Snow Day Musings

As the weather has turned nasty here at my home in Ontario, Canada, I've been spending much more time at the computer. Hopefully what I've produced will do somebody some good somewhere.

I am particularly hopeful about DisturbingTheWorld.org. While this is strictly a part time labour of love, I do hope that people will benefit from the resources that are provided there, both in the form of the lessons and devotionals, and from the books featured for sale on the site.

Also at the site are forums and chats, so why not invite your friends for a relaxing time of online fellowship and discussion? You won't even need to shovel the snow to get to DisturbingTheWorld.org!

DisturbingTheWorld.org

View an expanded version of this blog at DisturbingTheWorld.org.

The Weight of Glory

Winter seems to have passed at last. The days are becoming long, the sun is shining, and the unmistakable aroma of spring is in the fresh outdoor air. I welcome the spring after a harsh and unrelenting winter as much as anyone. But in the celebration of spring, I like to pause to remember the lessons that the past winter has taught me.

While Canadian winters are known for their shortened days and darkness, what I love the most about a crisp winter’s day is the quality of the sun’s light when it does deign to shine. There is a blue, piercing quality to the light of winter that doesn’t exist at any other time of the year. It is a purer, truer light that shines on a sunny December morning.

In the same way, winter’s truth is a truth without distraction. The frills and fluff of the leaves and plants have been taken out of the way to reveal a bare bones reality that doesn’t allow for haziness, laziness, or excuses. The glare of the winter’s sun might seem harsh and blinding, but it can reveal things that would otherwise go unnoticed in the shadows. A shocking red cardinal at the bird feeder. The dust floating in a sunbeam that reminds me a good spring cleaning is long overdue. The truths that are revealed in the strong light of winter are both a reminder of the good and a caveat against the bad.

I am remembering a particular winter’s morning. After a prolonged sunless period of grey and dreary days, I awoke to a sparkling blanket of snow on the ground, and to trees laden with brilliance. I thought about the weight that those trees had to bear at that moment, and how burdensome it must be for them to bear the weight of all that splendour. Yet it was their heavy burden that, at that particular moment, was making those trees breathtakingly beautiful.

And strong. Those trees were not just made beautiful by their burden of glistening snow. They were also being made stronger, as they had been strengthened by the snows of previous winters. It is the same for us humans. Weight bearing exercise doesn’t just increase muscle strength, it also increases bone density and bone strength. Strength plus endurance… a formidable combination.

God help me to see my burdens in the dazzling light of winter, not as weights that hold me down and oppress me, but as glories that make me strong and beautiful. As St. Paul says, our “slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:17,18 NRSV)

Whatever your burdens and troubles might be at the moment, God cares about you. He wants to co-operate with you to turn them into strength and beauty.

No Helmet Required

This past summer I had the opportunity to spend some time in the beautiful state of Ohio. With its rolling, verdant hills and miles of scenic roads through lush Amish farm country, Ohio is a motorcyclist’s paradise. One other thing that makes it so is Ohio’s lack of a helmet law. While young bicyclists in Ohio are expected to wear helmets, motorcyclists are free to ride bareheaded.

I admit it caused me to do a double take every time I saw a helmetless biker. I was particularly amazed at how many long-haired women and men just let their hair flow in the breeze as they rode. Wouldn't it take hours to comb the tangles out? That feeling of freedom must be deemed worth the aggravation.

And freedom is what a motorcycle is all about. Even the freedom to ride recklessly without a helmet. Having some experience as a rider, I can testify that the thrill of facing instantaneous oblivion is definitely part of the allure. One slick spot on the road, one careless patch of loose gravel and your head could have a terminal encounter with a telephone pole, whether you’re wearing a helmet or not. Non-riders can’t imagine the gleeful liberation that this produces. It is an amazing gift to be unafraid of death. But where does this lack of fear come from? Is it a defiant, daredevil thumbing of the nose at God? Or is it a happy willingness to embrace mortality as an inevitable consequence of being human, trusting God with the outcome?

Overcoming fear is certainly part of the painful process of living and growing for everyone. No baby eaglet ever just spread his wings and flew out of the nest. They are all pushed out, flapping and screaming, to face certain death on the rocks below. But surprisingly, they fly. I can remember my first shaky attempts at bicycle riding, how my mother held on to the back of my seat, and the fear and elation I felt when she let go. I also remember the pain of toppling over and crashing on the sidewalk. I remember the blood. But I did learn to ride a bicycle, and have had many happier memories since those early days. I have no hard feelings toward my mother for letting go. I earned freedom and independence because of it.

Even as an adult, when going through difficult times you might feel abandoned by God. “Where is his love, now that I am sitting, bleeding, on the sidewalk? Why did he have to let go of me?” You might be tempted to give it up. The path to freedom, however, is perseverance. Get up, get with God, and get back on your bicycle. You might feel like God doesn’t care. But in fact, he is watching over you as carefully as ever, waiting for you to master the skills you need to ride with abandon. Take courage! He’s got the keys to your Harley in his pocket.

Beyond Good Manners 2

Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others.  If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter which fork you use.  ~Emily Post

As Emily Post, the guru of good manners acknowledges, it’s what’s inside that counts. It is possible to conceal a core of evil behind a smiling facade. A woman can be sweet and pleasant to your face and then figuratively stab you in the back with hurtful words. A man of "good-breeding" can politely send millions to their deaths in the misguided name of ethnic cleansing. These are moral infants who have never grown beyond the outward show of good manners to the internalised virtues that they are designed to represent.

A truly virtuous person has learned to value the underlying virtue over the external form of manners, without neglecting or devaluing the manners themselves. André Comte-Sponville, in A Small Treatise on the Great Virtues, encapsulates this by saying, "It is better to be too honest to be polite than to be too polite to be honest," valuing the virtue of honesty over the external show of politeness. Compte-Sponville is not advocating rudeness here, but just that we learn how to be truthful. Sometimes honesty means acknowledging our own limitations. How often do our lives get too busy because we are too polite to say no to people who ask favours of us? A frankly spoken “no” could save us from much bigger problems like resentment and burnout.

The value of internal virtue is also the lesson of Jesus when his disciples were caught handpicking grain to eat on the Sabbath, which was illegal. He rebuked their accusers with a quotation from the Scriptures saying, "If you had known what these words mean 'I desire mercy and not sacrifice,' you would not have condemned the innocent." According to the outward form of the law, the hungry and roadweary disciples were in the wrong, but Jesus valued their health and comfort above the strict letter of the law. He excused them without ever devaluing the law itself. The law is an outside imposition, a schoolmaster, what philosopher Emmanuel Kant calls an "external constraint," to teach people right and wrong through obedience. The real goal has always been that we would develop a true compass within us, guiding the way to right behaviour. This requires self-discipline and a lifetime of practice, which is why we teach manners to children.

We never outgrow the necessary social lubricant of politeness. But that must not be all that we have to live by. Good manners are meaningless without empowering virtues like the respect that indwells every "please," the gratitude that inhabits each "thank you," and the compassion that must infuse every sincere "I'm sorry." In all of our dealings, we should strive to be driven by these internal values. In addition to teaching our children the outward form of good manners, we must teach them the respect for others that is much more important.

Beyond Good Manners

My grandson William is not yet one year old, but his mother is already training him to say please. When William wants something, she reminds him, "Say please," and he responds by making a circular motion on his chest in the manner of American Sign Language. What can be the advantage in teaching a child who is still working on "Mama," "Dada," and "Nana" how to say please when he can't even really "say" it? All around the world parents devote much time and literally thousands of repetitions to reinforce the practice of saying please and thank you, and various other manifestations of what we refer to collectively as good manners. Politeness is the social grace and the slippery grease that lubricates our personal interactions. Without politeness the painful frictions of misunderstanding and hurt feelings can slow down the progress of our relationships or even cause them to blow up altogether. The tedious and painstaking repetitions involved in training a child in good manners are well worth the considerable effort expended.

But the most valuable lessons that have their seeds in the social graces are not as obvious. Manners, after all, are all on the surface, all glitz and gloss and only for show. For people like my dear little grandson the real value in good manners begins not in just saying "please," but in acknowledging his mother or father to whom he says it. If the psychologists are to be believed, very young children are completely egocentric. It is impossible for them to see the world from another's perspective. They first need to identify and understand that "others" even exist.

Saying please is an outward recognition of the "otherness" of the parent. It is the beginning of respect, which is the beginning of moral behaviour toward others. It is the end of the notion of the child as the centre of the universe. In being polite to another person, I am acknowledging his or her value and not just my own. Of course, all this philosophizing is lost on the toddler. But without realising it, his horizons have been broadened to include the concept of others through the simple act of saying please and thank you.

All virtue begins with this type of discipline. We need what Emmanuel Kant calls this "external constraint" to teach us how to be good. This is not something we can manage on our own. The French philosopher La Bruyère said that politeness makes a person "seem externally what he really should be." La Bruyère’s compatriot André Comte-Sponville says in his book A Small Treatise on the Great Virtues that "morality is first artifice and then artefact." We train a child how to act before she can even understand why she should act this way. We teach a child what to say before he understands the full meaning of what he is saying. This important training plants the seeds that can later grow into the true virtues of compassion and mercy toward others.

Keeping the Law as Well as the Faith

God has set forth very clear standards for our behaviour. Even in our secular society, most people have at least heard of the Ten Commandments. Even those who are completely irreligious have some understanding that there has to be a shared concept of morality for our society to function.

These standards are applied particularly stringently to Christians. Jesus himself said, "Where much has been given, much will be required," and "If you love me, keep my commandments." The world looks to us to set the pace when it comes to good morals. Jesus even demands it. Unfortunately, sometimes Christians publicly do what is blatantly wrong. Sometimes even those who profess to believe are so turned off by the shortcomings of Christians that they give up on the church.

As a Christian, I find this painful to face. It is painful is because I echo the sentiment to some degree. Christ has called his followers not just to live exemplary lives, but to exemplify him on earth. It is not enough for a Christian just to live an ordinary moral life. We must live in exactly the same manner as Christ, who commands us, saying, "Follow me. Take up your cross. Deny yourself. Lose your soul and be found in me." This is the highest calling there is and I admit that we all fall short.

The objection of sinful Christians is also painful because I take it as an insult to my family. The church is identified in scripture as a family. We call each other brother and sister. We bear each other’s burdens. We pray for each other. We support each other, even financially, in the difficult times.

Not only are we like family, we are like one big body, each one of us operating as a contributing part of the whole. Maybe we have body parts that are embarrassing to talk about. We don’t usually like to discuss our flaws.

It is easy to say, "This immoral person must not be a Christian after all." There is, however, a very clear and unequivocal reason why we must not come to this conclusion. We are not perfect people. Again, I admit my own embarrassment: I myself am not perfect.