Lately it’s fallen out of favor to say “God bless America.” Why? Because it’s assumed that saying that is chauvinistic, and saying that the United States is better than everyone else, and therefore deserves to be blessed more than anyone else.
But I don’t know about that, and the reason that I don’t know about that has to do with children’s prayers.
Imagine little Suzie, just before she goes to bed, finishing off her nightly prayers with “and God bless Mommy, and Daddy, and Grandma, and Grandpa, and Uncle Albert, and Aunt Beth…” Do any of us have any problem with that? Do we have a problem with little Suzie asking God to bless the people she loves? Of course not! In fact, it makes perfect sense for her to do so, because she loves them.
Now let’s go across town where a similar scene is playing out at little Bobby’s house. He finishes off his prayers by saying “and God bless Mom, and Dad, and Nana, and Grandpa, and Uncle Eddie, and Aunt Martha…” Do we assume that Bobby is asking God to bless is parents more than Suzie’s parents? Of course not! Do we accuse Bobby of asking God to bless his Uncle Eddie and Aunt Martha instead of Suzie’s Uncle Albert and Aunt Beth? Again I say “of course not!” I believe that most of us have been taught that God’s capacity for blessing is infinite, so his blessing Bobby’s Aunt Martha in no way diminishes the amount of blessing he can give to Suzie’s Aunt Beth. There is definitely more than enough of God’s blessing to go around.
So if we can ask God to bless the people we love, why do so many people think it’s wrong to ask him to bless the country we love?
I suppose it’s because many of us have a mixed-up idea of what “blessing” means.
To be sure, the word has many definitions. A quick check at Wiktionary shows that blessing is often used to mean approval, good fortune, or divine aid. I suppose I can see where people might have problems with asking God’s approval on America, after all, not everything we do is worthy of approval. But for that matter, that applies to everyone else, including Bobby’s mom and dad. Somehow I’m not thinking that that’s what Bobby, Suzie, or the rest of us are really thinking.
How about the second definition of good fortune? I’m sure that Bobby would like his parents to have the good fortune to never get cancer. But I’m also pretty sure that he’d like Suzie’s parents to have the same good fortune (especially if they meet later on in life and get married). Isn’t it OK for us to ask that the United States has good fortune…as long as it’s not at the expense of someone else [exceptions apply here for fighting the Nazis during World War II]?
What about the third definition? How could anyone argue with asking for divine aid? I suppose they could if they saw it as the religious version of good fortune.
But there’s one other definition that Wiktionary doesn’t list. It’s divine care. Now you might argue that divine care and divine aid are pretty much the same thing, and I would argue that the fact that you said “pretty much” means that there is a difference.
Think about it; do wise, caring parents let their kids run rampant and get away with anything they want? Not in my book. Do they try to bring up their kids to be kind, caring, and thoughtful adults? Ya, you betcha. When they find out that their kid has been bullying others, do they sit there in denial, and possibly even make excuses, or do they deal with their kid right then and there? I believe it’s the latter. When their kid screws up badly and “fesses up” to it, are those parents their with their love and support, as they try to make sure that the kid doesn’t make the same mistake again? Of course.
So…if asking for God’s blessing means asking for his divine care, rather than his approval or blind aid, we’re asking for him to treat us as a wise, caring parent would. Correcting us when we’re wrong; letting us learn how to deal with the neighborhood bully ourselves, rather than always stepping in himself; and trying to make us into better people; then where is the problem with asking God to bless America?
Or any country, for that matter. After all, Jesus says in Matthew 5:44 that we should love our enemies and pray for those who hate us.
We should pray that they’ll be blessed. Equally as blessed as we are.
And so, with the Fourth of July coming up, I will say God bless America. I’ll also say God bless Canada. And Honduras. And Zimbabwe. And Sweden. And Cuba. And Israel. And Iran. And China. And so on.
Heck, I think that even though it’s a little out of season, I’ll borrow a line from Charles Dickens, and say…
God bless us every one.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
I'll Always Have Paris
May 1976. It was my first time out of the United States besides the trip my family took to Quebec when I was 10. I was on a concert tour of Europe with the Hendricks Chapel Choir of Syracuse University. Just think, 64 college students packed on a double-decker tour bus, going from Bremen to Amsterdam, to Brussels, to Paris, to Strasbourg, to Florence, to…well, you get the drift.
64 of us traveling across Europe to celebrate America’s Bicentennial, with a concert program of both European and American music.
And four days in Paris.
Yes, four days in Paris. I could tell you stories about paying a Parisian street musician with our leftover Danish money. I could tell you about the silly tourists we saw trying to take pictures of the Eiffel Tower at night with a flash camera. I could tell you about how we were scheduled to sing at Notre Dame de Paris, but had our concert cancelled at the last minute, so our director, wanting to be able to say that his choir sang at Notre Dame, signed us all up for a tour of the place, and then had us “spontaneously” start singing. I could tell you those stories and even more, but that’s not the story I want to tell. It’s not the story I need to tell.
The story I want to tell is of a bass in the choir who was a nice enough guy, who was a friendly enough guy, and who seemed to get along well enough with everyone in the choir, but who wasn’t really convinced that anyone liked him enough to invite him to go along with them as they made their plans for sightseeing during their downtime from performing. To be sure, he would be welcome to go along with just about anyone, but he didn’t want to feel like he was just tagging along. He wanted to be invited. He was a little insecure about his social position not just in the choir, but in the world, and his personal script was based on the idea that he was tolerated, but not necessarily really liked.
If you're guessing that this person was me, then you're right.
So one day in Paris, while everyone else was making plans to go see this, that, or the other, I decided that rather than jumping in to join a group that was doing something I thought was interesting, I'd just sit in my hotel room, waiting to be invited by someone.
I don’t recall how many games of solitaire I played that day, after everyone left without me, but the fact that no one came along to ask me to join them played right in to my personal script about not really being wanted, and as a result, I sat around for the rest of the day feeling pretty sorry for myself.
Later on, when everyone came back to the hotel for dinner, I told my friend Sandra about his experience, and she let me have it with both barrels, saying:
As a result, to this day, I have very little patience with people who sit around moping, waiting for someone else to make them happy, rather than getting up off their butts and making their own happiness.
I learned a great lesson from Sandra. It was a lesson I’ll never forget, and that I also try to teach my students.
And in that way, I’ll always have Paris.
64 of us traveling across Europe to celebrate America’s Bicentennial, with a concert program of both European and American music.
And four days in Paris.
Yes, four days in Paris. I could tell you stories about paying a Parisian street musician with our leftover Danish money. I could tell you about the silly tourists we saw trying to take pictures of the Eiffel Tower at night with a flash camera. I could tell you about how we were scheduled to sing at Notre Dame de Paris, but had our concert cancelled at the last minute, so our director, wanting to be able to say that his choir sang at Notre Dame, signed us all up for a tour of the place, and then had us “spontaneously” start singing. I could tell you those stories and even more, but that’s not the story I want to tell. It’s not the story I need to tell.
The story I want to tell is of a bass in the choir who was a nice enough guy, who was a friendly enough guy, and who seemed to get along well enough with everyone in the choir, but who wasn’t really convinced that anyone liked him enough to invite him to go along with them as they made their plans for sightseeing during their downtime from performing. To be sure, he would be welcome to go along with just about anyone, but he didn’t want to feel like he was just tagging along. He wanted to be invited. He was a little insecure about his social position not just in the choir, but in the world, and his personal script was based on the idea that he was tolerated, but not necessarily really liked.
If you're guessing that this person was me, then you're right.
So one day in Paris, while everyone else was making plans to go see this, that, or the other, I decided that rather than jumping in to join a group that was doing something I thought was interesting, I'd just sit in my hotel room, waiting to be invited by someone.
I don’t recall how many games of solitaire I played that day, after everyone left without me, but the fact that no one came along to ask me to join them played right in to my personal script about not really being wanted, and as a result, I sat around for the rest of the day feeling pretty sorry for myself.
Later on, when everyone came back to the hotel for dinner, I told my friend Sandra about his experience, and she let me have it with both barrels, saying:
You’ve got a lot of nerve feeling sorry for yourself! If you want to do something with people, if you want to go somewhere with people, you have to let them know. You have to join up. If no one asked you to do anything with them, it’s because they figured you already had plans with some other group, or were happy doing what you were doing. But don’t you dare try to blame us for the fact that you sat alone in your room all day while the rest of us were enjoying ourselves!
Your time in Paris, or anywhere else on this tour, is what you make of it.Wow. That wasn't what I was expecting, but she was right, and when a group made plans to take a boat ride on the Seine that evening, I made sure to go along with them. In fact, for the rest of the tour, I made sure that I took the initiative to join groups that looked like they were doing something interesting.
As a result, to this day, I have very little patience with people who sit around moping, waiting for someone else to make them happy, rather than getting up off their butts and making their own happiness.
I learned a great lesson from Sandra. It was a lesson I’ll never forget, and that I also try to teach my students.
And in that way, I’ll always have Paris.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Thinking Outside the Self
I was diagnosed with sudden onset Type-1 Diabetes in November. I was perfectly healthy at the beginning of September, when I saw my doctor for my semi-annual checkup, and at the end of November I was giving myself insulin injections every morning, testing my blood daily, and watching what I ate very carefully.
One would think that this was as good an excuse as any for me to sit around and feel sorry for myself for a while, and you'd be right. I was prepared, with a little help from Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, to do just that.
But there were more pressing things going on outside of my life, things that weren't as easily taken care of as a non-functioning pancreas: the fiancé of a friend gone missing, and presumed dead, in the Rockies; a local toddler killed when a bullet meant for someone else hit the minivan he was riding in; the friend of a former student murdered by her jealous former boyfriend. In my prayer life, my pancreas could definitely take a backseat to all these issues. They needed God's attention, and the people left behind needed God's care, a whole lot more than I did.
It's funny how a little tragedy in your life can either turn you in on yourself or turn you out toward others. And please, I'm not getting down on the people who initially turn in on themselves; it's a natural part of the grieving process. Perhaps what I should say is that it's funny how some people can turn outwards more quickly than others, and sad that some people never turn out at all.
My little "tragedy" came at a time when others around me were suffering from great ones, and for some reason, known only to God, I was able to think about them first.
I've come to terms with my own little issues. "Shooting up" and pricking my finger have become parts of my daily routine, just as much as running the dishwasher in the morning. Believe me, I'd rather not have to have them as parts of my routine; but somehow this new routine has made me think about others more.
And yet the good news is that you don't have to suddenly be diagnosed with diabetes in order to start looking outside yourself. You can do it right now, even if your life seems to be going just fine.
Although maybe, just maybe, my own little "tragedy" gave me a little more empathy for others.
One would think that this was as good an excuse as any for me to sit around and feel sorry for myself for a while, and you'd be right. I was prepared, with a little help from Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, to do just that.
But there were more pressing things going on outside of my life, things that weren't as easily taken care of as a non-functioning pancreas: the fiancé of a friend gone missing, and presumed dead, in the Rockies; a local toddler killed when a bullet meant for someone else hit the minivan he was riding in; the friend of a former student murdered by her jealous former boyfriend. In my prayer life, my pancreas could definitely take a backseat to all these issues. They needed God's attention, and the people left behind needed God's care, a whole lot more than I did.
It's funny how a little tragedy in your life can either turn you in on yourself or turn you out toward others. And please, I'm not getting down on the people who initially turn in on themselves; it's a natural part of the grieving process. Perhaps what I should say is that it's funny how some people can turn outwards more quickly than others, and sad that some people never turn out at all.
My little "tragedy" came at a time when others around me were suffering from great ones, and for some reason, known only to God, I was able to think about them first.
I've come to terms with my own little issues. "Shooting up" and pricking my finger have become parts of my daily routine, just as much as running the dishwasher in the morning. Believe me, I'd rather not have to have them as parts of my routine; but somehow this new routine has made me think about others more.
And yet the good news is that you don't have to suddenly be diagnosed with diabetes in order to start looking outside yourself. You can do it right now, even if your life seems to be going just fine.
Although maybe, just maybe, my own little "tragedy" gave me a little more empathy for others.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Unfortunate Ejaculations
What is the English language coming to these days? Doesn’t anything mean what it used to mean anymore?
A former student of mine sent me a Facebook message with a link to a photo of a TV screen of a fire somewhere, with the closed-captioning saying “Firefighters to deal with not just the fire with people in the middle of the road ejaculating.”
Forget for a moment that the sentence isn’t constructed very well, and could use a comma and the word “but” after the word fire. The reason that this picture caused such an uproar on Facebook was because of the word ejaculation. Over 200 people who responded to this posting had the image in their heads of a crowd of people becoming suddenly sexually excited at the scene of the fire. Many people commented on the inappropriateness of it, and blamed it on everyone’s favorite enemy: over-zealous predictive autocorrect.
One wit wrote, “This just in from Intercourse, PA.”
But one, and only one, person took the time to point out that the word “ejaculation” could indeed be appropriate there.
“What’s this?” you ask. How on earth could you possibly use "ejaculation" appropriately in that context?
It’s really quite simple. “Ejaculate” and “ejaculation” are words that once had other meanings before they took on the more familiar biological definitions. A quick check at Wiktionary shows that it can mean to eject abruptly or to say abruptly. These uses have fallen out of favor in recent years as the biological definition has overshadowed them, but one of them is undoubtedly what the person who spoke them on TV meant.
My question is were the people in the middle of the road throwing stuff or shouting things.
And as I think about it further, I wonder if at one time “ejecting abruptly” and “saying abruptly” were the more common and predominant definitions of “ejaculation,” before it became a euphemism for something else…a euphemism which made perfect sense. And once ejaculation started being used euphemistically, it was “game over” for its use in everyday life.
Just look at the word gay. Once upon a time – within my lifetime, in fact - anyone could say that they were feeling gay, and not have a single eyebrow raised by anyone. Now if you say you’re feeling gay, people are wondering just who you’re feeling.
And let’s talk about the passages in Matthew 26:34 where Jesus tells Peter that before the cock crows, he will have denied him three times. Now there’s a term you don’t hear used to describe male chickens anymore. Most modern Bible translations use the term rooster precisely because nowadays the term “cock” will elicit tons of little giggles from adolescents and those who act like them.
So while “ejaculation” may have been an unfortunate word choice for the reporter that day, it was not totally inappropriate. The reporter just had a better grasp of the English language than most viewers.
Still, I can’t help but think of the following sentence:
But wait! This just in.
As I searched for a copy of the picture to illustrate this post with, I found out that the story was covered at my favorite urban legend website: Snopes.com. And, apparently, I know more about the English language than I did about the circumstances of the actual story. The picture didn't tell you much, but the story at Snopes was that this was from a newscast covering the Malibu fires of 2007, and that the announcer was talking about how the firefighters were prepared to deal with the fires themselves, but not the people who were trying to evacuate.
"Oh!" as the old joke goes, "That's the word!"
Apparently, the computer-generated captioning, a close relative to the over-zealous predictive autocorrect, brought the story to a totally different climax.
A former student of mine sent me a Facebook message with a link to a photo of a TV screen of a fire somewhere, with the closed-captioning saying “Firefighters to deal with not just the fire with people in the middle of the road ejaculating.”
Forget for a moment that the sentence isn’t constructed very well, and could use a comma and the word “but” after the word fire. The reason that this picture caused such an uproar on Facebook was because of the word ejaculation. Over 200 people who responded to this posting had the image in their heads of a crowd of people becoming suddenly sexually excited at the scene of the fire. Many people commented on the inappropriateness of it, and blamed it on everyone’s favorite enemy: over-zealous predictive autocorrect.
One wit wrote, “This just in from Intercourse, PA.”
But one, and only one, person took the time to point out that the word “ejaculation” could indeed be appropriate there.
“What’s this?” you ask. How on earth could you possibly use "ejaculation" appropriately in that context?
It’s really quite simple. “Ejaculate” and “ejaculation” are words that once had other meanings before they took on the more familiar biological definitions. A quick check at Wiktionary shows that it can mean to eject abruptly or to say abruptly. These uses have fallen out of favor in recent years as the biological definition has overshadowed them, but one of them is undoubtedly what the person who spoke them on TV meant.
My question is were the people in the middle of the road throwing stuff or shouting things.
And as I think about it further, I wonder if at one time “ejecting abruptly” and “saying abruptly” were the more common and predominant definitions of “ejaculation,” before it became a euphemism for something else…a euphemism which made perfect sense. And once ejaculation started being used euphemistically, it was “game over” for its use in everyday life.
Just look at the word gay. Once upon a time – within my lifetime, in fact - anyone could say that they were feeling gay, and not have a single eyebrow raised by anyone. Now if you say you’re feeling gay, people are wondering just who you’re feeling.
And let’s talk about the passages in Matthew 26:34 where Jesus tells Peter that before the cock crows, he will have denied him three times. Now there’s a term you don’t hear used to describe male chickens anymore. Most modern Bible translations use the term rooster precisely because nowadays the term “cock” will elicit tons of little giggles from adolescents and those who act like them.
So while “ejaculation” may have been an unfortunate word choice for the reporter that day, it was not totally inappropriate. The reporter just had a better grasp of the English language than most viewers.
Still, I can’t help but think of the following sentence:
“Wow, Jack sure is a jerk,” ejaculated Dick.That’s definitely one to raise the eyebrows.
But wait! This just in.
As I searched for a copy of the picture to illustrate this post with, I found out that the story was covered at my favorite urban legend website: Snopes.com. And, apparently, I know more about the English language than I did about the circumstances of the actual story. The picture didn't tell you much, but the story at Snopes was that this was from a newscast covering the Malibu fires of 2007, and that the announcer was talking about how the firefighters were prepared to deal with the fires themselves, but not the people who were trying to evacuate.
"Oh!" as the old joke goes, "That's the word!"
Apparently, the computer-generated captioning, a close relative to the over-zealous predictive autocorrect, brought the story to a totally different climax.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Be True To My School
Ok folks, I’m tired of it, and I wish that everyone would just quit ragging on my school.
No, I’m not talking about Manlius Pebble Hill, the private school where I teach. I’m talking about the school, or more precisely schools I went to. I’m talking about public schools.
My schools have been taking a lot of beating over the past few decades as people have talked about how they’re failing their students, how they’re doing a terrible job, how bad the teachers are, and especially what a terrible job city schools are doing compared to suburban schools.
I want it to stop now, and I want you to all shut up while I explain a few things to you.
Mark Twain once said that there are three types of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics. Statistics are the worst, because they’re so easily manipulated and misunderstood; and it’s the statistics that have everyone thinking that public schools are so bad. It’s the statistics that have people moving from “bad” school districts to “good” ones.
I got to thinking about this because of a…statistic…that I heard on NPR a few weeks ago, according to Diane Ravitch only 18% of people think that public schools in general are doing a good job, but 77% of them think that their own kid’s school is doing an excellent job. Something’s wrong with these numbers. How can 77% of the population think that their own kid’s school is great when only 18% of them think that public schools are doing a good job? The math here just doesn’t work.
If you take the time to really think about it, this means that 77% of the schools are doing just fine, but that 82% of us are buying into the hype about everyone else's schools, without taking the time to take a close look at the situation.
Then there’s another statistic, cited by one of my 6th-graders (so we already know that that’s a little suspect). She said that at our school 99% of the graduating seniors go on to college, while in the City of Syracuse, only 50% do. Assuming for the moment that that statistic is actually true, I asked her if there was a difference in the people who went to those two schools. How many poor families go to public schools and how many poor families go to private schools? Are private schools a self-selecting population of families who truly value education? What would happen to graduation rates if you sent all the students from Syracuse to schools in the more affluent suburb of Manlius? For that matter, what would happen if you moved the students from Manlius into schools in the city of Syracuse?
And then there are the “official” statistics that I hate. The ones that people base where they’re going to buy a home on. These are the scores that show how well a particular school or school district does on certain standardized tests. It goes without saying that if Ashland School’s test scores fall below a certain number, then it’s a poor school, with bad teachers, and that you wouldn’t want your kid to go there. But these scores aren’t adjusted for how many students come from poor families, who might have other issues on their minds when they get home; they’re not adjusted to how many immigrant students go there, who still aren’t quite adept enough at English to do well on the standardized tests. Maybe when you adjust for these students, you’d find that these schools are doing an excellent job. And maybe, despite the many students there who are struggling, your own child would thrive there.
In fact, I’ve heard about families who intentionally move to a "poorer" school district so that when it comes time for college applications, their kid will show up at the top of the class, and have a better chance of being accepted to the college of their dreams than had they gone to a “better” school, and just appeared to have been average. These parents truly understand the system, but in a rather perverse way.
Yes, I love my little private school, with small class sizes, and where everyone seems to know everyone else, and where “99% of the graduating seniors go to college.” But I’m also proud of my roots, and believe that public schools aren’t the big sinkhole that bad statistics have led so many people to believe they are.
And that’s the end of today’s lesson. Class dismissed.
No, I’m not talking about Manlius Pebble Hill, the private school where I teach. I’m talking about the school, or more precisely schools I went to. I’m talking about public schools.
My schools have been taking a lot of beating over the past few decades as people have talked about how they’re failing their students, how they’re doing a terrible job, how bad the teachers are, and especially what a terrible job city schools are doing compared to suburban schools.
I want it to stop now, and I want you to all shut up while I explain a few things to you.
Mark Twain once said that there are three types of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics. Statistics are the worst, because they’re so easily manipulated and misunderstood; and it’s the statistics that have everyone thinking that public schools are so bad. It’s the statistics that have people moving from “bad” school districts to “good” ones.
I got to thinking about this because of a…statistic…that I heard on NPR a few weeks ago, according to Diane Ravitch only 18% of people think that public schools in general are doing a good job, but 77% of them think that their own kid’s school is doing an excellent job. Something’s wrong with these numbers. How can 77% of the population think that their own kid’s school is great when only 18% of them think that public schools are doing a good job? The math here just doesn’t work.
If you take the time to really think about it, this means that 77% of the schools are doing just fine, but that 82% of us are buying into the hype about everyone else's schools, without taking the time to take a close look at the situation.
Then there’s another statistic, cited by one of my 6th-graders (so we already know that that’s a little suspect). She said that at our school 99% of the graduating seniors go on to college, while in the City of Syracuse, only 50% do. Assuming for the moment that that statistic is actually true, I asked her if there was a difference in the people who went to those two schools. How many poor families go to public schools and how many poor families go to private schools? Are private schools a self-selecting population of families who truly value education? What would happen to graduation rates if you sent all the students from Syracuse to schools in the more affluent suburb of Manlius? For that matter, what would happen if you moved the students from Manlius into schools in the city of Syracuse?
And then there are the “official” statistics that I hate. The ones that people base where they’re going to buy a home on. These are the scores that show how well a particular school or school district does on certain standardized tests. It goes without saying that if Ashland School’s test scores fall below a certain number, then it’s a poor school, with bad teachers, and that you wouldn’t want your kid to go there. But these scores aren’t adjusted for how many students come from poor families, who might have other issues on their minds when they get home; they’re not adjusted to how many immigrant students go there, who still aren’t quite adept enough at English to do well on the standardized tests. Maybe when you adjust for these students, you’d find that these schools are doing an excellent job. And maybe, despite the many students there who are struggling, your own child would thrive there.
In fact, I’ve heard about families who intentionally move to a "poorer" school district so that when it comes time for college applications, their kid will show up at the top of the class, and have a better chance of being accepted to the college of their dreams than had they gone to a “better” school, and just appeared to have been average. These parents truly understand the system, but in a rather perverse way.
Yes, I love my little private school, with small class sizes, and where everyone seems to know everyone else, and where “99% of the graduating seniors go to college.” But I’m also proud of my roots, and believe that public schools aren’t the big sinkhole that bad statistics have led so many people to believe they are.
And that’s the end of today’s lesson. Class dismissed.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
The Laminated Card
We have a friend who claims that he and his wife both have “laminated cards.” Actually, they’re signed laminated cards, and they give each of them permission to “fool around” a little, to have someone on the side. He says that after 30 years, they both believe that a little variety is a good thing.
Now this isn’t a total free pass; there are limits to what each of them can do, and using the traditional baseball metaphor, it meant that they weren’t allowed to hit a home run with anyone but each other. Sure, they could get within a couple of inches of home plate and then turn around, but making it all the way home with someone else just was not allowed.
I was intrigued by this idea. After all, it’s not “cheating” if you have permission, now is it? But also, I got to thinking about the biblical story of Jacob and Rachel…and Leah…and Rachel’s maidservants…and Leah’s maidservants. I was once part of a Bible study group that talked about Jacob as a model of marital fidelity, and I said that if he’s the model, then we moderns have been being way too strict on ourselves. I mean think about it…anyone can be “faithful” when being faithful includes a second wife and all of their maidservants. It also means that no matter who has a headache, there’s always someone to play a little “sofa hockey” with. Maybe that laminated card idea wasn’t as far-fetched as it sounds.
And yet, it’s also not as easy as it sounds either. If you have that laminated card, you’ve been given a great responsibility. It was enough that you were responsible for not hurting your spouse, and it’s wonderful that you trust each other to give each other permission to “sample elsewhere,” but what about the people you’re sampling with? What’s your responsibility to them?
Going back to Jacob and Rachel…and Leah…and company, this was also one of the great biblical tragedies. After Jacob was tricked into marrying her (and probably even while the ruse was taking place), Leah spent the rest of her life knowing that she was second place…if she even made it that far…in Jacob’s mind. As the holder of a laminated card, you’re responsible for not “using” anyone or leading them on. That was simple enough when you were just prohibited from having anyone on the side because of the standard rules. But if you’ve got the card, you have to be very careful with the emotions of whoever you’re seeing on the side, and making sure that they know that they’ll always be #2, with no chance of advancement. That can be very tricky. But then again, some people are perfectly happy with simply being an occasional #2.
And what of your responsibility to the relationships of others? It should go without saying that you can only use your card with people who are single, or married people who also have laminated cards. But there should also be a sense of respect for other people’s relationships, whether they’re duly noted and registered by the County Clerk or not.
You know, this whole “laminated card” idea seems like a really great idea at first – until I think of all the ways it can be abused and misused by unthinking people; and how easily people can be hurt by it. Maybe that’s why we have the rules we have – because most people just couldn’t handle this kind of responsibility without causing a whole lot of heartbreak.
But there undoubtedly are those who can; and I hope that our friend is one of those people.
Now this isn’t a total free pass; there are limits to what each of them can do, and using the traditional baseball metaphor, it meant that they weren’t allowed to hit a home run with anyone but each other. Sure, they could get within a couple of inches of home plate and then turn around, but making it all the way home with someone else just was not allowed.
I was intrigued by this idea. After all, it’s not “cheating” if you have permission, now is it? But also, I got to thinking about the biblical story of Jacob and Rachel…and Leah…and Rachel’s maidservants…and Leah’s maidservants. I was once part of a Bible study group that talked about Jacob as a model of marital fidelity, and I said that if he’s the model, then we moderns have been being way too strict on ourselves. I mean think about it…anyone can be “faithful” when being faithful includes a second wife and all of their maidservants. It also means that no matter who has a headache, there’s always someone to play a little “sofa hockey” with. Maybe that laminated card idea wasn’t as far-fetched as it sounds.
And yet, it’s also not as easy as it sounds either. If you have that laminated card, you’ve been given a great responsibility. It was enough that you were responsible for not hurting your spouse, and it’s wonderful that you trust each other to give each other permission to “sample elsewhere,” but what about the people you’re sampling with? What’s your responsibility to them?
Going back to Jacob and Rachel…and Leah…and company, this was also one of the great biblical tragedies. After Jacob was tricked into marrying her (and probably even while the ruse was taking place), Leah spent the rest of her life knowing that she was second place…if she even made it that far…in Jacob’s mind. As the holder of a laminated card, you’re responsible for not “using” anyone or leading them on. That was simple enough when you were just prohibited from having anyone on the side because of the standard rules. But if you’ve got the card, you have to be very careful with the emotions of whoever you’re seeing on the side, and making sure that they know that they’ll always be #2, with no chance of advancement. That can be very tricky. But then again, some people are perfectly happy with simply being an occasional #2.
And what of your responsibility to the relationships of others? It should go without saying that you can only use your card with people who are single, or married people who also have laminated cards. But there should also be a sense of respect for other people’s relationships, whether they’re duly noted and registered by the County Clerk or not.
You know, this whole “laminated card” idea seems like a really great idea at first – until I think of all the ways it can be abused and misused by unthinking people; and how easily people can be hurt by it. Maybe that’s why we have the rules we have – because most people just couldn’t handle this kind of responsibility without causing a whole lot of heartbreak.
But there undoubtedly are those who can; and I hope that our friend is one of those people.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Don't They Know It's Not the End of the World?
Back in 1988, right around the time Cheryl and I were getting married, a pamphlet hit a lot of the religious bookstores across the country. It was written by Edgar Whisenant, a Bible student and former NASA engineer, and titled 88 Reasons Why the Rapture Will Be in 1988. He was so sure of his calculations that the world as we knew it would end during Rosh Hashanah of that year that he said, “Only if the Bible is in error, am I wrong…”
His predictions were taken seriously by many in the Evangelical community, and as the date approached, regular programming on the Trinity Broadcasting Network was interrupted with special instructions on how to prepare for the great event.
And all this despite the fact that Jesus said in Matthew 24:36 that no one will know the date or time of his return. Of course, Whisenant and his followers had an answer for this: they only knew the rough date, he didn’t give the exact hour.
I don’t think I need to tell you that he was wrong.
Undaunted, he revised his predictions, covering himself by saying that he had made an error because of a fluke in the Gregorian calendar, and that the Rapture was really going to occur in 1989.
And 1990, 91, 92, 93, and so on.
This wasn’t the first time that fellow Christians have predicted the end of the world, and obviously, it wasn’t the first time they had gotten it wrong. Saint Paul himself felt the end was imminent, there were predictions that the world would end as the year 1000 approached (something about that nice round number), and most of us remember how neatly the whole Y2K computer issue tied in with predictions that the world would end.
And now Harold Camping says that Judgment Day and the End of the World will happen this weekend – on May 21.
Here we go again.
What is it about some of us that we are attracted to the latest prediction about the Second Coming, the Rapture, the End of the World, whatever? And especially those of us who listen to people who are supposed to know better, people who are supposed to know that no one will know the date or time, but keep coming up with reasons why they know it?
And why do these people go on making the rest of us Christians look like idiots?
William Miller and Samuel Snow preached that Jesus would return to earth on October 22, 1844. When October 22 came and went, followed by the 23rd, 24th, 25th, and so on, the period afterward became known as the Great Disappointment, which was marked not only by the obvious disappointment of the “true believers,” but also by them being held up to ridicule by the rest of the population.
As much as I believe that Camping is wrong, I really don’t want to gloat when what I believe is the inevitable Great Disappointment of 2011 arrives on Sunday. Those who believed will find their faith to be severely shaken, and they will likely question everything they’ve ever learned. Instead of this being a time for the rest of us Christians to gloat at how gullible they were, it should be seen as an opportunity to minister to the disappointed.
It should also, however, be a reminder to all of us that we are to try to live every day as if it would be our last.
And no, that doesn’t mean running up the credit card bill.
His predictions were taken seriously by many in the Evangelical community, and as the date approached, regular programming on the Trinity Broadcasting Network was interrupted with special instructions on how to prepare for the great event.
And all this despite the fact that Jesus said in Matthew 24:36 that no one will know the date or time of his return. Of course, Whisenant and his followers had an answer for this: they only knew the rough date, he didn’t give the exact hour.
I don’t think I need to tell you that he was wrong.
Undaunted, he revised his predictions, covering himself by saying that he had made an error because of a fluke in the Gregorian calendar, and that the Rapture was really going to occur in 1989.
And 1990, 91, 92, 93, and so on.
This wasn’t the first time that fellow Christians have predicted the end of the world, and obviously, it wasn’t the first time they had gotten it wrong. Saint Paul himself felt the end was imminent, there were predictions that the world would end as the year 1000 approached (something about that nice round number), and most of us remember how neatly the whole Y2K computer issue tied in with predictions that the world would end.
And now Harold Camping says that Judgment Day and the End of the World will happen this weekend – on May 21.
Here we go again.
What is it about some of us that we are attracted to the latest prediction about the Second Coming, the Rapture, the End of the World, whatever? And especially those of us who listen to people who are supposed to know better, people who are supposed to know that no one will know the date or time, but keep coming up with reasons why they know it?
And why do these people go on making the rest of us Christians look like idiots?
William Miller and Samuel Snow preached that Jesus would return to earth on October 22, 1844. When October 22 came and went, followed by the 23rd, 24th, 25th, and so on, the period afterward became known as the Great Disappointment, which was marked not only by the obvious disappointment of the “true believers,” but also by them being held up to ridicule by the rest of the population.
As much as I believe that Camping is wrong, I really don’t want to gloat when what I believe is the inevitable Great Disappointment of 2011 arrives on Sunday. Those who believed will find their faith to be severely shaken, and they will likely question everything they’ve ever learned. Instead of this being a time for the rest of us Christians to gloat at how gullible they were, it should be seen as an opportunity to minister to the disappointed.
It should also, however, be a reminder to all of us that we are to try to live every day as if it would be our last.
And no, that doesn’t mean running up the credit card bill.
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