Context
As I was heading to Texarkana for Friends meeting today, I saw a dog running along the side of the road. After some internal debate, I pulled a u-turn and went to go look for it. I found the dog, but he ran away from me and seemed to be heading for a house a little ways off the road, so I gave up the chase.
Commentary
It was important to me to include the "internal debate" stuff in the Context, because I didn't want to go after this dog. Attending to stray dogs is a hassle. You often can't catch them, and when you do manage to get them in your car, you then have to decide what to do with them. Even if they have a collar with a current tag on, reaching the owners is sometimes a matter of several phone calls, and where does the dog stay in the interim?
No collar, no tag is even worse. Take the dog to the shelter? OK if it's open, but it often isn't, and even if it is, sometimes the people there suspect that you're dropping off your dog, not a stray, and give you a hard time. I used to work at the SPCA; I understand the instinct.
So why did I do something I didn't want to do? I think I know, but first I want to talk about some arguments I don't find compelling. You could say that I really did want to go after the dog, and that may be true, but as an explanation it's completely useless. If I can't even consciously access my own motivations and desires, there is little point in trying to analyze my actions. There's just this shadow self of mine that apparently does whatever it feels like.
Similarly, I find deterministic explanations of behavior problematic. By "deterministic" I mean both the religious idea of predestination and the scientific theory that brain chemistry controls everything. Despite their disparate backgrounds, these two ideas are remarkably similar in effect: they remove personal responsibility and self-actualization from the equation.
Also, it seems like determinism is both overly simple and overly complex. Simple in that it would answer every behavioral question the same way, either "God made me do it," or "My neurons made me do it." The complexity comes in when you look at that internal debate I mentioned earlier. It seems remarkably inefficient for either God or my brain to decide I should do go after a stray dog, then let me spend several seconds mulling the decision over. Why not just send me off right away?
So maybe you're thinking the reason I went after the dog was because even though I didn't want to, I thought it was the right thing to do. This is certainly closer to the truth, in that I do think stray dogs present an ethical problem. My husband will tell you that I grieve and pray over dead animals in the road, but for me, domesticated animals are a special case. At some point in our history as human beings we made agreements with dogs and cats that we would take care of them in return for some service. A stray dog indicates that we've dropped our end of the leash, if you take my meaning.
However, the reality is that I don't always go after every stray dog I see and even today, I didn't move heaven and earth to capture this one. So why did I perform this particular set of somewhat unusual actions today? Because I received a very specific call from God and (eventually) answered it. It's not predestination; it's a conversation with God about what I'm going to do. People look at me funny when I say that the reason I don't drink caffeine is because I had an argument with God about it and lost, but it's the truth!
In this case, the call was to go see if I could help the dog. Once it starting running away, I was released from the call. If you're not religious, you may prefer to think that my conscience smote me on this particular occasion, and that's fine. From my perspective, doing something I don't want to do seems so unlike me that it feels like an external presence. Ergo God.
"C'mon Lynn," you may be saying, "why would an omniscient God ask you to do something so pointless? Stop your trip, turn around, and not even catch the dog? What's up with that?"
I don't know, which is another reason I point the finger at an external God rather than my own internal mechanisms. This whole blog post has illustrated that I like to have good explanations for the things I do. Sometimes, it seems like God just says, "Nah, let's do this instead."
Which doesn't mean I can't impose an explanation after the fact, so here are are two possibilities:
1) Obedience is more important than results.
2) It made me blog about God, right?
What did you see today?
Showing posts with label Quakers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Quakers. Show all posts
12/22/2012
10/14/2012
I saw a description of negotiations
Context
I'm reading The Social Life of Information by John Seely Brown and Paul Duguid. This book contends that the belief that more information, especially in the form of the internet, will somehow solve all our problems is at least premature, if not hopelessly naive. I've just finished a section where the authors talk about the intricacies of negotiation, pointing out that human beings makes thousands of implicit negotiations every day, and that we only resort to rule-based decision making, the kind computers are really good at, when those fail. As an example, they point out that committees often have to make rules about how to communicate, like who can talk for how long, but groups of friends usually do not.
Commentary
The idea of rule-based decision making and negotiation got me to thinking about the rule of law. Patriotism is a challenging concept for me. I like being an American because I think we have a kick-ass constitution, not because of any loyalty to a geographic or cultural entity. Does the U.S. even have a culture? Our embrace of multiculturalism maybe, but I digress. Anyway, I like the rule of law in this country.
On the other hand, I'm a Quaker, and as a matter of practice, we abjure some of the things the Constitution prescribes. For example, Quakers don't vote when doing church business. In my experience, Quakers vote like mad in the national elections, but that's a separate issue. Anyway, in our meetings for worship with attention to business (We're a simple people, but we like the names of things to be painfully precise.), we make decisions by "sense of the meeting." This means we work together until we find an answer that resonates with everyone participating in the process, rather than voting, which produces winners and losers.
If you ask a dozen Quakers why we do things this way, there's a good chance you'll get at least ten different answers. Christian Quakers often believe that a collective answer is more likely to reflect the will of God. In my case, I specifically hark back to the wrong turn the children of Israel made when they told God they no longer wanted their disputes settled and armies led by the itinerant judges He raised up among them. They wanted a permanent hereditary king, like all the other cool nations had. The extra level of remove from the Lord did not work out well for them.
Quakers who are not explicitly Christian sometimes still invoke the mystical aspect of collective decision-making, even if the mystery is not attributed to a particular deity. Even non-Quakers sometimes adopt the "sense of the meeting" language to their secular business dealings, in the belief that consensus (or in the case of the International Monetary Fund pretending to have consensus) serves better than conflict when expecting people to work together.
So I like the rule of law, but I avoid using it whenever I can. Brown and Duguid point out computers can't manage the slight change-of-course negotiations people navigate with ease because these depend on shared values and trust, which machines can neither create nor maintain. And there's the rub: the moment we turn to the rule of law, which is the set "If you cross this line, these consequences will happen," way of looking at the world, we give up human connection in order to take a chance on "being right." Which one is really more valuable?
What did you see today?
I'm reading The Social Life of Information by John Seely Brown and Paul Duguid. This book contends that the belief that more information, especially in the form of the internet, will somehow solve all our problems is at least premature, if not hopelessly naive. I've just finished a section where the authors talk about the intricacies of negotiation, pointing out that human beings makes thousands of implicit negotiations every day, and that we only resort to rule-based decision making, the kind computers are really good at, when those fail. As an example, they point out that committees often have to make rules about how to communicate, like who can talk for how long, but groups of friends usually do not.
Commentary
The idea of rule-based decision making and negotiation got me to thinking about the rule of law. Patriotism is a challenging concept for me. I like being an American because I think we have a kick-ass constitution, not because of any loyalty to a geographic or cultural entity. Does the U.S. even have a culture? Our embrace of multiculturalism maybe, but I digress. Anyway, I like the rule of law in this country.
On the other hand, I'm a Quaker, and as a matter of practice, we abjure some of the things the Constitution prescribes. For example, Quakers don't vote when doing church business. In my experience, Quakers vote like mad in the national elections, but that's a separate issue. Anyway, in our meetings for worship with attention to business (We're a simple people, but we like the names of things to be painfully precise.), we make decisions by "sense of the meeting." This means we work together until we find an answer that resonates with everyone participating in the process, rather than voting, which produces winners and losers.
If you ask a dozen Quakers why we do things this way, there's a good chance you'll get at least ten different answers. Christian Quakers often believe that a collective answer is more likely to reflect the will of God. In my case, I specifically hark back to the wrong turn the children of Israel made when they told God they no longer wanted their disputes settled and armies led by the itinerant judges He raised up among them. They wanted a permanent hereditary king, like all the other cool nations had. The extra level of remove from the Lord did not work out well for them.
Quakers who are not explicitly Christian sometimes still invoke the mystical aspect of collective decision-making, even if the mystery is not attributed to a particular deity. Even non-Quakers sometimes adopt the "sense of the meeting" language to their secular business dealings, in the belief that consensus (or in the case of the International Monetary Fund pretending to have consensus) serves better than conflict when expecting people to work together.
So I like the rule of law, but I avoid using it whenever I can. Brown and Duguid point out computers can't manage the slight change-of-course negotiations people navigate with ease because these depend on shared values and trust, which machines can neither create nor maintain. And there's the rub: the moment we turn to the rule of law, which is the set "If you cross this line, these consequences will happen," way of looking at the world, we give up human connection in order to take a chance on "being right." Which one is really more valuable?
What did you see today?
8/11/2012
I saw a description of the Divine
Context
My Quaker meeting is reading excerpts from Patricia Loring's Listening Spirituality. One person was particularly struck by this sentence, found in the chapter entitled "Discernment: the Heart of Listening Spirituality: "Both interpretation reflect Friends' felt sense of the Divine as a dynamism rather than as an entity." After some discussion, I added "some" before "Friends'" to my copy of the reading.
Commentary
Quakers are non-dogmatic, which means that although we may spend time talking about what we believe as individuals, we never say that someone else's belief is incorrect. At my meeting, at least, that means that people come to the table with many different conceptions of God. The person who most tends toward the atheistic side of the spectrum like to tease me by asking if I believe God is an old white man in long robes. The completely honest answer to this question is, "Sometimes."
Realistically, I think it's quite a stretch to expect that any human being's understanding of the divine would be entirely accurate. We end up using different language to describe the various aspects we do understand, but those aspects change over time, if only because we choose to emphasize different ones. Even if we decided to remove a great deal of cultural vagaries by talking only about Roman Catholics, a child's idea of her God would vary from a Jesuit's about to graduate from seminary, and his would likely be different from the one held by an elderly woman who's recently been widowed.
So I don't object to people seeing the divine as a dynamism rather than an entity. I even kind of understand where the idea comes from. I think many people prefer this conception because being a discrete entity, or a person, as some of us would have it, would seem to establish inappropriate limits of time and space on the divine nature. On the other hand, I think non-personal language like "flow" or "energy" or, say, "dynamism" is inappropriately limiting as well, in that it takes away the idea the God has a will.
Loring has an answer for this. In the very next paragraph of our reading she discusses a recording of Thomas Merton (referenced in this list) in which he jokes with students about wasting time looking for the map God has planned out for history so they'll know exactly what to do. In Merton's mind, there is no pre-designed map; the road is constantly changing according to the decisions we make and the actions we take.
From my perspective, Merton and Loring are batting .500 as a team. I do agree it's not a good use of our time to try to figure out what God's entire plan is, but that's because the "trying to fit divine-sized stuff into a human brain" problem occurs again, not because the plan doesn't exist. In the final analysis, I feel much more confident living my little Lynn-sized life if I know that God has everything around me in hand (Eeek! A personification!), and everything will work to the good.
What did you see today?
My Quaker meeting is reading excerpts from Patricia Loring's Listening Spirituality. One person was particularly struck by this sentence, found in the chapter entitled "Discernment: the Heart of Listening Spirituality: "Both interpretation reflect Friends' felt sense of the Divine as a dynamism rather than as an entity." After some discussion, I added "some" before "Friends'" to my copy of the reading.
Commentary
Quakers are non-dogmatic, which means that although we may spend time talking about what we believe as individuals, we never say that someone else's belief is incorrect. At my meeting, at least, that means that people come to the table with many different conceptions of God. The person who most tends toward the atheistic side of the spectrum like to tease me by asking if I believe God is an old white man in long robes. The completely honest answer to this question is, "Sometimes."
Realistically, I think it's quite a stretch to expect that any human being's understanding of the divine would be entirely accurate. We end up using different language to describe the various aspects we do understand, but those aspects change over time, if only because we choose to emphasize different ones. Even if we decided to remove a great deal of cultural vagaries by talking only about Roman Catholics, a child's idea of her God would vary from a Jesuit's about to graduate from seminary, and his would likely be different from the one held by an elderly woman who's recently been widowed.
So I don't object to people seeing the divine as a dynamism rather than an entity. I even kind of understand where the idea comes from. I think many people prefer this conception because being a discrete entity, or a person, as some of us would have it, would seem to establish inappropriate limits of time and space on the divine nature. On the other hand, I think non-personal language like "flow" or "energy" or, say, "dynamism" is inappropriately limiting as well, in that it takes away the idea the God has a will.
Loring has an answer for this. In the very next paragraph of our reading she discusses a recording of Thomas Merton (referenced in this list) in which he jokes with students about wasting time looking for the map God has planned out for history so they'll know exactly what to do. In Merton's mind, there is no pre-designed map; the road is constantly changing according to the decisions we make and the actions we take.
From my perspective, Merton and Loring are batting .500 as a team. I do agree it's not a good use of our time to try to figure out what God's entire plan is, but that's because the "trying to fit divine-sized stuff into a human brain" problem occurs again, not because the plan doesn't exist. In the final analysis, I feel much more confident living my little Lynn-sized life if I know that God has everything around me in hand (Eeek! A personification!), and everything will work to the good.
What did you see today?
7/24/2011
I heard the Apostles' Creed
Context
I'm in Houston today, so per my usual custom, I went to worship at Christ the King Lutheran church. I used to be a Lutheran and this is the church I got married in. Lutherans always say a creed at some point during any communion service; today it was the Apostles' Creed. Quakers, on the other hand, are very non-creedal.
Commentary
I think the main reason Quakers are non-creedal is because of the feeling that creeds create an exclusive atmosphere. We're concerned that we would be saying, in essence, "If you don't believe this, you don't belong here."
Lately, when we talk about beliefs at my Quaker meeting, I feel like Friends are saying something beyond just: "We shouldn't have a set creed as a group." We seem to have moved on to: "We shouldn't have any strongly held religious beliefs as individuals, either." This perspective says our beliefs are so often proved spirit-killing and wrong that it is a bad idea to hold them at all. Better to just have faith in God in general and not be married to specific theological ideas.
As I was speaking the Apostles' Creed today, I realized I don't agree. For one thing, I actually believe everything in the Apostles' Creed. I don't think that gives me exclusive access to God, but I'm not going to pretend I don't believe those words just to make others feel comfortable.
Moreover, I don't think I can have faith in God without believing certain things. Here are four that seem pretty bedrock to me:
1) I believe that God is powerful.
2) I believe that the things I see constitute the work of God.
3) I believe that God has suffered.
4) I believe that God will ultimately bring justice to our exceedingly evil world.
Without these beliefs, having faith in God seems pointless to me. At its most primitive level, my trust is predicated on an expected outcome: the redemption of the world. If I believed that the march of history was just going to continue on its current path, I would commit ritual suicide. If I didn't care one way or the other, I wouldn't bother trying to learn about God and serve Him.
What's funny about the current discussion of beliefs in our meeting is that one of the ways we encourage people to discern whether Quakerism would be a good fit for them is to take this quiz at beliefnet.com. Unsurprisingly, most of the questions are about one's beliefs.
What did you hear today?
I'm in Houston today, so per my usual custom, I went to worship at Christ the King Lutheran church. I used to be a Lutheran and this is the church I got married in. Lutherans always say a creed at some point during any communion service; today it was the Apostles' Creed. Quakers, on the other hand, are very non-creedal.
Commentary
I think the main reason Quakers are non-creedal is because of the feeling that creeds create an exclusive atmosphere. We're concerned that we would be saying, in essence, "If you don't believe this, you don't belong here."
Lately, when we talk about beliefs at my Quaker meeting, I feel like Friends are saying something beyond just: "We shouldn't have a set creed as a group." We seem to have moved on to: "We shouldn't have any strongly held religious beliefs as individuals, either." This perspective says our beliefs are so often proved spirit-killing and wrong that it is a bad idea to hold them at all. Better to just have faith in God in general and not be married to specific theological ideas.
As I was speaking the Apostles' Creed today, I realized I don't agree. For one thing, I actually believe everything in the Apostles' Creed. I don't think that gives me exclusive access to God, but I'm not going to pretend I don't believe those words just to make others feel comfortable.
Moreover, I don't think I can have faith in God without believing certain things. Here are four that seem pretty bedrock to me:
1) I believe that God is powerful.
2) I believe that the things I see constitute the work of God.
3) I believe that God has suffered.
4) I believe that God will ultimately bring justice to our exceedingly evil world.
Without these beliefs, having faith in God seems pointless to me. At its most primitive level, my trust is predicated on an expected outcome: the redemption of the world. If I believed that the march of history was just going to continue on its current path, I would commit ritual suicide. If I didn't care one way or the other, I wouldn't bother trying to learn about God and serve Him.
What's funny about the current discussion of beliefs in our meeting is that one of the ways we encourage people to discern whether Quakerism would be a good fit for them is to take this quiz at beliefnet.com. Unsurprisingly, most of the questions are about one's beliefs.
What did you hear today?
5/14/2011
I heard a question
Context
At my Quaker meeting today, we discussed this article about the Bible by Kristin Swenson. One of the regular attenders at the meeting has neither a strong interest nor a strong background in the Bible, so she asked what we thought the Bible was for. I said the Bible was for religious instruction. It has pretty good poetry, although it's probably better in the original Greek; reasonable history, especially if you're interested in the various kings of Israel, and some great philosophy. I also said it makes a poor science textbook. Someone at the table said this last would be a radical idea to the Texas Board of Education, because over the past few years, Texas has been embroiled in a debate about how to treat the theory of evolution in science textbooks.
Commentary
I need to start with some housekeeping. The link for Kristin Swenson's article goes to the Deseret News instead of the Shreveport Times, because the latter's archive didn't make it appear in a search. I'm sure they'll rue the day they lost the huge amount of traffic that comes from my blog!
Also, I try to be accurate in the Context portion of the blog, so I reported my comment that the poetry was better in the Greek. Upon further review, I should have said, "in the original language," because very little of the poetry in the Bible was originally written in Greek.
Lastly, I posted the most recent article I could find about the Texas textbook controversy, but if you do a Google search for Texas Board of Education creationism, you'll find all kinds of other goodies.
OK, now the actual commentary. Scientists don't like it when school boards put "all sides of scientific theories" language in textbook standards, because they think it's code for "take potshots at the theory of evolution." It may very well be, but the testimony on integrity (that again!) won't permit me to say so without positive proof.
So I won't deal with that issue. Instead, I'll talk about why the Bible itself, not any creationist-leaning textbook, makes a poor resource for scientific learning. The purpose of science books, and science classes for that matter, is to make observations about the world around us, come up with a plausible explanations for it, and ideally, teach people to do the same.
The Bible is terrible at this. In general, it jumps straight to conclusions without offering any physical evidence for them. I see no "We conclude God created the world in seven days because of this, this, and this" in Genesis; do you? Luckily, assertions about the nature of the physical world are kind of rare in the Bible; it's mostly about setting up a belief system and acting upon it. And to be fair, science textbooks are as bad as religious instruction as the Bible is at science.
Science is tethered to the realm of the possible. This is problematic for religion (at least my religion) in two ways:
1) Faith takes us outside the realm of what's physically possible. The Bible asserts that people can rise from the dead (2 Kings 4:32-37), that men can be thrown into a furnace and come out unharmed(Daniel 3:19-28), and that there will come a time when wolves lie down with lambs (Isaiah 11:6-8), and that's just in the Old Testament. The New Testament really goes berserk. Science can bring awe and wonder, but only faith sets us free from the tyranny of our lives to see new, unimagined possibilities. I recognize the irony of using that word, but whatcha gonna do?
2) Science makes no distinction between the possible and the desirable. Observable phenomena tell us that splitting atoms can cause horrific destruction. Science, in its purest form, has no opinion about whether this is a good or bad thing. Pretty much all religious thought comes down firmly on one side of the issue.
So science and religion have different purposes and places in our lives. Is that really such a radical idea?
What did you hear today?
At my Quaker meeting today, we discussed this article about the Bible by Kristin Swenson. One of the regular attenders at the meeting has neither a strong interest nor a strong background in the Bible, so she asked what we thought the Bible was for. I said the Bible was for religious instruction. It has pretty good poetry, although it's probably better in the original Greek; reasonable history, especially if you're interested in the various kings of Israel, and some great philosophy. I also said it makes a poor science textbook. Someone at the table said this last would be a radical idea to the Texas Board of Education, because over the past few years, Texas has been embroiled in a debate about how to treat the theory of evolution in science textbooks.
Commentary
I need to start with some housekeeping. The link for Kristin Swenson's article goes to the Deseret News instead of the Shreveport Times, because the latter's archive didn't make it appear in a search. I'm sure they'll rue the day they lost the huge amount of traffic that comes from my blog!
Also, I try to be accurate in the Context portion of the blog, so I reported my comment that the poetry was better in the Greek. Upon further review, I should have said, "in the original language," because very little of the poetry in the Bible was originally written in Greek.
Lastly, I posted the most recent article I could find about the Texas textbook controversy, but if you do a Google search for Texas Board of Education creationism, you'll find all kinds of other goodies.
OK, now the actual commentary. Scientists don't like it when school boards put "all sides of scientific theories" language in textbook standards, because they think it's code for "take potshots at the theory of evolution." It may very well be, but the testimony on integrity (that again!) won't permit me to say so without positive proof.
So I won't deal with that issue. Instead, I'll talk about why the Bible itself, not any creationist-leaning textbook, makes a poor resource for scientific learning. The purpose of science books, and science classes for that matter, is to make observations about the world around us, come up with a plausible explanations for it, and ideally, teach people to do the same.
The Bible is terrible at this. In general, it jumps straight to conclusions without offering any physical evidence for them. I see no "We conclude God created the world in seven days because of this, this, and this" in Genesis; do you? Luckily, assertions about the nature of the physical world are kind of rare in the Bible; it's mostly about setting up a belief system and acting upon it. And to be fair, science textbooks are as bad as religious instruction as the Bible is at science.
Science is tethered to the realm of the possible. This is problematic for religion (at least my religion) in two ways:
1) Faith takes us outside the realm of what's physically possible. The Bible asserts that people can rise from the dead (2 Kings 4:32-37), that men can be thrown into a furnace and come out unharmed(Daniel 3:19-28), and that there will come a time when wolves lie down with lambs (Isaiah 11:6-8), and that's just in the Old Testament. The New Testament really goes berserk. Science can bring awe and wonder, but only faith sets us free from the tyranny of our lives to see new, unimagined possibilities. I recognize the irony of using that word, but whatcha gonna do?
2) Science makes no distinction between the possible and the desirable. Observable phenomena tell us that splitting atoms can cause horrific destruction. Science, in its purest form, has no opinion about whether this is a good or bad thing. Pretty much all religious thought comes down firmly on one side of the issue.
So science and religion have different purposes and places in our lives. Is that really such a radical idea?
What did you hear today?
11/28/2009
I heard a plea for help
Context
At my Quaker meeting we usually have a program before our meeting for worship. The program today was about handling emotions like anger and sadness while still remaining faithful to the testimony on integrity. During our discussion, one regular attender spoke about someone he knows whose life is in turmoil because she refuses to forgive her father for mistreating her. He asked if we had a suggestion for something to say that wouldn't cause her to turn on him and I said that nothing could ensure the desired response.
Commentary
I hope I wasn't too harsh with my co-religionist. My concern was that he might be seeking a magic bullet here and I wanted to discourage him in that endeavor.
I blame writers. Frequently in works of fiction on page, stage and screen, someone says something that ends all argument and sets everyone listening on the right track (I'm particularly annoyed when this happens to be the loudest voice on a TV show, but I digress). So we might come to believe that there are words that will have this effect in real life as well, but in my experience they are far fewer and further between.
I'm not saying it's a bad idea to be like a writer in choosing words carefully. I rehearse stuff all the time. In fact, this is about the third different narrative style I had considered for today's blog entry. If you would think one of the other two might have been better, oh well!
It's another aspect of fiction writing that may be getting in the way, though. Writers not only get to choose what their characters say, they get to choose how other characters react to it. I think the question posited in this Salon interview is nonsensical: "Do you think novelists are responsible for what their characters think?" If we're not responsible for the products of our own minds, we're in serious trouble!
In real life though, we cannot possibly control how people respond to us. I've been known to use the phrase "appropriate response," but realistically the question has to be, "appropriate according to what criteria?" I find I can't even predict my own response to stimuli with any regularity; a comment I would just let slide under some circumstances becomes an unpardonable transgression under others.
So am I saying my friend from the meeting should just avoid talking to this woman about forgiveness, since he can't predict her reaction? No. I just think he should pay attention to another aspect of real life that is different than fiction: the length of it. I think one of the reasons fiction writers use these "magic bullet" lines is because they need to wrap up a plot in a finite amount of time. We are under no such constraints. We can talk to a person about forgiveness and even if they yell at us, even if they add us to their list of unforgivens, we still may have an impact long down the road.
I believe this is why the Bible calls us to faithfulness, not necessarily effectiveness. Or at least, not effectiveness that we can easily measure. Time and again in God's Word, prophets are praised for bringing a message, whether it appears to be working or not. And some of the effect isn't known even during that prophet's lifetime. It comes when I read the message and learn something. Talk about an unanticipated response!
What did you hear today?
At my Quaker meeting we usually have a program before our meeting for worship. The program today was about handling emotions like anger and sadness while still remaining faithful to the testimony on integrity. During our discussion, one regular attender spoke about someone he knows whose life is in turmoil because she refuses to forgive her father for mistreating her. He asked if we had a suggestion for something to say that wouldn't cause her to turn on him and I said that nothing could ensure the desired response.
Commentary
I hope I wasn't too harsh with my co-religionist. My concern was that he might be seeking a magic bullet here and I wanted to discourage him in that endeavor.
I blame writers. Frequently in works of fiction on page, stage and screen, someone says something that ends all argument and sets everyone listening on the right track (I'm particularly annoyed when this happens to be the loudest voice on a TV show, but I digress). So we might come to believe that there are words that will have this effect in real life as well, but in my experience they are far fewer and further between.
I'm not saying it's a bad idea to be like a writer in choosing words carefully. I rehearse stuff all the time. In fact, this is about the third different narrative style I had considered for today's blog entry. If you would think one of the other two might have been better, oh well!
It's another aspect of fiction writing that may be getting in the way, though. Writers not only get to choose what their characters say, they get to choose how other characters react to it. I think the question posited in this Salon interview is nonsensical: "Do you think novelists are responsible for what their characters think?" If we're not responsible for the products of our own minds, we're in serious trouble!
In real life though, we cannot possibly control how people respond to us. I've been known to use the phrase "appropriate response," but realistically the question has to be, "appropriate according to what criteria?" I find I can't even predict my own response to stimuli with any regularity; a comment I would just let slide under some circumstances becomes an unpardonable transgression under others.
So am I saying my friend from the meeting should just avoid talking to this woman about forgiveness, since he can't predict her reaction? No. I just think he should pay attention to another aspect of real life that is different than fiction: the length of it. I think one of the reasons fiction writers use these "magic bullet" lines is because they need to wrap up a plot in a finite amount of time. We are under no such constraints. We can talk to a person about forgiveness and even if they yell at us, even if they add us to their list of unforgivens, we still may have an impact long down the road.
I believe this is why the Bible calls us to faithfulness, not necessarily effectiveness. Or at least, not effectiveness that we can easily measure. Time and again in God's Word, prophets are praised for bringing a message, whether it appears to be working or not. And some of the effect isn't known even during that prophet's lifetime. It comes when I read the message and learn something. Talk about an unanticipated response!
What did you hear today?
9/10/2009
I saw an e-mail from a Friend
Context
A member of the Quaker meeting I attend sent an e-mail today introducing a woman who is planning to join us for the first time on Saturday. We are a small meeting, so new people are very noticeable.
Commentary
"Go therefore an make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you." These words are almost the last things Jesus says in the gospel according to Matthew (New Revised Standard Version) and are referred to as The Great Commission.
No passage in the Bible has more power to both inspire and terrify Christians. We know that Jesus has done great things for us and theoretically we want to share that good news with everyone, but the practice is often lacking. I've been sampling Jim Henderson's excellent book Evangelism Without Additives, and it has a lot to say about both our discomfiture and our ineffectualness.
Henderson talks a lot about methodology. I'd like to talk a little about goals. It seems to me that one of the sub-goals of our evangelism practices is convincing someone to come to our worship services. Why is that? I'm pretty sure we don't actually believe God only works within a given set of walls or timeframe, so why are we so concerned with bringing people into our building at a certain time instead of taking the love of God to them? Is it laziness? Do we feel too vulnerable out there in the world and want to return to our comfortable surroundings? Or is it a simple way of keeping score, where a big crowd at church equals successful completion of God's mission?
Whatever our reasoning, I don't think it's sound in light of what Jesus actually commanded us to do. The reason I don't think so comes from Jesus' actual last words in Matthew: "And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." Not a single word about us having to come to Him, and He's the Master. Imagine what we servants are called to do.
What did you see today?
A member of the Quaker meeting I attend sent an e-mail today introducing a woman who is planning to join us for the first time on Saturday. We are a small meeting, so new people are very noticeable.
Commentary
"Go therefore an make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you." These words are almost the last things Jesus says in the gospel according to Matthew (New Revised Standard Version) and are referred to as The Great Commission.
No passage in the Bible has more power to both inspire and terrify Christians. We know that Jesus has done great things for us and theoretically we want to share that good news with everyone, but the practice is often lacking. I've been sampling Jim Henderson's excellent book Evangelism Without Additives, and it has a lot to say about both our discomfiture and our ineffectualness.
Henderson talks a lot about methodology. I'd like to talk a little about goals. It seems to me that one of the sub-goals of our evangelism practices is convincing someone to come to our worship services. Why is that? I'm pretty sure we don't actually believe God only works within a given set of walls or timeframe, so why are we so concerned with bringing people into our building at a certain time instead of taking the love of God to them? Is it laziness? Do we feel too vulnerable out there in the world and want to return to our comfortable surroundings? Or is it a simple way of keeping score, where a big crowd at church equals successful completion of God's mission?
Whatever our reasoning, I don't think it's sound in light of what Jesus actually commanded us to do. The reason I don't think so comes from Jesus' actual last words in Matthew: "And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." Not a single word about us having to come to Him, and He's the Master. Imagine what we servants are called to do.
What did you see today?
4/20/2009
I saw an older European-American man driving poorly
Context
In Shreveport, I-20 West has an off ramp that merges into northbound Common Street. As I was traveling north on Common this morning, one of the cars on this ramp failed to yield to oncoming traffic like it was supposed to. When I looked at the driver of the vehicle, I saw that he was an older European-American, and that he was looking down at the seat next to him rather than watching where he was going. I said "Sir!" in an exasperated tone as I swerved around him. At least one of the cars behind me, which had to swerve even more, honked at him.
Commentary
My theories as to what happened with the guy this morning all center around him not realizing he was sliding into traffic. In other words, he thought he had a moment or two to glance at his papers or his phone or whatever before he would have to pay attention to other cars, but he didn't. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about white privilege.
I am not a road-ragey type. This is one of the few areas in my life where I actually hew pretty closely to the Quaker peace testimony. I do not honk my horn in anger, only in warning or greeting. When my fellow drivers do something irritating, I usually just say or yell something in the privacy of my own vehicle and it usually isn't even profane or insulting. Something along the lines of "C'mon!" or "Seriously?" If I'm particularly irked I'll emulate my dad, who used to say "Well, friend . . . " in a very sarcastic tone. This is pretty funny in light of the fact that my dad was not a Quaker but a Baptist, but I digress.
However, I don't recall ever saying "Sir" before. Now maybe it's just because I live in Louisiana, where "yes, sir" and "no ma'am" have been codified into law. But I don't think so. I think it's because the driver was older than me, which definitely does deserve some respect, and because he was white and male, which doesn't necessarily.
So I guess my new mandate in the fight for equality is to refer to every bad driver, without prejudice, as sir or ma'am. Wish me luck!
What did you see today?
In Shreveport, I-20 West has an off ramp that merges into northbound Common Street. As I was traveling north on Common this morning, one of the cars on this ramp failed to yield to oncoming traffic like it was supposed to. When I looked at the driver of the vehicle, I saw that he was an older European-American, and that he was looking down at the seat next to him rather than watching where he was going. I said "Sir!" in an exasperated tone as I swerved around him. At least one of the cars behind me, which had to swerve even more, honked at him.
Commentary
My theories as to what happened with the guy this morning all center around him not realizing he was sliding into traffic. In other words, he thought he had a moment or two to glance at his papers or his phone or whatever before he would have to pay attention to other cars, but he didn't. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about white privilege.
I am not a road-ragey type. This is one of the few areas in my life where I actually hew pretty closely to the Quaker peace testimony. I do not honk my horn in anger, only in warning or greeting. When my fellow drivers do something irritating, I usually just say or yell something in the privacy of my own vehicle and it usually isn't even profane or insulting. Something along the lines of "C'mon!" or "Seriously?" If I'm particularly irked I'll emulate my dad, who used to say "Well, friend . . . " in a very sarcastic tone. This is pretty funny in light of the fact that my dad was not a Quaker but a Baptist, but I digress.
However, I don't recall ever saying "Sir" before. Now maybe it's just because I live in Louisiana, where "yes, sir" and "no ma'am" have been codified into law. But I don't think so. I think it's because the driver was older than me, which definitely does deserve some respect, and because he was white and male, which doesn't necessarily.
So I guess my new mandate in the fight for equality is to refer to every bad driver, without prejudice, as sir or ma'am. Wish me luck!
What did you see today?
4/11/2009
I heard a guiding principle
Context
In my Friends meeting today we were discussing guiding principles for life, things that help us decide what path to take in a given situation. One woman said she goes by "always take the easiest path," but upon further consideration she decided it was more like, "always take the path with the most fun."
Commentary
"Always take the path with the most fun" reminds me of football. The old season is two months gone and the new season is four months away and still things remind me of football. Whatcha gonna do?
Anyway, for about the past ten years, the NFL has had an "instant replay rule" (details here) which allows referees to take a look at video of a just completed play to see if they made the correct call or not. I often tell my husband they should change this rule to favor not the "correct" call but the "most fun" call.
I'm not serious. I know this wouldn't work because the main goal of professional football and most other organized sports is to create a set of objective standards (move the ball a certain distance, prevent the other team from moving the ball, catch the ball within the confines of the field of play, etc.) and award a "win" to whichever team does the best job of conforming to them. Since football has a lot of these standards, you need a person whose job is to very precisely evaluate each team's performance for compliance with all of them. That's your referee, or in the case of big-time football, your whole officiating team.
However, I think my proposal does fit in well with some of the NFL's ancillary goals. It's supposed to be sports entertainment, after all, so fun should come in somewhere. I also think most professional sports organizations like to promote a certain amount of parity, because a good close game makes it more likely that people will watch the whole thing. If referees started awarding questionable calls to whichever team was losing, it might very well make the game more fun.
It might make for interesting coaching strategies as well: "let's not take the lead yet. Let's try for a couple of 'most fun' calls." Hmm. How do you think that would work as a guiding principle for life?
What did you hear today?
In my Friends meeting today we were discussing guiding principles for life, things that help us decide what path to take in a given situation. One woman said she goes by "always take the easiest path," but upon further consideration she decided it was more like, "always take the path with the most fun."
Commentary
"Always take the path with the most fun" reminds me of football. The old season is two months gone and the new season is four months away and still things remind me of football. Whatcha gonna do?
Anyway, for about the past ten years, the NFL has had an "instant replay rule" (details here) which allows referees to take a look at video of a just completed play to see if they made the correct call or not. I often tell my husband they should change this rule to favor not the "correct" call but the "most fun" call.
I'm not serious. I know this wouldn't work because the main goal of professional football and most other organized sports is to create a set of objective standards (move the ball a certain distance, prevent the other team from moving the ball, catch the ball within the confines of the field of play, etc.) and award a "win" to whichever team does the best job of conforming to them. Since football has a lot of these standards, you need a person whose job is to very precisely evaluate each team's performance for compliance with all of them. That's your referee, or in the case of big-time football, your whole officiating team.
However, I think my proposal does fit in well with some of the NFL's ancillary goals. It's supposed to be sports entertainment, after all, so fun should come in somewhere. I also think most professional sports organizations like to promote a certain amount of parity, because a good close game makes it more likely that people will watch the whole thing. If referees started awarding questionable calls to whichever team was losing, it might very well make the game more fun.
It might make for interesting coaching strategies as well: "let's not take the lead yet. Let's try for a couple of 'most fun' calls." Hmm. How do you think that would work as a guiding principle for life?
What did you hear today?
9/08/2008
I saw an internet exchange about Second Life
Context
An e-mail I was reading today drew me to a blog on the American Library Association website called ALA Marginalia. On this post, both the main body and the comments caught my eye, because they contained a discussion of the accessibility of Second Life.
Second Life is a virtual world online where you can create an avatar and do stuff. I can't be any more specific than that because I'm not a member of Second Life.
Commentary
This year marks the second time I apparently neither saw nor heard anything during the month of August. There's a couple of posts during August 2007, but August 2006 is just as forlornly empty as this year. I'm sure that means something.
Second Life creates what seems to me to be a disproportionate amount of buzz in the library world. Workshops in Second Life are held about the special challenges of being a librarian in Second Life. I'm not saying this isn't the appropriate venue or that these challenges don't exist; I'm saying that I never hear anyone except librarians ever talk about Second Life, period.
Although I work in Information Technology I am far from the cutting edge when it comes to new innovations. I have a Facebook page but I never use or even look at it; I have a blog but I don't have a quick RSS feed button attached to it; I've generally find video on the web annoying. There's a difference with these sorts of things, though. I know they exist and I know other people in all kinds of contexts who love them and use them. Second Life produces, as they say in the comedy biz, crickets.
Putting aside ranting, I'm now going to address the comment exchange I said I was interested in. The complaint the 2nd commenter makes is a pretty common one in any world with divided classes. Essentially she's saying, "rich people have access to something others don't." By the way, "rich" here doesn't necessarily mean monetarily wealthy; it can apply to people who are rich in technological knowledge or youth or free time; the complaint remains the same. Anytime this complaint is made, one of the responses is possible:
1) "Too bad, suckers!", which is considered callous.
2) "Yes, we need to provide the benefit to everyone," which is what the blogger here responded (in comment #4) and is considered the progressive answer.
3) "Hmm, maybe we shouldn't bother with this technology if it's out of some people's reach." This is considered a regressive approach.
I'm not an advocate of the classless society. I think there are benefits to competition, some of which I've discussed in an earlier post. I therefore think it's possible to have the #1 response above and not be callous, although it would help to use nicer language.
#2 is lovely and caring-sounding, but also runs the risk of proposing the kind of limitless growth (Everyone is entitled to a big car! And a big house! And lots of meat!) that ultimately threatens our well-being in ways that go beyond just the environmental.
I find #3 particularly challenging. Progress is good, right? It depends; progress toward what? Quakers have a testimony of simplicity in lifestyle and if I scaled back to only those things that were available to everyone I would be living very simply indeed! As it stands, I try to consume luxuries mindfully, seeking to understand both the costs and benefits and to thank the Lord for every blessing that comes my way.
Which brings me back to my personal response to Second Life: I don't see much point in it and can think of many more interesting and productive ways to spend my time. So in my case, it is accessible to me and I don't want it! I would be callous indeed if I didn't recognize how blessed I am to be able to make a choice like that.
What did you see today?
An e-mail I was reading today drew me to a blog on the American Library Association website called ALA Marginalia. On this post, both the main body and the comments caught my eye, because they contained a discussion of the accessibility of Second Life.
Second Life is a virtual world online where you can create an avatar and do stuff. I can't be any more specific than that because I'm not a member of Second Life.
Commentary
This year marks the second time I apparently neither saw nor heard anything during the month of August. There's a couple of posts during August 2007, but August 2006 is just as forlornly empty as this year. I'm sure that means something.
Second Life creates what seems to me to be a disproportionate amount of buzz in the library world. Workshops in Second Life are held about the special challenges of being a librarian in Second Life. I'm not saying this isn't the appropriate venue or that these challenges don't exist; I'm saying that I never hear anyone except librarians ever talk about Second Life, period.
Although I work in Information Technology I am far from the cutting edge when it comes to new innovations. I have a Facebook page but I never use or even look at it; I have a blog but I don't have a quick RSS feed button attached to it; I've generally find video on the web annoying. There's a difference with these sorts of things, though. I know they exist and I know other people in all kinds of contexts who love them and use them. Second Life produces, as they say in the comedy biz, crickets.
Putting aside ranting, I'm now going to address the comment exchange I said I was interested in. The complaint the 2nd commenter makes is a pretty common one in any world with divided classes. Essentially she's saying, "rich people have access to something others don't." By the way, "rich" here doesn't necessarily mean monetarily wealthy; it can apply to people who are rich in technological knowledge or youth or free time; the complaint remains the same. Anytime this complaint is made, one of the responses is possible:
1) "Too bad, suckers!", which is considered callous.
2) "Yes, we need to provide the benefit to everyone," which is what the blogger here responded (in comment #4) and is considered the progressive answer.
3) "Hmm, maybe we shouldn't bother with this technology if it's out of some people's reach." This is considered a regressive approach.
I'm not an advocate of the classless society. I think there are benefits to competition, some of which I've discussed in an earlier post. I therefore think it's possible to have the #1 response above and not be callous, although it would help to use nicer language.
#2 is lovely and caring-sounding, but also runs the risk of proposing the kind of limitless growth (Everyone is entitled to a big car! And a big house! And lots of meat!) that ultimately threatens our well-being in ways that go beyond just the environmental.
I find #3 particularly challenging. Progress is good, right? It depends; progress toward what? Quakers have a testimony of simplicity in lifestyle and if I scaled back to only those things that were available to everyone I would be living very simply indeed! As it stands, I try to consume luxuries mindfully, seeking to understand both the costs and benefits and to thank the Lord for every blessing that comes my way.
Which brings me back to my personal response to Second Life: I don't see much point in it and can think of many more interesting and productive ways to spend my time. So in my case, it is accessible to me and I don't want it! I would be callous indeed if I didn't recognize how blessed I am to be able to make a choice like that.
What did you see today?
6/21/2008
I heard Friends discussing God's nature
Context
In Friends' meeting today we revisited a traditional topic: does God care about/control everything that happens? I am on the "way yes" side of this argument, but several other attenders view God as taking a more hands-off approach. This discussion, possibly because we live in the South, often centers on whether or not God influences the results of football games.
Commentary
Yes, I think God is involved in football. I don't advocate the use of prayer to try to sway Him one way or the other, but in my opinion He does care. I guess this is because I believe, like Amy Grant, that "we're just here to learn to love Him," so anywhere I learn things, I see God at work.
And I get quite an education from football. How-to-live lessons like: "a good game plan has to have both commitment and flexibility built in," and "the best predictor of ultimate success is your response to failure." Also: "every member of a team contributes to the triumph of the whole."
I also learn about God's creativity. I am awestruck when I watch what football players can do with their bodies, minds and hearts. God created each of those things, so watching is an opportunity to give Him glory.
I think this belief of mine makes particular sense in the context of this blog. After all, the whole point of it is to see God everywhere. Right?
What did you hear today?
In Friends' meeting today we revisited a traditional topic: does God care about/control everything that happens? I am on the "way yes" side of this argument, but several other attenders view God as taking a more hands-off approach. This discussion, possibly because we live in the South, often centers on whether or not God influences the results of football games.
Commentary
Yes, I think God is involved in football. I don't advocate the use of prayer to try to sway Him one way or the other, but in my opinion He does care. I guess this is because I believe, like Amy Grant, that "we're just here to learn to love Him," so anywhere I learn things, I see God at work.
And I get quite an education from football. How-to-live lessons like: "a good game plan has to have both commitment and flexibility built in," and "the best predictor of ultimate success is your response to failure." Also: "every member of a team contributes to the triumph of the whole."
I also learn about God's creativity. I am awestruck when I watch what football players can do with their bodies, minds and hearts. God created each of those things, so watching is an opportunity to give Him glory.
I think this belief of mine makes particular sense in the context of this blog. After all, the whole point of it is to see God everywhere. Right?
What did you hear today?
5/17/2008
I heard a Friend talk about community reaction.
Context
My Friends meeting in Texarkana tries to have a "Peace Out" every month. This involves going into the community and doing God's work. As we were brainstorming ideas for next month's Peace Out, we thought of several things that might benefit disadvantaged members of the African-American community. One Friend expressed concern that the beneficiaries might be resentful of "these white ladies" (and we all are) coming in where they're not wanted and doing stuff.
Commentary
I don't know if race influences actions more strongly in the South or if we're just more open about it at Quaker meeting, but the subject does seem to come up fairly regularly when we're talking about the Texarkana community. If I were to try to articulate the resentment my friend was concerned about, I think it might go something like this: "these white ladies have no idea what our lives are like, so it's not possible for them to lend a helping hand without judging us, trying to change us, and generally feeling superior to us. Therefore we don't want them around."
This reaction makes me think about Christianity (OK, a lot of things make me think about Christianity). Christians know that God in fact does judge us, wants us to change, and is superior to us. In the book of Job, God makes it pretty clear that He's unconcerned about our resentment (Start from chapter 38 and go from there. You'll get the idea). However, Jesus' incarnation seems to indicate God thought some empathy might be in order. Either that, or He was removing our last stupid excuse for not heeding His word: "you don't know what I'm going through, God. Your opinion doesn't count." Well, now He knows.
So where does that leave a group of white ladies working in an African-American community? Well, I don't think it's true that we have no idea what people's lives are like. We may not be in the same economic or social circumstances, but I think all of us have felt overwhelmed, oppressed, hopeless, unmotivated, and yes, resentful at some time in our lives. If we can offer the empathy that comes from knowing all of us need help sometimes, then perhaps we'll be doing more than just a good deed. We'll actually be furthering God's kingdom.
By the way, here's my favorite joke about empathy: never judge a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes. That way, when you judge him you'll be a mile away and you'll have his shoes!
What did you hear today?
My Friends meeting in Texarkana tries to have a "Peace Out" every month. This involves going into the community and doing God's work. As we were brainstorming ideas for next month's Peace Out, we thought of several things that might benefit disadvantaged members of the African-American community. One Friend expressed concern that the beneficiaries might be resentful of "these white ladies" (and we all are) coming in where they're not wanted and doing stuff.
Commentary
I don't know if race influences actions more strongly in the South or if we're just more open about it at Quaker meeting, but the subject does seem to come up fairly regularly when we're talking about the Texarkana community. If I were to try to articulate the resentment my friend was concerned about, I think it might go something like this: "these white ladies have no idea what our lives are like, so it's not possible for them to lend a helping hand without judging us, trying to change us, and generally feeling superior to us. Therefore we don't want them around."
This reaction makes me think about Christianity (OK, a lot of things make me think about Christianity). Christians know that God in fact does judge us, wants us to change, and is superior to us. In the book of Job, God makes it pretty clear that He's unconcerned about our resentment (Start from chapter 38 and go from there. You'll get the idea). However, Jesus' incarnation seems to indicate God thought some empathy might be in order. Either that, or He was removing our last stupid excuse for not heeding His word: "you don't know what I'm going through, God. Your opinion doesn't count." Well, now He knows.
So where does that leave a group of white ladies working in an African-American community? Well, I don't think it's true that we have no idea what people's lives are like. We may not be in the same economic or social circumstances, but I think all of us have felt overwhelmed, oppressed, hopeless, unmotivated, and yes, resentful at some time in our lives. If we can offer the empathy that comes from knowing all of us need help sometimes, then perhaps we'll be doing more than just a good deed. We'll actually be furthering God's kingdom.
By the way, here's my favorite joke about empathy: never judge a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes. That way, when you judge him you'll be a mile away and you'll have his shoes!
What did you hear today?
4/05/2008
I saw the morning light
Context
I'm in Detroit for the SiRSI Superconference, which I've mentioned in a previous blog post. My hotel room is on the 53rd floor (!) of the Marriott Renaissance Center. When I arrived last night I could see an variety of city lights outside my window, including the very complex sign for the Fox Theater. This morning when I opened my curtains just after daybreak, I couldn't see the Fox Theater at all.
Commentary
I think I frequently blog when I travel because it's a great opportunity to see new stuff. And if you're going to travel, I highly recommend staying on the 53rd floor of the Marriott Renaissance Center. I could sit here in front of the window with my iTunes on all day if I didn't have conference events to attend. It's better than television! And that's saying a lot, 'cuz I likes me some television.
Anyway, the disappearance of the Fox was quite startling today. It might have happened because they turn off the sign in the daytime, but I think it more likely that it just couldn't compete with the brilliance of the sun. It's like certain temptations of this world. In a particular context they're bright and attractive, or maybe a little mysterious (I was really fascinated by how this sign worked!). For whatever reason, you can't tear your attention away. But in light of the things you can see by the Spirit, they fade so badly that it's as if they never existed.
Please don't get me wrong. I have nothing against the Fox Theater or their sign and I don't think it's a hotbed of evil or anything (traditional Quakers were opposed to the theater, but I'm not). I'm just of a metaphorical cast of mind at the moment.
What did you see today?
I'm in Detroit for the SiRSI Superconference, which I've mentioned in a previous blog post. My hotel room is on the 53rd floor (!) of the Marriott Renaissance Center. When I arrived last night I could see an variety of city lights outside my window, including the very complex sign for the Fox Theater. This morning when I opened my curtains just after daybreak, I couldn't see the Fox Theater at all.
Commentary
I think I frequently blog when I travel because it's a great opportunity to see new stuff. And if you're going to travel, I highly recommend staying on the 53rd floor of the Marriott Renaissance Center. I could sit here in front of the window with my iTunes on all day if I didn't have conference events to attend. It's better than television! And that's saying a lot, 'cuz I likes me some television.
Anyway, the disappearance of the Fox was quite startling today. It might have happened because they turn off the sign in the daytime, but I think it more likely that it just couldn't compete with the brilliance of the sun. It's like certain temptations of this world. In a particular context they're bright and attractive, or maybe a little mysterious (I was really fascinated by how this sign worked!). For whatever reason, you can't tear your attention away. But in light of the things you can see by the Spirit, they fade so badly that it's as if they never existed.
Please don't get me wrong. I have nothing against the Fox Theater or their sign and I don't think it's a hotbed of evil or anything (traditional Quakers were opposed to the theater, but I'm not). I'm just of a metaphorical cast of mind at the moment.
What did you see today?
6/09/2007
I heard Friends talk about goals.
Context
At Friends Meeting today we were talking about male and female personality characteristics. In that context, Friend A asked, "so do you have goals for your life?" A couple of us said, "no," but Friend B said, "yes, I have lots!" Then Friend A said to Friend B, "so you're a more goal-oriented person than the rest of us," and I thought to myself, "no, I'm a goal-oriented person; I just don't have goals!"
Commentary
What's going on with my seemingly contradictory view of goals? Well, when someone talks about a person "having goals," I think of long-term visions for the future. I have those; I just lack the motivation and discipline to carry them out. For example, I would like to shed about 30 pounds. However, I have so little intention of either eating significantly less or exercising significantly more that it seems wrong to call that a "goal."
"Goal-oriented," on the other hand, means something different to me. It makes me think more in terms of my actual activities, as opposed to the things I want to do or think I ought to do. Frequently as I go through my day I ask myself, "why are you doing this?" In other words, what goal am I hoping to accomplish?
I find that asking myself this question helps me in a couple of ways. One, it prevents me from walking down fruitless paths. So if I ask myself, "why are you doing this particular activity?", the answer might be, "in order to teach people to use the computer." If I then realize that the activity I'm doing doesn't actually help people to learn, I can just stop doing it! It's easier to do that if I'm focusing on a goal instead of my own ego, a la "wah! I really like that activity!"
On the flip side, being goal-oriented helps me examine not only my activities, but also the goals themselves. I've had this internal conversation more than once:
"Lynn, you're gossiping. Why are you doing that?"
"Well, I really want to impress the people I'm with."
"Really. So your goal is to impress the sort of people who are impressed by gossip. Is that really a worthy goal?"
My mother tried to inculcate this idea in me countless times when I was a teenager. 30 years later, I'm finally getting it. She's currently practicing her "I told you so" speech in heaven.
Mind you, "worthy" doesn't necessarily mean "lofty." Sometimes the conversation goes more like this:
"Why are you watching this episode of Sports Night on DVD that you've seen five times before?"
"I'm tired, I like Aaron Sorkin's writing and Peter Krause is easy on the eyes."
Resting and appreciating the whole of God's creation. Perfectly worthy goals.
What did you see today?
At Friends Meeting today we were talking about male and female personality characteristics. In that context, Friend A asked, "so do you have goals for your life?" A couple of us said, "no," but Friend B said, "yes, I have lots!" Then Friend A said to Friend B, "so you're a more goal-oriented person than the rest of us," and I thought to myself, "no, I'm a goal-oriented person; I just don't have goals!"
Commentary
What's going on with my seemingly contradictory view of goals? Well, when someone talks about a person "having goals," I think of long-term visions for the future. I have those; I just lack the motivation and discipline to carry them out. For example, I would like to shed about 30 pounds. However, I have so little intention of either eating significantly less or exercising significantly more that it seems wrong to call that a "goal."
"Goal-oriented," on the other hand, means something different to me. It makes me think more in terms of my actual activities, as opposed to the things I want to do or think I ought to do. Frequently as I go through my day I ask myself, "why are you doing this?" In other words, what goal am I hoping to accomplish?
I find that asking myself this question helps me in a couple of ways. One, it prevents me from walking down fruitless paths. So if I ask myself, "why are you doing this particular activity?", the answer might be, "in order to teach people to use the computer." If I then realize that the activity I'm doing doesn't actually help people to learn, I can just stop doing it! It's easier to do that if I'm focusing on a goal instead of my own ego, a la "wah! I really like that activity!"
On the flip side, being goal-oriented helps me examine not only my activities, but also the goals themselves. I've had this internal conversation more than once:
"Lynn, you're gossiping. Why are you doing that?"
"Well, I really want to impress the people I'm with."
"Really. So your goal is to impress the sort of people who are impressed by gossip. Is that really a worthy goal?"
My mother tried to inculcate this idea in me countless times when I was a teenager. 30 years later, I'm finally getting it. She's currently practicing her "I told you so" speech in heaven.
Mind you, "worthy" doesn't necessarily mean "lofty." Sometimes the conversation goes more like this:
"Why are you watching this episode of Sports Night on DVD that you've seen five times before?"
"I'm tired, I like Aaron Sorkin's writing and Peter Krause is easy on the eyes."
Resting and appreciating the whole of God's creation. Perfectly worthy goals.
What did you see today?
5/18/2007
I saw the mayor of Shreveport's title
Context
Shreve Memorial Library, where I work, has a Board of Control. Up until today, the Board's webpage hadn't been updated recently, so it still listed the privious mayor, who's white, as anex oficio member. Now our current mayor, who's black, is on there instead. As per normal protocol, the mayor's "The Honorable" title is placed before his name on the page.
Commentary
Quakers have various testimonies that over the years have led to a general disregard for honorifics. Earlham College has a contemporary explanation of this practice about one-third of the way down this page.
Quakers have no creedal statements, but I generally follow most of my church's traditional teachings. Not this one, though. Lately I've felt compeled to start adding formal shows of respect to my interactions with others, rather than taking them away.
This inspiration came largely from a coworker I had shortly after I arrived in Shreveport, who expressed some dismay that a person had called her by her first name without her permission. In our current cultural context, I don't think she felt her obvious social superiority was not being acknowledged. No, the use of her first name made her feel denigrated because, in contrast to the person addressing her, she was a) female and b) over 50.
I've been using computers for 25 years and have gotten pretty good at least at the application side of things. I teach beginners' classes to senior citizens who have never touched a mouse. You'd better believe I call every one Mr. or Ms. as appropriate. I feel I owe it to them to show respect for everything they have achieved, especially since others have often made them feel stupid about not having this particular set of skills.
I also always call President Bush "President Bush." It is important for me to remind myself that even though I disagree with a person about 80% of the time, he is owed a certain amount of respect for having legally won two presidential elections. If you want to disagree with me about the "legally won" part, we can have a lengthy discussion, including a comparison to the "Compromise of 1876," some other time.
So what about Mayor Glover of Shreveport? He is such a confident guy that it's hard to picture anyone dissing him to his face, and impossible to imagine it bothering him. I also don't generally disagree with his policies. He's still going to get the "Mayor Glover" treatment from me every time, though. Shreveport is majority African-American, but this is the first time a black person has been elected mayor. Furthermore, it was quite a close election with some very unlovely black mayor=unsafe streets rhetoric being tossed around. At this point, I feel like as a white person I owe the entire African-American community an honorific.
What did you see today?
Shreve Memorial Library, where I work, has a Board of Control. Up until today, the Board's webpage hadn't been updated recently, so it still listed the privious mayor, who's white, as an
Commentary
Quakers have various testimonies that over the years have led to a general disregard for honorifics. Earlham College has a contemporary explanation of this practice about one-third of the way down this page.
Quakers have no creedal statements, but I generally follow most of my church's traditional teachings. Not this one, though. Lately I've felt compeled to start adding formal shows of respect to my interactions with others, rather than taking them away.
This inspiration came largely from a coworker I had shortly after I arrived in Shreveport, who expressed some dismay that a person had called her by her first name without her permission. In our current cultural context, I don't think she felt her obvious social superiority was not being acknowledged. No, the use of her first name made her feel denigrated because, in contrast to the person addressing her, she was a) female and b) over 50.
I've been using computers for 25 years and have gotten pretty good at least at the application side of things. I teach beginners' classes to senior citizens who have never touched a mouse. You'd better believe I call every one Mr. or Ms. as appropriate. I feel I owe it to them to show respect for everything they have achieved, especially since others have often made them feel stupid about not having this particular set of skills.
I also always call President Bush "President Bush." It is important for me to remind myself that even though I disagree with a person about 80% of the time, he is owed a certain amount of respect for having legally won two presidential elections. If you want to disagree with me about the "legally won" part, we can have a lengthy discussion, including a comparison to the "Compromise of 1876," some other time.
So what about Mayor Glover of Shreveport? He is such a confident guy that it's hard to picture anyone dissing him to his face, and impossible to imagine it bothering him. I also don't generally disagree with his policies. He's still going to get the "Mayor Glover" treatment from me every time, though. Shreveport is majority African-American, but this is the first time a black person has been elected mayor. Furthermore, it was quite a close election with some very unlovely black mayor=unsafe streets rhetoric being tossed around. At this point, I feel like as a white person I owe the entire African-American community an honorific.
What did you see today?
4/29/2007
I saw the hedge around my alma mater.
Context
I’m in Houston today, so I visited the Rice University campus, which is right across the street from the Texas Medical Center. Rice has a wholly contiguous campus that is surrounded by a hedge. The hedge is not physically imposing enough to prevent anyone or anything from coming on campus, but it does clearly delineate the borders.
I graduated from Rice twenty years ago, so of course I see changes whenever I go back and visit. For example, sometime after my departure the Texas Medical Center built a really ugly building just beyond the Rice hedge.
Commentary
I was planning to go to church this morning, but instead I was moved to visit Rice. As I was walking around trying to figure out what drew me there, I saw this much-taller-than-everything-around-it, windowless building and was somewhat afraid that it might be on the campus itself. But no, as I got closer I realized that my beloved hedge was standing guard, keeping me from having to think that some of my alumni giving might have contributed to this monstrosity. As I sat on a bench facing away from both the ugly Med Center building and the hedge I started thinking about the protective aspects of communities.
Rice is an interesting place to go to school. It's an academically challenging but close-knit community. For four years Rice gathers people together and tells them that inside the hedges, it’s safe to be smart and obsessive and all-around different from the norm. In spite of the fact that the hedge is a puny little thing, I still felt shielded there.
It’s not just a shield, though. During those four years (or five or six or whatever) Rice tries to prepare you to go out in the world and accomplish something, not only by making you smarter, but by giving you the emotional tools to answer some of the crap the world throws at you. Four years of being told it’s great to be a nerd makes you likely to continue to believe it even twenty, thirty and forty years later.
I am blessed that I continue to have two communities that work the same way for me even today. My marriage is one. People get and stay married for any of number of reasons, but both my husband and I have come to treasure the refuge aspect of our relationship. We feel like we really can go out and do battle with all the problems of this world because we know someone will love us at the end of the day. Or sometimes in the middle, when we really want to scream! At its best, our marriage is not a hiding place, but a place where we can both rest and be reassured that we are capable of facing the next challenge to come.
My Quaker meeting is another such community. We're a pretty heterogeneous group in terms of religious beliefs and values, but we hold sacred the idea that everyone should be safe at the meeting. Not unchallenged, not coddled, but safe. It's a place where a person may hear a hundred times, "that's different from my experience," but will never hear, "you're wrong to think that way." So we get to examine the Spirit of God within us in an atmosphere that celebrates that Spirit and inspires us to go share it with the rest of the world.
I think everyone would benefit from belonging to these types of communities and I'd like to give you some advice about finding and/or building your own. Unfortunately, I can't. As far as I can tell, I came to both of these communities by the grace of God. So instead I'll pray that God provides you with the gift of a supportive community as well. I'll also invite you to come to our Quaker meeting at 10:00 a.m. Saturday mornings at Charlie Cook's Art Studio, 3500 Texas Blvd., Texarkana, TX. My marriage is not accepting any new members at this time.
What did you see today?
I’m in Houston today, so I visited the Rice University campus, which is right across the street from the Texas Medical Center. Rice has a wholly contiguous campus that is surrounded by a hedge. The hedge is not physically imposing enough to prevent anyone or anything from coming on campus, but it does clearly delineate the borders.
I graduated from Rice twenty years ago, so of course I see changes whenever I go back and visit. For example, sometime after my departure the Texas Medical Center built a really ugly building just beyond the Rice hedge.
Commentary
I was planning to go to church this morning, but instead I was moved to visit Rice. As I was walking around trying to figure out what drew me there, I saw this much-taller-than-everything-around-it, windowless building and was somewhat afraid that it might be on the campus itself. But no, as I got closer I realized that my beloved hedge was standing guard, keeping me from having to think that some of my alumni giving might have contributed to this monstrosity. As I sat on a bench facing away from both the ugly Med Center building and the hedge I started thinking about the protective aspects of communities.
Rice is an interesting place to go to school. It's an academically challenging but close-knit community. For four years Rice gathers people together and tells them that inside the hedges, it’s safe to be smart and obsessive and all-around different from the norm. In spite of the fact that the hedge is a puny little thing, I still felt shielded there.
It’s not just a shield, though. During those four years (or five or six or whatever) Rice tries to prepare you to go out in the world and accomplish something, not only by making you smarter, but by giving you the emotional tools to answer some of the crap the world throws at you. Four years of being told it’s great to be a nerd makes you likely to continue to believe it even twenty, thirty and forty years later.
I am blessed that I continue to have two communities that work the same way for me even today. My marriage is one. People get and stay married for any of number of reasons, but both my husband and I have come to treasure the refuge aspect of our relationship. We feel like we really can go out and do battle with all the problems of this world because we know someone will love us at the end of the day. Or sometimes in the middle, when we really want to scream! At its best, our marriage is not a hiding place, but a place where we can both rest and be reassured that we are capable of facing the next challenge to come.
My Quaker meeting is another such community. We're a pretty heterogeneous group in terms of religious beliefs and values, but we hold sacred the idea that everyone should be safe at the meeting. Not unchallenged, not coddled, but safe. It's a place where a person may hear a hundred times, "that's different from my experience," but will never hear, "you're wrong to think that way." So we get to examine the Spirit of God within us in an atmosphere that celebrates that Spirit and inspires us to go share it with the rest of the world.
I think everyone would benefit from belonging to these types of communities and I'd like to give you some advice about finding and/or building your own. Unfortunately, I can't. As far as I can tell, I came to both of these communities by the grace of God. So instead I'll pray that God provides you with the gift of a supportive community as well. I'll also invite you to come to our Quaker meeting at 10:00 a.m. Saturday mornings at Charlie Cook's Art Studio, 3500 Texas Blvd., Texarkana, TX. My marriage is not accepting any new members at this time.
What did you see today?
4/14/2007
I heard a "just" prayer
Context
A couple of other Friends and I volunteered today at the Randy Sams Shelter for the Homeless in Texarkana, Texas. While we were there, another woman who was volunteering from the Partnership Church of Texarkana asked us to gather and pray with someone. That woman said a prayer out loud that included the word "just" a lot, e.g "I just want to thank you, Father," "I just pray you'll heal our friend," etc.
Commentary
I don't know where the "just" style of prayer comes from, but I first started hearing it about twenty years ago. I wonder if it came from the 1970's "Jesus freaks." The cadence of it sort of sounds like an invitation to mellow out and rap with God. Prayer as casual conversation instead of a big deal.
I find "just" prayers a little jarring. I don't think God has any trouble listening to them, but the very casual sound that may make them attractive to some repels me. I think prayer is a big deal. When someone uses the word "just" a lot, it sounds like they haven't really considered what they're saying to God, they're "just" throwing stuff out there. God loves us and listens to us always, but shouldn't we love Him enough to put a little thought into what we're going to say?
In fact, given that God does love us, another problem emerges. When I say "I just" in everyday conversation, it's usually a fear response. I want to say something, but I think I'm going to get in trouble for it, like "don't get mad at me, but I just don't think four-inch heels are appropriate for horseback riding." It's a phrase with a built-in cringe.
If this is the case, "I just" is a wildly innapropriate way to talk to God. Jesus uses a metaphor of God as Father, but hopefully we all understand that God is better than any earthly father in that He always wants to hear what we have to say When I pray I say, "please," or "if it's Your will" to God in order to be respectful, but I don't grovel. I'm a child of God; I get to ask for stuff with confidence that He will always listen and provide what I need.
What did you see today?
A couple of other Friends and I volunteered today at the Randy Sams Shelter for the Homeless in Texarkana, Texas. While we were there, another woman who was volunteering from the Partnership Church of Texarkana asked us to gather and pray with someone. That woman said a prayer out loud that included the word "just" a lot, e.g "I just want to thank you, Father," "I just pray you'll heal our friend," etc.
Commentary
I don't know where the "just" style of prayer comes from, but I first started hearing it about twenty years ago. I wonder if it came from the 1970's "Jesus freaks." The cadence of it sort of sounds like an invitation to mellow out and rap with God. Prayer as casual conversation instead of a big deal.
I find "just" prayers a little jarring. I don't think God has any trouble listening to them, but the very casual sound that may make them attractive to some repels me. I think prayer is a big deal. When someone uses the word "just" a lot, it sounds like they haven't really considered what they're saying to God, they're "just" throwing stuff out there. God loves us and listens to us always, but shouldn't we love Him enough to put a little thought into what we're going to say?
In fact, given that God does love us, another problem emerges. When I say "I just" in everyday conversation, it's usually a fear response. I want to say something, but I think I'm going to get in trouble for it, like "don't get mad at me, but I just don't think four-inch heels are appropriate for horseback riding." It's a phrase with a built-in cringe.
If this is the case, "I just" is a wildly innapropriate way to talk to God. Jesus uses a metaphor of God as Father, but hopefully we all understand that God is better than any earthly father in that He always wants to hear what we have to say When I pray I say, "please," or "if it's Your will" to God in order to be respectful, but I don't grovel. I'm a child of God; I get to ask for stuff with confidence that He will always listen and provide what I need.
What did you see today?
7/17/2006
I saw the consequences of an oft-repeated mistake
Context
I have a variety of job duties at Shreve Memorial Library, which is not unusual for my profession. One of these is administrating our integrated library system. Another is training staff members on how to use it. Today I was informed that someone made a mistake on the system last Wednesday. The person who notified me stated in her e-mail that “everyone claims innocence,” but further pressing revealed that it was probably a third party who has made this error many times before. It’s possible that the only reason I was told about it was because the mistake in question requires my intervention before anyone at that particular branch can perform the same task. The fix took about 30 seconds, but because I’ve been on vacation, what should be a daily task at that branch has been left undone for five days. It took considerably longer than 30 seconds to compose an e-mail expressing my ire at this ongoing situation to the mistake-maker’s supervisor (a fourth party!).
Commentary
One of the ladies who attends my Quaker meeting thinks Jesus can’t have been perfect because He got mad at people. I disagree. I definitely think there’s such thing as righteous anger and that mine usually fits the criteria ;-).
Anyway, I hope my e-mail to the supervisor expressed the reason for my anger adequately. It’s a little irritating that the same mistake keeps being made over and over again, but what really burns my butt is not being told about it by the responsible party. Politically, I didn’t feel like I could confront the mistake-maker directly, so I was left to speculate on the reasons why she didn’t tell me about the problem herself. I came up with three:
1) She doesn’t think it’s a big enough problem to bother mentioning. As you can tell by this entry, she’s wrong. It’s a sufficient inconvenience to enough people to require immediate action.
2) She figures I’ll find out eventually from someone. Why should she lay herself on the line? I did find out about this eventually from someone, so she was right about that. On the other hand, she’s still smack in the middle of the situation, not because I want to blame someone, but because of necessity any solution to the problem will involve her.
3) She feels like she’s made this mistake so many times that we’ve used up every possible preventative. She’s wrong about that as well. I’m a professional trainer; I’ve always got another educational trick up my sleeve.
So this whole episode got me thinking about confession. Essentially, what I’m wanting from my coworker is what God wants from us: He wants us to admit that we’ve done wrong. Christians (well, everybody actually, but I know the Christian experience better than any other) have many reasons for not wanting to confess our sins to God. Or at least, three:
1) We don’t think the sin is big enough that we need to confess it. What’s a little lust in your heart as compared to bombing innocent children? The problem is, the sinner almost never has any idea of the magnitude of her sin or the effect it’s going to have on other people. We are all too inclined to let ourselves slide for actions we would find unacceptable in other people. Better to let an outside judge take a look at that error for us, I think.
2) God knows that we sin; it seems pointless to discuss it with Him. People use a similar reason for not offering prayers of petition: God knows what I need. Of course He does! In my experience, prayer of all types is not for the purpose of getting God’s attention. It’s to focus ours. In the case of confession, any twelve-step program will tell you that the first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one.
3) We feel like it’s hopeless. We’ve been down the same path so many times before and nothing ever changes. Really? Nothing? In my experience, it’s never actually the same situation twice. Maybe this time I realize a split-second earlier that I’m doing wrong. Maybe this person calls me on it instead of suffering in silence like the last 29 have done. I’m not saying the changes are always pleasant or even appear positive. I am saying that if Lynn the trainer always has a trick up her sleeve, imagine what God must have in that big old white robe or whatever He wears?
What did you see today?
I have a variety of job duties at Shreve Memorial Library, which is not unusual for my profession. One of these is administrating our integrated library system. Another is training staff members on how to use it. Today I was informed that someone made a mistake on the system last Wednesday. The person who notified me stated in her e-mail that “everyone claims innocence,” but further pressing revealed that it was probably a third party who has made this error many times before. It’s possible that the only reason I was told about it was because the mistake in question requires my intervention before anyone at that particular branch can perform the same task. The fix took about 30 seconds, but because I’ve been on vacation, what should be a daily task at that branch has been left undone for five days. It took considerably longer than 30 seconds to compose an e-mail expressing my ire at this ongoing situation to the mistake-maker’s supervisor (a fourth party!).
Commentary
One of the ladies who attends my Quaker meeting thinks Jesus can’t have been perfect because He got mad at people. I disagree. I definitely think there’s such thing as righteous anger and that mine usually fits the criteria ;-).
Anyway, I hope my e-mail to the supervisor expressed the reason for my anger adequately. It’s a little irritating that the same mistake keeps being made over and over again, but what really burns my butt is not being told about it by the responsible party. Politically, I didn’t feel like I could confront the mistake-maker directly, so I was left to speculate on the reasons why she didn’t tell me about the problem herself. I came up with three:
1) She doesn’t think it’s a big enough problem to bother mentioning. As you can tell by this entry, she’s wrong. It’s a sufficient inconvenience to enough people to require immediate action.
2) She figures I’ll find out eventually from someone. Why should she lay herself on the line? I did find out about this eventually from someone, so she was right about that. On the other hand, she’s still smack in the middle of the situation, not because I want to blame someone, but because of necessity any solution to the problem will involve her.
3) She feels like she’s made this mistake so many times that we’ve used up every possible preventative. She’s wrong about that as well. I’m a professional trainer; I’ve always got another educational trick up my sleeve.
So this whole episode got me thinking about confession. Essentially, what I’m wanting from my coworker is what God wants from us: He wants us to admit that we’ve done wrong. Christians (well, everybody actually, but I know the Christian experience better than any other) have many reasons for not wanting to confess our sins to God. Or at least, three:
1) We don’t think the sin is big enough that we need to confess it. What’s a little lust in your heart as compared to bombing innocent children? The problem is, the sinner almost never has any idea of the magnitude of her sin or the effect it’s going to have on other people. We are all too inclined to let ourselves slide for actions we would find unacceptable in other people. Better to let an outside judge take a look at that error for us, I think.
2) God knows that we sin; it seems pointless to discuss it with Him. People use a similar reason for not offering prayers of petition: God knows what I need. Of course He does! In my experience, prayer of all types is not for the purpose of getting God’s attention. It’s to focus ours. In the case of confession, any twelve-step program will tell you that the first step to solving a problem is admitting you have one.
3) We feel like it’s hopeless. We’ve been down the same path so many times before and nothing ever changes. Really? Nothing? In my experience, it’s never actually the same situation twice. Maybe this time I realize a split-second earlier that I’m doing wrong. Maybe this person calls me on it instead of suffering in silence like the last 29 have done. I’m not saying the changes are always pleasant or even appear positive. I am saying that if Lynn the trainer always has a trick up her sleeve, imagine what God must have in that big old white robe or whatever He wears?
What did you see today?
6/17/2006
I saw an article in the Texarkana Gazette
Context
I go to Quaker meeting in Texarkana, even though I live in Shreveport. Today someone brought a copy of the Texarkana Gazette to meeting, and it had an article about people protesting a home for recovering drug addicts being planned in their neighborhood. This is a quote from the article: “'I don’t know of anybody who really gets off drugs and they come with all that baggage and we don’t want that around our children,' said Sheila Oates, who lives on Stipp Lane not too far from the location."
Commentary
NIMBY-type protests strike me as the worst possible kind of hypocrisy, because the people involved almost always agree that the activity in question is necessary or even desirable, but they don’t want to have to live near it. They’re not anti-nuclear power; they’re pro-making someone else live with the consequences. I suppose I should be happy that some of the protesters in this case are at least being consistent enough to say they don't see any point in attempting to rehabilitate drug users anywhere.
I'm not happy, though. In fact, I find this case particularly irksome, because of something the members of my meeting keep hammering into my head: “everyone around here is a Christian.” The members of my meeting who are not Christian sometimes feel ostracized and persecuted because they don’t believe “correctly.” Or they just don’t bother to tell people and save themselves the grief. So we have a whole city full of Christians which includes at least one neighborhood where they don’t want to have to be around drug addicts. Interesting.
Now, don’t get me wrong. My Lutheran upbringing makes me a strong believer in “saved by grace through faith alone.” There is no action one can take (or not take) to ensure one’s salvation except believing in the Gospel. But I always hope for myself and my brothers and sisters in Christ that after we’ve been saved we will be of some benefit to the rest of the world. Rejecting people at the very moment when they’re trying to turn their lives around doesn’t seem beneficial to anyone, including the Christian children you’re trying to raise.
I think this is a hazard to being a Christian in the South. When being a Christian is the norm, then “normal” behavior, like shielding your children from people with problems, becomes equated with Christian behavior, so it doesn’t need to be examined or questioned. That’s one of the reasons I’m strongly in favor of the separation of church and state. Once we have a “Christian” government, then everything it does will be, by definition, Christian. Yeah, right.
What did you see today?
I go to Quaker meeting in Texarkana, even though I live in Shreveport. Today someone brought a copy of the Texarkana Gazette to meeting, and it had an article about people protesting a home for recovering drug addicts being planned in their neighborhood. This is a quote from the article: “'I don’t know of anybody who really gets off drugs and they come with all that baggage and we don’t want that around our children,' said Sheila Oates, who lives on Stipp Lane not too far from the location."
Commentary
NIMBY-type protests strike me as the worst possible kind of hypocrisy, because the people involved almost always agree that the activity in question is necessary or even desirable, but they don’t want to have to live near it. They’re not anti-nuclear power; they’re pro-making someone else live with the consequences. I suppose I should be happy that some of the protesters in this case are at least being consistent enough to say they don't see any point in attempting to rehabilitate drug users anywhere.
I'm not happy, though. In fact, I find this case particularly irksome, because of something the members of my meeting keep hammering into my head: “everyone around here is a Christian.” The members of my meeting who are not Christian sometimes feel ostracized and persecuted because they don’t believe “correctly.” Or they just don’t bother to tell people and save themselves the grief. So we have a whole city full of Christians which includes at least one neighborhood where they don’t want to have to be around drug addicts. Interesting.
Now, don’t get me wrong. My Lutheran upbringing makes me a strong believer in “saved by grace through faith alone.” There is no action one can take (or not take) to ensure one’s salvation except believing in the Gospel. But I always hope for myself and my brothers and sisters in Christ that after we’ve been saved we will be of some benefit to the rest of the world. Rejecting people at the very moment when they’re trying to turn their lives around doesn’t seem beneficial to anyone, including the Christian children you’re trying to raise.
I think this is a hazard to being a Christian in the South. When being a Christian is the norm, then “normal” behavior, like shielding your children from people with problems, becomes equated with Christian behavior, so it doesn’t need to be examined or questioned. That’s one of the reasons I’m strongly in favor of the separation of church and state. Once we have a “Christian” government, then everything it does will be, by definition, Christian. Yeah, right.
What did you see today?
3/10/2006
I heard someone make a promise he couldn't keep.
Context
I'm afraid to fly, even though I've done it for 35 years. Today the pilot on my Northwest Airlines flight said he promised the crew would get us safely to our destination. Quakers take the Biblical injunction against oaths pretty seriously, as exemplified by this excerpt from the Faith and Practice of the Pacific Yearly Meeting.
Commentary
In case you didn't notice, I've changed the name of this blog. The call I'm answering with it was to open my eyes and open my mouth. Since I'm already typing instead of opening my mouth, I'm thinking that the "eyes" part can be stretched a little as well. The blog will probably still predominantly consist of things I see and hear, but if I start tasting, smelling or touching things I need to call attention to, you'll be the first to know.
For a split second, I'm almost felt reassured when the pilot promised to get me safely to my destination. Then I realized he was lying. People sometimes object when I put it bluntly like that, but to me lying describes what you say, not what you intend. Since there are an almost infinite number of things that could have kept me from getting safely to my destination in spite of the pilot's best intentions, he was lying. The most truthful thing he could have said was that he was going to do his best. Even venturing to promise the best efforts of other people on the crew would have been pushing it.
Most of the time, I pay the most attention to the part of Matthew 5:33-37 that says to just say yes or no, rather than taking an oath (this is stated more strongly in James 5:12). Today I started thinking more about the surrounding language that says there's no point in swearing by anything, because we don't control anything. I'm wondering if one of the reasons we're not supposed to take oaths is that not only are we not in control of what we swear by, but usually don't have as much influence over what we swear to as we might think.
Consider: does anyone really tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? If God helped us I suppose we could, but I know it doesn't often happen in my life. I'm not even trying to be deceitful; I've just forgotten stuff. Sometimes, without even realizing it, I've made up stuff to fill in the gaps where I've forgotten stuff. Anyone with relatives knows that either you or them must be doing that, given how different the accounts of the same event are.
The funny thing is that when I'm sitting on a plane, I'm more likely to believe a pilot, who says he's going to get me to my destination safely, than God, who says all things work together for good for those who love Him (Romans 8:28 NRSV). It's ridiculous how low we set our sights. Or our hearing.
What did you hear today?
I'm afraid to fly, even though I've done it for 35 years. Today the pilot on my Northwest Airlines flight said he promised the crew would get us safely to our destination. Quakers take the Biblical injunction against oaths pretty seriously, as exemplified by this excerpt from the Faith and Practice of the Pacific Yearly Meeting.
Commentary
In case you didn't notice, I've changed the name of this blog. The call I'm answering with it was to open my eyes and open my mouth. Since I'm already typing instead of opening my mouth, I'm thinking that the "eyes" part can be stretched a little as well. The blog will probably still predominantly consist of things I see and hear, but if I start tasting, smelling or touching things I need to call attention to, you'll be the first to know.
For a split second, I'm almost felt reassured when the pilot promised to get me safely to my destination. Then I realized he was lying. People sometimes object when I put it bluntly like that, but to me lying describes what you say, not what you intend. Since there are an almost infinite number of things that could have kept me from getting safely to my destination in spite of the pilot's best intentions, he was lying. The most truthful thing he could have said was that he was going to do his best. Even venturing to promise the best efforts of other people on the crew would have been pushing it.
Most of the time, I pay the most attention to the part of Matthew 5:33-37 that says to just say yes or no, rather than taking an oath (this is stated more strongly in James 5:12). Today I started thinking more about the surrounding language that says there's no point in swearing by anything, because we don't control anything. I'm wondering if one of the reasons we're not supposed to take oaths is that not only are we not in control of what we swear by, but usually don't have as much influence over what we swear to as we might think.
Consider: does anyone really tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth? If God helped us I suppose we could, but I know it doesn't often happen in my life. I'm not even trying to be deceitful; I've just forgotten stuff. Sometimes, without even realizing it, I've made up stuff to fill in the gaps where I've forgotten stuff. Anyone with relatives knows that either you or them must be doing that, given how different the accounts of the same event are.
The funny thing is that when I'm sitting on a plane, I'm more likely to believe a pilot, who says he's going to get me to my destination safely, than God, who says all things work together for good for those who love Him (Romans 8:28 NRSV). It's ridiculous how low we set our sights. Or our hearing.
What did you hear today?
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