One evening last week, I fell asleep while reading. As I slept, I had an unusually symbolic dream. Though it resembles the format of Biblical prophecy, I attribute this to my reading of the prophetic book of Ezekial. As for the topic, I believe that to be the result of recent musings. So please don't think I'm trying to predict what is to come. I'm merely sharing this because I found it interesting, and because I think it adequately sets the tone for what I plan to write about Christianity and Islam.
When I woke up, I recorded the dream because I didn't want to forget it. This is what I wrote:
I had a dream in which Christianity and Islam were fighting for
ownership of humanity, battling for control.
And in this dream, I saw two dogs fighting over a ravaged and bloody
carcass. Both beasts were clamping down, trying to get a better grip
on their prey, hoping to tear it completely from the mouth of the
other.
Then they became birds, still tearing at the ravaged corpse, clamping
and pulling, biting and jerking, trying desperately to pry the prey
from the mouth of their adversary.
I knew the carcass represented mankind as a whole. And as I watched
the two beasts tearing into their prey, I heard mysellf say in a
panicked voice, "They're going to destroy it!"
And then I woke up.
--Thanks for Reading (Your Comments are Appreciated)
Friday, May 25, 2007
When the Bible isn't suitable for church...
Ever read Ezekial 23?
I think I first stumbled upon it when I was in junior high or high school. At the time, I was shocked (and being a typically immature young man, probably also highly amused) to find that God's Word contained such naughty things.
Examples:
Ezekial 23:2 "They became prostitutes in Egypt. Even as young girls, they allowed men to to fondle their breasts."
Ezekial 23:8 "She was still as lewd as in her youth, when the Egyptians slept with her, fondled her breasts, and used her as a prostitute."
Ezekial 23:19-20 "Yet she turned to even greater prostitution, remembering her youth when she was a prostitute in Egypt. She lusted after lovers with genitals as large as a donkey's and emissions like those of a horse."
Can you picture many pastors saying that from the pulpit: "She lusted after lovers with genitals as large as a donkey's and emissions like those of a horse."? I think the pastor that read that verse (in many churches) would have a few unpleasant voicemail messages waiting for him on Monday morning.
I read these passages again recently. Instead of being amused, like I had been when I was younger, this time I felt something like uneasiness.
Part of me felt like these things didn't belong in the Bible. It's so crude and tawdry. Why would God include something about lusting "after lovers with genitals as large as a donkey's"? Was it really necessary to be so descriptive?
Yeah, it was. And I just realized why.
Here's the context. Ezekial, a prophet of God, is recording what God reveals to him. Chapter 23 is all about these two sisters who turn to prostitution. God calls them Oholah and Oholibah. God says through Ezekial, "I married them and they bore me sons and daughters. I am speaking of Samaria and Jerusalem, for Oholah is Samaria and Oholibah is Jerusalem" (verse 4).
Did you catch that part about God saying he "married them" and they bore him "sons and daughters"? These were God's chosen people. But what happens in verse 5? "Then Oholah lusted after other lovers instead of me." Later it will say that Oholibah (Jerusalem) followed her sister's footsteps, but she was "even more depraved" (verse 11). So if God "married" these girls, then this prostitution of theirs, I'm sure, is not something about which He would just shrug His almighty shoulders.
Though this chapter doesn't conclude with verse 35, I think it adequately sums up God's main point: "And because you have forgotten me and turned your back on me, this is what the Sovereign LORD says: You must bear the consequences of all your lewdness and prostitution."
God is telling his people that he will not tolerate their betrayal. He will not permit such unfaithfulness.
But again, why the explicit language? Why would God choose such offensive descriptions?
Well, if pastors today can't read these verses about "gentials the size of a donkey's" without getting phone calls, what kind of response do you think it would have evoked thousands of years ago? I don't know, but I think people might have been a little more conservative then. In a time before internet porn, MAXIM magazine, Victoria's Secret commercials, and R-rated movies. And remember, the people Ezekial was to share this with were the ones God was calling prostitutes. So it wasn't just lewd to them; it was personal.
(By the way, I can't help but feel sorry for Ezekial. In verse 36, God tells him, "you must accuse Oholah and Oholibah of all their detestable sins." Man, I'm sure that was an enjoyable task. Then in Chapter 24, Ezekial isn't allowed to mourn following the death of his wife. Poor guy.)
But back to the question: Why the explicit nature?
Maybe because God wanted to show His people exactly how offensive their behavior was to Him. Maybe because God wanted to frame their betrayal in terms that could almost do it justice, comparing it to the most despicable, most deplorable thing those people could imagine, something that would make them cringe, angry, ashamed. Maybe to make them feel a hint of what God felt when he watched his people eagerly pursuing other gods when He had always remained (and always would remain) so unwaveringly faithful to them.
At this point, God has made up his mind to judge both of these "prostitutes" for their unfaithfulness (see verses 36-49), and because God is loving, maybe he's also using Chapter 23 as a resounding explanation for why he's about to punish them. The punishment is coming, but God wants to make sure His people (the adulterous prostititues that they are) know why. He lets them know he hasn't stopped loving them, but their actions demand consequences.
Even though I didn't understand the need for such explicit descriptions when I first read these passages, now I can't think of a better way for God to convey his displeasure with His people's unfaithfulness. And if it can still be offensive to us today, that's probably good. Because we've been unfaithful, too. Haven't we?
Haven't we also lusted after lovers with genitals as large as a donkey's and emissions like those of a horse?
Does that offend you?
I hope so. Because I think that was God's intention.
--Thanks for Reading (Your comments are always welcome)
Note: I would be proud to know any pastor who read these passages in church. Because the Bible is the last thing that needs to be censored.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Blog Changes Going into Effect Immediately
Consider this a Public Service Announcement:
Since starting my own blog a couple months ago, I have maintained an erratic schedule for posting. My posts have been long and detailed.
And I've realized recently that this is rarely what people look for in blogs. People want blogs that are concise: good, but short.
Because I recognize the opportunities that exist in the blogosphere, I plan to start posting more regularly. And most of my posts will be shorter, though hopefully still worth reading. Some will still be long, of course, since I am naturally long-winded and am easily carried away by something about which I am passionate.
But if you are someone who checks my blog, feel free to check it more regularly. Because the content will be fresher, and you won't have to sit down for 25 minutes to read one post anymore.
Coming soon:
--God's use of an explicit sexual allegory in Ezekial 23
--Islam vs. Christianity: Why Christian evangelism has a lot to learn from the Muslim world
--As always, thanks for reading
Monday, May 21, 2007
What is love really?
I want to briefly clarify an aspect of my previous post, "Objectively Thinking."
In that post, I refer frequently to the concept of "love," using its existence as the basis for my disagreement with Ayn Rand's Objectivism. But it has been brought to my attention (Thanks, Nate and Luke) that I need to clarify what exactly love is----or what exactly I mean when I use the word.
These two thinkers stressed the importance of differentiating between love as a verb and love as a noun, and also between self-less and selfish love. In this case, I think the most important distinction is between selfish love and self-less love.
I wrote that post with the concept of self-less love (though I hadn't put that name to it) firmly ingrained in my psyche. Because of this perception, I hadn't even considered that selfish love could exist. I think, in fact, many of you would question this, saying "Can it really be love if it's self-centered?"
My answer would have been no. No, it can't really be love. But Ayn Rand, I believe, would disagree. And that's why this clarifying post is necessary.
She wouldn't deny love's existence, but she would assert (I think) that our love stems from our selfish interests. I admit I am a selfish person. I know I struggle with myselfishness (I combined those words intentionally. It's poetic. I think.). And I know I can't love perfectly. But based on what I have felt and known, based on those times when I have been able to put myselfish interests aside, I believe true love stems from self-lessness. And I believe this is the model of love God has shown us, especially through the life and death of Jesus Christ.
I still believe God is love (self-less love). I still believe love exists (self-less love). And I still believe Rand's Objectivism attempts to deny both God and love (self-less love). And I think she's wrong on both counts. Sadly and depressingly wrong.
--Thanks for Reading
In that post, I refer frequently to the concept of "love," using its existence as the basis for my disagreement with Ayn Rand's Objectivism. But it has been brought to my attention (Thanks, Nate and Luke) that I need to clarify what exactly love is----or what exactly I mean when I use the word.
These two thinkers stressed the importance of differentiating between love as a verb and love as a noun, and also between self-less and selfish love. In this case, I think the most important distinction is between selfish love and self-less love.
I wrote that post with the concept of self-less love (though I hadn't put that name to it) firmly ingrained in my psyche. Because of this perception, I hadn't even considered that selfish love could exist. I think, in fact, many of you would question this, saying "Can it really be love if it's self-centered?"
My answer would have been no. No, it can't really be love. But Ayn Rand, I believe, would disagree. And that's why this clarifying post is necessary.
She wouldn't deny love's existence, but she would assert (I think) that our love stems from our selfish interests. I admit I am a selfish person. I know I struggle with myselfishness (I combined those words intentionally. It's poetic. I think.). And I know I can't love perfectly. But based on what I have felt and known, based on those times when I have been able to put myselfish interests aside, I believe true love stems from self-lessness. And I believe this is the model of love God has shown us, especially through the life and death of Jesus Christ.
I still believe God is love (self-less love). I still believe love exists (self-less love). And I still believe Rand's Objectivism attempts to deny both God and love (self-less love). And I think she's wrong on both counts. Sadly and depressingly wrong.
--Thanks for Reading
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Objectively thinking...
I recently finished reading Ayn Rand's classic novel, The Fountainhead.
Though I was immersed in the plot and interested in the characters, I read the novel with a twinge (sometimes it was more like a convulsive twitch) of doubt. The novel is not overtly allegorical, but all the elements are there. And they all combine to guide (maybe "strongarm" is a better term) readers to an understanding of Rand's thesis (something I prefer not to find in novels). To her credit, away from the pages of The Fountainhead, she never tried to deny her theory nor her use of novels (including another classic, Atlas Shrugged) as vehicles to express her philosophy.
In fact, she was so open about her philosophical ideals, that she founded her own school of philosophical thought: Objectivism.
Ayn Rand summarizes Objectivism like this:
"My philosophy, in essence, is the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute."
This philosophy is exhibited full force in The Fountainhead through the glorification of Howard Roark, an architect who flouts societal norms to pursue personal achievement. Roark is the "fountainhead" to which the title refers, the source from which all things flow. Why? Because he is willing to put himself first, to ignore the expectations of others and pursue only that which matters to him. His selfishness is glorified as a way of being true to oneself. (It's no surprise that Rand also wrote a book titled "The Virtue of Selfishness.")
Objectivism is still championed today by the Ayn Rand Institute, which, according to its website( http://www.aynrand.org ), has a "two-pronged strategy" (it never specifies for what goal this "strategy" is designed) that includes "educational programs" to enable the institute to "find, train, and support individuals who thoroughly understand Ayn Rand's ideas" and "outreach programs" through which Rand's works are "disseminated...to the general public."
Wow, what kind of author wouldn't crave that kind of PR? Though unfortunately for her, Rand isn't alive to reap the financial benefits. She passed away in 1982, roughly eight months before I was born--not that this information is relevant in any way.
I'm not going to say that Ayn Rand's philosophy is wrong (at least, I won't say that so definitively), and I certainly won't claim that it is entirely lacking in merit. Rand was wiser than I ever will be; in Objectivism, she created something grandiose, something that could only be conceived in the mind of an introspective, observational, and extremely astute thinker.
But, that doesn't make her right.
Stephen Hawking, for example, might be able to write a confounding dissertation refuting the existence of gravity; he could espouse theories, formulas, theorems, and all kinds of data that would boggle my mind. Yet, even though I would never claim to be smarter, more capable of significant and profound thought, than Stephen Hawking, I could know that his thesis was wrong. Because he formed it on a faulty premise, one that doesn't allow for the existence of gravity.
Rand's philosophy, I would suggest, is also formed on a faulty premise--one that doesn't allow for the existence of God.
Taken from the Ayn Rand Institute's website, here are the essentials of Objectivism (Feel free to skip over number 4):
1. Reality exists as an objective absolute--facts are facts, independent of man's feelings, wishes, hopes, or fears.
2. Reason (the faculty which identifies and integrates the material provided by man's senses) is man's only means of perceiving reality, his only source of knowledge, his only guide to action, and his basic means of survival.
3. Man--every man--is an end in himself, not the means to the ends of others. He must exist for his own sake, neither sacrificing himself to others nor sacrificing others to himself. The pursuit of his own rational self-interest and of his own happiness is the highest moral purpose of his life.
4. The ideal political-economic system is laissez-faire capitalism. It is a system where men deal with one another, not as victims and executioners, nor as masters and slaves, but as traders, by free, voluntary exchange to mutual benefit. It is a system where no man may obtain any values from others by resorting to physical force, and no man may initiate the use of physical force against others. The government acts only as a policeman that protects man's rights; it uses physical force only in retaliation and only against those who initiate its use, such as criminals or foreign invaders. In a system of full capitalism, there should be (but, historically, has not yet been) a complete separation of state and economics, in the same way and for the same reasons as the separation of state and church.
source: http://www.aynrand.org/site/PageServer?pagename=objectivism_intro
(And that is just the "Introduction.")
As I said earlier, I'm not going to argue that her whole theory is bogus. (For example, how can one argue with the suggestion that "facts are facts--independent of man's feelings, wishes, hopes, or fears"?) But, again, I think her premise is flawed.
Rand's theory clearly does not allow for the existence of God. On the same ARI website mentioned above, within the "Essentials of Objectivism," one can find statements such as "Thus Objectivism rejects any belief in the supernatural" and "Thus Objectivism rejects mysticism," defining mysticism as "any acceptance of faith or feeling as a means of acquiring knowledge," and "Thus Objectivism rejects any form of determinism, the belief that man is a victim of forces beyond his control," which is then classified to include "God" as one of the forces beyond man's control.
As for the Christian idea of living one's life for God...a response to this can be found in Rand's view of ethics, which states "Thus Objectivism rejects any form of altruism--the claim that morality consists in living for others or for society."
These ideas become more interesting to me when I consider what 1 John 4:16 says:
"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him" (NIV).
God is love. In the light of Ayn Rand's philosophy, it is interesting to think about this verse, because while Objectivism clearly does not allow for the existence of God, it also (not so coincidentally) leaves no room for the existence of love.
Of course the rejection of love isn't openly stated (Nowhere does it say, "Thus Objectivism rejects the belief in love..."). But think about it:
Point 1 says "Reality exists in facts."
Point 2 says that reason is the key to knowledge, and it limits reason to ideas that can be derived from the five senses.
Point 3 states that man exists only for himself.
Point 4 really just promotes Capitalism (undoubtedly because Rand barely escaped from newly Communist Russia in 1925).
Based on the first 3 points (the 4th point has no bearing on a conversation about any emotion, or things regarding man's individual experiences, since it is more concerned with man as an organized, cooperative body), I challenge anyone to find something in Rand's philosophy that allows for love. Reason? Is love reasonable? Reality, facts? What can be factual about love?
Love can't be directly connected to the ability to taste, touch, smell, see, or hear. Love can't be perfectly categorized, accurately measured, or even adequately compared. (How can one know what "love" feels like to another? It would be like knowing how much someone else enjoys the taste of lobster, or pistachio-flavored ice cream.)
I know these arguments could be made for other strong emotions, but I think there is a difference. Anger, for example, usually can be traced to a recognizable source. Love's origin is not nearly as easy to pinpoint. We also can feel love, sometimes inexplicably, for family members with whom our relationships are strained. Why? How?
Personally, I believe love might be the one emotion that exists completely detached from reason. No one decides to love someone because it's prudent, reasonable, the most logical step for achieving one's future goals. (Some might choose to marry for these reasons, but not to love.)
Though love can't be proven scientifically, or even philosophically (at least, I don't think it can), few would argue that love doesn't exist. Not even Ayn Rand would suggest this, regardless of what her philosophy says (or doesn't say). I can say this because even Howard Roark, Rand's "fountainhead," her "ideal man," acknowledges love for two people in her novel. How her ideal man can love, when he is supposed to function solely through the machinery of reason, is something she never bothers to explain. I would contend that it is something she can't explain. Because it just doesn't fit.
And this is where Objectivism breaks down. Love exists. None can prove it, but we know it to be true.
God's existence is something that I know I have felt, and something I can't prove. But God's existence is something I know to be true (And I don't mean "relativistic truth," as if it isn't true for others. I just mean I can't say I know that they know it to be true. One can't be certain about what others "know.") But God's existence is something I have felt deeply and truly, sort of like the way I feel love for (and from) my family, friends, and Barbie. I think there is an explanation for why these feelings are similar, and it goes back to 1 John: 4:16:
"God is love."
And I think everyone has felt that on some level, whether they know it or not. I don't think anyone can find fulfillment or purpose in Objectivism, in the idea that our own happiness should be our "moral purpose in life," that "productive achievement" is our "noblest activity," or even that "reason" is the only "absolute."
Because love is absolute; love is real. And God is love. To deny God is to deny love, and to deny love is to deny God. Either way, without God and without love, we would be left with nothing but ourselves. We would be left with only our ability to reason, our ability to achieve, and our own personal pursuit of happiness. We would be incapable of transcending Rand's doctrine of selfishness; we would be left with Objectivism.
If this were really the world we live in, one without God and without love, then Ayn Rand's philosophy would do a great job of categorizing and explaining it. Thankfully for all of us (despite what her theory claims), hers isn't a world of reality, but a product of her own construction.
Sort of like the impressive buildings designed by her beloved protagonist, her manifestation of Objectivism, architect Howard Roark.
As for Howard Roark, I admit I liked him. He demanded my admiration as I observed his resolve, hard-nosed determination, and unwavering belief in himself. I respected his unwillingness, or inability, to compromise.
And yet, I always felt that twinge, that convulsive twitch, of doubt. Howard Roark was created by Ayn Rand to exemplify a life lived rationally, relying solely on reason, but I couldn't escape the feeling that, page after page, no matter how hard Rand tried to make him real (and she often tried very hard, with long-winded diatribes that would promptly be edited down if the book were written today), Howard Roark just wasn't believable.
And that's because Howard Roarks do not exist in reality. Neither does Ayn Rand's Objectivism.
Thank God.
--Thanks for Reading.
Note: If this were a book review, I would recommend The Fountainhead. It was Rand's philosophy with which I found contention. The story itself was intriguing and refreshing in many ways. I tried to refrain from providing too much plot detail in order to preserve the novelty for any prospective readers. If you're interested in reading it, don't let me discourage you. I enjoyed it.
Friday, April 27, 2007
POW!
George Steinbrenner is known for firing people on a whim. 
Donald Trump cans competent people for reality television, for the sake of ratings.
But this story puts both of these trigger-happy (trust me, there is no pun intended here...at least not yet) supervisors to shame.
The background information is well known by now: On Monday, April 16, Virginia Tech senior Seung-Hui Cho killed 32 of his fellow students before taking his own life. Understandably, this disturbing assault shocked the entire United States, perhaps even the world, but especially Virginia Tech and other educational establishments--including Emmanuel College, a private institution located in Boston, Massachussetts,
Two days later, after being prompted to initiate discussion with his students, Nicholas Winset, an adjunct professor at Emmanuel College, led his class through a five-minute demonstration that included (according to the AP) "a discussion of gun control, whether to respond to violence with violence, and the public's celebration of victimhood."
He also used a marker as a visual aid and pointed it at students (nothing indicates that he did this joyfully or with any intended disrespect for the VT victims or family members of those slain). Oh, one more thing, when he pointed the marker, he said (if you are reading this out loud and if there are children present, please cover their ears now), "pow."
Two days later, Winset received a letter from Emmanuel College that said he had been fired, and that he was no longer welcome on campus.
(I want to pause to clear a couple things up. Here are the facts:
1. "POW!" is often likened to the sound of a gun being fired. It's onomatopoeia. (Bang! and Boom! also serve the same purpose, with the variations obviously specifying different models of weapons. I haven't seen the results of any ballistic tests, but based on the backlash, I think police must have been able to link "pow" exclusively to the weapons used by the Virginia Tech shooter.)
2. Winset didn't actually have a gun.
3. He had a marker. And somewhere, somehow, someone has probably been killed by markers. Or at least had an eye put out.
4. There were no reports of any deaths or eye injuries resulting from Winset's marker-wielding rampage.
5. Winset didn't have a license to carry a marker.
6. Though fired, Winset is surprisingly still at large. And I haven't heard, but I don't think anyone has confiscated his markers.
Now, I feel like we can move on with this blog... don't you?)
According to the Associated Press, "Emmanuel College has clear standards of classroom and campus conduct, and does not in any way condone the use of discriminatory or obscene language."
You know, it's funny. I've heard this story in the news, and I've heard the "pow" part repeated several times. I have no idea what the FCC is up to, because they're certainly not doing their job if they've stopped censoring "discriminatory and obscene language" like "pow."
Since this firing, my co-worker and friend, Steve, and I have been saying "POW!" to one another. When our boss overhears us, she says, "You're fired!" It just occurred to me that all of our jobs are in danger. Because all it will take is for one person to overhear and decide we're being too insensitive about the situation involving Winset being too insensitive.
Who knows, maybe I'll have a letter waiting in my mailbox on Friday.
But back to Winset's demonstration. According to the Associated Press, one of the students present, 19-year-old Junny Lee said that "most students didn't appear to find Winset's demonstration offensive."
But someone must have found it offensive, someone must have complained, because Winset was fired.
I don't know what kind of man Winset is; I don't know if he's kind-hearted or a destructive bastard. Honestly, I don't care. Because to me, this story is indicative of something much larger than the firing of an adjunct professor. I think the fallout illustrates our society's desire to control things beyond our control, and our tendency, in our misguided efforts to regain control, to make the waters muddier. I would never suggest that those condoning Winset's firing are in any way responsible for the VT shootings; I would never suggest that they might have blood on their hands. But their support is part of the reason people like Winset can be fired for something so trivial. And in this sense, their hands are dirty. Maybe stained by marker.
But you know, I'm offended, too. I'm not, however, offended by Winset's demonstration, by his effort to help his students process the VT tragedy, to aid them in understanding the issues involved. I'll tell you what I am offended by: I'm offended by someone thinking the right to bear arms gives them the license to kill 32 innocent college students. I'm very offended by that.
And, I think it's safe to assume, for once, my feelings align pretty nicely with those of the American people. And when we watch the stories on television, when we encounter such tragedy, I think our desire is to fix it. The problem is, we can't. We can't fix what already happened. (We can, however, try to prevent it from happening again. I would think one way to do this might include talking about it inside college classrooms, but that's just me...) And when we can't fix the actual problem, we settle for lesser measures. So when someone complains that a professor has led a demonstration that may have offended some, what happens? Is the professor called in? Asked to explain himself? Given the opportunity to apologize to those he may have offended? No, he is fired swiftly and efficiently, given less explanation than Trump's Apprentice victims.
And then, somewhere in the fallout, voices are justifying Winset's firing by saying "Well, he taught Financial Accounting. His classroom is not the place for such a demonstration." Apparently, the topic should be restricted to Current Events 101.
And it's funny how those voices can be right, and so wrong. That demonstration had nothing to do with Financial Accounting. But, so what? When Cho went through Virginia Tech firing over a hundred shots into innocent kids (forgive me if that sounds crass, as insensitive as "pow," but I tend to think points are best made by addressing things directly. I'm Winset-esque in that way), do you think anyone said, "We would have been ready for this if it had been applicable enough for discussion in any of our classes."? Of course not.
And I know I just made an illogical assumption there by suggesting that a classroom discussion could ever prepare students for something as irrational and unprovoked as what happened in Blacksburg, Virginia. Truthfully, nothing is going to really prepare students for something that heinous (maybe boot camp). But, in the aftermath, I think we can learn something from it. To do so, it's necessary to talk about it. People who claim Winset had no business talking about this in his classroom are short-sighted, and I think they're just trying to regain composure, attempting to control something, longing for someone to punish.
And, unfortunately for Nicholas Winset and his family, Emmanuel College elected him to be the public scapegoat, all because he had the audacity to say, "pow."
I think it's funny (ironic might be the better word) when one considers that part of Winset's demonstration included his opinions on society's "celebration of victimhood." And two days later, Emmanuel College welcomed him to the victim party by showing him the door.
And for some reason I picture Bob Barker, smiling with his long, ridiculously slim microphone while Rod Roddy calls out, "Nicholas Winset, come on down! You're the next victim on The Price Isn't Right."
(Insert cheesy music and elderly people clapping their hands)
You know, I never thought that gameshow was fair. One contestant can bid trying to get as close to that correct price as possible. Then another contestant can bid the minimum, $1, not even trying. And if that first contestant goes a little bit over, the one who did nothing wins--even if they're farthest away from what's right.
The price certainly isn't right for Nicholas Winset. He tried to do what he could, and it didn't pay off. I guess he should have done the minimum. He should have bid $1 and hoped for the best.
But you know, that attitude sounds like the kind of thing that gets people fired in the New York Yankees organization, or on The Apprentice.
Which means Nicholas Winset's job would have been more secure under Steinbrenner or Trump. But I'm sure that's no consolation for him. Just like his firing is no consolation for those who suffered the most serious kind of loss, the family members and friends who lost loved ones in Blacksburg.
--Thanks for Reading
[ Please know that my obvious disdain is directed solely towards the Winset firing, and I feel nothing but sorrow and sympathy for those of you who were personally impacted by the Virginia Tech shooting. May God be with you and comfort you in this bleak time. ]
Donald Trump cans competent people for reality television, for the sake of ratings.But this story puts both of these trigger-happy (trust me, there is no pun intended here...at least not yet) supervisors to shame.
The background information is well known by now: On Monday, April 16, Virginia Tech senior Seung-Hui Cho killed 32 of his fellow students before taking his own life. Understandably, this disturbing assault shocked the entire United States, perhaps even the world, but especially Virginia Tech and other educational establishments--including Emmanuel College, a private institution located in Boston, Massachussetts,
Two days later, after being prompted to initiate discussion with his students, Nicholas Winset, an adjunct professor at Emmanuel College, led his class through a five-minute demonstration that included (according to the AP) "a discussion of gun control, whether to respond to violence with violence, and the public's celebration of victimhood."
He also used a marker as a visual aid and pointed it at students (nothing indicates that he did this joyfully or with any intended disrespect for the VT victims or family members of those slain). Oh, one more thing, when he pointed the marker, he said (if you are reading this out loud and if there are children present, please cover their ears now), "pow."
Two days later, Winset received a letter from Emmanuel College that said he had been fired, and that he was no longer welcome on campus.
(I want to pause to clear a couple things up. Here are the facts:
1. "POW!" is often likened to the sound of a gun being fired. It's onomatopoeia. (Bang! and Boom! also serve the same purpose, with the variations obviously specifying different models of weapons. I haven't seen the results of any ballistic tests, but based on the backlash, I think police must have been able to link "pow" exclusively to the weapons used by the Virginia Tech shooter.)
2. Winset didn't actually have a gun.
3. He had a marker. And somewhere, somehow, someone has probably been killed by markers. Or at least had an eye put out.
4. There were no reports of any deaths or eye injuries resulting from Winset's marker-wielding rampage.
5. Winset didn't have a license to carry a marker.
6. Though fired, Winset is surprisingly still at large. And I haven't heard, but I don't think anyone has confiscated his markers.
Now, I feel like we can move on with this blog... don't you?)
According to the Associated Press, "Emmanuel College has clear standards of classroom and campus conduct, and does not in any way condone the use of discriminatory or obscene language."
You know, it's funny. I've heard this story in the news, and I've heard the "pow" part repeated several times. I have no idea what the FCC is up to, because they're certainly not doing their job if they've stopped censoring "discriminatory and obscene language" like "pow."
Since this firing, my co-worker and friend, Steve, and I have been saying "POW!" to one another. When our boss overhears us, she says, "You're fired!" It just occurred to me that all of our jobs are in danger. Because all it will take is for one person to overhear and decide we're being too insensitive about the situation involving Winset being too insensitive.
Who knows, maybe I'll have a letter waiting in my mailbox on Friday.
But back to Winset's demonstration. According to the Associated Press, one of the students present, 19-year-old Junny Lee said that "most students didn't appear to find Winset's demonstration offensive."
But someone must have found it offensive, someone must have complained, because Winset was fired.
I don't know what kind of man Winset is; I don't know if he's kind-hearted or a destructive bastard. Honestly, I don't care. Because to me, this story is indicative of something much larger than the firing of an adjunct professor. I think the fallout illustrates our society's desire to control things beyond our control, and our tendency, in our misguided efforts to regain control, to make the waters muddier. I would never suggest that those condoning Winset's firing are in any way responsible for the VT shootings; I would never suggest that they might have blood on their hands. But their support is part of the reason people like Winset can be fired for something so trivial. And in this sense, their hands are dirty. Maybe stained by marker.
But you know, I'm offended, too. I'm not, however, offended by Winset's demonstration, by his effort to help his students process the VT tragedy, to aid them in understanding the issues involved. I'll tell you what I am offended by: I'm offended by someone thinking the right to bear arms gives them the license to kill 32 innocent college students. I'm very offended by that.
And, I think it's safe to assume, for once, my feelings align pretty nicely with those of the American people. And when we watch the stories on television, when we encounter such tragedy, I think our desire is to fix it. The problem is, we can't. We can't fix what already happened. (We can, however, try to prevent it from happening again. I would think one way to do this might include talking about it inside college classrooms, but that's just me...) And when we can't fix the actual problem, we settle for lesser measures. So when someone complains that a professor has led a demonstration that may have offended some, what happens? Is the professor called in? Asked to explain himself? Given the opportunity to apologize to those he may have offended? No, he is fired swiftly and efficiently, given less explanation than Trump's Apprentice victims.
And then, somewhere in the fallout, voices are justifying Winset's firing by saying "Well, he taught Financial Accounting. His classroom is not the place for such a demonstration." Apparently, the topic should be restricted to Current Events 101.
And it's funny how those voices can be right, and so wrong. That demonstration had nothing to do with Financial Accounting. But, so what? When Cho went through Virginia Tech firing over a hundred shots into innocent kids (forgive me if that sounds crass, as insensitive as "pow," but I tend to think points are best made by addressing things directly. I'm Winset-esque in that way), do you think anyone said, "We would have been ready for this if it had been applicable enough for discussion in any of our classes."? Of course not.
And I know I just made an illogical assumption there by suggesting that a classroom discussion could ever prepare students for something as irrational and unprovoked as what happened in Blacksburg, Virginia. Truthfully, nothing is going to really prepare students for something that heinous (maybe boot camp). But, in the aftermath, I think we can learn something from it. To do so, it's necessary to talk about it. People who claim Winset had no business talking about this in his classroom are short-sighted, and I think they're just trying to regain composure, attempting to control something, longing for someone to punish.
And, unfortunately for Nicholas Winset and his family, Emmanuel College elected him to be the public scapegoat, all because he had the audacity to say, "pow."
I think it's funny (ironic might be the better word) when one considers that part of Winset's demonstration included his opinions on society's "celebration of victimhood." And two days later, Emmanuel College welcomed him to the victim party by showing him the door.
And for some reason I picture Bob Barker, smiling with his long, ridiculously slim microphone while Rod Roddy calls out, "Nicholas Winset, come on down! You're the next victim on The Price Isn't Right."
(Insert cheesy music and elderly people clapping their hands)
You know, I never thought that gameshow was fair. One contestant can bid trying to get as close to that correct price as possible. Then another contestant can bid the minimum, $1, not even trying. And if that first contestant goes a little bit over, the one who did nothing wins--even if they're farthest away from what's right.
The price certainly isn't right for Nicholas Winset. He tried to do what he could, and it didn't pay off. I guess he should have done the minimum. He should have bid $1 and hoped for the best.
But you know, that attitude sounds like the kind of thing that gets people fired in the New York Yankees organization, or on The Apprentice.
Which means Nicholas Winset's job would have been more secure under Steinbrenner or Trump. But I'm sure that's no consolation for him. Just like his firing is no consolation for those who suffered the most serious kind of loss, the family members and friends who lost loved ones in Blacksburg.
--Thanks for Reading
[ Please know that my obvious disdain is directed solely towards the Winset firing, and I feel nothing but sorrow and sympathy for those of you who were personally impacted by the Virginia Tech shooting. May God be with you and comfort you in this bleak time. ]
Friday, April 13, 2007
Well, Jesus didn't return. Now what?
Last summer I was driving in rural, southwestern Ohio when I stopped to get gas . This was not unusual. I tend to do this when my gauge nears that ominous "E." But when I swiped my credit card at the pump, I thought I was only buying gas. Little did I know, I was also paying for a lesson in (professed) Bible prophecy.
(Enter Greg Gault.)
A man in a red truck pulled up beside me and made eye contact. I had never met this man before, but his eye contact was so intentional that I felt I needed to smile or nod or somehow show that I know how to interact with human beings.
"How are ya?" he asked as soon as he got out to pump his own gas.
"Not too bad. You?"
"Oh, I'm doing well." Then, with absolutely no transition, "Do you know our Lord, Jesus Christ?"
I nodded, not quite willing to share a full smile with him, and said, "Yeah, I do."
I think I expected him to say something simple, something like, "Good." But no, not Greg Gault. Instead, he said, "He's coming back soon, you know?"
Very hesitantly I said, "yeahhh," agreeing and leery at the same time.
"I think it will be in 7 months."
Oh, well of course. I didn't say anything. I was no longer making eye contact. I was just thinking, "How does one address this?"
He must have discerned my doubt. "What do you think about that?" he wanted to know.
"Well, I think the Bible says we can't know the time or the place." (I mentally kicked myself for not being able to quote exactly, or even refer to the right book.)
This man went on to tell me that God does want us to try and figure it out. God wants us to know. I never agreed with his interpretation of the Bible, and I didn't show much interest in talking to him any more (If I remember correctly, it was nearly time for the kickoff of an OSU football game.) But my lack of interest didn't stop this man from giving me his business card.
It said:
Greg Gault
Teacher of Bible Prophecy
A church was mentioned on the card, but I won't risk discrediting the church by associating it with a man who, from the look of things, printed his own business cards to distribute while proselytizing at gas stations.
We said our goodbyes, maybe a "God bless you" or a "nice to meet you," the former I would have meant and the latter would have just been a formality. Then I got in my car and drove away to watch my Buckeyes.
But I kept that business card. For a long time.
***
That conversation with Greg Gault took place in August. It's now April. It's been 8 months and still no glorious reappearing of Christ.
In short, Greg Gault was wrong.
***
I probably held on to that business card for two months, rubbing my forefinger against it in the left front pocket of my favorite jeans, using it as a bookmark, putting it in a pile of things I wanted to get to...but, at least in this case, never did.
You see, I wanted to talk to Greg Gault again. I wanted to say the things I didn't think to say when I was surprised at the gas pump on Saturday morning.
And there was one element of our talk that I specifically wanted to discuss. And this related to the one thing he said that I really appreciated, the one aspect I truly admired about Greg Gault, gas station missionary.
I had told him that I didn't think we needed to know exactly when Christ returned, because we should just know that He will and live our lives as if it might be today. His response was, "Ah, but knowing when does one thing: It turns people into evangelists."
He went on to say that was the reason he brought the conversation up with me, because he knows there isn't much time left.
And I respect that attitude, to an extent. Evangelizing, sharing the Truth with people, is crucial. But what happens when our version of the Truth is based upon an event that doesn't come true?
That's what I wanted to ask Greg Gault. I wanted to say, "But what if you're wrong? If you're basing your belief on the fear of judgment, because you know he's coming back in March of 2007, what happens if you're wrong? Why not challenge people, evangelizing your heart out without trying to enlighten them with information the Bible says no one will possess?"
To me, it seemed a little pompous. A "look what I figured out" attitude. One that might scare a few people into a life change, and one that will most likely lead them back to their old ways when they realize the message was fraudulent, or at least misguided.
Why not evangelize without prophecies (or ungrounded predictions, if you prefer), sharing only the Truth?
That's what I wanted to ask Greg Gault, Teacher of Bible Prophecy.
And I think my desire was devoid of malice and pretension. I wasn't anxious to tell him he was wrong. I love that he cares about people enough to ask difficult questions at a gas pump on Saturday morning, to strike up friendly conversations with strangers. I admire that.
But it's April now. March was a month ago. The fear factor is probably gone.
And I still remember Y2K: the hype, the fear, the preparations. People thought the computers were going to crash and prompt the Apocalypse. Groceries were bought in bulk, newly constructed storm/bomb/Apocalypse shelters were constructed and filled with enough food and water to last years. And what happened? Basically nothing. A month later, how do you think those people felt when they thought about their Apocalypse shelter filled with food items? I don't know, but I'll bet they felt foolish.
What about anyone who came to Christ because they knew, thanks to the words (and business cards) of Teacher of Bible Prophecy, Greg Gault, that Jesus was returning in March?
I don't know, but I'll be they feel foolish, too.
And they'll probably abandon their new "faith" like those unneeded Apocalypse shelters, sheepishly hoping no one will remember that they had lived anticipating the end.
And it's tragic, because Christ is returning...sometime. And it's tragic because a relationship with Him can be more real than anything we'll ever experience, but only if it's founded on Truth. Only if we turn to Him with a desire to know Him and serve Him, and not because we're afraid his return is imminent and we don't think we can risk putting it off longer.
Because when the rain doesn't come, people abandon their umbrellas. It's just how it works.
And I wonder what Greg Gault thinks now. Does he think he miscalculated? Is he still prophesying, still distributing cards, foretelling Jesus's return in May or September?
Who knows?
I hope he hasn't lost his faith (if his faith is in fact real, and not an "Emergency Exit" plan), and I hope he continues to evangelize. I just hope he revamps his strategy, realizing that he doesn't need to know when Jesus plans to return.
Instead, he should spend more time telling people why.
And, come to think of it, so should I.
--Thanks for reading.
(Enter Greg Gault.)
A man in a red truck pulled up beside me and made eye contact. I had never met this man before, but his eye contact was so intentional that I felt I needed to smile or nod or somehow show that I know how to interact with human beings.
"How are ya?" he asked as soon as he got out to pump his own gas.
"Not too bad. You?"
"Oh, I'm doing well." Then, with absolutely no transition, "Do you know our Lord, Jesus Christ?"
I nodded, not quite willing to share a full smile with him, and said, "Yeah, I do."
I think I expected him to say something simple, something like, "Good." But no, not Greg Gault. Instead, he said, "He's coming back soon, you know?"
Very hesitantly I said, "yeahhh," agreeing and leery at the same time.
"I think it will be in 7 months."
Oh, well of course. I didn't say anything. I was no longer making eye contact. I was just thinking, "How does one address this?"
He must have discerned my doubt. "What do you think about that?" he wanted to know.
"Well, I think the Bible says we can't know the time or the place." (I mentally kicked myself for not being able to quote exactly, or even refer to the right book.)
This man went on to tell me that God does want us to try and figure it out. God wants us to know. I never agreed with his interpretation of the Bible, and I didn't show much interest in talking to him any more (If I remember correctly, it was nearly time for the kickoff of an OSU football game.) But my lack of interest didn't stop this man from giving me his business card.
It said:
Greg Gault
Teacher of Bible Prophecy
A church was mentioned on the card, but I won't risk discrediting the church by associating it with a man who, from the look of things, printed his own business cards to distribute while proselytizing at gas stations.
We said our goodbyes, maybe a "God bless you" or a "nice to meet you," the former I would have meant and the latter would have just been a formality. Then I got in my car and drove away to watch my Buckeyes.
But I kept that business card. For a long time.
***
That conversation with Greg Gault took place in August. It's now April. It's been 8 months and still no glorious reappearing of Christ.
In short, Greg Gault was wrong.
***
I probably held on to that business card for two months, rubbing my forefinger against it in the left front pocket of my favorite jeans, using it as a bookmark, putting it in a pile of things I wanted to get to...but, at least in this case, never did.
You see, I wanted to talk to Greg Gault again. I wanted to say the things I didn't think to say when I was surprised at the gas pump on Saturday morning.
And there was one element of our talk that I specifically wanted to discuss. And this related to the one thing he said that I really appreciated, the one aspect I truly admired about Greg Gault, gas station missionary.
I had told him that I didn't think we needed to know exactly when Christ returned, because we should just know that He will and live our lives as if it might be today. His response was, "Ah, but knowing when does one thing: It turns people into evangelists."
He went on to say that was the reason he brought the conversation up with me, because he knows there isn't much time left.
And I respect that attitude, to an extent. Evangelizing, sharing the Truth with people, is crucial. But what happens when our version of the Truth is based upon an event that doesn't come true?
That's what I wanted to ask Greg Gault. I wanted to say, "But what if you're wrong? If you're basing your belief on the fear of judgment, because you know he's coming back in March of 2007, what happens if you're wrong? Why not challenge people, evangelizing your heart out without trying to enlighten them with information the Bible says no one will possess?"
To me, it seemed a little pompous. A "look what I figured out" attitude. One that might scare a few people into a life change, and one that will most likely lead them back to their old ways when they realize the message was fraudulent, or at least misguided.
Why not evangelize without prophecies (or ungrounded predictions, if you prefer), sharing only the Truth?
That's what I wanted to ask Greg Gault, Teacher of Bible Prophecy.
And I think my desire was devoid of malice and pretension. I wasn't anxious to tell him he was wrong. I love that he cares about people enough to ask difficult questions at a gas pump on Saturday morning, to strike up friendly conversations with strangers. I admire that.
But it's April now. March was a month ago. The fear factor is probably gone.
And I still remember Y2K: the hype, the fear, the preparations. People thought the computers were going to crash and prompt the Apocalypse. Groceries were bought in bulk, newly constructed storm/bomb/Apocalypse shelters were constructed and filled with enough food and water to last years. And what happened? Basically nothing. A month later, how do you think those people felt when they thought about their Apocalypse shelter filled with food items? I don't know, but I'll bet they felt foolish.
What about anyone who came to Christ because they knew, thanks to the words (and business cards) of Teacher of Bible Prophecy, Greg Gault, that Jesus was returning in March?
I don't know, but I'll be they feel foolish, too.
And they'll probably abandon their new "faith" like those unneeded Apocalypse shelters, sheepishly hoping no one will remember that they had lived anticipating the end.
And it's tragic, because Christ is returning...sometime. And it's tragic because a relationship with Him can be more real than anything we'll ever experience, but only if it's founded on Truth. Only if we turn to Him with a desire to know Him and serve Him, and not because we're afraid his return is imminent and we don't think we can risk putting it off longer.
Because when the rain doesn't come, people abandon their umbrellas. It's just how it works.
And I wonder what Greg Gault thinks now. Does he think he miscalculated? Is he still prophesying, still distributing cards, foretelling Jesus's return in May or September?
Who knows?
I hope he hasn't lost his faith (if his faith is in fact real, and not an "Emergency Exit" plan), and I hope he continues to evangelize. I just hope he revamps his strategy, realizing that he doesn't need to know when Jesus plans to return.
Instead, he should spend more time telling people why.
And, come to think of it, so should I.
--Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Depravity Today
I've heard Christians say that our world will grow increasingly evil until the time of Jesus's return, becoming more and more depraved.
And I've heard others say that Jesus will work through the church to improve the world until the time when He returns.
I'm not a scholar or a theologian; I suspect these two ideas have technical terms, but I don't even know those. I do know what I think and what I have thought. And until recently, I was of the opinion that our world must be growing increasingly evil.
Here is some evidence:
Recently a 101-year-old woman was mugged in a corridor of her apartment complex in New York City. The man hit her in the face multiple times and stole her purse. This elderly woman needed a walker to shuffle down the hallway. If this man wanted her purse that badly, did he really need to beat her to take it? Did he need to throw her down before he walked out the door? As if she were capable of chasing after him.
A security camera caught this coward on tape. And the video, I'm warning you, is disturbing. It's the kind of video that makes you feel hollow inside. For those interested in feeling hollow inside, I'm including the link below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qx-4qesY1D4
The second piece of evidence for our world's increasing depravity centers around a 17-year-old girl from Minnesota. This girl's best friend was her dog. Was her dog. That is, until someone kidnapped (dognapped?) it. This girl posted missing signs, went door to door asking if anyone had seen her beloved pet, and repeatedly checked the local animal shelter.
Weeks later, this girl found a present gift-wrapped for her on the doorstep of the house she shares with her grandmother. Inside, she found the severed head of her dog, her "best friend." Also included in the box were pieces of Valentine's Day candy.
What kind of psycho cuts off a dog's head? What kind of sicko wraps it up (with Valentine's candy) and gives it to a girl who's already heartbroken?
For those interested, here is the article:
http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/03/15/dog.head.ap/index.html
Of the two, I think the second story is most disturbing. I can understand (without condoning) how a drug addict could be desperate enough to mug an old lady. Well, I can almost understand that. But I can't imagine anything (other than perhaps Satan himself) motivating someone to cut off a dog's head and gift wrap it for a seventeen-year-old girl.
Our newspapers contain disturbing headlines daily: another rapist, another brutal murder, another unthinkable act--sometimes things (gift-wrapping a dog's head, for example) too heinous even for Hollywood. Considering these daily reminders of the depraved state of our world, how could anyone suggest that the world isn't steadily becoming more and more evil?
Well, two weeks ago I wouldn't have said this, but I am suggesting, tentatively, that perhaps our world is improving. Here's why.
I've had the opportunity to see Amazing Grace twice. Once in November as part of a prescreening, and again two weekends ago. Amazing Grace, in my opinion, is a pretty good movie, but one that has been poorly marketed. The story does not focus on the classic hymn, though John Newton, the man who wrote the hymn, is a supporting character in the film. The story is about William Wilberforce and his quest to put an end to the English slave trade.
The story concludes with the abolition of the slave trade in 1807, exactly 2oo depraved years ago.
This movie and a newspaper article I discovered recently detail what the slave trade looked like. Again, I'm going to provide a link. Though I will give you enough information, I think, without it.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070317/ap_on_re_eu/slavery_s_brokers
200 years ago, slaves were packed into English ships sailing for the West Indies. They were chained and shackled, confined in spaces the size of coffins (narrow, unpadded coffins). Depending on the weather, their journey sometimes lasted for 6 weeks. 6 weeks, or a month and a half, chained in a box. During the journey, these stuffy confines filled with human waste and blood.
Dysentary, among other diseases, was rampant on these ships. To hide the slaves' dysentary from prospective buyers, the traders shoved knotted cords into their anuses. Or into their ani, if you prefer. (Check it; it's legit.)
And when disease was too overwhelming, one ship chose to do this (quoting from the article by Robert Barr, AP):
"One of the worst atrocities was aboard the Liverpool slave ship Zong, which was wracked with disease; Capt. Luke Collingwood ordered the crew to throw 133 sick slaves overboard, then tried to claim against insurance for 'loss of merchandise.'"
This anecdote shocked me more than either of the two recent crimes. I thought about how fragile I feel, how helpless, when I'm being attacked by a serious illness. And I imagined, at the height of my sickness, being hauled to the edge of the ship by my arms and ankles and hurled into the black sea--discarded like excess cargo. I thought about hitting the cold water (still in chains, I presume; unless the slave traders didn't want to lose their valuable shackles), and I wondered if I would even try to resurface. Would I have the heart to delay the inevitable?
And then I thought about the men tossing other men (and women) overboard. And I just can't fathom it. Didn't one of them look into their eyes? Didn't one of those men grasp an ankle, an arm, and think "This is human flesh."? Didn't one man, sometime before the 133 were sinking, say, "No, we can't do this!"
The answer is no. Or if one man spoke up, his voice wasn't loud enough. Because it still happened.
This story is just one among many, one example of the suffering inflicted upon slaves. And stories like these show that depravity is not new.
And Amazing Grace shows, in the diligent efforts of William Wilberforce, our ability to combat such depravity, to improve our world.
While one man might mug a 101-year-old woman, and another (probably a man) might decapitate a dog, at least our society demands justice. New Yorkers are anxious to find their mugger (he is suspected of mugging an 85-year-old woman, as well), and a $2500 reward has been offered for information about the dognapper in Minnesota. Whereas, a little over 200 years ago, after men had been thrown into the sea, their murderers tried to get insurance to reimburse them for the loss.
When attempting to assess our world's progressing or regressing morality, however, it would be erroneous to place slavery too emphatically in the "progressing" column. While the abolition of the slave trade and the eventual outlaw of slavery (in the US and elsewhere) were landmark events, our world currently contains more than 12 million slaves. (http://www.antislavery.org/2007/about.html)
Some reports state that there are more slaves now than any other time in human history.
Today's slaves might be treated better than the men and women who were packed on boats 200 years ago; I don't know. But slavery still exists, nonetheless. So maybe a good way to judge the moral direction of our world (even our nation) is to ask:
Do we care?
Do I?
-Thanks for reading
And I've heard others say that Jesus will work through the church to improve the world until the time when He returns.
I'm not a scholar or a theologian; I suspect these two ideas have technical terms, but I don't even know those. I do know what I think and what I have thought. And until recently, I was of the opinion that our world must be growing increasingly evil.
Here is some evidence:
Recently a 101-year-old woman was mugged in a corridor of her apartment complex in New York City. The man hit her in the face multiple times and stole her purse. This elderly woman needed a walker to shuffle down the hallway. If this man wanted her purse that badly, did he really need to beat her to take it? Did he need to throw her down before he walked out the door? As if she were capable of chasing after him.
A security camera caught this coward on tape. And the video, I'm warning you, is disturbing. It's the kind of video that makes you feel hollow inside. For those interested in feeling hollow inside, I'm including the link below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qx-4qesY1D4
The second piece of evidence for our world's increasing depravity centers around a 17-year-old girl from Minnesota. This girl's best friend was her dog. Was her dog. That is, until someone kidnapped (dognapped?) it. This girl posted missing signs, went door to door asking if anyone had seen her beloved pet, and repeatedly checked the local animal shelter.
Weeks later, this girl found a present gift-wrapped for her on the doorstep of the house she shares with her grandmother. Inside, she found the severed head of her dog, her "best friend." Also included in the box were pieces of Valentine's Day candy.
What kind of psycho cuts off a dog's head? What kind of sicko wraps it up (with Valentine's candy) and gives it to a girl who's already heartbroken?
For those interested, here is the article:
http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/03/15/dog.head.ap/index.html
Of the two, I think the second story is most disturbing. I can understand (without condoning) how a drug addict could be desperate enough to mug an old lady. Well, I can almost understand that. But I can't imagine anything (other than perhaps Satan himself) motivating someone to cut off a dog's head and gift wrap it for a seventeen-year-old girl.
Our newspapers contain disturbing headlines daily: another rapist, another brutal murder, another unthinkable act--sometimes things (gift-wrapping a dog's head, for example) too heinous even for Hollywood. Considering these daily reminders of the depraved state of our world, how could anyone suggest that the world isn't steadily becoming more and more evil?
Well, two weeks ago I wouldn't have said this, but I am suggesting, tentatively, that perhaps our world is improving. Here's why.
I've had the opportunity to see Amazing Grace twice. Once in November as part of a prescreening, and again two weekends ago. Amazing Grace, in my opinion, is a pretty good movie, but one that has been poorly marketed. The story does not focus on the classic hymn, though John Newton, the man who wrote the hymn, is a supporting character in the film. The story is about William Wilberforce and his quest to put an end to the English slave trade.
The story concludes with the abolition of the slave trade in 1807, exactly 2oo depraved years ago.
This movie and a newspaper article I discovered recently detail what the slave trade looked like. Again, I'm going to provide a link. Though I will give you enough information, I think, without it.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070317/ap_on_re_eu/slavery_s_brokers
200 years ago, slaves were packed into English ships sailing for the West Indies. They were chained and shackled, confined in spaces the size of coffins (narrow, unpadded coffins). Depending on the weather, their journey sometimes lasted for 6 weeks. 6 weeks, or a month and a half, chained in a box. During the journey, these stuffy confines filled with human waste and blood.
Dysentary, among other diseases, was rampant on these ships. To hide the slaves' dysentary from prospective buyers, the traders shoved knotted cords into their anuses. Or into their ani, if you prefer. (Check it; it's legit.)
And when disease was too overwhelming, one ship chose to do this (quoting from the article by Robert Barr, AP):
"One of the worst atrocities was aboard the Liverpool slave ship Zong, which was wracked with disease; Capt. Luke Collingwood ordered the crew to throw 133 sick slaves overboard, then tried to claim against insurance for 'loss of merchandise.'"
This anecdote shocked me more than either of the two recent crimes. I thought about how fragile I feel, how helpless, when I'm being attacked by a serious illness. And I imagined, at the height of my sickness, being hauled to the edge of the ship by my arms and ankles and hurled into the black sea--discarded like excess cargo. I thought about hitting the cold water (still in chains, I presume; unless the slave traders didn't want to lose their valuable shackles), and I wondered if I would even try to resurface. Would I have the heart to delay the inevitable?
And then I thought about the men tossing other men (and women) overboard. And I just can't fathom it. Didn't one of them look into their eyes? Didn't one of those men grasp an ankle, an arm, and think "This is human flesh."? Didn't one man, sometime before the 133 were sinking, say, "No, we can't do this!"
The answer is no. Or if one man spoke up, his voice wasn't loud enough. Because it still happened.
This story is just one among many, one example of the suffering inflicted upon slaves. And stories like these show that depravity is not new.
And Amazing Grace shows, in the diligent efforts of William Wilberforce, our ability to combat such depravity, to improve our world.
While one man might mug a 101-year-old woman, and another (probably a man) might decapitate a dog, at least our society demands justice. New Yorkers are anxious to find their mugger (he is suspected of mugging an 85-year-old woman, as well), and a $2500 reward has been offered for information about the dognapper in Minnesota. Whereas, a little over 200 years ago, after men had been thrown into the sea, their murderers tried to get insurance to reimburse them for the loss.
When attempting to assess our world's progressing or regressing morality, however, it would be erroneous to place slavery too emphatically in the "progressing" column. While the abolition of the slave trade and the eventual outlaw of slavery (in the US and elsewhere) were landmark events, our world currently contains more than 12 million slaves. (http://www.antislavery.org/2007/about.html)
Some reports state that there are more slaves now than any other time in human history.
Today's slaves might be treated better than the men and women who were packed on boats 200 years ago; I don't know. But slavery still exists, nonetheless. So maybe a good way to judge the moral direction of our world (even our nation) is to ask:
Do we care?
Do I?
-Thanks for reading
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Raising My Neighbors' Kids
I love kids.
I like to make faces at them in restaurants, I like to hear them laughing, and I like to, whenever I can, make them smile. To make them smile, I have only one strategy: When I catch a child staring at me, I open my big eyes as wide as I can. Usually this makes them smile (Although, sometimes they cry). But I don't like to play peek-a-boo, or bulge my eyes, when the kid's parents are looking.
Why?
It's because even though I love kids, I know pedophiles do, too. And, as Hamlet would say, therein lies the rub.
My neighbors have two twin girls, towheaded blondes who are always grinning, probably either six or seven years old. Occasionally I stop by my apartment during my lunch break, and during these times I sometimes see these girls leaving with their school bags, presumably for a half-day of Kindergarten.
One day when they were waiting in an SUV, they banged on the window to get my attention as I walked past them. I turned to see them both waving enthusiastically, and I smiled and waved back. This is just one example; these two outgoing, little girls have never failed to greet me cheerfully in passing.
Today I was walking to the front door of my apartment complex (a clear glass door which provides a view of the stairs within). My hands were full and I was trying to wrestle my keys from my suddenly stubborn coat pocket. I wasn't succeeding.
Then, I heard one of the girls crying "I"ll get it" as they both bounded down the stairs to open the door for me. (Opening the front door to an apartment complex for a man who is essentially a stranger.) Their father, or the man who seems to take them to school, or wherever it is they go with their backpacks, was walking up the sidewalk behind me (I wonder if he would have bothered to come up the walk if I hadn't been there; or would he have allowed the girls to walk unaided to his waiting SUV?).
As the girls opened the door for me, I said thank you, and I think I smiled. But I tried not to meet their eyes. I felt like doing so would make me look suspicious, like maybe the father would think I'm a threat just because I smiled at his girls.
I could never harm a child, and I have no unhealthy interest in them whatsoever. I know this. But I'm not delusional enough to expect fathers I don't know to know this about me. And honestly, I'm not sure I want them to think the best of me, or any stranger.
It's sad that I shouldn't be friendly to kids I don't know (especially free-spirited, friendly girls who seem happy to see me). But yet, what kind of message would I send if I'm friendly? Would I be teaching the girls that strangers can be trusted, that strangers are safe?
I don't know.
Of course, I don't think I looked threatening today. Not in the daylight, wearing work clothes, with my arms bearing two bags of groceries.
But there are unfriendly strangers who can wear dress clothes, walk about in daylight, and, heck, even carry groceries. I think I would prefer that parents choose to distrust me. Because if people choose to trust everyone, it only takes one psycho to change their daughter's (or daughters') life/lives, and it only takes one psycho to end a life. So by trusting no strangers, as sad as that might be, wouldn't parents be more likely to protect their daughters?
I know this sounds cynical, this whole "trust no one" mentality. But if it were your child, or your twin little girls, would you risk it?
I know I would prefer to be able to smile at those girls (any kid, really--boy or girl), but I wonder, in the long run, if it's wise:
If I were especially evil, I could have scooped up some snow, packed it into airtight balls, and blasted both those girls in the face. And then I could have run away laughing, leaving those girls with a lasting impression that strangers are dangerous (or at least that this stranger is, this stranger whom they have been so friendly to in the past). And I think that memory, that impression, would last longer than the snow stinging their face.
But, maybe, just maybe, a smile could leave an impression that would last just as long.
And if so, which is better? A scowl that scares the children closer to those they know they can trust, or a smile that warms them to further interaction with strange men?
I don't have the answer. I do know I don't want to scowl. I do know there is something special, something almost sacred, about a friendly encounter with a total stranger. I do know I feel moved everytime I experience unexpected goodness while interacting with those I don't know.
But I don't know what's best for those girls. And I don't envy parents their task: teaching children to be wary of strangers without molding them in a cast of continual cynicism.
And children aren't influenced by family alone. They have teachers, bus drivers, and Sunday School teachers. And, well, neighbors.
And to best assist as my neighbors attempt to raise those little girls, should I smile or simply look away?
I don't know. But I'll probably take my chances and keep smiling.
-Thanks for reading.
I like to make faces at them in restaurants, I like to hear them laughing, and I like to, whenever I can, make them smile. To make them smile, I have only one strategy: When I catch a child staring at me, I open my big eyes as wide as I can. Usually this makes them smile (Although, sometimes they cry). But I don't like to play peek-a-boo, or bulge my eyes, when the kid's parents are looking.
Why?
It's because even though I love kids, I know pedophiles do, too. And, as Hamlet would say, therein lies the rub.
My neighbors have two twin girls, towheaded blondes who are always grinning, probably either six or seven years old. Occasionally I stop by my apartment during my lunch break, and during these times I sometimes see these girls leaving with their school bags, presumably for a half-day of Kindergarten.
One day when they were waiting in an SUV, they banged on the window to get my attention as I walked past them. I turned to see them both waving enthusiastically, and I smiled and waved back. This is just one example; these two outgoing, little girls have never failed to greet me cheerfully in passing.
Today I was walking to the front door of my apartment complex (a clear glass door which provides a view of the stairs within). My hands were full and I was trying to wrestle my keys from my suddenly stubborn coat pocket. I wasn't succeeding.
Then, I heard one of the girls crying "I"ll get it" as they both bounded down the stairs to open the door for me. (Opening the front door to an apartment complex for a man who is essentially a stranger.) Their father, or the man who seems to take them to school, or wherever it is they go with their backpacks, was walking up the sidewalk behind me (I wonder if he would have bothered to come up the walk if I hadn't been there; or would he have allowed the girls to walk unaided to his waiting SUV?).
As the girls opened the door for me, I said thank you, and I think I smiled. But I tried not to meet their eyes. I felt like doing so would make me look suspicious, like maybe the father would think I'm a threat just because I smiled at his girls.
I could never harm a child, and I have no unhealthy interest in them whatsoever. I know this. But I'm not delusional enough to expect fathers I don't know to know this about me. And honestly, I'm not sure I want them to think the best of me, or any stranger.
It's sad that I shouldn't be friendly to kids I don't know (especially free-spirited, friendly girls who seem happy to see me). But yet, what kind of message would I send if I'm friendly? Would I be teaching the girls that strangers can be trusted, that strangers are safe?
I don't know.
Of course, I don't think I looked threatening today. Not in the daylight, wearing work clothes, with my arms bearing two bags of groceries.
But there are unfriendly strangers who can wear dress clothes, walk about in daylight, and, heck, even carry groceries. I think I would prefer that parents choose to distrust me. Because if people choose to trust everyone, it only takes one psycho to change their daughter's (or daughters') life/lives, and it only takes one psycho to end a life. So by trusting no strangers, as sad as that might be, wouldn't parents be more likely to protect their daughters?
I know this sounds cynical, this whole "trust no one" mentality. But if it were your child, or your twin little girls, would you risk it?
I know I would prefer to be able to smile at those girls (any kid, really--boy or girl), but I wonder, in the long run, if it's wise:
If I were especially evil, I could have scooped up some snow, packed it into airtight balls, and blasted both those girls in the face. And then I could have run away laughing, leaving those girls with a lasting impression that strangers are dangerous (or at least that this stranger is, this stranger whom they have been so friendly to in the past). And I think that memory, that impression, would last longer than the snow stinging their face.
But, maybe, just maybe, a smile could leave an impression that would last just as long.
And if so, which is better? A scowl that scares the children closer to those they know they can trust, or a smile that warms them to further interaction with strange men?
I don't have the answer. I do know I don't want to scowl. I do know there is something special, something almost sacred, about a friendly encounter with a total stranger. I do know I feel moved everytime I experience unexpected goodness while interacting with those I don't know.
But I don't know what's best for those girls. And I don't envy parents their task: teaching children to be wary of strangers without molding them in a cast of continual cynicism.
And children aren't influenced by family alone. They have teachers, bus drivers, and Sunday School teachers. And, well, neighbors.
And to best assist as my neighbors attempt to raise those little girls, should I smile or simply look away?
I don't know. But I'll probably take my chances and keep smiling.
-Thanks for reading.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Being Untouchable
"One cannot be betrayed if one has no people." 
--Kobayashi in The Usual Suspects
I used to pride myself on my ability to seclude myself, to moderate emotion. I was proud of my control, my ability to withhold.
I was not a loner. I just made sure no one had easy access to me, to the emotions I kept so carefully incarcerated.
I wanted people to see me as hardened, calloused--manly. I wanted to be given a wide berth. I wanted strangers to look away from my stare. I especially didn't want to need anybody.
I wanted to be untouchable.
"No matter how alone you are, and how tricky and determined, don't you need one person to know?"
--Alice Munro, from "Pictures of the Ice"
Even as I sneered at people who were too quick to disclose, those who wanted to share everything with anyone who had two ears (or any other means of listening), I felt a faint longing for intimacy. Geuine intimacy. (Even now, I cringe as I write this because I still cling to the hologram I once maintained, that of the untouchable.) But I couldn't maintain it because I wasn't created to be isolated. No one is meant for isolation.
I began to discover this faint longing during my time at Indiana Wesleyan University, probably about the time I rededicated my life to Christ (and I don't think this is a coincidence). I had accepted Christ when I was young, but in January of 2004 I committed to do more than just be a "Christian." This time I wanted to actually live my life for Christ (which should be the foundation of the commitment in the first place).
And in order to live my life for Christ, I couldn't be detached, isolated...untouchable.
Interestingly, the more I sought God, and the more I sought Christian community, the less I wanted to be untouchable.
And now I want to touch lives; I want to encourage people, support them, listen when they need someone. And anyone who knows me knows I'm passionate about honesty--genuine, frank, confessional, vulnerable openness with those we love and trust. Obviously, these ideals cannot exist in seclusion.
"The person who tries to be alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration."
--Pearl S. Buck
If Pearl S. Buck is right, if a "person who tries to be alone will not succeed as a human being," then I was failing at life. It can't get much worse than that, can it? Failing as a human being?
Maybe other avenues could have led me away from my emotional isolation. Maybe there are many viable processes that could have altered my mindset, but for me it was Jesus Christ who prompted me to lower my shield. And it was for this purpose: God wants to use me (He wants to use anyone who is willing to serve Him), but how could He use me to touch others when I kept everyone out of reach?
The result for me has been three things, in this order: I attained a sense of peace, became passionate, and discovered a purpose for my life.
And whether or not other routes could have prompted me to embrace openness, I know only Jesus Christ can provide the sort of freedom I've experienced. And He offers it to everyone (Sorry if I sound like a preacher, but it's too important not to mention).
Of course, Kobayashi (The Usual Suspects) is still right, "One cannot be betrayed if one has no people."
But without people, no matter how tricky and determined one might be, he will fail as a human being. And there is nothing manly about that.
-Thanks for reading.
--Kobayashi in The Usual Suspects
I used to pride myself on my ability to seclude myself, to moderate emotion. I was proud of my control, my ability to withhold.
I was not a loner. I just made sure no one had easy access to me, to the emotions I kept so carefully incarcerated.
I wanted people to see me as hardened, calloused--manly. I wanted to be given a wide berth. I wanted strangers to look away from my stare. I especially didn't want to need anybody.
I wanted to be untouchable.
"No matter how alone you are, and how tricky and determined, don't you need one person to know?"
--Alice Munro, from "Pictures of the Ice"
Even as I sneered at people who were too quick to disclose, those who wanted to share everything with anyone who had two ears (or any other means of listening), I felt a faint longing for intimacy. Geuine intimacy. (Even now, I cringe as I write this because I still cling to the hologram I once maintained, that of the untouchable.) But I couldn't maintain it because I wasn't created to be isolated. No one is meant for isolation.
I began to discover this faint longing during my time at Indiana Wesleyan University, probably about the time I rededicated my life to Christ (and I don't think this is a coincidence). I had accepted Christ when I was young, but in January of 2004 I committed to do more than just be a "Christian." This time I wanted to actually live my life for Christ (which should be the foundation of the commitment in the first place).
And in order to live my life for Christ, I couldn't be detached, isolated...untouchable.
Interestingly, the more I sought God, and the more I sought Christian community, the less I wanted to be untouchable.
And now I want to touch lives; I want to encourage people, support them, listen when they need someone. And anyone who knows me knows I'm passionate about honesty--genuine, frank, confessional, vulnerable openness with those we love and trust. Obviously, these ideals cannot exist in seclusion.
"The person who tries to be alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration."
--Pearl S. Buck
If Pearl S. Buck is right, if a "person who tries to be alone will not succeed as a human being," then I was failing at life. It can't get much worse than that, can it? Failing as a human being?
Maybe other avenues could have led me away from my emotional isolation. Maybe there are many viable processes that could have altered my mindset, but for me it was Jesus Christ who prompted me to lower my shield. And it was for this purpose: God wants to use me (He wants to use anyone who is willing to serve Him), but how could He use me to touch others when I kept everyone out of reach?
The result for me has been three things, in this order: I attained a sense of peace, became passionate, and discovered a purpose for my life.
And whether or not other routes could have prompted me to embrace openness, I know only Jesus Christ can provide the sort of freedom I've experienced. And He offers it to everyone (Sorry if I sound like a preacher, but it's too important not to mention).
Of course, Kobayashi (The Usual Suspects) is still right, "One cannot be betrayed if one has no people."
But without people, no matter how tricky and determined one might be, he will fail as a human being. And there is nothing manly about that.
-Thanks for reading.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Who's Responsible for Me?
On the morning of December 22nd, three days before Christmas, raindrops broke on my stooping head as I trudged briskly for my car. Once inside, just before I started the engine and shuttled myself to work, I saw something pinned underneath my windshield wiper. For once, it wasn't an advertisement. But I wish it had been. Showing through the plastic bag were the words, "I hit your car."
Further inspection of the note and my car revealed that a man named Scott had backed into me, busting my right rear taillight. I drove to work before calling the number Scott left on the paper sealed inside the plastic bag.
Scott, to his credit, was apologetic and eager to help. He wanted, however, to just buy me the necessary parts without going through insurance. I told him I wanted to turn it in. I had never been in an accident, but I thought this was the best policy.
To shorten the narrative, a detailed estimate revealed damages totalling $681. Slightly more than the cost of a taillight. I thought Scott would be angered, or at least frustrated, when I called to tell him the total. Scott never complained. I offered to get a second opinion, and he said, "No, if they say the rear panel's messed up, then I'm sure it is."
Scott filed the claim and I got everything taken care of without any problems.
I thanked him for being so helpful (Apparently, before he put the plastic bag-protected note on my car, he went door to door in my apartment complex to try and find the owner of the blue Eclipse with the Ohio State magnet on the back). And Scott said, "Hey, I would want somebody to do the same for me." And when I thanked him one last time, he said, "No problem. It's my pleasure."
"My pleasure"? Really? How exceptional...and absurd.
Some time after that minor incident in December, my roommate was involved in a much more serious traffic accident. While waiting to turn left, Chris (the roommate) was rear-ended by a woman who had been fishing her cell phone off the floor of her car. She was traveling roughly 45 miles per hour. Chris saw her at the last second and he hit his gas to decrease the impact for him and his passenger. The rear-ending car also tried to swerve, which only drove him into oncoming traffic--right into the path of an SUV. An SUV which was driven by a woman with no license and no insurance, mind you.
Chris's car was totaled and he had to go to the Emergency Room for sprained wrists and some significant contusions. Weeks later, the effects of the accident have not completely disappeared.
Unfortunately for Chris, Scott wasn't driving either of these vehicles. Instead, both women have tried to blame Chris for the accident. The rear-ender claimed Chris's headlights weren't on (nevermind the fact that pictures taken immediately afterward show them being on, and nevermind that she was coming from behind him and, had she been driving responsibly, his brake lights should have told her to slow the crap down), and the uninsured, unlicensed SUV driver claimed he turned in front of her.
So Chris has had to fight with the local police, who initially took the rear-ender's statement without taking his, and then cited him. He has had to negotiate with his insurance company. He sought legal consultation, and he will be expected to resolve this in court.
And all he did was try to turn left.
I'm sure Chris would love to have only gotten a smashed taillight, and I know he'd love it if either of the other drivers were willing to take responsibility for their mistakes. Then, instead of blaming him, they would apologize. And they'd offer to take care of the damage they caused. In fact, it would be "their pleasure" to do so.
But in our society, that doesn't happen. Unless you're lucky, like me, and you bump into (or get bumped into by) one of those rare Scott's out there. Those who know what it means to take responsibility for their actions, those who understand consequences and are even willing to seek them out when they know it's the right thing to do.
But all this left me wondering "What would I have done?" I wouldn't have claimed Chris's headlights weren't on, and I wouldn't have lied to the police (at least not in this stage of my life). But if I were Scott, would I have gone door to door in the rain looking for the owner of the damaged car? Would I have requested a plastic baggie from someone living in those apartments so I could scrawl my confession and cell phone number on a piece of paper that would be protected from the elements?
Or would I have written something sloppily, hoping and praying the rain would wash my number away? Would I have written anything at all, or just looked around to see if anyone noticed?
To answer all these questions, all I can say is "I don't know." I guess I don't know the depth of my integrity. I know it's easy to adopt the "well, if no one saw me do it..." mentality. It would also be easy to knock on a door, maybe two, and say, "Well, hey, I tried."
My insurance company told me I was lucky Scott left a note. Most people don't, they said.
Most people don't. But would I?
I think so. Now.
And maybe if the roles are ever reversed (God forbid), and someone thanks me for accepting my consequences, I can say, "Don't thank me. Thank Scott."
But I'm pretty certain I'll never say it's my pleasure. I still think that's absurd.
-Thanks for Reading
Further inspection of the note and my car revealed that a man named Scott had backed into me, busting my right rear taillight. I drove to work before calling the number Scott left on the paper sealed inside the plastic bag.
Scott, to his credit, was apologetic and eager to help. He wanted, however, to just buy me the necessary parts without going through insurance. I told him I wanted to turn it in. I had never been in an accident, but I thought this was the best policy.
To shorten the narrative, a detailed estimate revealed damages totalling $681. Slightly more than the cost of a taillight. I thought Scott would be angered, or at least frustrated, when I called to tell him the total. Scott never complained. I offered to get a second opinion, and he said, "No, if they say the rear panel's messed up, then I'm sure it is."
Scott filed the claim and I got everything taken care of without any problems.
I thanked him for being so helpful (Apparently, before he put the plastic bag-protected note on my car, he went door to door in my apartment complex to try and find the owner of the blue Eclipse with the Ohio State magnet on the back). And Scott said, "Hey, I would want somebody to do the same for me." And when I thanked him one last time, he said, "No problem. It's my pleasure."
"My pleasure"? Really? How exceptional...and absurd.
Some time after that minor incident in December, my roommate was involved in a much more serious traffic accident. While waiting to turn left, Chris (the roommate) was rear-ended by a woman who had been fishing her cell phone off the floor of her car. She was traveling roughly 45 miles per hour. Chris saw her at the last second and he hit his gas to decrease the impact for him and his passenger. The rear-ending car also tried to swerve, which only drove him into oncoming traffic--right into the path of an SUV. An SUV which was driven by a woman with no license and no insurance, mind you.
Chris's car was totaled and he had to go to the Emergency Room for sprained wrists and some significant contusions. Weeks later, the effects of the accident have not completely disappeared.
Unfortunately for Chris, Scott wasn't driving either of these vehicles. Instead, both women have tried to blame Chris for the accident. The rear-ender claimed Chris's headlights weren't on (nevermind the fact that pictures taken immediately afterward show them being on, and nevermind that she was coming from behind him and, had she been driving responsibly, his brake lights should have told her to slow the crap down), and the uninsured, unlicensed SUV driver claimed he turned in front of her.
So Chris has had to fight with the local police, who initially took the rear-ender's statement without taking his, and then cited him. He has had to negotiate with his insurance company. He sought legal consultation, and he will be expected to resolve this in court.
And all he did was try to turn left.
I'm sure Chris would love to have only gotten a smashed taillight, and I know he'd love it if either of the other drivers were willing to take responsibility for their mistakes. Then, instead of blaming him, they would apologize. And they'd offer to take care of the damage they caused. In fact, it would be "their pleasure" to do so.
But in our society, that doesn't happen. Unless you're lucky, like me, and you bump into (or get bumped into by) one of those rare Scott's out there. Those who know what it means to take responsibility for their actions, those who understand consequences and are even willing to seek them out when they know it's the right thing to do.
But all this left me wondering "What would I have done?" I wouldn't have claimed Chris's headlights weren't on, and I wouldn't have lied to the police (at least not in this stage of my life). But if I were Scott, would I have gone door to door in the rain looking for the owner of the damaged car? Would I have requested a plastic baggie from someone living in those apartments so I could scrawl my confession and cell phone number on a piece of paper that would be protected from the elements?
Or would I have written something sloppily, hoping and praying the rain would wash my number away? Would I have written anything at all, or just looked around to see if anyone noticed?
To answer all these questions, all I can say is "I don't know." I guess I don't know the depth of my integrity. I know it's easy to adopt the "well, if no one saw me do it..." mentality. It would also be easy to knock on a door, maybe two, and say, "Well, hey, I tried."
My insurance company told me I was lucky Scott left a note. Most people don't, they said.
Most people don't. But would I?
I think so. Now.
And maybe if the roles are ever reversed (God forbid), and someone thanks me for accepting my consequences, I can say, "Don't thank me. Thank Scott."
But I'm pretty certain I'll never say it's my pleasure. I still think that's absurd.
-Thanks for Reading
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