) ... "In our media and in our books we've become accustomed to this destruction of masculinity". The clip showed was from the 80s or 90s, but I was thinking "Yeah! Not just since the Simpsons and 80s tv shows... this has been going on since Peter Pan!! And that was a innocent little kids cartoon from 1953!!

"Don’t bother changing the channel, cause they’re everywhere... He's lazy, he's immature, he's stupid, he's a marginal-at-best father, his daughter has no respect for him..." Oh I was just eating it up - this is so important!!! Fathers are totally under attack. I mean, I guess we all are, but boy... dads are SO IMPORTANT! Dad's are made for war, and life is a war. I often want to hide inside and I'm so lucky that I get to. I get to stay home in our safe little village while Corey goes out and slays the dragon everyday. For families to be strong, there needs to be strong parents, especially fathers, who hold a firm standard and won't give into pity.  Anyway... the story of Helen Keller and her teacher Anne Sullivan is a powerful example of this theme. And yes, I recognize that Anne is a woman AND not even the parent here, she was the teacher, but to me she represented the love, commitment, and determination that our Father in Heaven and our Lord Jesus Christ have. Their deep and long suffering love for us, their commitment to doing whatever it takes to help us, their determination to save us. Anne Sullivan's rant against the mom and dad for their love and pity for Helen is so good (in the Table Manners Scene)

Arthur and Kate explain to Annie that Helen is “accustomed to helping herself from our plates.” Annie retorts, “but I’m not accustomed to it.” Arthur also says "It's the only way we get to have any adult conversation!" (like us giving kids screen time and technology to keep them quiet for OUR benefit, not for theirs!) and he offers to get Annie a fresh plate, but Annie declines "I have a plate, thank you!" as she continues to struggle with Helen. "Ms Sullivan! One plate or another is hardly a matter to struggle with a deprived child about!" But she yells that Helen is “spoiled.” Arthur protests that Annie should have pity, but Anne refuses. I liked this essay on the theme of pity vs. tough love (bold parts are mine):

   Throughout the play, Gibson contrasts the methods Annie Sullivan uses to teach Helen Keller with the methods that Helen’s own parents use. Helen’s parents’ approach can be summed up in one word: pity. Where Annie is rigorous in her efforts to educate Helen, Helen’s parents, Arthur Keller and Kate Keller, choose to baby her, giving her candy to pacify her and refusing to punish her when she misbehaves. While Arthur and Kate’s methods might seem kind, the play shows how their pity for Helen is counterproductive, and winds up standing in the way of her learning how to communicate.

   The fundamental problem with pitying people, the play suggests, is that it deprives people of dignity or respect and assumes that they can’t learn or change—which in turn becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. When Annie arrives at the Kellers’ house she immediately grasps why nobody else has managed to teach Helen anything: Arthur and Kate feel helpless to change Helen, so they let her do whatever she wants. Because Helen’s parents spoil her terribly, Helen believes it’s okay for her to be wild, rude, and destructive. There are never any consequences for her actions, and therefore she never has any incentive to change her behavior. Indeed, Arthur and Kate spoil Helen because they’re afraid Helen will never change. Even though they keep hiring teachers for Helen, they’re afraid that none of these teachers will ever succeed. And so they conclude that they might as well keep feeding their child candy. As Helen sees it, Arthur and Kate have allowed pity to overwhelm their duties as parents. Because they feel so badly for their child, they don’t have the heart to punish her. In this way, the Kellers’ pity is one of the main things preventing Helen from making any progress: they pity Helen because they’re afraid she’ll never get any better, and as a result she never does.

   The destructive power of pity becomes clearer in the play’s third act, when Annie takes Helen to stay with her in the garden house outside the Keller’s home. Alone with Helen, Annie is able to exercise stricter controls over her pupil. She doesn’t give Helen rewards unless she has earned them, and when Helen misbehaves, she takes away Helen’s food until Helen changes her ways. Soon enough, Helen has learned how to eat with a fork and a napkin. In two weeks, Annie accomplishes more for Helen than Helen’s parents have in years, and the reason for this is clear: Helen’s parents pity Helen and assume she will never learn, while Annie respects Helen and has faith that she can learn.

   Annie’s intense, often severe style of teaching Helen—which might be classified simply as tough love—is the exact opposite of Arthur and Kate’s approach. Superficially, Annie’s approach is aggressive and even cruel, since it involves punishing Helen for actions she doesn’t even know are wrong, sometimes by depriving Helen of her dinner. But beneath the surface, Annie’s toughness is rooted in genuine respect for Helen—tough love, after all, is still love. Annie knows Helen is capable of living a happy, independent life, and she concludes that the only way to help Helen achieve that goal over the years to come is to be stern with her now. The Kellers’ pity for Helen is understandable because it is rooted in love for their child, but Gibson suggests that it is also rooted in a pessimism about Helen’s prospects and abilities. Because Annie believes in Helen’s capacity to learn and improve, she exercises stricter controls and gets impressive results.

Society would tell us it's all about love and "don't you feel sorry for all these victims that have been and that are oppressed"?!? They have it so hard. Well guess what - Anne had it hard too, but she didn't it make her a victim. It made her strong, and she became a miracle teacher, able to teach others how to be strong. Jesus had it harder than any of us, and it made him mighty to save. A baby zebra can't be saved once it's in the lions mouth (2 Ne 6:16) We can't deliver that prey, but even those kind of "end of story" situations can have hope to be delivered by the Mighty One of Jacob (2 Ne 6:17-18). Oh, one more part of the miracle worker that I loved, is when Anne is looking at Helen and wondering how to reach her, and wishing others could see and she wasn't doing it alone. "If one was buried alive, the whole neighborhood would come out to help..." Just googled it - found this post (going to put it all at the end, cause it's all good) but esp this part at the end:

  There is one scene in The Miracle Worker that epitomized the work of Anne Sullivan. Exhausted and exasperated from a day of little gain, Anne turned to a well-worn book for perspective and hope. She read a familiar passage aloud:

  “This—soul—This blind, deaf, mute woman—Can nothing be done to disinter this human soul? The whole neighborhood would rush to save this woman if she were buried alive by the caving in of a pit, and labor with zeal until she were dug out. Now if there were one who had as much patience as zeal, he might waken her to a consciousness of her immortal [soul].”

   Anne Sullivan insisted that you can’t stop digging. The child inside is dignified and worth saving. It might be painful and it might require great sacrifice. But you dig anyway.  

  Because that’s what you do.

  Sounds a lot like God.

I'm grateful to be a mother. I get to labor with zeal with God for the immortal souls around me - working out my salvation and the salvation of my family. It's the best job ever, and I'm so grateful for an AMAZING FATHER who works hard (NOT lazy), is so smart (not stupid!) so experienced and patient (NOT immature) and over the top awesome "I'm the luckiest woman that he's mine" - I love and respect Corey, he's the best. And I love my Father in Heaven. He's the true miracle worker in all of our lives. 

We watched it on youtube for free (with ads) via that link. Btw, I was totally amazed with the actress Patty Duke, wow. And Anne Bancroft who portrayed Anne Sullivan. Anne Sullivan was willing to put up with getting her tooth knocked out - God's long suffering patience with us (except for when he drops us on our butts!)

___________________________

God and Anne Sullivan: What I Learned from Re-Watching “The Miracle Worker” 

by Dr. Tod Worner, 3 April 2018

It had been years since I had seen it.

And it was even better than I remembered.

The Miracle Worker is a play written by William Gibson in 1957 and made into an Academy Award winning film in 1962. Culled from Helen Keller’s autobiography, The Story of My Life, the play tells of the fierce, harrowing first encounters between the feral blind and deaf child and the tenacious, indomitable teacher, Anne Sullivan. Set in 1880s Alabama, Anne Sullivan found herself wrestling (physically and emotionally) not only with an overindulged, ignorant child, but also with a family broken by abject helplessness and unbridled pity.

At first, Anne kept her misgivings regarding the Keller family’s misguided indulgence to herself. She penned an exasperated letter to a colleague saying: “And, nobody, here has attempted to control [Helen]. The greatest problem I have is how to discipline her without breaking her spirit. But I shall insist on reasonable discipline from the start.”

When Anne dined with the family for the first time, Helen wandered around the table snatching food from each person’s plate with nary an objection from anyone. When Anne, aghast, refused to allow Helen to steal from her plate and grabs her wrists to arrest her behavior, Helen launched into a tantrum. Almost on cue, the family flew into a defensive rage toward their new guest.

Captain Keller: “Miss Sullivan! You would have more understanding of your pupil if you had some pity in you. Now kindly do as I—”

Anne: “Pity? For this tyrant? The whole house turns on her whims, is there anything she wants she doesn’t get? I’ll tell you what I pity, that the sun won’t rise and set for her all her life, and every day you’re telling her it will, what good will your pity do her when you’re under the strawberries, Captain Keller?”

Captain Keller [Outraged]: “Kate, for the love of heaven will you—”

Kate Keller: “Miss Annie, please, I don’t think it serves to lose our—”

Anne: “It does you good, that’s all. It’s less trouble to feel sorry for her than to teach her anything better, isn’t it?”

Captain Keller: “I fail to see where you have taught her anything yet, Miss Sullivan!” 

Anne: “I’ll begin this minute, if you’ll leave the room, Captain Keller!”

The next scene is one of the most extraordinary I have ever seen on film. Anne Sullivan (played by Anne Bancroft) and Helen Keller (played by Patty Duke) find themselves alone in the dining room in a face-off of violent wills. Anne’s effort to get Helen seated in a chair, folding her napkin, and eating her dinner with a spoon results in chairs furiously overturned, spoons being thrown, hair pulled, food spat into one face and a pitcher of water thrown into the other. Exhausting and unsettling, the two angry and defiant figures nearly destroy the room (and each other) in an effort to take (or repel) one bite of food off of a spoon. Emerging from the ravaged room, Helen desperately finds her way to her mother and Anne stands wearily and caked with food.

Kate Keller: “What happened?”

Anne [Exhausted]: “She ate from her own plate. She ate with a spoon. Herself. And folded her napkin.”

Kate [Softly]: “Folded—her napkin?”

Anne: “The room’s a wreck, but her napkin is folded.”

Contrary to the first time I saw The Miracle Worker (in high school), it dawned on me that this play is not an inspiring story of a young disabled girl who finds her voice. Instead, it is an indispensable parable about the human need for structure, order, and discipline. Before we can do anything, we must understand what we cannot do. We must comprehend what is right and what is wrong, what is acceptable and unacceptable. And that is damned hard. Although Anne recognized that the Keller family’s pity and indulgence was a misguided manifestation of love, it was in fact devastating. It trapped Helen in an abyss of appetite with no ladders of discipline or ropes of order to climb out. The food would come, but you first must fold your napkin. Your doll awaits you, but you first must spell D-O-L-L. Sacrifice is hard, but necessary. Just consider, no athlete, student, musician, or worker ever willingly sacrificed without a greater end in sight. Neither would a young Helen Keller.

And this is how Anne Sullivan reminded me about God.

Those laws and rules, strictures and standards that God revealed to his people? Even those that seemed harsh and difficult to understand? They were intended to pull us out of the abyss of ourselves, to rescue us from our selfish appetites and animal desires and usher us into the blinding light of God’s love. Laws and rules exist for the sake of reminding us of our dignity, not to assault it. God’s law says, “You can’t do that because you are better than that. You should do this because this is your high calling. It doesn’t always make sense, but it will, trust me, it will.” “Have faith,” says God to a broken creation. “Have faith,” said Anne to a broken child.

There is one scene in The Miracle Worker that epitomized the work of Anne Sullivan. Exhausted and exasperated from a day of little gain, Anne turned to a well-worn book for perspective and hope. She read a familiar passage aloud:

“This—soul—This blind, deaf, mute woman—Can nothing be done to disinter this human soul? The whole neighborhood would rush to save this woman if she were buried alive by the caving in of a pit, and labor with zeal until she were dug out. Now if there were one who had as much patience as zeal, he might waken her to a consciousness of her immortal [soul].”

Anne Sullivan insisted that you can’t stop digging. The child inside is dignified and worth saving. It might be painful and it might require great sacrifice. But you dig anyway.  

Because that’s what you do.

Sounds a lot like God.