Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Agreed with the Wrong Guy

Ever get in a discussion with a group of people and wish that one of the guys agreeing with you, wouldn't?  Like if you were arguing that chocolate ice cream was the very best ice cream ever and all of a sudden Hitler walks up and agrees with you.  Now I don't know how you wound up in hell with Hitler and that is not the point, although I can see how discussions of ice cream might be popular in a fiery pit. But you get my meaning, right?  Even if you are firmly convinced of your argument, the fact that Hitler agrees with you might create the tiniest of self doubt or at the very least weaken your credibility with your audience.  Hitler was, after all, a vegetarian and foodies routinely discount their opinions on great cuisine.

On a tangent, have you ever heard someone make an argument, agree whole heartily, only to have the absolute authority on the subject disagree with you both?  You, like me, might want to change your mind and would only feel a slight embarrassment at being seen to be so wishy washy.  But what if you found yourself still agreeing with the first guy even in the face of the one person who is the final say in all matters on the subject?  That is hard to deal with.

Happened to me in church one Sunday.  I was a kid and I have no idea how old I was.  I think I must have been somewhere between 12 and 19.  I don't know that on an intellectual level as a fact, but I trust that  the emotional certainty that I felt had to be from that age.  I have never, ever, ever been so sure of myself as I was from the time I was 12 until I was 19.

The preacher was preaching about a variety of people interacting with Jesus and the the reactions of those people close to them.  There was one story of one sister who sat at HIS feet and listened to every word HE said while the other sister was rushing around making sure that everyone was fed and wined and comfortable.  She grew frustrated in a way that I understand all to well and asked HIM to tell her sister to get off her can and help take care of everybody the way the hostesses of a good dinner party should.

This made sence to me.  This was only right.  The work had to be done and it was the polite thing to do.  And it seemed patently unfair that one sister should just push it all off on another.  I was waiting for the MESSIAH to come off the top rope with a full on elbow of righteous indignation about laziness and poor manners.  Only he sided with the lazy girl that sat at his feet who listened to every word he said.  That seemed wrong to me.  And that is scary.  Standing in opposition to GOD is the very definition of sin.  But I still wanted her to get up and help her sister the way my dad had made me go help Mark clean the table after Sunday dinner.

The second story was about the woman that came into another dinner party with Jesus (is it just me or was there a time in HIS life when he was the social GET of the dinner party crowd?).  Anyway, there was a woman that showed up and cried over HIS feet in shame of her sins and used her hair to wipe HIS feet clean and then took a vial of ridiculously expensive oil and perfumed his feet.  Now this story has a twofer.  It has the person who you wish was not on your side and the authority figure siding against you.

Completely ignoring the emotional purity of the moment of the woman cleaning HIS feet with her tears, a DOUCHE (not DIVINE but just a major league douche) pointed out that perfuming HIS feet with the oil had been an outrageous waste.  If they had sold the oil at market it would have fed all the poor people in that area of ancient Israel until about 1972 (or thereabouts, Biblical scholars bicker over the exact time frame).  Again, I found myself agreeing with the emotionally neutered douche.  I thought that the emotional symbolism was an impractical bit of theatricality that over looked a pragmatic sacrifice that would have honored HIM while feeding the poor of the region until I was two years old.

Again, the MASTER disagreed.  He called douche boy on his insensitivity to the pure emotional honesty of the woman's reaction to the one PERSON who could forgive all transgressions.  HE also stated that she was right in the incredibly expensive demonstration of respect she made in spilling oil on his feet.  I remember being so confused as a boy.  And this was at a time when so very little confused me.  I knewright from wrong better then  than I do now.

Back then, I had no qualms with any actions I took when I knew I was right.  If you are right, your rightness justifies your actions.  Any compromise when you are right is only weakness and cowardice.  In those days I stood firm in almost every petty example of rightness that I found myself in no matter the consequence.  Hell, the better, or I suppose worse, the consequence, the greater the honor.

But to find yourself in opposition to Jesus.  Now GOD proper?  That I can understand.  GOD proper is the ultimate authority figure and we have all found ourselves questioning HIM if only at funerals.  I made that distinction really early on in my life.  GOD proper scared me and loved me the way my dad did.  I had complete faith in my dad to protect me from anything and to strangle me if I disrespected him.

But Jesus?  Jesus was always the friendly face of my faith.  The one who was slow to anger and was actually cool.  Learn your old English and go back and read HIS dealings with the political and religious leaders of his time.  Our LORD and SAVIOR was the ultimate in disinterested, cool dude, smooth argument.  HIS appeal to the teenage me was subversive as much as redemptive.

As much as I would like to be Paul (for you non-churched out there - Paul was Han Solo if Han had been Vader's right hand and then defected to the rebellion),  I am much more like Peter (the closest I can come is Ben Kenobi who thought the chosen one was gonna be one thing but was another and then thought the son of the chosen one would kill the chosen one - the analogy really breaks down - maybe I should find something from Star Trek).

Peter thought that Jesus was going to destroy the Romans and establish an Earthly kingdom in which Peter was promised to be a cornerstone of the whole empire.  Turns out it was nothing like Peter thought and after years of disappointing HIS teacher and even renouncing HIM  publically, Peter became one of the most accomplished leaders in the movement.  So maybe I am not SO much like Peter.

I just had ideas of how HE would react and HE  had the infuriating habit of not reacting that way.  The whole idea of those bracelets asking believers what HE would do always got me to smirk.  WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?  I have no idea.  I wanted to take the oil and sell it and feed as many people as possible.  And then I realized, it wasn't my oil.

Louis CK, a comedian, has a wonderfully bitter bit about how he does not need his Lexus.  He could do everything he needs to do with his car in a Camry.  He could pick his girls up from school, buy groceries, and go to movies in a shitty little Camry.  He could take the money from selling his Lexus and he could feed starving people in Africa for two or three decades.  "But I ain't gonna sell my damn car!"

He goes on to point out that he makes the decision to not sell his car and keep people from dying in Africa everyday, multiple times each day.  I know.  Funny, right.  But it is the same kind of insight that haunts me.  I would have hypocritically sold the woman's oil every single time,  but I ain't selling my truck.

Oh, I happen to think that the only reason the self hating Louis CK is still with us is that he has custody of his two daughters and can't bring himself to check out on them.  But that is just my opinion.  I think he is like me in that he would like to make the world better in some grand way but not in a way that requires too much (any) sacrifice.

I do a small bit.  I feed the hungry.  I support others who have actually taken an oath of austerity if not exactly poverty and help others.  I want to secure some sort of future for my wife and then I want to do more for those in need.  I think that makes sense.  The voice in my head says that makes sense.  I wonder, though,  if I am listening to the wrong man.

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