The Three Christs of Ypsilanti - Milton Rokeach [68]
—As I said last week, I don’t think there’s anything funny about it.—
“Thank you, sir,” Leon said.
And Mrs. Parker added: “I feel much more comfortable with this.” Then she said goodbye all around, and left.
—Is the word “dung” equivalent to the word “shit”?—
“Yes, sir,” Leon answered, “but considering the impoliteness of the word in comparison to dung, which is in the Bible, however, a lady didn’t prefer, or doesn’t care to say it. Among men, R. I. Shit would be understood. I wouldn’t react negatively if you called me Shit.”
Does Leon Change His Identity?
From King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the reincarnation of Jesus Christ of Nazareth—to Dung! From the heights of self-glorification to the depths of self-deprecation! What forces were at work within the group and within Leon to have led him to this? What function could this change of name possibly have for him, and for the group we had forged? And, above all, we asked ourselves, had Leon’s sense of identity really changed?
Jesus of Nazareth is often referred to as Rex Iudeorem—King of the Jews. With this in mind, I decided to press Leon as to whether R. I. Dung might not possibly have some other, hidden meaning. But he vehemently denied this, insisting it stood for nothing but Dung.
The subject of Leon’s new name was to come up many times and in many contexts in the weeks and months ahead—in the context of the daily meetings with Clyde and Joseph, in individual interviews, in the letters he wrote and in his daily dealings with us, the aides, the nurses, and the other patients in Ward D-16. From these we were able to gain additional information about the psychological significance of the change, and the ways he elaborated and rationalized his public identity as Dung.
January 22. Lunch time.
“What do you have for lunch, Mr. Gabor?” asks a nurse.
“You may call me R. I. Dung, if you please, ma’am. My name is Dung, but you may call me R. I. D. if you do not like Dung, and I thank you for your mental torture.”
“Dung is not a very nice name; I’ll call you R. I.”
“No, please, it’s R. I. D., and the coincidentals are there. When a man deposits dung he gets rid of it, so I accept my initials.”
January 27. Leon is browing through the New Testament. When an aide asks what he is doing, he says he is trying to find the parable about the gardener who put dung at the root of a tree for fertilizer, as they do in Asia. Later, Leon seeks out the aide and tells him he can find the answer in St. Luke’s, Chapter 13, verses 6 to 9.[2]
This same day Leon gives me a poem, written on brown wrapping paper. It reads:
DUNG
Dung has self-contained energy
Dung aids plants to grow,
It has a healthy smell that smells the air—
Ah—what would the farmers do without it?
Some nitrogen is supplied through storms—
Gold is treasurefull—but dung has it surpassed.
The commode says, “deposit in me”
The Orientals say, “Honor mine today; indirect food for tomorrows: honored guest.”
Plowing-seeding-dunging-growing-reaping—a honorable guest!
Written by Dr. R. I. Dung Mentalis Doktor
February 1. Joseph says: “Leon told me that his name has always been Dung, and I said that one name was as good as another.”
Clyde asserts that the one in the back of the machine told Leon to change.
“The machine didn’t tell me,” Leon replies. “It was an inspiration.”
February 7. Leon tells an aide that his God-given name is R. I. Dung, and that it is impossible for us to write Leon Gabor because a “miracle would happen and Leon Gabor would change into Dung.” He states he has three God-given names: (1) Dung, (2) Rex rexarum, and (3) Jesus Christ. He prefers Dr. R. I. Dung because it is humble and covers any phase of life or religion.
February 15. I deliberately call Leon Rex rather than R. I. or Dung. He does not object. When I ask Clyde what he calls him, he replies: “I call him Rex.” Joseph says he calls him Dung. To all of this Leon responds: “Yes, sir! It’s a pleasant name.” He sings, imitating a bell: “Dung-g, dung-g, dung-g, dung-g, dung-g.”
February 17. Leon and several other