Silence and Punishment

"I am here to act as mediator between you and your brother Peter."

Thus spoke Father Andrew, a man I barely knew, from a religious sect my family left years ago. Not to suggest that Greek Orthodoxy is some sort of cult, but it is definitely not as mainstream as it once was, having been the institution of Christian survival from, say, 300CE to 1400CE. Prevailing over Islam, Turks, Ottomans and the plague over a thousand plus years was no mean feat.

I have struggled with guilt and shame my whole life on many levels, so when it came to religious authority I was at a disadvantage. Or at least I believed I was at a disadvantage, and from my work in Behavioral Science I know that belief controls reality.

Nevertheless, I was both cordial and firm in declining this fraternal intervention by Father Andrew. "I really don't know what there is to talk about, Father. I really do appreciate the thought. Thanks." His faced soured, and within a few seconds he was moving away, reaching out to others in his flock, then strolling back into church.

Why was this symbol of peace and spirituality confronting me, and what was I doing at a Greek Orthodox Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota? Yia Yia had died, and today was her funeral.

Yia Yia. That's Grandma to you non-Greeks out there, a name synonymous with conservative dress, stern discipline, and unbelievably tasty Greek food. Born in Monemvasia, Greece, a windswept hunk of rock just off the Peloponnese's southeastern coast, she was packed off to America at age 15. I mean literally packed off: relatives put her and her possessions on a donkey that carried her to Athens! True story, over 180 miles by donkey, saving that one for another time.

Yia Yia had three children, the eldest being my mother Athena. Aunt Kathy was next, followed by my Uncle Mike. This sibling order is key to understanding what I call "punishment by silence". Greek families are ruled by men, and my Grandfather not having a first-born son sets the stage for hurtful, vindictive family dynamics. You see, my mother Athena was a strong character, and for that character to survive, even in America, she had to leave home, find another place, another environment. Tough choices had to be made, and distance became a double-edged sword. Psychological trauma was buffered, but new players, my siblings and cousins, all became unwitting participants in this Greek drama.

Enter Peter Jr., the eldest son in our family. I was the youngest son, nearly a decade his junior, and truthfully I looked up to Pete. He went to Harvard, studied sculpture in Florence, was supposedly high up in the Transcendental Meditation movement. Compared to that I was chopped liver!

Always wanting to be in control of family finances and legacy, Pete asked for and received father's blessing to be in charge. But as time moved forward, my father quietly replaced him with a professional executor for his estate.

This did not sit well with Peter Jr. and soon his behavior began to display symptoms of punishing others by his silence. His meditation routine kept him cut off from other family interactions. His strict vegetarian diet was a source of friction. And his extreme frugality bordered on the neurotic. Never married, he is currently traveling alone in India, although no one has any contact with him that is a family member so who knows?

Time continued to pass, and as we all grew older and moved apart, it became clear my brother Peter wanted no relationship with me. As I said previously, my feelings of guilt and shame led to a lack of self-esteem as well as inadequacy in terms of family dynamics. Losing became the way to move forward, coupled with blaming others for my inability to succeed. Where was my brother in my time of need? Off meditating with his like-minded peers. Who could I talk to about what was going on? Not Peter. Always a big eater, I rapidly put on weight and hid inside a physically larger self.

As a family we had moved out west, far away from the twin cities of Minneapolis and St Paul. Trips back east became fewer and fewer, ultimately ending when my father died. It was only to be at Yia Yia's funeral that I returned to the twin cities a few years later.

Some interesting things had happened between my mother's generation and my own family's generation. Specifically, Peter Jr. had made visits to my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Mike, and to our cousins. During these visits he reinforced discussions and negative opinions about my mother Athena, dovetailing nicely into the existing family dynamics I mentioned. It was like a traitor in our midst, and no one wanted to hear a second opinion. The silence closed in, making Yia Yia's funeral day especially sad for me.

I will remember my brother for his dry wit, his solid education, and his understanding of fine art. I will try and forget his meddling in family dynamics, a consequence of which is a "next gen" perpetuation of silence as a form of punishment. Peter cut ties to his family years ago, so as to focus on his art, his spiritual development, his enlightenment. Good for him, and at the time, bad for me.

I often ask myself, "How do we develop a superior family experience? What could we have done to turn out differently? Who is responsible? I hear positive family stories in the fact of adversity all the time, yet where are the negative outcomes like mine?"

Life is messy. That is the short answer. Some parents and children just have an easier time creating great family members than others. I go as far as to say that our present day world gives us a much larger community, provides greater acceptance, and makes growing up in a dysfunctional family less likely.

I do not seek any kind of closure or reconciliation from Peter. What I do seek is my own fulfillment, not at the expense of others but through collaboration with others. Recently, another family member was at risk of being homeless due to COVID-19 and I called my brother to inquire if he had heard anything or could tell me what was going on. I left two voicemail messages which went unanswered. If I ever see his call, I will of course pick up and answer.