The Three Christs of Ypsilanti - Milton Rokeach [106]
He had gone to the Store, to the chapel, and to the library—three places he had not visited before.
He had accepted money, handled it, and carried it around with him, something he had not done before.
He had cried.
He had spent money on himself.
He had given money to Clyde and Joseph.
He had changed the song used to open and close the meetings.
All these changes were potentially of great therapeutic value. Leon had varied and broadened the range of his behavior. He had allowed himself to feel, to express, for once, a human emotion. His fierce need to punish himself had let up sufficiently to permit him to enjoy a few small pleasures which money could buy. And Leon had been charitable—he had shared his money with two other persons in need.
Nevertheless, our success had not been complete. In telling us that it was his wife who had suggested the singing of Onward Christian Soldiers, he had failed to keep secret the contents of her letter of September 12, as she had requested. And he had failed to ask Clyde and Joseph to sing from the hymn book during the meetings. But because these failures seemed so minor at the time, we overlooked their possible significance, as we did the meaning of the changes that were occurring in Leon’s delusions about Madame Yeti Woman, now God Almighty—namely, that she was male and female, sane and insane, positive and negative. In our enthusiasm, we minimized not only these developments, but his statements that he was distressed by his wife’s tempting him, and that he was having trouble with her, and despite these signs of ambivalence in him, we decided next to explore the extent to which he could be persuaded to give up the name of R. I. Dung.
September 20. A letter arrives for Leon:
My dear husband,
Thank you very much for your sincere and truthful reactions to my last letter. I am very gratified by it and it strengthens my desire for your well-being and redemption.
You will notice that in my letters to you I address you as “my dear husband” and never as “my dear Dung.” To tell you the Truth, I do not feel that it is quite proper for a person in my station to address a person in your station in this manner. Therefore, I will continue, in the letters which follow, to address you as “my dear husband.”
I have always respected your free will in this matter and I vow to continue to do so. But to tell you my truthful feelings, I would much prefer it if you would call yourself Domino from now on. Domino has a truthful and humble sound to it. Rex is acceptable too and I would not object if you prefer Rex. But personally I prefer Domino.
Let me say once again, my dear husband, that no matter how you may prefer to call yourself—Domino or Rex or Dung—you will continue to be “my dear husband,” and that first and foremost I will be for you 100 percent.
Even if you prefer to call yourself something other than Domino (or Rex or Dung) this will be all right. I am still for truth and for you 100 percent.
Truthfully yours,
Madame Yeti Woman
September 22. Absolutely nothing has happened since the last letter was delivered to Leon. We interview him in the hope that he will tell us what is going on in his mind.
“I believe in the sanity of God,” he tells us, “and the best thing to do is to tell God you don’t care for his craziness or her craziness. The sanity of God is the Ten Commandments. My uncle is protecting me from the insanity of God.”
Later, at the meeting, he says he has found a double meaning in the story of Ruth of the Moabites, “Wife of the Dead,” chapter 4, verse 5. One meaning is that her husband has passed away. The other is that she could be the wife of those who have “died the death.” This means, he says, that Ruth (viz., Madame Yeti Woman, viz., God) has many husbands.
September 24. An aide hands Leon another letter. He opens it, with the aide watching, and reads. The letter