A few nights ago, I was doing what we people with self-esteem issues do when they're hanging around the apartment: I read through some of my old blog posts. My goal is always to make this blog better, thus increasing readership, thus impressing more women with my writing prowess, and thus finding someone with whom use my "Buy One Get One Free" coupon at Qdoba. So as I read through the writings of my younger self, I thought about which posts were good and which ones were bad, which ones I enjoyed and which ones I thought fell flat, which ones received a lot of feedback and which ones didn't.
What I noticed through all of this is that many of my posts that I would consider to be "slightly less dumpy than the others" were the ones that included more of my personal voice than the others. I write several different kinds of posts. Some don't sound much different from an research paper I might turn in for class. I'll write about some thought drawn from my Bible reading or some insight into whatever topic, but I am removed from the picture. It could be written by me, or it could be written by someone else, and you possibly wouldn't be able to know the difference.
In other posts, however, I show through a little more. There are some that I wrote when I myself was going through a season of difficulty, and that struggle colors the words on the screen. These are the posts that could not really be written by anyone other than me, because my personal situations are unique to me, the way I handle those situations is unique to me, and my voice in expressing all of it is unique to me. These are the posts that mean the most to me, and these are typically the ones that have gotten the most feedback.
Through this, I think there is an important lesson in writing to be learned, or an important lesson in communication in general. Effective communication must do more than convey an idea. It must also be structured in the voice of the communicator.
Good writing does more than communicate an idea. It communicates a person.
When I think about some of my favorite writers and favorite books, I think this truth continues to be affirmed. For example, I love everything I've read by C.S. Lewis. Most of his books aren't directly about him or his life (with the exceptions of Surprised by Joy and A Grief Observed, and maybe a few others). And yet, his books are very obviously written by him. He had a unique voice and a unique ability to understand human nature. And because of that, his works are unique, and his works are memorable. I could sit down and try to write a book about the reason evil and pain exists in the world, but I wouldn't be able to produce The Problem of Pain. Why? Because I'm not C.S. Lewis.
As a communicator, sometimes it can be tempting to try to leave yourself out of what you are communicating. And in some mediums, this may be appropriate. But much of the time, a work is enhanced when it is the outflow of one's own experience, viewpoints, and personal struggle. This is true in blog posts, and I think it's also true in sermons, lessons, songs, essays, articles, books, and conversation. You are uniquely you, so communicate as you.
And certainly don't communicate as me. Because then you'll end up having to eat two whole burritos yourself.
As if that were a bad thing.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Creation and Human Dignity
Earlier this semester, I read an ancient Babylonian poem called the Enuma Elish. The poem is essentially a creation account according to Mesopotamian mythology. (If you are really into Mesopotamian epic poems and want to read it yourself, you can do so here.) The basic plot is that there is a great battle between the gods. On one side stands Tiamat and her husband Kingu, who are portrayed as the "bad guys" in the story. On the other side is Marduk, the patron god of Babylon and the hero of the tale. After a period in which Tiamat goes on a revengeful rampage, Marduk steps up and vows to defeat her. This he does, and he then uses her body to create the earth and the sky.
A lot of people pay close attention to the Enuma Elish because they see a number of similarities between the poem and the creation account of Genesis 1-2. There may be some. Much more significant, however, are the differences, and perhaps the key difference lies in the way the two stories explain the creation of man. In the Enuma Elish, when Marduk kills Tiamat, he takes her husband Kingu captive. After a while, the gods decide that they could use some underlings to do their chores, so Marduk proposes the creation of man:
When Marduk heard the words of the gods
His heart prompted him to fashion artful works.
Opening his mouth, he addressed Ea
To impart the plan he had conceived in his heart:
"I will take blood and fashion bone.
I will establish a savage, 'man' shall be his name.
Truly, savage-man I will create.
He shall be charged with the service of the gods
That they might be at ease!
The ways of the gods I will artfully alter.
This sounds like a great plan to the gods. But the problem is that they need the raw material needed for creating man. The solution? They yank Kingu out of his prison cell, kill him, and use his blood to make man.
It's such a far cry from the way the Bible describes it:
Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground." So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him, male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:26-27)
In the Enuma Elish, mankind is created out of the villain of the story for the purpose of service. In the Bible, mankind is created in the image of the hero, God, for the purpose of ruling. The Babylonian epic provides an incredibly low view of humankind, while the Bible elevates humankind in a way that was perhaps unique in the ancient world. For the Bible-believer, a person had dignity and purpose because they are made in God's own image.
The same holds true today. Christianity offers a view of human nature that, I think, is much higher than most other systems of thought. And yet, many today would claim the opposite. It is a common remark that "Christianity demeans humankind by imposing a system of behavior on people. It's too controlling. It does not allow for the free expression of life that we ought to possess." From the naturalist perspective that dominates Western thinking, human dignity is expressed through unbridled behavior. A person who fully understands their esteem and worth ought to have freedom to live however they choose. A person should be able to do whatever feels right to them, and no other person or church should encourage a different mode of behavior.
Here's the problem with that: Creating an ideal in which humans ought to live however they choose does not actually raise human dignity. It lowers it. In such a thought-system, human cease to be moral beings who have the ability to choose right over wrong. I become no more of a moral agent than the leftover Chinese food in my fridge. If I adopt a naturalist understanding in which I am simply the most highly evolved of the animal kingdom, my life does not have real meaning or purpose.
I'm thankful for the way I am made (in spite of my near-sightedness and patchy beard). I'm thankful that I'm not just the product of random biological chance or the creation of a mythological villain who lost his fight. I'm made in the image of the Creator of the universe. That fact gives me worth and dignity. It gives my life purpose. And the way we understand our own natures guides what we do with it. Let's live like who we are.
A lot of people pay close attention to the Enuma Elish because they see a number of similarities between the poem and the creation account of Genesis 1-2. There may be some. Much more significant, however, are the differences, and perhaps the key difference lies in the way the two stories explain the creation of man. In the Enuma Elish, when Marduk kills Tiamat, he takes her husband Kingu captive. After a while, the gods decide that they could use some underlings to do their chores, so Marduk proposes the creation of man:
When Marduk heard the words of the gods
His heart prompted him to fashion artful works.
Opening his mouth, he addressed Ea
To impart the plan he had conceived in his heart:
"I will take blood and fashion bone.
I will establish a savage, 'man' shall be his name.
Truly, savage-man I will create.
He shall be charged with the service of the gods
That they might be at ease!
The ways of the gods I will artfully alter.
This sounds like a great plan to the gods. But the problem is that they need the raw material needed for creating man. The solution? They yank Kingu out of his prison cell, kill him, and use his blood to make man.
It's such a far cry from the way the Bible describes it:
Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground." So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him, male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:26-27)
In the Enuma Elish, mankind is created out of the villain of the story for the purpose of service. In the Bible, mankind is created in the image of the hero, God, for the purpose of ruling. The Babylonian epic provides an incredibly low view of humankind, while the Bible elevates humankind in a way that was perhaps unique in the ancient world. For the Bible-believer, a person had dignity and purpose because they are made in God's own image.
The same holds true today. Christianity offers a view of human nature that, I think, is much higher than most other systems of thought. And yet, many today would claim the opposite. It is a common remark that "Christianity demeans humankind by imposing a system of behavior on people. It's too controlling. It does not allow for the free expression of life that we ought to possess." From the naturalist perspective that dominates Western thinking, human dignity is expressed through unbridled behavior. A person who fully understands their esteem and worth ought to have freedom to live however they choose. A person should be able to do whatever feels right to them, and no other person or church should encourage a different mode of behavior.
Here's the problem with that: Creating an ideal in which humans ought to live however they choose does not actually raise human dignity. It lowers it. In such a thought-system, human cease to be moral beings who have the ability to choose right over wrong. I become no more of a moral agent than the leftover Chinese food in my fridge. If I adopt a naturalist understanding in which I am simply the most highly evolved of the animal kingdom, my life does not have real meaning or purpose.
I'm thankful for the way I am made (in spite of my near-sightedness and patchy beard). I'm thankful that I'm not just the product of random biological chance or the creation of a mythological villain who lost his fight. I'm made in the image of the Creator of the universe. That fact gives me worth and dignity. It gives my life purpose. And the way we understand our own natures guides what we do with it. Let's live like who we are.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
The Bottom Line
Chances are, it's been a while since you've studied the lives of any German Old Testament scholars. It's not an exercise I engage in very frequently. Recently, however, I read a book for class called A Brief History of Old Testament Criticism, by Mark S. Gignilliat. It doesn't sound like it would be the most enthralling, edge-of-your seat type of read. And it wasn't, I suppose, but it was very interesting and was much better than I had anticipated.
In each chapter of the book, Gignilliat discusses one specific scholar in the history of Old Testament criticism. Each of these chapters is divided into two sections. In the first, Gignilliat provides a brief biography of the scholar at hand, discussing his background, cultural and social context, education, and academic career. In the second section, he turns his attention to the innovations of that scholar in the field and the impact he has had on the study of the Old Testament.
One of the figures that Gignilliat discusses especially caught my attention. Gerhard von Rad lived in Germany from 1901 to 1971. Anyone who didn't his time in world history class writing notes to the pretty girl in the front corner knows that the first half of the 20th century was an awfully tumultuous one in Germany, and such turmoil can have an effect even upon a theology professor.
The thing about von Rad's life that piqued my interest is that, when the Nazi party began to gain power in Germany, he aligned himself with the Confessing Church rather than the German Christians. The Confessing Church was made of those German believers who refused to acquiesce to Hitler's barbaric program. Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Karl Barth were influential voices in this movement, and since I spent a lot of time last semester studying the life and thought of Bonhoeffer, the mention of von Rad's participation in the same church movement caught my eye.
The more I read von Rad's biography, the more impressed I was. He worked as a professor at the University of Jena, which was one of the primary institutions in which the Nazi party exerted influence over the academic life of Germany. It certainly would not have been a safe or comfortable place for a member of the Confessing Church to work--especially for one who claimed that the (Jewish!) Old Testament was valid Christian Scripture. But that's where von Rad was.
In 1944, von Rad was forced into military service, but in spite of this, he seems to have kept his hope in God. Gignilliat quotes a letter in which von Rad wrote, "I can only fall back on the very simple resignation of Paul Gerhardt's hymn, 'I have put my heart and mind int he heart and mind of God.' For, after all, that is unshakeable." The following year, von Rad was taken prisoner by the American forces, and he lived as a prisoner of war for the remainder of the conflict. During this time, he lectured to other prisoners on the book of Genesis, and he also "remained the minister as he encouraged young theologians in their faith, preached to the prisoners, and administered the sacraments." Gignilliat ends his treatment of von Rad's life by writing, "He never approached academic study of the Old Testament in isolation from his identity as a Christian and churchman."
It's a pretty inspiring story, isn't it? A committed Christian, confident that the Old Testament ought to remain Christian Scripture, standing up to Hitler and the Nazis, and preaching while a prisoner of war. I don't know that I would have the courage or the faith to act similarly in such circumstances. Von Rad's life is certainly something worth emulating.
But here's the thing: von Rad held a number of beliefs concerning theology and the nature of the biblical text to which I, as well as many American evangelicals, would object. Von Rad focused much of his study on the nature of the Hexateuch (Genesis through Joshua), and he employed a form-critical approach in order to try to understand the development of the canonical text. He believed that the Hexateuch is made up of independent traditions that were brought together over time as they were repeated and expounded upon. The final form of the Hexateuch was composed by the "Yahwist" during the time of Solomon (which is obviously different from the conservative position that Moses was the author of the first five books). Because of this approach, von Rad did not think that the text reports a historical account of events in Israel's history. Instead, it exhibits the development of Israel's faith--how they understood events rather than the facts of the events themselves.
I disagree with von Rad on a number of points, and many Christians would also take issue with his conclusions about the nature of the biblical text. Because of this, it could be easy to villainize him in the history of the church. One could point to his thought and yell, "Oh, that false teacher! He's responsible for the liberalization of Christian theology. It's because of him and his ilk that the church is in decline today." Many would possible be ready to condemn him to hell. And yet, I have to contend with von Rad's life--his faith and perseverance in the most trying of circumstances. Von Rad may have had theology and beliefs that I find questionable, but from what I can see, he also lived an incredibly faithful life dedicated to Christ.
A famous slogan in my church movement is "No creed but Christ." The idea is that a person's inclusion among the people of God is dependent on what he does with Christ. And that's it. That's the bottom line. And yet, it's so easy to use so many other criteria to build walls between each other. We whip out a list of required qualifications so that we can point to others and condemn them as heretics or "wolves in sheep's clothing."
Maybe that whole approach needs some serious rethinking. Is a person's position in Christ dependent on who they think wrote Deuteronomy? Is it based on whether he thinks the world was created in six days or a billion years? Is it about his beliefs on whether or not a person can fall from grace? Does it come down to millennial views?
There are a million debates regarding biblical and theological issues. And many of those debates are important issues to discuss. We want to hold fast to the truth of God's Word, and we want to understand God the best we can. But in the end, it comes down to Christ. Can a German professor who has surrendered to Jesus but has a somewhat 'liberal' view on the composition of the Old Testament still be my brother in Christ? I think so.
Can I have genuine Christian fellowship with someone rooting that the St. Louis Cardinals win the World Series?
That one's still up in the air.
In each chapter of the book, Gignilliat discusses one specific scholar in the history of Old Testament criticism. Each of these chapters is divided into two sections. In the first, Gignilliat provides a brief biography of the scholar at hand, discussing his background, cultural and social context, education, and academic career. In the second section, he turns his attention to the innovations of that scholar in the field and the impact he has had on the study of the Old Testament.
One of the figures that Gignilliat discusses especially caught my attention. Gerhard von Rad lived in Germany from 1901 to 1971. Anyone who didn't his time in world history class writing notes to the pretty girl in the front corner knows that the first half of the 20th century was an awfully tumultuous one in Germany, and such turmoil can have an effect even upon a theology professor.
The thing about von Rad's life that piqued my interest is that, when the Nazi party began to gain power in Germany, he aligned himself with the Confessing Church rather than the German Christians. The Confessing Church was made of those German believers who refused to acquiesce to Hitler's barbaric program. Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Karl Barth were influential voices in this movement, and since I spent a lot of time last semester studying the life and thought of Bonhoeffer, the mention of von Rad's participation in the same church movement caught my eye.
The more I read von Rad's biography, the more impressed I was. He worked as a professor at the University of Jena, which was one of the primary institutions in which the Nazi party exerted influence over the academic life of Germany. It certainly would not have been a safe or comfortable place for a member of the Confessing Church to work--especially for one who claimed that the (Jewish!) Old Testament was valid Christian Scripture. But that's where von Rad was.
In 1944, von Rad was forced into military service, but in spite of this, he seems to have kept his hope in God. Gignilliat quotes a letter in which von Rad wrote, "I can only fall back on the very simple resignation of Paul Gerhardt's hymn, 'I have put my heart and mind int he heart and mind of God.' For, after all, that is unshakeable." The following year, von Rad was taken prisoner by the American forces, and he lived as a prisoner of war for the remainder of the conflict. During this time, he lectured to other prisoners on the book of Genesis, and he also "remained the minister as he encouraged young theologians in their faith, preached to the prisoners, and administered the sacraments." Gignilliat ends his treatment of von Rad's life by writing, "He never approached academic study of the Old Testament in isolation from his identity as a Christian and churchman."
It's a pretty inspiring story, isn't it? A committed Christian, confident that the Old Testament ought to remain Christian Scripture, standing up to Hitler and the Nazis, and preaching while a prisoner of war. I don't know that I would have the courage or the faith to act similarly in such circumstances. Von Rad's life is certainly something worth emulating.
But here's the thing: von Rad held a number of beliefs concerning theology and the nature of the biblical text to which I, as well as many American evangelicals, would object. Von Rad focused much of his study on the nature of the Hexateuch (Genesis through Joshua), and he employed a form-critical approach in order to try to understand the development of the canonical text. He believed that the Hexateuch is made up of independent traditions that were brought together over time as they were repeated and expounded upon. The final form of the Hexateuch was composed by the "Yahwist" during the time of Solomon (which is obviously different from the conservative position that Moses was the author of the first five books). Because of this approach, von Rad did not think that the text reports a historical account of events in Israel's history. Instead, it exhibits the development of Israel's faith--how they understood events rather than the facts of the events themselves.
I disagree with von Rad on a number of points, and many Christians would also take issue with his conclusions about the nature of the biblical text. Because of this, it could be easy to villainize him in the history of the church. One could point to his thought and yell, "Oh, that false teacher! He's responsible for the liberalization of Christian theology. It's because of him and his ilk that the church is in decline today." Many would possible be ready to condemn him to hell. And yet, I have to contend with von Rad's life--his faith and perseverance in the most trying of circumstances. Von Rad may have had theology and beliefs that I find questionable, but from what I can see, he also lived an incredibly faithful life dedicated to Christ.
A famous slogan in my church movement is "No creed but Christ." The idea is that a person's inclusion among the people of God is dependent on what he does with Christ. And that's it. That's the bottom line. And yet, it's so easy to use so many other criteria to build walls between each other. We whip out a list of required qualifications so that we can point to others and condemn them as heretics or "wolves in sheep's clothing."
Maybe that whole approach needs some serious rethinking. Is a person's position in Christ dependent on who they think wrote Deuteronomy? Is it based on whether he thinks the world was created in six days or a billion years? Is it about his beliefs on whether or not a person can fall from grace? Does it come down to millennial views?
There are a million debates regarding biblical and theological issues. And many of those debates are important issues to discuss. We want to hold fast to the truth of God's Word, and we want to understand God the best we can. But in the end, it comes down to Christ. Can a German professor who has surrendered to Jesus but has a somewhat 'liberal' view on the composition of the Old Testament still be my brother in Christ? I think so.
Can I have genuine Christian fellowship with someone rooting that the St. Louis Cardinals win the World Series?
That one's still up in the air.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Where Scripture Meets Life
Do you have a set of favorite songs? I'm sure you do. I love music, and I love how music possesses incredible power. There are many songs that I love deeply. What I have noticed about a number of my favorite songs, however, is that they are not necessarily my favorites because of the musical quality or anything like that. They are my favorites because there are memories attached to them. Music has an ability to cause us to recall significant moments in our pasts--times of joy and heartache, contentment and disappointment, exuberance and anger. We come back to these songs again and again because of the way they have intersected our lives.
I think that Scripture often works in the same way.
This last Sunday I had the chance to preach on Lamentations 3. I always refer to Lamentations 3 as one of my "go-to passages." Maybe you have a set of go-to passages as well--those passages of Scripture that you keep in your back pocket and find yourself coming to again and again as you face certain situations.
Since preaching that sermon, I have been reflecting on which biblical passages I would put in that category of my go-to passages. There are several, and the reason they qualify for this category is the way they have spoken into my life at significant moments in my past.
For example, when I'm dealing with sorrow and grief, I tend to flip over to that passage in Lamentations 3. This habit grew out of the my mourning over my grandmother's terminal illness some years ago, and I noticed this passage as I sat on the couch at my uncle's house wondering what to do with the tumultuous storm within me.
When I get down about myself and question my identity or worth, I turn to Psalm 139. The first time I can think of that I came across this passage was when I was in middle school and was (as most middle schoolers do at some point) dealing with these very issues.
When I feel distracted, overwhelmed, and frazzled, I need to remind myself of Luke 10:38-42. Several years ago I had a spring during which I was constantly up-and-down emotionally, and I stopped shaving or looking people in the eye, but rather shuffled around my college campus grumbling to myself. That's when I needed Jesus to tell me, "David, David, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed."
When the entropy of the world discourages me, I go to Revelation 21:1-8. In May 2011, I spent an evening watching news reports that showed the destruction from a tornado in Joplin, Missouri--a town that I loved very much. Just to keep from losing my mind, I needed to remind myself of John's prediction of a day when there will be no more pain or crying or tears or death, because God will do what he does best and make things new.
A good deal of my time is spent reading and studying the Bible. Much of the time (and perhaps this is a negative commentary on my own attitude), my reading of Scripture can be held at arm's length from the issues of my own life. I don't mean that I'm not constantly challenged by God's Word or that I approach it from a merely academic point of view. But oftentimes, what I read on a certain day does not seem a piercingly relevant to my life as it does on other occasions. What I love about Scripture, however, is the way that it intersects our lives. It's not just a book that we study, memorize, and teach. It's one that speaks to us in our life-situations. It truly is "living and active" (Heb. 4:12). Through it, God speaks to his people who are ready to listen.
What about you? What are your go-to passages?
I think that Scripture often works in the same way.
This last Sunday I had the chance to preach on Lamentations 3. I always refer to Lamentations 3 as one of my "go-to passages." Maybe you have a set of go-to passages as well--those passages of Scripture that you keep in your back pocket and find yourself coming to again and again as you face certain situations.
Since preaching that sermon, I have been reflecting on which biblical passages I would put in that category of my go-to passages. There are several, and the reason they qualify for this category is the way they have spoken into my life at significant moments in my past.
For example, when I'm dealing with sorrow and grief, I tend to flip over to that passage in Lamentations 3. This habit grew out of the my mourning over my grandmother's terminal illness some years ago, and I noticed this passage as I sat on the couch at my uncle's house wondering what to do with the tumultuous storm within me.
When I get down about myself and question my identity or worth, I turn to Psalm 139. The first time I can think of that I came across this passage was when I was in middle school and was (as most middle schoolers do at some point) dealing with these very issues.
When I feel distracted, overwhelmed, and frazzled, I need to remind myself of Luke 10:38-42. Several years ago I had a spring during which I was constantly up-and-down emotionally, and I stopped shaving or looking people in the eye, but rather shuffled around my college campus grumbling to myself. That's when I needed Jesus to tell me, "David, David, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed."
When the entropy of the world discourages me, I go to Revelation 21:1-8. In May 2011, I spent an evening watching news reports that showed the destruction from a tornado in Joplin, Missouri--a town that I loved very much. Just to keep from losing my mind, I needed to remind myself of John's prediction of a day when there will be no more pain or crying or tears or death, because God will do what he does best and make things new.
A good deal of my time is spent reading and studying the Bible. Much of the time (and perhaps this is a negative commentary on my own attitude), my reading of Scripture can be held at arm's length from the issues of my own life. I don't mean that I'm not constantly challenged by God's Word or that I approach it from a merely academic point of view. But oftentimes, what I read on a certain day does not seem a piercingly relevant to my life as it does on other occasions. What I love about Scripture, however, is the way that it intersects our lives. It's not just a book that we study, memorize, and teach. It's one that speaks to us in our life-situations. It truly is "living and active" (Heb. 4:12). Through it, God speaks to his people who are ready to listen.
What about you? What are your go-to passages?
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Villain
A villain never sets out to be a villain.
Moviegoers and readers know this to be true. Many stories revolve around a conflict between good and evil. There's a character in a white hat and one in a black hat, and the roles are rather sharply defined. However, the villain didn't necessarily start off as being evil. No one just wakes up one morning and says, "Let's be bad guys."At first, the person who becomes a villain wanted to do good. He thought he was saving the world or helping society in some way, but as a result of a lightning strike, chemical burn, explosion, lost loved one, or some other catastrophe, the person who wanted to do good turns bad.
Examples of this are numerous. Otto Octavius hoped to use his brilliant scientific mind to create useful energy, but when his four mechanical arms start calling the shots in his brain, he becomes Dr. Octopus and resorts to a life of crime. Anakin Skywalker wanted to be the Chosen One--the one who would bring balance to the force--but he becomes the manifestation of darkness as Darth Vader.
My favorite example may be Lex Luthor. I'm sadly not very familiar with his story from the Superman comic books, so all I have to go off of is the Smallville version. Smallville was one of my favorite shows, but I do always mention that being a fan of Smallville is maybe the most girly thing about me. This is because Smallville was a CW show. Do you know how to recognize a CW show? (Besides the high levels of drama.) The casts of CW shows are always made up only of really good-looking people. That may be true in all shows to a point, but it's especially true on the CW. By the end of the series, the entire cast was made up of attractive 20-somethings. The show was set in Kansas. Now, I grew up in Kansas, and I can say that I don't know of many towns that are populated only by attractive 20-somethings.
Anyways, in Smallville, Lex Luthor genuinely wants to be a good guy. He is the son of an evil and corrupt man who uses wealth, deceit, and even murder to get what he wants. Lex vows never to become like his father. Instead, he thinks that he can be a force for good. He thinks it's his job to save the world. And yet, as the series rolls on, Lex becomes not only like his father, but even worse. He's the ultimate villain of it all.
Of course, these are all only stories. But I think something similar happens in real life. There seems to be a tragic tendency among human beings to become something that you never planned to be. A person often becomes the very thing he hates the most. He may loathe the fact that his parents had short tempers and tended to fly off the handle, but when he becomes a parent, he is the same way. Or, a person may have been emotionally wounded by someone in a relationship, and they end up doing the same thing to someone else down the line. An individual may lament the general laziness and apathy of the society around them, but they are no different.
Why does this happen? Is it the fate of Greek tragedies? Is it a conscious decision? Do we feel like, due to injuries done to us, we feel like we need to strike back at others? Do we become so focused on the qualities we don't like in others that those same qualities become ingrained in our own characters?
I don't want to be a villain. They're never the ones for whom the city throws a parade at the end of the movie. They never get the girl. And yet, I have this fear that I'm going to somehow become one, or maybe that I already am in some ways. Not to mean that I'm think I'll ever start flying around on a glider throwing pumpkin bombs at people. If I ever start doing that, I give you full permission to remove me as a Facebook friend. But if it's so common among humans to treat others how you don't want to be treated, or to treat others how you've been treated in the past and certainly didn't appreciate, I don't that I'm immune to the trend.
So let's all be on guard. After all, a superhero is only one genetic mutation or nasty break-up away from villainy.
Moviegoers and readers know this to be true. Many stories revolve around a conflict between good and evil. There's a character in a white hat and one in a black hat, and the roles are rather sharply defined. However, the villain didn't necessarily start off as being evil. No one just wakes up one morning and says, "Let's be bad guys."At first, the person who becomes a villain wanted to do good. He thought he was saving the world or helping society in some way, but as a result of a lightning strike, chemical burn, explosion, lost loved one, or some other catastrophe, the person who wanted to do good turns bad.
Examples of this are numerous. Otto Octavius hoped to use his brilliant scientific mind to create useful energy, but when his four mechanical arms start calling the shots in his brain, he becomes Dr. Octopus and resorts to a life of crime. Anakin Skywalker wanted to be the Chosen One--the one who would bring balance to the force--but he becomes the manifestation of darkness as Darth Vader.
My favorite example may be Lex Luthor. I'm sadly not very familiar with his story from the Superman comic books, so all I have to go off of is the Smallville version. Smallville was one of my favorite shows, but I do always mention that being a fan of Smallville is maybe the most girly thing about me. This is because Smallville was a CW show. Do you know how to recognize a CW show? (Besides the high levels of drama.) The casts of CW shows are always made up only of really good-looking people. That may be true in all shows to a point, but it's especially true on the CW. By the end of the series, the entire cast was made up of attractive 20-somethings. The show was set in Kansas. Now, I grew up in Kansas, and I can say that I don't know of many towns that are populated only by attractive 20-somethings.
Anyways, in Smallville, Lex Luthor genuinely wants to be a good guy. He is the son of an evil and corrupt man who uses wealth, deceit, and even murder to get what he wants. Lex vows never to become like his father. Instead, he thinks that he can be a force for good. He thinks it's his job to save the world. And yet, as the series rolls on, Lex becomes not only like his father, but even worse. He's the ultimate villain of it all.
Of course, these are all only stories. But I think something similar happens in real life. There seems to be a tragic tendency among human beings to become something that you never planned to be. A person often becomes the very thing he hates the most. He may loathe the fact that his parents had short tempers and tended to fly off the handle, but when he becomes a parent, he is the same way. Or, a person may have been emotionally wounded by someone in a relationship, and they end up doing the same thing to someone else down the line. An individual may lament the general laziness and apathy of the society around them, but they are no different.
Why does this happen? Is it the fate of Greek tragedies? Is it a conscious decision? Do we feel like, due to injuries done to us, we feel like we need to strike back at others? Do we become so focused on the qualities we don't like in others that those same qualities become ingrained in our own characters?
I don't want to be a villain. They're never the ones for whom the city throws a parade at the end of the movie. They never get the girl. And yet, I have this fear that I'm going to somehow become one, or maybe that I already am in some ways. Not to mean that I'm think I'll ever start flying around on a glider throwing pumpkin bombs at people. If I ever start doing that, I give you full permission to remove me as a Facebook friend. But if it's so common among humans to treat others how you don't want to be treated, or to treat others how you've been treated in the past and certainly didn't appreciate, I don't that I'm immune to the trend.
So let's all be on guard. After all, a superhero is only one genetic mutation or nasty break-up away from villainy.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Need Patience? Read a Book
I have mentioned (or, more likely, complained) that I work part-time at a major retailer as a salesperson in the electronics department here in Cincinnati. While at work, I see a lot of different things, and I encounter a lot of different people. One common trait of our customer base, however, is impatience. Multiple times every day, customers complain to me about how long they have had to wait to get what they want. It might be that they've had to wait for a worker to have a chance to get them the TV they would like to buy. It might be that they need a gallon of paint mixed in the nearby hardware department, but the hardware worker is busy taking care of another issue. It could be that they don't want to stand in line at the front registers, so they come to be checked out in electronics only to have to wait while previous customers are helped.
People don't like waiting. Now, I'm sure that this is common in our society as a whole, but I feel like it is especially compounded among the electronics customers where I work, and I've wondered about why this might be. It astonishes me how impatient people can be. They all want assistance the moment they step into the department, and any delay signals for them that the store is poorly run or that the workers are incompetent morons (as one customer so nicely referred to me just the other day). I imagine that anyone who has worked in retail can identify with what I'm writing about, but still, it seems even worse where I am. I've been in other stores, and I've worked in other stores, but the level of impatience in my current situation is remarkable.
While living in Cincinnati, I have made another observation, and for a long time I didn't connect it at all with the "impatience issue." But one thing I have noticed about where I live is that it does not seem to be a reading community. Now, that may be a very unfair generalization to make, and I certainly have no scientific data to support it. But I find it odd that in my entire section of the city (which I always think of as everything west of I-75 and south of I-75), there aren't any bookstores. Actually, I take that back. I did find one once, but when I went in all I found were a bunch of those cheap romance novels that authors church out in about five hours. But other than that, there isn't a true bookstore in this major section of the city--a section with around 140,000 residents. That indicates to me that, in general, the people who live here aren't avid readers.
Of course, reading print books in general is becoming obsolete, and a number of bookstores across the country are having trouble staying in business. This might be because of everything going digital and people buying e-readers like the Kindle or the Nook so that they can download books instead of buying hard copies. That may be. But, as someone who sells electronics every day, I can say that we honestly don't sell that many e-readers. People don't want e-readers. They want tablets--something that they can use to watch movies and surf the web. Books are out. Youtube clips are in.
I wonder if there could be a correlation here. Are people groups who don't read much actually more impatient than those who do? It makes sense. Last week I went up to a bookstore (in another part of town), and while I was there I was surprised by how pleasant of a place it was to be. There were other customers there, browsing the shelves, looking for a good find. I didn't hear anyone screaming. I didn't hear anyone cussing. Just readers going about their business. It seemed like a far cry from the battlezone I walk into each day.
We live in an impatient age, and we're impatient people. And it might just be because most of us don't read as much as people did in the past. We're used to instant accommodation. We can't handle sitting through something that takes up too much of our precious time. We even complain when movies go too long: "It was an okay movie, but it was like, THREE HOURS LONG!" But when you think about it, the ability to establish a setting, develop characters, introduce a conflict, and bring about resolution, all within three hours, is a pretty remarkable feat. But even that takes up too much time for us.
If you're anything like me, it would probably be good to develop some extra patience. And if that is you, my encouragement would be to read more. When you read a book, you have to wait for the reward. It might take a few hours, a few days, or even a week or two. But it slows our eyes down, it slows our minds down, and it slows our lives down. We might feel a little less anxious, a little more understanding, and a whole lot more patient.
Of course, if you've made it this far through this lengthy and meandering post, you might be a patient person already. So I thank you for that. Now you can go back to the Youtube tab on your browser and get back to whatever you were doing before.
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