Yesterday I preached a sermon on the human capacity for speech. It was based on a passage from James in which the apostle suggests that the tongue is a grave and dangerous tool. "With it," He contends, "we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing..."
How true. Words can be used for good as well as for ill. So many of the great things that have come upon the earth have begun and ended in the spoken word. Remember that this is actually how God creates-- "...and God said..." Perhaps this is the likeness that we share with God that is mentioned in Genesis 1... our own capacity to create by way of words and language. To name, communicate and reason our way together... It really is a gift, a power that God has given to us...
I remember when I first started to understand this. It was during my sophomore year in college. I read a series of books about language, culture and religion; the most notable was entitled, The Human Condition. Hannah Arendt was female, German and Jewish--probably all mitigating factors in 1958 when The Human Condition was published. None of this mattered to me when I read the book some twenty-five years later. After all, I was a young, free, Christian living in America and enjoying the care-free world of higher education. I could sit back and listen to Arendt's speech without fear of jail or even censorship. Nevertheless, the argument that she was making set me free--it set me free from something I didn't even understand.
The way that I explained it in the final paper for the class was that she had set me free from the process train. Reading her words, listening to her voice, it struck me that many people are taught and come to believe that life is merely process--that we simply find ourselves on the train and we have no choice but to ride this thing out. [Of course, most of us never even notice.] But Arendt suggests that human beings are capable of action--authentic action in the world. It is this action that creates the world and ultimately tells the story of life and history. And speech is the primary form of human action. It is our capacity to name, discuss and reason together that enables self-disclosure and allows us to enter into and take action in the world.
I still don't fully understand everything that I read in that book. But reading it offered to me one of those moments in which we are offered a chance to be reborn, into a world much more interesting than the one we've known.
Twenty-five years have now passed since I read The Human Condition. Sadly, I feel that much of that time has been spent riding the process train. Of course, that's what most people say when they reach their mid-forties. But still, I feel like I should know better. I understand, at least conceptually, the meaning and import of speech and action. I can only hope that even in the midst of my disappointment, I am still speaking toward a world that is more interesting than the one to which we seem to be settling.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Present Company
I have an eight-year-old daughter. This means that we have pets--more than one and always the chance for more. You see this in movies or read it in books about children. Little girls love animals, especially young ones, and will freely inquire about taking them in.
I should have seen this coming. Even before my daughter was born, my wife, Diane--a grown woman who readily complained about dog hair and cleaning the litter box--could not resist taking in a stray kitten who found its way to our porch in Watauga County. We already had a cat at the time and my wife insisted she was allergic. But it didn't matter. It was a long-haired calico, it belonged with us!
Not long after, a group of raccoon triplets were making their way across our front lawn. Diane was enthralled. I tried to explain to her that things were not as they appeared. "But they're so cute!" She insisted, reaching down to pick up the nearest. The ensuing scene was telling. Raccoon babies don't look quite the same when their backs are raised up and they are hissing and bouncing around like Taz. I am not sure who was the more angry, though. Diane seemed to imagine that the thing should be ashamed of itself for not letting her cuddle with it. The experience left her momentarily disgusted and she steered clear of nature for about a week. And then she discovered that den of bunnies in the shrubbery...
Apart from a few butterflies and a brief stretch with a clam, our house has lately been reserved for more domesticated creatures. Here is an update on some of the other members of the Evans' household:
Atticus is a Sheltie. Sheltie is an abbreviation for Shetland Sheepdog. But to most people it means miniature collie. There is actually no such thing as a miniature collie but if there were, this is exactly what they would look like. Atticus has been the subject of a few of my sermons. This is probably a compliment because it means that he is capable of things like attitude, behavior and personality. I used to get angry at him because he would always bark and make a scene around other dogs but act perfectly normal around any human. But I've figured out in the last few months that this is not a personality problem. Atticus just does not know he is a dog. It sounds weird and that's probably why it took me so long to get it but I am pretty sure that it is true. And it makes sense if you think about it. The pack that he runs with are all people and the only times he sees other dogs is when he is out for a walk or a hike or maybe at the vet. He even barks at his own reflection... Do you suppose there are people who think they're dogs?
We don't have any cats right now. Diane swore them off when we left Watauga County seven years ago. If you're a cat person, that's a long time to go without a cat. But since 3/5 of our family are not, it will probably a lot longer before I see another cat.
My daughter is responsible for the rest of our animals. These are what I call quick-decisions pets. Right now, we have a fish (Beta) that now lives in the office here at the church and two dwarf hamsters that live in a plastic mansion in my daughter's bedroom.
The Beta is named Ruby, mostly because our last fish was Turquoise and Mallory wanted to stay with the precious-gem theme. Ruby has really grown on me, mostly because he (I know, but it's not like you can see anything) is so resilient. Not only has he lasted for nearly two-years, Ruby has suffered the experience of fading affection. Right? Because that's what happens. A little girl gets a pet, a kitten or a mouse or whatever... But soon enough the newness wears off. Or, worse yet, her affections fall in the next adorable direction... And we're talking about a fish in this world. I mean, imagine competing with things like kittens and bunnies. Heck, stuffed animals can probably draw more affection than a Beta... And yet, Ruby soldiered on. He was even expelled from the house. But God is good. He landed in the church office, right next to Michele, our administrative assistant. She's probably the nicest little girl in the world so Ruby is just fine.
Obviously I am partial to Ruby. And for all kinds of reasons--not the least of which being low-maintenance. So you can imagine my disappointment [Sheltese for disgust!] to learn that our Beta had been replaced by a rodent. Hamsters, even dwarf hamsters, are pretty much everything fish are not. Unless, of course, you fail to clean their bowl.
Enter Peanut and, just a few days later, Chestnut. This is why parents need to avoid commercial pet stores. We need to just stay away because this is what happens. Of course, they have dogs and cats and birds at places like this. But who buys a cat or dog from Pet-mart? If you take a child into one of those places, parents have got to know that they are going to be confronted with guilt and pleading. You're almost certain to leave the place with something that poops. So unless you can discipline yourself and get a fish, it's like choosing to live in Calcutta.
Diane must have sensed this would have been one of those rare times when I would have tried to play my man-of-the house card. [Like it would have mattered...] So the girls went on their own--twice! And now we've got a room full of plastic and two hamsters. [I keep trying to put a "p" in there because it would then rhyme so easily with dumpsters. But the spellchecker won't have it...]
Now to be fair, the rodents have worked out pretty well. We bought an air freshener and Diane actually takes the time to get the critters out. It sort of works as a mother-daughter bonding time. I let Atticus in there when they have them running around in those little balls. But I'm really hoping my daughter starts noticing kittens!
All in all, it is a bit of a microcosm--a little of this and a little of that. Not unlike the world in general. And, of course, it's not over. I wonder sometimes what other creatures will share my time on this planet. It's a good thing--even the rodents. Diane likes to go on and on about how cute they are when they "clean themselves." Is that what they're doing?
I should have seen this coming. Even before my daughter was born, my wife, Diane--a grown woman who readily complained about dog hair and cleaning the litter box--could not resist taking in a stray kitten who found its way to our porch in Watauga County. We already had a cat at the time and my wife insisted she was allergic. But it didn't matter. It was a long-haired calico, it belonged with us!
Not long after, a group of raccoon triplets were making their way across our front lawn. Diane was enthralled. I tried to explain to her that things were not as they appeared. "But they're so cute!" She insisted, reaching down to pick up the nearest. The ensuing scene was telling. Raccoon babies don't look quite the same when their backs are raised up and they are hissing and bouncing around like Taz. I am not sure who was the more angry, though. Diane seemed to imagine that the thing should be ashamed of itself for not letting her cuddle with it. The experience left her momentarily disgusted and she steered clear of nature for about a week. And then she discovered that den of bunnies in the shrubbery...
Apart from a few butterflies and a brief stretch with a clam, our house has lately been reserved for more domesticated creatures. Here is an update on some of the other members of the Evans' household:
Atticus is a Sheltie. Sheltie is an abbreviation for Shetland Sheepdog. But to most people it means miniature collie. There is actually no such thing as a miniature collie but if there were, this is exactly what they would look like. Atticus has been the subject of a few of my sermons. This is probably a compliment because it means that he is capable of things like attitude, behavior and personality. I used to get angry at him because he would always bark and make a scene around other dogs but act perfectly normal around any human. But I've figured out in the last few months that this is not a personality problem. Atticus just does not know he is a dog. It sounds weird and that's probably why it took me so long to get it but I am pretty sure that it is true. And it makes sense if you think about it. The pack that he runs with are all people and the only times he sees other dogs is when he is out for a walk or a hike or maybe at the vet. He even barks at his own reflection... Do you suppose there are people who think they're dogs?
We don't have any cats right now. Diane swore them off when we left Watauga County seven years ago. If you're a cat person, that's a long time to go without a cat. But since 3/5 of our family are not, it will probably a lot longer before I see another cat.
My daughter is responsible for the rest of our animals. These are what I call quick-decisions pets. Right now, we have a fish (Beta) that now lives in the office here at the church and two dwarf hamsters that live in a plastic mansion in my daughter's bedroom.
The Beta is named Ruby, mostly because our last fish was Turquoise and Mallory wanted to stay with the precious-gem theme. Ruby has really grown on me, mostly because he (I know, but it's not like you can see anything) is so resilient. Not only has he lasted for nearly two-years, Ruby has suffered the experience of fading affection. Right? Because that's what happens. A little girl gets a pet, a kitten or a mouse or whatever... But soon enough the newness wears off. Or, worse yet, her affections fall in the next adorable direction... And we're talking about a fish in this world. I mean, imagine competing with things like kittens and bunnies. Heck, stuffed animals can probably draw more affection than a Beta... And yet, Ruby soldiered on. He was even expelled from the house. But God is good. He landed in the church office, right next to Michele, our administrative assistant. She's probably the nicest little girl in the world so Ruby is just fine.
Obviously I am partial to Ruby. And for all kinds of reasons--not the least of which being low-maintenance. So you can imagine my disappointment [Sheltese for disgust!] to learn that our Beta had been replaced by a rodent. Hamsters, even dwarf hamsters, are pretty much everything fish are not. Unless, of course, you fail to clean their bowl.
Enter Peanut and, just a few days later, Chestnut. This is why parents need to avoid commercial pet stores. We need to just stay away because this is what happens. Of course, they have dogs and cats and birds at places like this. But who buys a cat or dog from Pet-mart? If you take a child into one of those places, parents have got to know that they are going to be confronted with guilt and pleading. You're almost certain to leave the place with something that poops. So unless you can discipline yourself and get a fish, it's like choosing to live in Calcutta.
Diane must have sensed this would have been one of those rare times when I would have tried to play my man-of-the house card. [Like it would have mattered...] So the girls went on their own--twice! And now we've got a room full of plastic and two hamsters. [I keep trying to put a "p" in there because it would then rhyme so easily with dumpsters. But the spellchecker won't have it...]
Now to be fair, the rodents have worked out pretty well. We bought an air freshener and Diane actually takes the time to get the critters out. It sort of works as a mother-daughter bonding time. I let Atticus in there when they have them running around in those little balls. But I'm really hoping my daughter starts noticing kittens!
All in all, it is a bit of a microcosm--a little of this and a little of that. Not unlike the world in general. And, of course, it's not over. I wonder sometimes what other creatures will share my time on this planet. It's a good thing--even the rodents. Diane likes to go on and on about how cute they are when they "clean themselves." Is that what they're doing?
Monday, August 31, 2009
That was then...this is now
Occasionally someone will make note how popular ideas reflect the philosophies of the ancients. People today probably think little about Antisthenes, Epicurus or Zeno. Many moderns have probably never even heard of these guys. Yet, their ideas seem alive and well in the Cynics, Epicureans and Stoics of our time... Here are some commonalities I've noticed. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
The first thing to note here is that the ancients tended to believe that we live our lives through ideas. Those who had the time and the means were compelled to pick a philosophy and live by it. There were competing "schools of thought." So adherents were advised to look at the world around them, choose a philosophical path and live life accordingly.
Our age is similar. When people talk about themselves, they speak in highly personal and intellectual ways. They might reference their identity, their beliefs, the meaning in their lives. They will talk about goals or political affiliation and can occasionally offer a rational argument to explain their pursuits. If asked about God, they will instinctively tell you about their beliefs, perhaps referencing a few guiding principles or an overarching philosophy of life. Moderns tend to assume that life is a smorgasbord of ideas and explanations. As a mentor of mine used to put it, you pay your money and make your choice...
And we see it, don't we? Modern-day cynics, skeptics, epicureans, stoics or hedonists selecting the ideological paths that seem most accurate or fitting or expedient.
Like us, the ancients knew a changing world. It was a world of good times and bad, joy and suffering, peace and war. Not surprisingly, the ideas and philosophical paths waxed and waned accordingly. One philosopher would follow the next, often reacting specifically to some weakness that was demonstrated by the turning of the globe.
So can the Portico offer anything to such a world? Do we have anything better than a salad bar of ideological options? Does the Church merely watch and judge the citizens of the world as they pass by on those streets of change?
I am a citizen of the modern world. I like ideas too. But I also have come to see their limitations. There's more to life than pay your money and take your choice.
What the Church has to offer is Christ. But offering Christ is not offering just another idea. It is an invitation to connectivity, to living life not as an individual making decisions but as a community sojourning through life together. We still live in the same world, with the same ups and downs, the same war and peace, the same joys and disappointments. But we've come to understand that this is not something that we do alone.
We sojourn with God and with one another. Of course, we still share ideas. We have our cynics and our skeptics and our hedonists but they are part of our family. In the family, we not only help each other see and accommodate the weaknesses in our respective philosophies, we teach one another to understand that our souls do not rise and fall on whether or not we have chosen the right one. http://www.8notes.com/show_video.asp?video_id=23880
The first thing to note here is that the ancients tended to believe that we live our lives through ideas. Those who had the time and the means were compelled to pick a philosophy and live by it. There were competing "schools of thought." So adherents were advised to look at the world around them, choose a philosophical path and live life accordingly.
Our age is similar. When people talk about themselves, they speak in highly personal and intellectual ways. They might reference their identity, their beliefs, the meaning in their lives. They will talk about goals or political affiliation and can occasionally offer a rational argument to explain their pursuits. If asked about God, they will instinctively tell you about their beliefs, perhaps referencing a few guiding principles or an overarching philosophy of life. Moderns tend to assume that life is a smorgasbord of ideas and explanations. As a mentor of mine used to put it, you pay your money and make your choice...
And we see it, don't we? Modern-day cynics, skeptics, epicureans, stoics or hedonists selecting the ideological paths that seem most accurate or fitting or expedient.
Like us, the ancients knew a changing world. It was a world of good times and bad, joy and suffering, peace and war. Not surprisingly, the ideas and philosophical paths waxed and waned accordingly. One philosopher would follow the next, often reacting specifically to some weakness that was demonstrated by the turning of the globe.
So can the Portico offer anything to such a world? Do we have anything better than a salad bar of ideological options? Does the Church merely watch and judge the citizens of the world as they pass by on those streets of change?
I am a citizen of the modern world. I like ideas too. But I also have come to see their limitations. There's more to life than pay your money and take your choice.
What the Church has to offer is Christ. But offering Christ is not offering just another idea. It is an invitation to connectivity, to living life not as an individual making decisions but as a community sojourning through life together. We still live in the same world, with the same ups and downs, the same war and peace, the same joys and disappointments. But we've come to understand that this is not something that we do alone.
We sojourn with God and with one another. Of course, we still share ideas. We have our cynics and our skeptics and our hedonists but they are part of our family. In the family, we not only help each other see and accommodate the weaknesses in our respective philosophies, we teach one another to understand that our souls do not rise and fall on whether or not we have chosen the right one. http://www.8notes.com/show_video.asp?video_id=23880
Monday, August 24, 2009
Standing in the middle
Late August...schools... It's a great time of year and always a signifier of new beginnings.
Like so many young people, my daughter recently received word on her new teacher and which of her fourth-grade classmates would be in her homeroom. Through the process, I found out that my wife was actually anxious about all this--not so much on the teaching side but on the classmate side. Specifically, she felt for my daughter who has friendships across the familiar grouping lines of the playground and cafeteria. All this was somewhat lost on me. Apparently, who's who and what's what starts pretty early now. Go figure... I assumed that we had at least until middle school before the demons of grouping would begin taking hold.
Everything turned out fine. Mother and daughter were both thrilled with the teacher as well as the class list. All in all, I guess you'd call it a successful lottery.
I hear a lot about this though--the way that kids pair off and treat one another accordingly. My daughter is only eight but she already feels this. She has already felt the pulling force of the grouping process. Although she doesn't really understand, I know that she doesn't like it--the pressure to choose between one friend or another. I pray she never does. But it will be hard. It is not just pressure to fit in; it's that illusion of being special. I suspect that it drives us to trade in our decency, insisting that we make choices...who is worthy and who is not...who we will love and who we will hate.
It's the same for adults, although generally more subtle. We wouldn't want to use such extreme language to describe our behavior. We wouldn't want to admit that we have chosen one group of friends over another or that we have closed the door on some people simply because someone told us that we should.
But just like my daughter, we might also resent the demands. Something within us might be telling us that this is not such a good thing--that it is counter to our humanity to choose between this person and that. But the pressure and that illusion of specialness can call to us--the stamp of approval from one side or another. And it can move us to do unwholesome things...
Here's to resisting it! As we begin a new year, here's a prayer for all of the children there together on the playground and in the cafeteria. Here's to the men and women who are willing to reach out a hand in both directions and take the time to understand more than one side. Here's to people everywhere who still have a healthy disrespect for this whole business of who's who and what's what...
Like so many young people, my daughter recently received word on her new teacher and which of her fourth-grade classmates would be in her homeroom. Through the process, I found out that my wife was actually anxious about all this--not so much on the teaching side but on the classmate side. Specifically, she felt for my daughter who has friendships across the familiar grouping lines of the playground and cafeteria. All this was somewhat lost on me. Apparently, who's who and what's what starts pretty early now. Go figure... I assumed that we had at least until middle school before the demons of grouping would begin taking hold.
Everything turned out fine. Mother and daughter were both thrilled with the teacher as well as the class list. All in all, I guess you'd call it a successful lottery.
I hear a lot about this though--the way that kids pair off and treat one another accordingly. My daughter is only eight but she already feels this. She has already felt the pulling force of the grouping process. Although she doesn't really understand, I know that she doesn't like it--the pressure to choose between one friend or another. I pray she never does. But it will be hard. It is not just pressure to fit in; it's that illusion of being special. I suspect that it drives us to trade in our decency, insisting that we make choices...who is worthy and who is not...who we will love and who we will hate.
It's the same for adults, although generally more subtle. We wouldn't want to use such extreme language to describe our behavior. We wouldn't want to admit that we have chosen one group of friends over another or that we have closed the door on some people simply because someone told us that we should.
But just like my daughter, we might also resent the demands. Something within us might be telling us that this is not such a good thing--that it is counter to our humanity to choose between this person and that. But the pressure and that illusion of specialness can call to us--the stamp of approval from one side or another. And it can move us to do unwholesome things...
Here's to resisting it! As we begin a new year, here's a prayer for all of the children there together on the playground and in the cafeteria. Here's to the men and women who are willing to reach out a hand in both directions and take the time to understand more than one side. Here's to people everywhere who still have a healthy disrespect for this whole business of who's who and what's what...
Monday, August 17, 2009
Oh hell
A little over a week ago, the Charlotte Observer ran an article entitled "What Happened to Hell." http://www.charlotteobserver.com/479/story/876121.html?storylink=omni_popular A couple of people in the parish asked me about the article and since then I have been working on a sermon that will address the issue. Of course, it's reactionary but it's also interesting. The world might actually be served by hearing what a Methodist has to say on the subject. Besides, I couldn't stand the thought of the people of St. Francis being harassed at work because their pastor is afraid of the subject.
The question is fair--why is it that many churches do not talk about hell? However, the answer might be far less conspiratorial than many imagine. The reason is simply that the Bible doesn't talk all that much about it. According to my concordance, the word "hell" appears only 15 times in the Bible and two of the references come from the Apocrypha. Compare this with the word "help" which appears 250 times or the word "mercy" 246 times. "Love" appears approximately 540 times. Not that this determines the subject matter, but from a biblically-proportional standpoint, we might expect to hear 1 sermon on hell for every 40 we hear on love. Another way to think about this is that the word "usury" appears approximately the same number of times as "hell," although I haven't heard much clamoring for sermons addressing the evils of lending money at interest...
One of the challenges that we preachers face when it comes to talking about hell is that despite the fact that there is very little Scriptural information on the subject, there seems to be volumes of ideas, images and details floating about in the larger culture. This is a challenge because even when preachers try to offer meaningful commentary on the subject, we are generally speaking to people who have already made up their minds. This, of course, is the irony. Sometimes people want to hear sermons on things like hell but it is not so much to learn something new but rather to reinforce ideas and opinions that they already cherish.
In the eleven references made by Jesus, hell certainly does not sound like anything or anyplace that we would want to encounter. And the fact that he does speak of it, not only jars our attention; it also invites the question, "why are some churches reluctant to talk about it?"
In Jesus references, hell is typically cast as a threatening prospect, as a deterrent to certain kind of attitudes and behaviors. It is, by all measure, something that we would want to avoid. And this, of course, begs the question and perhaps helps us to understand Jesus point. How do we avoid this frightening place of which we really know very little? Let's hope that the answer lies in the kinds of things that we learn from the Bible...the kinds of things that our preachers and churches are talking about on all those other Sundays.
The question is fair--why is it that many churches do not talk about hell? However, the answer might be far less conspiratorial than many imagine. The reason is simply that the Bible doesn't talk all that much about it. According to my concordance, the word "hell" appears only 15 times in the Bible and two of the references come from the Apocrypha. Compare this with the word "help" which appears 250 times or the word "mercy" 246 times. "Love" appears approximately 540 times. Not that this determines the subject matter, but from a biblically-proportional standpoint, we might expect to hear 1 sermon on hell for every 40 we hear on love. Another way to think about this is that the word "usury" appears approximately the same number of times as "hell," although I haven't heard much clamoring for sermons addressing the evils of lending money at interest...
One of the challenges that we preachers face when it comes to talking about hell is that despite the fact that there is very little Scriptural information on the subject, there seems to be volumes of ideas, images and details floating about in the larger culture. This is a challenge because even when preachers try to offer meaningful commentary on the subject, we are generally speaking to people who have already made up their minds. This, of course, is the irony. Sometimes people want to hear sermons on things like hell but it is not so much to learn something new but rather to reinforce ideas and opinions that they already cherish.
In the eleven references made by Jesus, hell certainly does not sound like anything or anyplace that we would want to encounter. And the fact that he does speak of it, not only jars our attention; it also invites the question, "why are some churches reluctant to talk about it?"
In Jesus references, hell is typically cast as a threatening prospect, as a deterrent to certain kind of attitudes and behaviors. It is, by all measure, something that we would want to avoid. And this, of course, begs the question and perhaps helps us to understand Jesus point. How do we avoid this frightening place of which we really know very little? Let's hope that the answer lies in the kinds of things that we learn from the Bible...the kinds of things that our preachers and churches are talking about on all those other Sundays.
Monday, August 10, 2009
The Health-care Debate
I haven't heard many comments about my blog lately...probably because no one's reading it... So it seems as safe a time as any to share a bit of unbridled commentary.
I recently listened to a conversation about the current health-care debate. I was struck by the extreme difference of opinion. I was also taken by how quickly the tone of the argument escalated.
People who generally agree about many things can find themselves on opposite ends of this discussion and passionately so. It's been kinda nice for me to sort of sit this one out. Too often, I find myself overly invested and overly vocal about things like this. (You know, things over-which we have little or no control.) But not here. I mostly couldn't care less about whether or not the health-care system gets nationalized. It's not because I don't care about health, it's just that my expectations are so catastrophically cynical and small that it's hard for me to imagine it making that much difference one way or another.
My reasoning has nothing to do with socialized medicine. Clearly more people will get more care if it's free. I am just not sure that this is really a good thing... I must be wrong...but it seems to me that the medical industry creates more suffering than it relieves... I feel for everyone who suffers under it.
Here is what I mean...but in reverse, back-masked order:
Everyone suffers. I learned this in college. It was one of those epiphanies in my educational and spiritual journey. Suffering is part and parcel to life in this world... Of course, some people suffer more than others. But nobody misses out. Everyone has to carry or endure various crosses in this lifetime. This is not to say that we shouldn't try to alleviate the hurt. It is rather to stop ignoring some of the less obvious ways in which people suffer in this world.
So here is the deal: Of course, sick people suffer. And, of course, people who cannot get adequate health-care suffer. But so do people who sort of imagine that the health-care that they have is something great. These people are suffering and they don't even know it. Maybe not from a physical ailment but from a profound condition of self-deception. Do you ever hear people say things like: We have the best health care system in the world These are also the people who like to say things like America is the greatest country in the world... Both might actually be true but how would they know?
Consider the very phrase "adequate health-care." In the current debate we hear a lot about the need for this. But what exactly does it mean? What is adequate health-care? A recent article suggests that $210 Billion is wasted annually on unnecessary tests. This, it seems to me, is a central interest in the debate--what's the best way to ensure that more people will have access to this unnecessary testing?
Maybe adequate health-care is less about access and more about actually helping people get whatever it is that they really need. Again, some suffer because they do not have enough; others suffer because what they have is not nearly as valuable as they imagine.
Why I don't like the medical industry...
1. It's ridiculously expensive: For all the money we throw at health-care, how healthy are we, really? Or, how much is what we've got really worth? From my peculiar spot in the universe, it seems to me that a grapefruit is more valuable than a visit to the doctor. (This is not really the doctor's fault.)
2. It's consistently bureaucratic: More than anything else, medicine is characterized by waiting, processing and disappointment. (This is not really the receptionists fault.)
3. It's dehumanizing: Dealing with the medical industry makes people feel worse. Whether it is suffering the indignity of various procedures or the arrogance of the experts, the overwhelming experience of the sick is a consistent reminder that they have little or no power of the situation. (This is not really the nurse's fault.)
4. It's arrogant: People in medicine too often carry themselves with an unjustified sense of greatness. (This probably is the University's fault.)
5. It's run by insurance companies... (This is definitely our fault.)
If we could only find a way to remove this last bit from the current debate. But... So whether we move to a more nationalized system or keep something similar to what we have now, medicine will still be determined and driven by people very far from the clinic. And here too, I feel for those who have as much as I do for those who have not. Even doctors are beholden to powers that are not primarily interested in health.
Thank God nobody reads this thing...
I recently listened to a conversation about the current health-care debate. I was struck by the extreme difference of opinion. I was also taken by how quickly the tone of the argument escalated.
People who generally agree about many things can find themselves on opposite ends of this discussion and passionately so. It's been kinda nice for me to sort of sit this one out. Too often, I find myself overly invested and overly vocal about things like this. (You know, things over-which we have little or no control.) But not here. I mostly couldn't care less about whether or not the health-care system gets nationalized. It's not because I don't care about health, it's just that my expectations are so catastrophically cynical and small that it's hard for me to imagine it making that much difference one way or another.
My reasoning has nothing to do with socialized medicine. Clearly more people will get more care if it's free. I am just not sure that this is really a good thing... I must be wrong...but it seems to me that the medical industry creates more suffering than it relieves... I feel for everyone who suffers under it.
Here is what I mean...but in reverse, back-masked order:
Everyone suffers. I learned this in college. It was one of those epiphanies in my educational and spiritual journey. Suffering is part and parcel to life in this world... Of course, some people suffer more than others. But nobody misses out. Everyone has to carry or endure various crosses in this lifetime. This is not to say that we shouldn't try to alleviate the hurt. It is rather to stop ignoring some of the less obvious ways in which people suffer in this world.
So here is the deal: Of course, sick people suffer. And, of course, people who cannot get adequate health-care suffer. But so do people who sort of imagine that the health-care that they have is something great. These people are suffering and they don't even know it. Maybe not from a physical ailment but from a profound condition of self-deception. Do you ever hear people say things like: We have the best health care system in the world These are also the people who like to say things like America is the greatest country in the world... Both might actually be true but how would they know?
Consider the very phrase "adequate health-care." In the current debate we hear a lot about the need for this. But what exactly does it mean? What is adequate health-care? A recent article suggests that $210 Billion is wasted annually on unnecessary tests. This, it seems to me, is a central interest in the debate--what's the best way to ensure that more people will have access to this unnecessary testing?
Maybe adequate health-care is less about access and more about actually helping people get whatever it is that they really need. Again, some suffer because they do not have enough; others suffer because what they have is not nearly as valuable as they imagine.
Why I don't like the medical industry...
1. It's ridiculously expensive: For all the money we throw at health-care, how healthy are we, really? Or, how much is what we've got really worth? From my peculiar spot in the universe, it seems to me that a grapefruit is more valuable than a visit to the doctor. (This is not really the doctor's fault.)
2. It's consistently bureaucratic: More than anything else, medicine is characterized by waiting, processing and disappointment. (This is not really the receptionists fault.)
3. It's dehumanizing: Dealing with the medical industry makes people feel worse. Whether it is suffering the indignity of various procedures or the arrogance of the experts, the overwhelming experience of the sick is a consistent reminder that they have little or no power of the situation. (This is not really the nurse's fault.)
4. It's arrogant: People in medicine too often carry themselves with an unjustified sense of greatness. (This probably is the University's fault.)
5. It's run by insurance companies... (This is definitely our fault.)
If we could only find a way to remove this last bit from the current debate. But... So whether we move to a more nationalized system or keep something similar to what we have now, medicine will still be determined and driven by people very far from the clinic. And here too, I feel for those who have as much as I do for those who have not. Even doctors are beholden to powers that are not primarily interested in health.
Thank God nobody reads this thing...
Monday, August 3, 2009
Rhythm and Blues
I fight authority, authority always wins...
"Authority Song" was released in 1983. The song probably represents a turning point in John Mellencamp's personal life as well as his career. Early-on, the artist recorded under the name John Cougar, then John Cougar Mellencamp and then simply his given name. "Authority Song" appears on the album "Uh Huh" during the era when John Mellencamp was using all three names.
I fight authority... is repeated 16 times during the song. Apart from the refrain, there are only two verses to the song. The first is a clever commentary on what it feels like to have aspects of your life in the hands of other people. Most of us have known this feeling at one time or another. It is not a good feeling and our response to it often takes one of two avenues. Either we force ourselves to ignore the frustration and try to get along. Or we rage against the circumstances--usually in vain. The latter is, of course, the subject matter of Mellencamp's song.
The image that comes to mind here is that of a salmon swimming upstream...straining against all odds... willing itself to some distant destination. But the metaphor is not entirely congruent. While the salmon is struggling with purpose, seeking intently to return to a specific place in order to spawn, sometimes our fights are more like a flailing against the universe in general. The energy for the rebellion is there but the cause is largely undefined.
The second verse of Mellencamp's song is a picture of this. It is the singer poking fun at himself. He can see the source of his pain and frustration but he is not quite ready to accept the antidote:
So I call up my preacher
I say: gimme strength for round 5
He said: you don't need no strength, you need to grow up, son
I said: growing up leads to growing old and then to dying,
And dying to me don't sound like all that much fun
How true...When we are raging against the world in general, we really don't want to be bothered by the facts.
The good news here is that at some point Mellencamp moves beyond his vain struggle with everything that is not right with the world. Officially dropping "Cougar" from his name, sort of marks a moment of maturity in his life. Though many of his most successful songs came early in his career when he was perhaps a bit angrier, Mellencamp has nonetheless continued to release meaningful music throughout his life. I have more than once heard people say that their lives actually parallel the stories that the artist has told of the course of his career. The same is often said in regard to Bob Seger and Mary Chapin Carpenter.
Growing up is not always linear. Even now, I sometimes just want to flail. One of the playlists on my Ipod is simply called "Blue." I even have one called "Black" to match those poignant moments of rage that still run through the veins from time to time.
But happily it is not that often. And it is not a matter of caving-in or giving-up. At least I hope it is not. I rather like to think that there is a rhythm that invites us. If we are willing... It is a rhythm that transcends the limited options that children are so easily drawn to. It is a way of living and being that is something other than mere caving-in or raging-on.
"Authority Song" was released in 1983. The song probably represents a turning point in John Mellencamp's personal life as well as his career. Early-on, the artist recorded under the name John Cougar, then John Cougar Mellencamp and then simply his given name. "Authority Song" appears on the album "Uh Huh" during the era when John Mellencamp was using all three names.
I fight authority... is repeated 16 times during the song. Apart from the refrain, there are only two verses to the song. The first is a clever commentary on what it feels like to have aspects of your life in the hands of other people. Most of us have known this feeling at one time or another. It is not a good feeling and our response to it often takes one of two avenues. Either we force ourselves to ignore the frustration and try to get along. Or we rage against the circumstances--usually in vain. The latter is, of course, the subject matter of Mellencamp's song.
The image that comes to mind here is that of a salmon swimming upstream...straining against all odds... willing itself to some distant destination. But the metaphor is not entirely congruent. While the salmon is struggling with purpose, seeking intently to return to a specific place in order to spawn, sometimes our fights are more like a flailing against the universe in general. The energy for the rebellion is there but the cause is largely undefined.
The second verse of Mellencamp's song is a picture of this. It is the singer poking fun at himself. He can see the source of his pain and frustration but he is not quite ready to accept the antidote:
So I call up my preacher
I say: gimme strength for round 5
He said: you don't need no strength, you need to grow up, son
I said: growing up leads to growing old and then to dying,
And dying to me don't sound like all that much fun
How true...When we are raging against the world in general, we really don't want to be bothered by the facts.
The good news here is that at some point Mellencamp moves beyond his vain struggle with everything that is not right with the world. Officially dropping "Cougar" from his name, sort of marks a moment of maturity in his life. Though many of his most successful songs came early in his career when he was perhaps a bit angrier, Mellencamp has nonetheless continued to release meaningful music throughout his life. I have more than once heard people say that their lives actually parallel the stories that the artist has told of the course of his career. The same is often said in regard to Bob Seger and Mary Chapin Carpenter.
Growing up is not always linear. Even now, I sometimes just want to flail. One of the playlists on my Ipod is simply called "Blue." I even have one called "Black" to match those poignant moments of rage that still run through the veins from time to time.
But happily it is not that often. And it is not a matter of caving-in or giving-up. At least I hope it is not. I rather like to think that there is a rhythm that invites us. If we are willing... It is a rhythm that transcends the limited options that children are so easily drawn to. It is a way of living and being that is something other than mere caving-in or raging-on.
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