Midway through the semester, and attempts at defining sacrifice still seem half formulated. I find no answers, really, in the scholarly works we have read. Perhaps I ask too much of this academic life. Is it possible to find a way to understand the tangles of human life in these written pages?
Sacrifice so far is always about that moment of violence when an animal is killed. But what about the daily sacrifices? Is this really the same thing? What do we mean when we say we sacrifice something? Are we just trying to furtively grab at something, latching onto a word and asking that word to bear too much meaning?
Lately, I feel that words fail. I have not found hope in the pages like I used to. Even poetry does not offer me answers. Nothing with language seems to help. And each time I read about sacrifice I still try to find into those theoretical texts something that will offer light.
What is sacrifice? Is it really about death? I don't know any longer. I know it is a violence. And before today, I wanted that violence to be some kind of beautiful gasp. But it is not. The violence of sacrifice is violent because really it is not about death. It is about losing something vital. And the violence comes in that the negation of that vitality does not kill you. Instead, you are left with something missing. A hole that really does not ever go away. Sacrifice does not replenish what you have lost. That piece, that vitality is left smouldering in the ashes.