With the death of Robert Bork, National Review has reposted a deliciously-written essay he wrote in 1996. I am so happy to post it here.
The piece is such a joy to read and, like a great photograph, captures the breadth of spirit that characterized so many great minds from earlier times.
Judge Bork & Martinis Read More »
According to Garrison Keillor’s The Writer’s Almanac, the first motel opened 82 years ago today.
He writes that the first one was,
…located in San Luis Obispo, California, about halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco. As cars — and road trips — became more and more popular, architect and developer Arthur Heineman saw a business opportunity: a compromise between the rough “auto camps” — where people pitched tents or slept in their cars — and the more traditional hotels. He had the idea to place lodging near major highways, with easy outdoor access to the rooms, and a space to park a car. So he built a little collection of bungalows, each with a small garage, and rented them for $1.25 a night. He created a new name for his hybrid lodging, a portmanteau of “motor” and “hotel.
Imagine a train rolling through the land. You see it slowly snaking through snow-covered farmland, across bay bridges, and through several cities and towns. But it keeps moving; its destination is beyond that particular country.
Then the train does stop in a small town long enough for the passengers to go inside the depot. Some even stroll around the nearby main street. They see signs on main street about an election When they talk to local citizens about the election, they listen very closely. Naturally, they empathize. But they don’t become invested in, or emotional about, the outcome. After all, the people of the train are just passing through.
That is a reasonable, not a perfect, metaphor of passing through the earth as strangers. Of course, we do get involved in the local concerns — we even vote in “their” elections. But, we certainly have no reason for anger, depression, or even disappointment. We are people of the train. Our purpose is our focus; our destination is our passion.
Yesterday morning, Scot McKnight wrote, “I can’t imagine 1st century Roman Christians getting caught up in some kind of hope whether it would be Nero or Britannicus who would succeed Claudius.”
Many people seem focused on this as “a real bad time.” They even talk about not wanting to raise kids in such a bad time. Remember that Jesus was born in a bad time. And His Life is still being born in bad times today.
His Kingdom flourishes in the bad times. Isaiah wrote that, “He is the stability of your times.” (33:6) He doesn’t need a stable time; He is the stability.
I think our views of stability, safety, and peace are illusions. I don’t think any time is any better or worse than any other.
Jesus and His Kingdom, rolling through the earth, are the real issues. We are people of the train.
The Message captures a fine word from Peter: Friends, this world is not your home, so don’t make yourselves cozy in it. …Live an exemplary life among the natives…Make the Master proud of you by being good citizens. Respect the authorities, whatever their level; they are God’s emissaries for keeping order. I Peter 2: 11-14
People of the Train Read More »
Why and how do people arrive at certain political and religious perspectives?
That question drives The Righteous Mind: Why Good People Are Divided by Politics and Religion (Pantheon Books, 2012). Author Jonathan Haidt is a professor of psychology at the University of Virginia. Moral psychology is his field.
Haidt cracks the door on his thesis with this simple statement: “We humans all have the same five taste receptors, but we don’t all like the same foods.” Yes, of course, from the very same sensory equipment, we live in a dazzling diversity of foods, flavors, cooking methods, serving pieces, etc.
The same kind of matrix frames our “moral judgments.” Through exhaustive research, Haidt identified six “foundations of morality.” These six “taste receptors” form the basis of our moral behavior. We all have the same ones; from them we develop our own political and religious “taste” preferences (the two words of each foundation represents a scale from the principle to its antithesis).
What This Means for Politics and Religion
Author Haidt, a self-described “liberal Democrat,” was invited to address a Democratic Party gathering following the 2004 election. His topic: “Republicans Understand Moral Psychology; Democrat’s Don’t.” In fact, he says that liberals largely reject half of the six foundations of morality: loyalty, authority, and sanctity. Strangely, according to Haidt, “very conservative” people value all six equally.
From that, he writes about his excitement about Barack Obama, as “a liberal who understood conservative arguments about the need for order and… tradition.” But after a few months, Haidt became worried. He saw Obama working from only two of the foundations, care and fairness.
Of conservatives, Haidt writes, “…their broader moral matrix allows them to detect threats to moral capital that liberals cannot perceive…they fight back ferociously when they believe that change will damage the institutions and traditions that provide our moral exoskeletons (such as the family). Preserving those institutions and traditions is their most sacred value.
Haidt, an atheist, devotes much space to “the hive” – that mysterious dimension where humans lose themselves in something larger and transcendent. He challenges liberals on their disregard of the sanctity foundation. For example, he writes that liberals have difficulty understanding the conservative revulsion about a crucifix submerged in a jar of the artist’s urine or elephant dung wiped across an image of the Virgin Mary.
So, helpfully, he asks if liberals would understand the sanctity better if Jesus and Mary were exchanged for Martin Luther King, Jr. and Nelson Mandela?
Can We Disagree More Constructively?
As stated earlier, we all have wildly differing tastes in food. Wouldn’t we think it strange to have talk radio and cable news programming built around demonizing those who prefer Thai food or Riesling wines? Can you imagine a book built around a thesis that to love cheeseburgers is to be a traitor?
We all live in a matrix of six moral judgments. Just as our common taste receptors allow people to run to a multitude of food choices, so our placement within the moral foundations allows us to try and adapt various political and religious tastes. Anybody have a problem with that?
Yes, they do. But why?
So much of the conflict is rooted in genetics. Haidt: “After analyzing the DNA of 13,000 Australians, scientists recently found several genes that differed between liberals and conservatives. Most of them related to neurotransmitter functioning, particularly glutamate and serotonin, both of which are involved in the brain’s response to threat and fear…conservatives react more strongly than liberals to signs of danger…liberals have less need for order, structure, and closure.”
It seems to me that Haidt has taken an enormous first step in trying to help everyone see the whole spectrum more clearly and objectively. As a liberal and an atheist, he vigorously challenges his fellow liberals and atheists in their languid and predictable thinking about political conservatism and religion.
For example, he writes about moral capital (the resources that “enable a community to suppress selfishness and make cooperation possible”) and social capital, “the social ties among individuals and the norms of reciprocity and trustworthiness that arise from those ties.” He sees both as blind spots for the left.
Haidt furthermore writes that this “is the reason I believe that liberalism – which has done so much to bring about freedom and equal opportunity – is not sufficient as a governing philosophy. It tends to overreach, change too many things too quickly, and reduce the stock of moral capital…”
To my surprise, Haidt never does engage much of a critique of conservatism (or conservatives). He wants to see more respect, civility, and objectivity in our public discourse, and he models it!
The Righteous Mind is, like it’s author, generous and noble.
He concludes: “Morality binds and blinds. It binds us into ideological teams that fight each other as though the fate of the world depended on our side winning each battle. It blinds us to the fact that each team is comprised of good people who have something important to say.”
Precisely.
The Righteous Mind Read More »
I recently came across a frankly brilliant essay about why the other side cannot, must not, win the election in November. It begins:
“The past several weeks have made one thing crystal-clear: Our country faces unmitigated disaster if the Other Side wins.
“No reasonably intelligent person can deny this. All you have to do is look at the way the Other Side has been running its campaign. Instead of focusing on the big issues that are important to the American People, it has fired a relentlessly negative barrage of distortions, misrepresentations, and flat-out lies.
“Just look at the Other Side’s latest commercial, which take a perfectly reasonable statement by the candidate for My Side completely out of context to make it seem as if he is saying something nefarious. This just shows you how desperate the Other Side is and how willing it is to mislead the American People.”
Even though you will quickly catch on to the idea, read the whole thing. You will see that our side has reason, righteousness, noble ideas, and a sure-fire plan for saving the economy and increasing employment. The other side has nefarious billionaires, undisclosed documents, offensive and lying commercials, biased media voices, same old tired and discredited policies, conspiracies, deranged anger, crazy uncles, etc.
This essay is a mirror for you and for me.
What the essay really reveals is that politics has become large gaseous bubbles, blown free of the wand, and wobbling uncertain through the air. It is all a game, an amusement, a sport.
One very real problem is that when we speak in Pavlovian terms, you know, that code — George Soros, Limbaugh, Biden, Huffington, FOX, red state, blue state, MSNBC — we fall into a binary polarization of language. It is all 1s and 0s. No other numbers allowed. We cannot really converse about real stuff. In fact, I think we obsess about politics (and religion) in order to avoid intimacy. It’s easier to hide behind the code than to expose my own uncertainties, longings, and fears.
William Raspberry once said, “In virtually every public controversy, most thoughtful people secretly believe both sides.” That is true. For example, I believe both (or all) sides about so many issues…from technology, to the Christian views of “hell” and evolution, to writing for pay, to President Obama’s apologies to other nations. Yet, put me in a cocktail party or prayer meeting and I’ll take the short cut every time…finding harmony with almost any position ventured.
I am not weak or deceitful, but Madonna will release a gospel album before I’ll open my heart to strangers.
This is why I often long for “sitting with a friend on bales of hay in a barn on a rainy afternoon…”
I love the imagery of rain-induced isolation and slowness and the intimacy of candor and freedom.
Now, in the words of R. E. M.’s Losing My Religion, “Oh, no, I’ve said too much!” 🙂
Anyway, I hope you find the time to read this essay. Oh, and please vote for our guy in November!
Besides being wonderfully crafted and thoroughly engrossing, The Artist is a thoughtful meditation on the value of people.
The movie tells the story of a 1920s silent film star, George Valentin, who knows he has value. The applause, big checks, and adoring fans tell him so; doesn’t go any deeper than that. He frolics in the designer pool of his ego, pushing costars away from the waterfall of adoration that cascades over him. Even Valentin’s faithful dog (best movie dog you will see in your lifetime) and his chauffeur have no relational value to him. They are fully functional and expendable.
The same is true of the beautiful girl, Peppy, who literally bumps into Valentin. Ah, another moon whose purpose is to simply reflect his dazzling value.
But a monster of a storm is brewing – a technological one: sound is coming to the movies. One development is going to change everything for an industry; it will swirl new people into the picture and suck others away.
In that tech shift, Valentin suddenly finds himself among the losers. His value drops like a body from a bridge. Broke, unemployed, drunk, and discarded (by his wife and his studio), he is forced to sell his furniture and other possessions (which, by the way, some call “valuables”) and move out to Humbleville.
Have you noticed that life’s crucibles have a way of revealing authentic value? When entire way of living explodes in flames, the first human reaction is to try to save ourselves and preserve the old way. But, eventually, the people, possessions, motivations, and false measurements all get reduced to mere kindling for the blaze. Old (and false) identities, hopes, and values perish in the fire. And then, after time in the grave (could be days or years), on a shimmering new resurrection morning, a new life steps out of the tomb.
In that note, The Artist tells a story we have not seen very often: the redemptive (“buying back”) power of pure love. And Peppy is a character we’ve not often seen. She is beautiful, but her real loveliness is, in words from the Bible, her “hidden person of the heart…the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit.”
The Artist is also a discerning look at celebrity. I once asked a young woman who had just become engaged, “Tell me what you most respect about your fiancée.” She twirled her hair, giggled, closed her eyes, giggled some more and said, “Well…” She didn’t seem to know anything about his integrity, faith, family heritage or traditions, sense of purpose, protective instincts, personal dreams or anything else foundational to life. They married and divorced quickly.
Like her, we can’t seem to locate respect for those we adore.
So our celebrity-driven culture splashes exotic intangibles – like cool or awesomeness – on the big screen in our collective head. We don’t define, require, or examine; we applaud, gush, and swoon. Don’t underestimate that power; America elected a President on that. The Artist thoughtfully considers the emptiness of image and the futility of building a life on applause.
Finally, The Artist is a great artistic achievement. In a medium marked by decibels and explosive visuals, The Artist is a splendidly silent and gorgeously black and white movie. It is like walking away from the flash and roar of typical movie entertainment and into a silent and majestic high country meadow.
The Artist dares to present and permit a quiet contemplation of who and what and why we value.
The Artist: a Meditation Read More »
In 1988, as a new kid in Washington and having read William Raspberry’s columns for several years, I called him at his Washington Post office. I told him I was new in town and found myself in charge of a very high profile event honoring some African-American family champions. I said, “Mr. Raspberry, I’m white and I’m from Kansas. I can’t help that. But I don’t want to do anything stupid or embarrass anyone. So I’m asking you to help me.” He laughed and said, “Come on over and have lunch with me.”
I found a true friend that day. We talked long and deep, exploring some of the deep caves of the human experience. The event was a success, in large part because of his coaching. More than that, he became my tutor; he helped me understand and navigate the Washington mirages, whirlpools, and smoke.
Our friendship was a measure of his character. He was a well known and respected Washington figure and I could not help him or hurt him; he did not need to give me anything. But he gave generously and continued to do so for a quarter century.
Over the next seven years, we met often for breakfast, lunch, or in his office. Nothing changed when he won the Pulitzer Prize in 1994. Bill was fairly liberal in his politics; I was fairly conservative. But the political chasm was never an issue. We discussed our differing perspectives with no fear of ridicule or polarization. He, a liberal, often encouraged me to submit my more conservative perspectives for publication.
When we left Washington in 1995, Bill was one of the few Washington friends who kept in touch. In 1997, he interviewed me for one of his columns. After that, he interviewed me three or four more times. Bill is a primary reason I was accepted as a writer.
In the past 17 years, I never went back to Washington without seeing Bill. We always met for long lunches and honest conversations. He was one of the most honest people I ever met. Every spoken or written word that came from Bill Raspberry was true. You could trust it; it came from an honest heart.
The last time I saw him was for a two hour lunch on October 24, 2011, the 67th anniversary of the sinking of the USS Princeton (my dad’s ship). Bill and I talked about our fathers that day. As I told one story about Dad, I wept. Bill’s eyes grew red and he just silently nodded. It was a classic Bill Raspberry moment; pure empathy and deep respect for the secret places. When we parted, he hugged me. I felt a chill in the air as I walked to my car.
A few weeks ago, he stopped replying to emails. I knew he was sick; I asked when we could talk. He did not respond. His silence concerned me deeply.
For two weeks I’ve felt like I should call. But I was busy. Bill died yesterday.
I am forever grateful that this great man’s path crossed through my life. I cherish the memories of Bill’s great kindness, humor, generosity, and care.
Two years ago, he told me that he had prostate cancer. He wanted to talk about God that day. Every time we met after that, our conversation always came back to God. I tried to help; I do not know if I did. But I’m confident that someday Bill will tell me. He is unfailingly honest.
Bill Raspberry: 1935 – 2012 Read More »
Several years ago, Vanderbilt University and the Nashville Police Department designed a Rate-Your-Risk test. “Rate your risk” for…being robbed, raped, stabbed, shot, or murdered. The project director was a former FBI agent.
One of the questions was “How many acts of adultery have you committed within the past two years?”
Now THAT question blows all the smoke out of the room. Reality Time at the Ranch: If you’ve developed improper sexual attachments, your risk of being assaulted or murdered has just red-lined.
Hmmm, “Sir, are you saying that sex could have ramifications beyond the moment?”
At a tip from Jesus Creed, I just read a very wise essay on sex. Risky Sex by Michael Hildalgo examines our culture’s shallow and vacant approach to sex. Yes, I do know that others have excavated that ground. But this one is good enough to warrant your time.
Sample quotes:
…“Safe Sex” is a myth. What protection is there to prevent to intertwining of minds, hearts, and souls that happens when two people are joined together sexually?
“Sex, by its very nature is not safe. It is the ultimate act in giving your whole self away to another person. It requires vulnerability that no other relationship asks for. It is to be fully exposed to another human being. It’s putting your full naked self out there as a gift – that’s risky.
“…This is why so many people have sex with so many people, and feel more and more alone. Somewhere, deep inside their heart, something is being ripped apart and taken from them, and nothing can protect that. What they mistake as a physical act, can cause emotional and spiritual heartache.
“Make no mistake, sex is risky – and what is at risk is our hearts and souls.”
I think this essay can be very helpful to parents as they shape a morality worth integrating into lives and legacies. The piece provides nuanced, textured, and trustworthy ways of thinking about sex. It lifts the topic out of the immature, mechanical, and soulless approach that is so pervasive in our society.
Joanne and I play Skip-Bo almost every evening. A few nights ago, I found myself getting too intensely focused on winning (instead of the joy of the game with this lady I love). Then, strangest thing, it seemed that I floated away and looked down on the game. And I realized, we are sitting at a table, shuffling pieces of colored paper. And we think this is important!
That moment reminded me that the late Eugene McCarthy, US Senator (D – Maine) and Presidential candidate, once said, “Being in politics is like being a football coach. You have to be smart enough to understand the game, and dumb enough to think it’s important.”
McCarthy was right; politics is a game, just as football and Skip-Bo are games.
Part of being “smart enough to understand the game” means knowing that crises — economic, legal, environmental, cultural, governmental, social, global — are essential to winning. Crises keep people off-balance, polarized, and dependent on the experts who presumably possess the wisdom needed to get through the crises.
Of course, the crises must continue; they can never be resolved. As much as they may be “deplored,” the political game will never abolish or resolve poverty, racism, abortion, bullying, greed, global warming or any other useful problem.
Now, I hasten to add that politics can be an honorable profession and worthy field of activism. But, like anything, it can and should be approached with good will, good humor, wit, style, and panache. Do what you can, enjoy the journey, quit at five o’clock, let God do the heavy lifting.
The assumption that politics is a path to righteousness causes the political game — especially in presidential election years — to rise to inhuman levels of deception, demonization, and decibels. And the absence (even abhorrence) of objectivity, humanity, and elegance! How can a self-respecting human listen to that, let alone participate? Why should anything jerk me into a pretzel of anger and angst?
I think the most burning political issue is: how do we survive the political season? The following is not a “how to” list, but rather a gentle light on a possible path:
Live locally
The pace of modern life (especially in political seasons) spins all of us away from our own life, family, community, and local culture. We are pulled into fixations on issues which, in fact, are too theoretical and remote to have much influence on our own lives.
In fact, the quality and joy of life have nothing at all to do with who is elected to any office. The sounds, colors, passions, and delights of my life will remain the same regardless of who is elected.
Live simply
The political impulse will always make things complicated. A dense web of complexity, crises, and intrigue forms a compelling need for experts. As a result, we are losing confidence in our own ability to solve problems.
But, most issues are, in fact, simpler than the experts will admit. So, rather than accept the invention of complexity, live simply. Slow down. Step out of consumerism’s tyranny. Pray. Do it yourself. Learn to live in relationship with neighbors, friends, and family rather than dependence on experts.
Live generously
Politics thrives on scarcity. It must validate threatening limits of air, water, energy, health, security, and many other essentials. It does so in order to control the distribution of the “scarce” resources. The long-term effect of that is to make people fearful and miserly toward life. We do not have to live by that construct or within the centrifuge it has built.
The antidote is to live generously. For example, love those who are different. Embrace those who are politically, religiously, economically, philosophically, and racially unlike you. Choose care over conflict. Deliberately bless your times, places, and relationships. Refuse to live in anger or in a bunker. Be vulnerable to few, loving to many, and kind toward all.
Live lightly
Have you ever noticed that only people who take life seriously seem capable of a light touch? A healthy sense of humor is more the result of being properly aligned with life than it is of knowing what is funny. I agree with Saul Alinsky “A sense of humor is incompatible with the complete acceptance of any dogma, any religious, political, or economic prescriptions for salvation.”
Come to think of it, these four trail markers are good in every season! Maybe now is the time for an old fashioned altar call. Oh, friend, just step away from the noise. Go on home to your life. It’s not too late. Yes, I see those hands.
How to Survive the Political Season Read More »
Even the youths shall faint and be weary, And the young men shall utterly fall, But those who wait on the LORD Shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles,They shall run and not be weary,They shall walk and not faint. Isaiah 40: 30-31 (NKJV)
Father Richard Rohr’s new book, Falling Upward (Jossey-Bass, 2011), examines the two stages of life. He calls them “first half” and “second half,” although they don’t conform to that bisected organization. As we all know, many people never leave the first half.
According to Father Rohr, the first half of life is consumed with nailing down our “personal (or superior) identify, creating various boundary markers…, seeking security, and perhaps linking to what seem like significant people or projects.”
The second stage is the quiet and peaceful place beyond strength, speed, volume, reputation, self-assurance, and ME. It is the place of finally letting go of falseness and finding the freedom to fall. When we do, we find that we fall up!
Although Rohr does not quote Isaiah 40:30-31, for me that famous passage mirrors the message of Falling Upward. In the second stage, we find our true strength in waiting on the Lord. To “renew strength” is to “exchange strength:”ours for His.
I must admit that the first five chapters struck me as almost insufferable; it was like listening to hours of sitar music while drunk-gazing at a dripping faucet.
But, then on page 77 of the chapter, Necessary Suffering, Rohr wrote, “Creation itself, the natural world, already ‘believes’ the Gospel, and lives the pattern of death and resurrection…Most of nature seems to totally accept major loss, gross inefficiency, mass extinctions, and short life spans as the price of it all.”
He had me at “creation believes the gospel.”
Then, Rohr becomes like a fine old viola in the final 40 pages of the book. So rich and vibrant and melodic. At 65, I hear, taste, touch, see, and sniff most of life in the deeper register. In those forty pages, Rohr spoke straight to my heart.
Consider a few of his observations about the second half. I resonate so deeply with every line:
And, this, near the end, serves as a fine summary of the book:
“Most of us tend to think of the second half of life as largely about getting old, dealing with health issues, and letting go of physical life, but the whole thesis of this book is exactly the opposite. What looks like falling can largely be experienced as falling upward and onward, into a broader and deeper world, where the soul has found its fullness, is finally connected to the whole, and lives inside the Big Picture.”
