Public Displays of...What?

We settled in after a rousing round of "How Great Thou Art" for a Missions presentation from a father-daughter team who had just returned from a short-term project along the Texas-Mexico border. They spoke compellingly about the needs of the people and how they worked tirelessly for five days to address those needs.  Cute pictures of laughing children and women frying up delectable dinners over open flames outside shanty houses followed.  

Seeing these presentations in church typically makes us Baptist folks feel like we're making a difference in the world, even though we neither gave to that mission nor went on that mission ourselves.  

Just as I thought it was over and "Amazing Grace" would close the service, the lights dimmed further, and a video came on.  I was intrigued, and then...

The pastor of that small shanty community was shouting in Spanish so that all of the people standing around could hear.  He translated about every third sentence into English for the Texan folks to understand.  He was essentially outlining this man's sins for everyone to hear. It was like a third party confessional - as if someone had hacked his Facebook account and was broadcasting all of the dirt from his personal profile for all bystanders to raise their eyebrows to. He described in detail how badly he had treated his family and what kind of a lazy employee he was.  After a few minutes of this, I was glad the pastor's spoken Spanish was faster than my ability to understand his Spanish.

After quite a lengthy littany, the pastor baptized the man in "el nombre del Padre, el Hijo y el Espiritu Santo."  And promptly burst into applause and song along with the rest of the crowd.  

Sins forgiven.  Facebook profile full of sins washed away.  A fresh new start...?

I did not know this man.  The returning short term missionaries had not met that man during their week away.  But the pastor sure knew this man, and now so does everyone within earshot of that baptism.  

I get it that a faith commitment is public.  I get that cultures are different in how they express faith.  I get it that pastors are different in how they perform the rites of the Christian faith.  

But WOW - to go from an anonymous nobody to "everyone knows every sin I've ever committed" is a big leap - not just of faith.  It's like some perverse Scarlet Letter.  Everyone knows that big A is supposed to be there, but the Baptism somehow magically cancelled all that out.  Too bad baptism can't cancel out the memories of all those folks standing there and watching the video in that church.  

I think of all of the fallen businessmen, child stars and other famous folks in the news who have fallen from grace in a very public way.  I really have no need to know about who is sleeping with whom.  I don't care whether they live in LA, NY or if they're my next door neighbor.  I have no need to have a businessman's wrongs outlined week after week on NBC Nightly News.  I just want to know that justice or karma has kicked them in the backside.  

 

The concept of private self dissolves when a wrong becomes public.  A private wrong echoes through media as well as tight knit communities, and it never goes away.  

I've made some mistakes in my day.  I've spoken publicly about many of them.  I've kept a great deal more to myself.  I'm glad I made my mistakes in the pre-Facebook era.  I'm glad that they only populate my bucket of regret and not a Google search of my name.  

Private events should really stay in the private realm.  Baptisms should not be an opportunity for a public reading of your private sins. Churches thousands of miles away from small Mexican shanty towns should not be subjected to a litany of someone else's sins.  Let's fight against the trend of "no knowledge is private knowledge" and have some boundaries in our lives.  And while we're at it, let's also define some boundaries about what we know and show about the private selves of others. 

Assumptions Make a You-Know-What out of You-Know-Who

"THAT'S why women need to have their own income, a job, and their own security." 

A puzzled look creased my brow. I narrowed my eyes at the woman across the table from me.  She jerked her chin, directing my attention to the table to my right.  

I turned to see a trim, well dressed man eating a chicken wrap.  The woman across the table from him wore a soft cast propping up her swollen hand.  Her eye was purple and green and was swollen down onto her cheek.  She was using her good hand to fork the big salad in front of her.   They spoke animatedly. They even laughed a little at some unheard joke between them. 

It appeared to me that she had been in a car accident but my lunch mate's implication was clear: the well groomed chicken wrap eater had done that to her.  

...Shame on him for being so mean. 

...Even more Shame on her for staying with him.  

The assumption that this relationship was wrecked instead of their Camry digs at me.  I've been down the abused path before (emotional, never physical).  I spent the next 10 years unfairly projecting a parallel.  I assumed that the public/private dynamics of my relationship must be the same in other relationships, too.  I made numerous accusations to that point that only cast my victim experience in sharp relief.  It did nothing to address the faults I projected onto others' relationship dynamics.  

I think it is natural to judge others for not being like you.  It is natural to judge others though the lens you judge yourself.  I always look at other women to see how I stack up --but I never look at the things I like about myself.  I look at the things I hate.  

We are conditioned to think in certain ways by many different things.  We notice things that stand out to us.  We notice things that we don't like about ourselves.  In the process, our individuality and others' individuality are left by the wayside like so much road kill.  

It is true that all people need their own sense of security. and Shame on abusers.  It is also true that we need to take a breath, recognize our own lens, and collect more information before we mentally accuse strangers of abhorrent actions. 

The Gospels urge us not to judge.  "Judge not lest ye be judged." from my experience, this might be in the wrong order.  Before my abuser, I didn't even see abuse.  How could I have judged it?  After that experience, it was all I could see for a time.  It was all I wanted to see for a time.  I'm relieved that this burden did not blind me today.

I've listened to many a sermon on premature and uninformed judgment.  Maybe I need just one more.  Maybe we all do. 

Remember the Sabbath Day?

Today, Saturday (this won’t upload until Monday at work because my apartment is slow to fix my internet access), is typically not referred to anymore as the Sabbath.  This has become part of the Western concept of the cycle of work because the beginning stories of the Bible record how early Hebrew people recounted the creation of the universe – and it ended with God resting and declaring that it was good.  So we get some time off at the end of the week.

I remember my small hometown would shut down on Sundays and all but roll up the streets.  As a little kid, Sunday after church we had to go straight home to eat or go to some family member’s house because there was nothing open, nowhere to eat, you couldn’t even buy a gallon of milk at the store because it was closed.  As a pre-teen, we started to eat after church at the Pizza Hut which had just opened.  It quickly became a tradition.  I remember the first time I was sent into the grocery store with money to buy milk after church.  I remember quizzically objecting, “Isn’t it closed on Sundays?”  Not anymore.  Nowadays, the only store I really want something from on Sundays is the only store that’s closed on Sundays – come on, why can’t I remember that Chick-Fil-A chicken biscuits are available on all days EXCEPT Sundays? 

My Bible study this week closed out with a reminder to take a Sabbath rest.  But taking a day off is easy.  Staying out of stores you need something from (or crave a chicken biscuit from) is difficult when you have the day off and others don’t.  The author of the study didn’t stop at challenging us to take a Sabbath rest – he challenged us to “reflect and celebrate” what the week has brought, what we have created, and who we are because of our created-ness.  The hard part of what he asked – that I will not be doing – was to stay home, require no work of someone else, and enjoy being with family. 

I had a friend in seminary who became Jewish, moved to L.A., and married a Rabbi all within a few months.  It was exciting to see her go on a journey toward expressing outwardly where she had already moved inwardly.  Her new Sabbath practices were instructive for me, too.  No turning on lights you didn’t need, no sweating, no walking/driving farther than a set limit, and spending a lot of time eating tasty food, talking with friends and family, and reflecting on the goodness of God.  I have to admit that the way it changed my perspective made me consider making the switch to the ancient side of the Good Book. 

Today, I plan to practice the second half of that list – the eating, talking and reflecting part.  But I am going to drive farther than prescribed to do that, and I am going to require that someone work to tear my movie ticket.  I might even require that someone work to listen to me complain about my lack of internet.  I hope to have my energy restored, to cultivate social connections, and to enjoy God’s creation along Farm to Market 485.  I hope to arrive back home tonight with a smile in my soul.  I think God would be pleased with that Sabbath practice.  I know I will be – now if only I could remember that Chick-Fil-A will be closed tomorrow…

Someday May Never Come

My to-do app on my phone has three time designations – Today, Tomorrow and Someday.  I wonder about the Somedays.  I mean, it really does sound like an honest to goodness day of the week.  It would sound even more like a day of the week of we used it a little differently.  Instead of “Someday, I’d like to eat Sushi there,” it might be easier to think of Someday as an actual day of the week if it was said like this, “Does anyone want to eat Sushi there for lunch on Someday?” (It works better if you give the ‘e’ a little black Baptist preacher getting-uh worked up-uh about-uh Jesus-uh in her sermon-uh sound like “sum-uh-day”).

Someday, I would love to climb a fourteener in Colorado.  Someday, I would love to tube down the Guadalupe.  Someday, I would love to tour Viking sites in northern Europe. Someday, I would like to visit a city and only eat at places featured on “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” (and then spend time becoming acquainted with a cardiologist and a personal trainer).  


Someday, I would love to do all kinds of exciting things like this and more, but most of these really are the kinds of things that are best experienced with other people.  Someday, I’ll pitch one of these activities and someone will actually say they want to do it too and then we’ll actually make plans and actually have a really great story to tell! My Dad has always said that Someday, he wants to go to Alaska, but he has always been waiting for Someday to roll around.  The truth is that Someday may never come.  It’s not a real day of the week, though I tend to treat it that way.

I don’t know when the Someday tasks on my app actually roll over onto the Tomorrow screen, and then Tomorrow becomes Today. (Dont you love how it is sunny and kind of dreamy on Someday?) I don’t have anything entered on that screen, as you can see.  I think you have to actually intentionally move those Someday tasks onto an actual real day in the actual real future.  Otherwise, Someday will always just be out there in the Land of Intentions, which I imagine to be like the neon graveyard outside Las Vegas where all of the once glitzy and flashy neon signs are now rusting, broken and forgotten.  


So this leaves me with a decision.  I can plan tasks and other adventurous excursions for Someday, or I can really actually plan them for Tomorrow, or even better – for Today.  Now that puts a smile on my face.