Whatever you do…

I am sure I have posted on this topic before, but it’s an issue that seems to trouble me frequently. I am not a Biblical scholar by any stretch of the imagination, so I don’t have any intellectual context to interpret the quote from Jesus that goes something like, “whatever you do to the least of my brothers, you do unto me.”

It seems to me if you take the life of Christ seriously, you’d have to pay close attention to this statement. There is also some references to giving up what you have and following Jesus – remember – the guy that had too much and couldn’t give it up? So if you take these two statements as the gospel within the Gospels, what implications are there for how you live?

As a husband and father, my instincts tell me to look after my family first in many aspects of my existence. Sure, I can help the least of my brothers but it will be right after I try to make sure my family is comfortable, safe, entertained, educated, healthy, etc. Surely Christ wouldn’t want me to help the least of my brothers and have my kids not getting their comfort/entertainment/education/health? Or would he not understand? Maybe being a parent is trying to teach your kids to serve the least of their brothers and worry a lot less about the other things parents provide their children.

I’ve heard the quote interpreted in several different ways as to who is the least of your brothers. I tend to think of it in terms of resources and choices. There are financially poor here in the Twin Cities and there are poor people nearly everywhere else. Some are clearly poorer than others and some of made choices to put themselves in their situation and others have had no real choices. Who are the LEAST of my brothers?

Another twist on the least of my brothers interpretation is that it’s about poverty or a deficiency and there are many people who are deficient in some capacity even in the tawny metropolitan suburbs. Maybe helping the least of my brothers is helping a rich godless person have faith. Maybe helping people who don’t get along develop and improve relationships counts as helping the least of my brothers.

Here’s what I am worried about:

“Dan, we are sorry, you can not enter the gates of heaven. As you are well aware having read the Gospel, you were to help the least of your brothers and give up what you have and follow Christ to get in. Wasn’t’ that clear enough for you? We thought we spelled it out so there shouldn’t be any doubt on what to do. Tough luck, you took a stab at it, but serving your family and your rich neighbors instead of the poor, is going to cost you. Hope you don’t mind extreme heat for all of eternity.”

About Face…about Facebook

I always thought these social networking sites were a bunch of crap.  It would be just one more thing in my life where I get it started, quickly lose interest and eventually leave behind a pile of idle bytes serving no purpose.  Recently, a company was giving out a free sample on the condition you signed up to be there friend on Facebook.  I took the bait and signed up for Facebook account.

 I am still a rookie and have not resolved whether this tool has any true value or if it too will become a pile of discarded bytes collecting vitural dust on some computer server somewhere.  However, I have noticed it suits my personality well.  There are people who I’ve exchanged messages with that I haven’t talked in 25 years.  I am ‘friends’ with people I really don’t know.

 There are others who I may have seen one or twice in the last three years but have never spoken with and now we are officially friends.  I am left wondering if this virtual friendship will spill over into the real world.  Now that our friendship is officially recorded on the Facebook database will we converse the next time we are face to face or do virtual friendships remain just that.

 

I even went out on the limb yesterday and created a Holy Name of Jesus group on Facebook.  I am not altogether certain how to leverage the group yet, but there are already three members (YIPEE).  In theory, I suppose it could be used as yet another way to keep everyone informed and to build social relationships between members (which is largely what we need to do anyway from my perspective). 

 So I am throwing it out to my posse out there – join up.  Throw your hat in the social networking ring and be a happening dude or dudette.  If you do, make sure you add me as a friend as they are altogether too scarce virtually and otherwise in my quarters.

Diagnosis: broken tailbone (pending)

 

I have found myself increasingly looking toward special events in my life and am concerned about it.  In addition to looking forward to things I perceive as pleasant, I also seem to view other things as things to get through with.  I map out my week between things I will likely enjoy and things that I’ve deemed to be some flavor of burden and along I plod through my existence.

 

Is this the way everyone goes (gets?) through the week?  Do you map out your week by assessing the events as easy/pleasant hard/less pleasant?  Surely there must be more to our existence than this?

 

I think it’s unrealistic to expect that we can make a pleasant experience of everything but I guess deep down there’s got to be more potential to enjoy things more than I seem to be able to do.  On the other hand, I have encountered people who have twisted the sense for what is enjoyable and not enjoyable to the extent to where they seek to create some sore of unpleasant situation.  They like to argue or be confrontational or make a scene because they derive some sort of pleasure from it.  And I don’t want to go there.

 

I really have so much I should be grateful for including the fact that things I perceive as unpleasant would be openly welcomed by many because their unpleasant realities are so much worse than mine.  I heard a guy on the radio talking about GM bailout and he said something like, “We economists tend to think the autoworkers are inefficient at our two hour lunches.” I am not wishing ill on anyone (including/especially myself) but that’s the sort of thing that would certainly change my perspective in a hurry.  

 

If I think attending ____________is a drag, wait until I slip on the ice and break my tailbone.  After the tailbone breakage attending ____________will seem like a damned picnic what with the constant pain in my butt.  

 

Okay – I don’t want to break my tailbone or have any other bad experience to put things into a healthier perspective (although I secretly feel as though I’ve imposed a curse on myself by blogging this blog – it’s a lot like dropping comprehensive coverage on your car; it’s a sure way to get into a accident that’s totally your fault).  So maybe I need to pretend I broke my tailbone or create some other misfortune so I can begin to see all things as good things – they are opportunities to be a better person.

 

Let’s see – what sort of misfortune can I pretend has befallen me?  It’s an exercise that reminds me of how many coaches try to convince their teams that no one gives them a chance.  “No one thought we would win one game, let alone make it to the state championship game…” Coach X from the six time state champions Y.  

 

Okay think, Dan…I got it.  I went out and got a Christmas tree today and the needles scrapped the crap out of my wrists and legs – the needles were unfortunately poisonous and the poison is very slowly making me look older, slower and stupider each and every day; it’s probably fatal at some future point.  

 

What a huge misfortune this is, I had better approach every event from now on with a positive outlook and stop being a whining little baby that’s needs its diaper changed.

Conflict of Interest

I feel more conflicted this year about Christmas than ever before.  It used to be a high point in the year for me and I’d spend a lot of time and energy preparing for it.  Back in the day, I would dwell on some unique lighting scenario for my house.  I’d spend a day or two outside making whatever scheme I dreamt a reality.  I also used to make Christmas gifts.  Typically I would piece together some fantastic but practical wood sculpture.  Not this year though – I’ve been lying low, real low.

 

In part I attribute my celebration to time.  Time is moving faster now (yah, I know it’s impossible, but it is).  It used to take forever it seemed to get from Thanksgiving to Christmas but now it seems like a couple of weeks at most.  I think my kids activity and homework assistance has definitely cut into some of the time and energy I used to apply to Christmas preparation endeavors.  This makes time go faster.

 

I also think there is a societal/theological conflict within me.  On the one side you got society saying Christmas is a time of plenty – load up on gifts – buy other crap – put up decorations and copious amounts of cheap Chinese Christmas lights inside and outside of your home.  On the other side I guess I’d have to think on balance Christ would completely disagree with many things we do at Christmas.  Spending money we may have or not have on things we may on things we or others may or may not need all the while slowly heating up the earth by stringing up Christmas lights made by impoverished laborers somewhere.  

 

Well I’ll admit that last scenario does not exactly put me (or anyone else who happens to read it) into good cheer.  I am still looking forward to getting together with family and friends and being in good cheer.  I guess that should count for something.  But I think my Santa and the Reindeer figures will stay in hibernation this year.  Maybe I’ll see if I can put up a simple star at a high point in my tree and that will represent a compromise between with the conflict.  Not too much electricity and an appropriate symbol for why we should be celebrating.

 

Merry Christmas Louise

I was at my parents home in Austin over the weekend and forgot my textbook which is typically all I read when I am taking a class.  I looked for something around the house to read and came across an old looking book.  I don’t remember the title something about the Bells of Christmas.  Inside the cover was a handwritten note, “Merry Christmas, Louise from Mother and Dad, December 25, 1923.”  I read the book for awhile, it was a collection of short stories whose subtle theme seemed to be reinforcing the importance of faith and values.

I started thinking about Louise receiving the book 85 years ago.  I am guessing the Louise and her parents are probably long gone.  I wonder if she was excited to get the book as a present.  Did she spend Christmas day reading it?  Did her mother shop for just the right book to make a good impression on Louise?

Then I thought about all the challenges Louise probably faced in her lifetime.  On Christmas in 1923, she probably had no idea of the challenges that awaited her.  She was probably born in World War I.  Maybe she married either right before or during the great depression.  He children may have fought in World War II or the Korean conflict. 

The book was probably an important part of her entertainment.  There were no TV’s, no electronic games.  She was probably expected to help out significantly around the home. Maybe the family had a radio she could listen to in the evenings.  Did she have access to a library?  Could her parents afford to buy her enough books to keep her entertained and educated?

When I think about the challenges Louise had during her lifetime compared to the challenges I had.  I haven’t lived through a depression or a world war.  I’ve never really known hunger.  I’ve benefited from a far better standard of living including advances in communication and health care. 

I think about Louise and think about my children.  What sort of challenges will they face?  Will their sons have to go to war?  Will their standard of living decline because of all the stupid decisions people are making today?  What hardships await them?  Is there anything I can do to prepare them for these hardships without scaring or worse traumatizing them? 

I don’t know the answers.  I do know I hope Louise had a good life and was inspired by her Christmas present in 1923.

Christmas 1923

Tsetse Fly

Do you ever look back at past demons in your life? You know those things that used to trouble you but now maybe seem ridiculous.  For many it was the monster that was either under you bed or in the attic.  I remember a couple of demons I had that make me laugh now.

One of my demons for awhile was the dreaded tsetse fly.  I saw a film in school about how the tsetse would give people sleeping disease and mess up the animals as well.  I am not sure if I was drifting off when the said it was only in Africa or I just assumed the flies in Africa could fly to southern Minnesota.  I do know the effect was a short, but intense fear of all flies for awhile.  The film we saw showed people who were essentially turned into zombies after the fly bit them and I most definitely wanted to avoid this horrid end.   So I avoided flies as much as I could for a stretch.

I also remember another incident involving an alien.  There was a stretch growing up – maybe in the mid to early seventies where UFO’s were being sighted with regularity.  I think it was right after streaking was big but before bicentennial fever took over.  Anyway, with very regular reports of UFOs and abductions in the news, a relatively young kid was naturally fearful when going out by himself at dark.  About this same time I started a morning paper route.  I’d wake up before six in the morning and deliver about 12 StarTribune newspapers over about a two mile route (I’d hate to calculate my wage for that gig). 

Anyway, one morning I am picking up my bundle of papers and I look back at our garage window and there were three lights looking back at me.  As I stared at the eyes and nose of an alien in our garage, I was paralyzed with fear.  As I moved the eyes seemed to follow me.  I don’t know how long it took me to figure out that the eyes were a by-product of the street light and a pine tree but I am pretty sure people got their paper late that morning.

I grew out of these fears and others but think about to what extent I’ve replaced them with other fears that may be an equal waste of energy.  Maybe the larger question is for all of us, what is it we should fear if we have faith.  Should we really fear losing money in the stock market or having enough money to retire or not achieving career advancement?  If we are, as Christians, striving to be more Christ like, maybe the question is what would Jesus fear?  Perhaps this is an unfair question given we are not divine, but I tend to think many of us fear or worry too much about things that don’t matter. 

Constrained Maximization

Given the finite quantity of fossil fuels, I am amazed at how inefficient we are at some things.  As I child, I always thought it would be so much more efficient if we only had 15 different types of cars and trucks.  You could work to perfect models and minimize maintenance and maximize efficiency.  The different types of spare parts, mechanics, and dealerships would be far less and it would make selecting a car so much easier. 

I realize that limiting the type of cars runs against to our capitalistic culture and economy.  I also realize that if there were not sufficient competition, the limited car theory, would lead to fewer jobs, crappier cars, and a smaller economy.  However, if you could insure competition, there would be such a huge savings in the use non-renewable resources.

We don’t have enough oil to go around and so you’d think we would become collectively outraged at things that waste oil and resources but I think we are a long way from that point.  We don’t scoff at the person forever driving around an inefficient vehicle like a big truck without any passengers or payload.  No one is apparently appalled at NASCAR’s wasting gas by having extemely inefficient cars run around and around.

One thing that has started bothering me more and more is the amount of waste in packaging.  Maybe as Halloween creeps closer and I see more and more candy circulating in small bags, and begin to wonder more and more if there isn’t a better way.  There are ten M&M’s in a little bag, that is part of a bigger bag, that was part of a box, that was stacked on a pallet.  What if we just sold M&M’s in bulk?  You bring your own vessel (bag, glass jar, M&M dispenser) to the store and fill it up and you only pay for the M&Ms and not the added paper/plastic/printing/cardboard/wood necessary in the bite-sized Halloween packing version.  You’d have to think it’d be way cheaper and there would be a lot energy saved in the process.

My problems with packaging do not stop with M&Ms – there is cheese (or I should say a cheese product) wrapped in plastic individually, there are chewy granola bars packed in a wrapper that is too big and put in a box that’s way to big all to make us feel like we are getting more for our money when if fact we are getting less, and there are boxes of ¾ full cereal.

One final issue I have with wasting resources is mailing.  I was at the cable store last week and there was a guy in there mad because the cable company sent him what amounted to junk mail.  He was arguing it was a waste and he doesn’t want to pay for it.  The customer service rep insisted he wasn’t paying for it.  He countered by asking who is paying for it then?  The ensuing heated conversation highlighted an inability of the customer service rep to understand consumers pay all the costs for what a company does even though it might not be itemized on their bill.

I remember this conversation as I went through my mail and pushed most of it into the throw away without opening pile.  Sure, my credit card company isn’t charging me the $1 it costs me to send an offer for something, but I am certainly paying for it one way or another.  Obviously, the credit card companies must make more than it costs but this can only mean they are charging too much.

Chainsaw happiness by default

Back when I started high school, it was encouraged that you take a typing class so that you were equipped to effectively complete all the papers you would have complete during the remainder of your academic career.  I heeded to the pressure and took typing class.  I regret it somewhat because it was the lowest grade I ever received and I probably could have more efficiently picked up the skills by spending time practicing by myself. 

There are several lasting memories from that class.  One is that our grade was based on how fast we could accurately type and on how accurately we reformatted/typed a lengthy paper.  I did okay with typing speed but no so great with accuracy.  I wasn’t alone. As the end of class approached, I should have done what many students did, and dropped the class.  They picked up the typing skills but didn’t wreck their GPA in the process.

The second vivid memory I have from the class is that the standard page margins were one inch on the top and left, three-quarters of and inch on the right, and a half inch on the bottom.  I am not sure how are why these were the standards, but that’s what they were.

Now leap forward several decades and what is the norm?  Well according to Bill Gates and his Microsoft programming lackeys, the answer is 1.25 on the left and about an inch the rest of the way around the page.  I guess I will have to admit it is a little easier to read a page with shorter lines.  But compare the global cost of additional paper with the nearly insignificant benefit of greater ease in readying and, as any salvation economist who is worth his salt would tell you, there are telltale signs of a conspiracy.

Where is Microsoft based?  Washington.  Where do they harvest a ton of trees?  Washington.  I think the only reasonable conclusion is that some lumberjacks called Bill one day and very subtly hinted that they have sharpened axes and chainsaws and know where his family lives.  Bill quickly concluded supporting the paper industry by making a change to the default page margins was probably a good thing to do.

Insofar as I am fairly certain lumberjacks do not read this blog, I am encouraging you to change the default margins on your word processor and do your part in decreasing paper consumption.

 

Contrived One-Man Conversations

I was driving down the road the other day and caught myself having a conversation with a person (a real person I know) who wasn’t in my car.  It was all in my head.  As I thought about it more and more I realized I do this all the time.  I started wondering if other people do the same thing.  Do you have a conversation with someone you know even though they aren’t there?

To be clear it’s typically not so much a conversation as it is a diatribe.  It’s me talking about something and assembling comments meant to be provocative, funny, or maybe absolutely outlandish about something.  I suppose when you get right down to it, it’s a lot like a blog, but you don’t type the brain traffic, you only run it through this imaginary conversation.

So is this out of the norm?  Am I dysfunctionally coping with the tension between needing social interaction and my introverted tendencies by having contrived conversations in solitude?  I do often like being alone.  When I drive, I rarely play music when I am in the car and don’t listen to the music when it’s playing.  I’ll listen to people talking on the radio but typically get turned off by whoever is speaking before too long and then lapse in my version of a conversation.

Is this unhealthy?  My imaginary friends and family don’t seem to mind.  At least they don’t argue with me when they are hypothetically conversing with me.  Maybe I should try to make the conversations real and use some of the cell phone minutes that go wasted in any given month.  The problem with this is my contributions to any given dialogue are typically so uninteresting, I am fairly certain that before long, no one with caller ID would answer my calls.

Anyway, all you people out there that I am giving an imaginary speech to, let me know if you think I am going off the deep-end.  Or I guess maybe arrange some sort of intervention with a qualified mental health care provider.  If you don’t think it’s a problem – well I’ll just talk to you later – at least in my mind I will anyway.

I can’t get this scent out of my head

I had a visitor to my office yesterday.  The person was obviously a chain-smoker who had to interface with the public and so employed various scent masking agents to cover the smoke smell.  We had an “interesting” meeting and not a pleasant meeting and the problem with this scenario is that the persons scent seemed to linger all day.

I should add in the interest of full disclosure that I have almost no sense of smell.  I had it at one time and not sure what happened to it.  My theories are that it shut down during the summer I worked de-beaking chickens.  What would your smell cells do if they worked in a very hot chicken barn/outhouse burning the beaks of chickens flat all day long day after day?  The chicken poop was absolutely horrible but only marginally worse then the burnt beak smoke.  The second theory is the cells went on leave during my job as a dishwasher.  There’s something about breathing in scalding hot steam for hours on end that my nose didn’t like.  My fingers and most of the rest of my body didn’t like this job either but that’s a blog for another day.

So I got this guy in my office and the scent doesn’t go away.  I started thinking about it more and more and then left my office for awhile and came back and I still had the same scent in my nose.  So I thought to myself, ‘Wow that scent was so strong it must have stuck to the inside of my nose.’  Then I thought about it some more and this seemed less and less likely.  I finally concluded the scent got stuck in my brain.  It was like a song you hear that just keeps playing in your head and won’t go away.  Think about it – your ears hear a song, you stop hearing the song, the song keeps playing in your head.  Why can’t the same thing happen with smells?

I don’t know why or how the scent seemed to last forever but by the end of the day, I was anxious to move on to any other scent.  The smell reminded me of the meeting and so I kept thinking of this meeting all day.  I finally escaped the scent by going to workout.  I am not sure if all the breathing cleansed the scent from my nose or the exercise cleared my brain of the thought of the scent.

So the next time you get a smell that sticks with you, see if you can figure out whether it’s a mental of physical manifestation.  Then again, maybe this doesn’t happen to you or anyone else in which case I am probably some sort of idiot (savant) or mentally ill.