Sorry Mrs. Turpin, You Lose.

Yes, this quote is entirely overused, and I’m almost hesitant to use it, but I feel that it applies oh, so perfectly to the life of Mrs. Turpin as depicted through Flannery O’Connor’s “Revelation”: actions speak louder than words, my friend. Mrs. Turpin claims to be among the righteous, when she is really only self-righteous; she believes she is favored in the eyes of God, when she is really most in need of God’s saving grace. Mrs. Turpin’s actions perfectly exemplify the definition of hypocrisy in that she preaches that which she herself does not practice. She is ridden with a critical and judgmental eye as well as a superiority complex that seems to genuinely hinder her ability to form loving relationships, or any relationship for that matter, with others.
Upon delving into this story, I found myself rather curious about Mrs. Turpin’s past. Had she always acted this condescendingly and unkindly to others, or do her own deeply-rooted insecurities bring out the worst in her? How can a woman, who claims that her philosophy of life is to “help anybody out that needed it,” think of only two things on a regular basis: herself and hateful thoughts of those surrounding her? The response to these questions I can only speculate, yet the questions themselves lead me to believe that Mrs. Turpin is not only as phony as she is fat, but also that her so-called revelation was nothing more than a sudden and momentary jolt of fear—a fear of God and of punishment, rather than a flood of guilt and desire to change.
Yet I do believe that Mrs. Turpin had a revelation. As evidenced through her subconscious belief that she is favored in the eyes of God, that her needs come before the needs of others, and that she has the right to pass judgment upon her fellow man, Mrs. Turpin has placed herself about the human race—either she believes she is angel, or she believes she is even more divine. She is blinded by this belief so much so that she loses sight of her true infinitesimal stature in comparison to the divine. She lost in her self-righteousness so much so that she dares to challenge the God whom she claims so angelically to serve. In shouting to God, “Who do you think you are,” she crosses a serious and almost devilish boundary; in God’s echoing back the same question, Mrs. Turpin is struck with her “revelation.” She is not an angel, and she is nowhere near the divine. She is human. She is tiny. And that is where her revelation ends. I believe that, at most, she is humbled by this experience; unfortunately, I am a firm believer that people hardly ever change, and a woman so frozen within her own pride and vanity deserves no higher expectation than such. Perhaps now Mrs. Turpin will be able to better conceal her true identity, feelings, and thoughts; perhaps the façade she regularly imposes will include better acting than before. It is not enough to have God speak to you, to be divinely touched—that means nothing if one does not listen and allow himself to be touched.