Today I finally discovered how my novel begins. So I began it. I'll probably share the first chapter with you when I finish it, or if it's too long, share a portion of it. I hope to have my novel completely done by next summer. It'll be a challenge, but this story is extremely important to me and I hope that it will be important to other people.
In other news, I'm reading a ton of books. Surprise! Here's a list of what I'm currently reading.
Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand
A History of Philosophy V. 2: Medieval Philosophy - Frederick Copleston
The Historical Reliability of the Gospels - Craig L. Blomberg
The God Delusion - Richard Dawkins
The Book of Mormon - Joseph Smith
El Leon, la Bruja, y el Ropero - C. S. Lewis (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in Spanish)
Reading so many books at a time definitely has a downside: it takes longer to finish any one book. But I like being able to switch between so many stories and topics. It keeps things from getting boring and helps me to stay motivated. I can only read so many pages of medieval philosophy before I start to fall asleep. KnowwhatImean?
What are you reading this summer?
Saturday, 27 June 2009
Sunday, 21 June 2009
In Defense of Beards
I have a beard. More specifically, I have something like a Van Dyke. At any rate, it's a dream come true. Literally. I used to have dreams in which I would wake up with a beard and weep with happiness. Then I would actually wake up and mourn my naked face.
At any rate, I'm writing this piece as a defense of my beard. My grandmother hates it, my mom wasn't a huge fan when I came home from England with it, and most of the young women I know detest facial hair.
I suspect that most women detest facial hair for two reasons: 1) they're jealous and 2) they don't understand it. It's really simple, ladies. Facial hair is to Man what makeup is to Woman. Now, I know what you women are thinking about reason 1: "Jealous? Me? Duh!" This jealousy manifests itself in all sorts of depilatory activities: shaving your legs, your armpits, etc. In psychology this is called 'Beard Repression.' What a lot of people don't know is that Freud's primary interest was in the psychological effects of facial hair. In fact, he considered this his life's work. Unfortunately, we remember him only for his work on sexuality and the psyche, etc.
Don't get me wrong, although shaving legs and armpits is an expression of Beard Repression, I'm not advocating that women stop these habits. They are healthy habits that help them cope with their inability to grow beards. Besides, a beard is only a beard on a face. Armpit and leg beards don't count. Furthermore, women don't realize that among men, the beard is a symbol of manhood. And, as we all know (in a perfect world) the higher the manhood meter, the sexier a man is. For instance, Robert E. Lee? Sexy Beast. Richard Simmons? Crazy Freak.
Men, unlike women, don't approach their friends and say, "Omg, you look sooo cute!" Men don't base their opinions on hair, makeup, dress, shoes, color coordination, etc. No. Men judge on beard. A man approaches his comrades with compliments such as, "You have a beard" or "I think you have coffee in your mustache" etc. The bigger the beard, the more respected a man is among his fellows.
What has been happening is that intolerant women are forcing their own beard repression onto men. The result of this is that a man feels obligated to relinquish his beard, thus humiliating himself before his friends and destroying his self-image as a man. The ancient Greeks and Romans called a beardless man a 'woman faced' man.
Instead of trying to become women, men ought to be men. Heterosexuality is traditional because it works, and it works because men and women are different and complimentary. Therefore, I propose that women be lady-like and that men be manly. Let's reestablish the poles. For this reason, I free my follicles. I mold my character to true manhood and let my face proclaim my convictions.
So ladies, I know you're jealous, but don't feel bad. We men prefer you without beards. Trust me.
I suspect that most women detest facial hair for two reasons: 1) they're jealous and 2) they don't understand it. It's really simple, ladies. Facial hair is to Man what makeup is to Woman. Now, I know what you women are thinking about reason 1: "Jealous? Me? Duh!" This jealousy manifests itself in all sorts of depilatory activities: shaving your legs, your armpits, etc. In psychology this is called 'Beard Repression.' What a lot of people don't know is that Freud's primary interest was in the psychological effects of facial hair. In fact, he considered this his life's work. Unfortunately, we remember him only for his work on sexuality and the psyche, etc.
Don't get me wrong, although shaving legs and armpits is an expression of Beard Repression, I'm not advocating that women stop these habits. They are healthy habits that help them cope with their inability to grow beards. Besides, a beard is only a beard on a face. Armpit and leg beards don't count. Furthermore, women don't realize that among men, the beard is a symbol of manhood. And, as we all know (in a perfect world) the higher the manhood meter, the sexier a man is. For instance, Robert E. Lee? Sexy Beast. Richard Simmons? Crazy Freak.
Men, unlike women, don't approach their friends and say, "Omg, you look sooo cute!" Men don't base their opinions on hair, makeup, dress, shoes, color coordination, etc. No. Men judge on beard. A man approaches his comrades with compliments such as, "You have a beard" or "I think you have coffee in your mustache" etc. The bigger the beard, the more respected a man is among his fellows.
What has been happening is that intolerant women are forcing their own beard repression onto men. The result of this is that a man feels obligated to relinquish his beard, thus humiliating himself before his friends and destroying his self-image as a man. The ancient Greeks and Romans called a beardless man a 'woman faced' man.
Instead of trying to become women, men ought to be men. Heterosexuality is traditional because it works, and it works because men and women are different and complimentary. Therefore, I propose that women be lady-like and that men be manly. Let's reestablish the poles. For this reason, I free my follicles. I mold my character to true manhood and let my face proclaim my convictions.
So ladies, I know you're jealous, but don't feel bad. We men prefer you without beards. Trust me.
Thursday, 18 June 2009
The Shaq - A Parody
'The Shaq: A Parody of The Shack' - D. Araujo
* * *
Beep—beep—beep. Max jumped out of bed and turned off his alarm. Today was a big day: it was the last basketball game of the season and the first to be played in the Shaquille O’Neal Memorial Basketball Court Complex. His high school had won a national education award granted by the Shaquille O’Neal Education Foundation and had been given the money to construct a new (and much needed) gymnasium. The construction had taken all year, but ‘The Shaq’, as the students referred to it, was finally completed. Max had been waiting for this day all year, often fearing it would never come—that his team would not survive the playoffs, that The Shaq would not be done in time. But here it was, the glorious day that would end with the game of the year.
“Good morning, Daddy!”said Max as he entered the kitchen. “Good morning, honey!” replied a large black woman.
“What’s for breakfast?” Max asked eagerly.
The woman laughed and said, “Why? Hungry?”
“Starved!”
“Well, grab a plate! I’ve got some eggs on the stove and some pancakes a’heaped that plate over there.”
Max, a short, pale boy with frizzy red hair, had been left on a doorstep as a newborn and the kind black woman he lived with had raised him as her own. She did the best she could to fill both roles—mother and father—and had always preferred the title of ‘Daddy’.
“Mmm! This is delicious! Thanks Dad!”
“Oh, you’re welcome, honey!” She winked at Max, “I know today is a big day for you, and I wanted to help make it special.”
“Yeah, I’m really excited about tonight!” said Max. “Can you pass the syrup?”
That evening, at ‘the Shaq’, as he and his team mates paraded on to the court, Max scanned the audience for Daddy, but also for Sarah, his girlfriend. Sarah and Max had been together all year, and Max was sure they were in love. Sarah Yeu was a slender Asian girl, and so graceful she seemed like the wind. She had what would seem to most an odd sense of fashion, but Max loved the way her clothes made her sparkle whenever she moved. She’s like a colorful sparkling wind, thought Max. Casually scanning the crowd (It’s so uncool to look like you care about the audience, thought Max) he spotted Daddy, and sitting next to her, Sarah. He waved at Sarah, but she was not looking and Daddy waved back instead. Max quickly looked around to see if any of his teammates had seen him wave, but they hadn’t. He was safe. The game was about to start and Max tried to focus.
* * *
There were several seconds left in the game. The score was tied. The ball came to Max and he dribbled it down the court blazing past everyone and faking out the one boy between him and the basket. Just as he lifted the ball to take the shot, he saw--out of the corner of his eye--his friend Kate jumping up and down and spilling her drink all over the floor in her excitement. This distracted Max so much that the ball somehow managed to spin out of his hands and his shot went bouncing weakly over to the left, as if he had merely dropped it and not taken a shot at all. The other players fought for the ball and it ended up getting lobbed up court by the other team. Just as the buzzer rang, there was a swoosh, and the ball sailed through the net, breaking the tie. The other team erupted in wild cheers, and Max’s heart sank and tears welled up in his eyes. It’s my fault we lost, thought Max as he blinked to keep from crying. I can’t believe I lost control of the ball. He bit his lip and walked toward the bench, where the rest of his team had already gathered.
“We may have lost the game,” Coach Joshua was saying, “But you guys are winners in my book. I’m proud of you anyway.” Coach Joshua was a Jewish man with a large nose—fond of working with wood and working with high school students.
“Losing is like sanding,” he continued “it’s rough, it hurts, but it’s the only way to polish anything. So even though you may have lost the game, I’m proud of how you lost: it’s polishing your character—which is far more important than any game. In ten years nobody will remember this game, but people will notice your character.”
“But coach,” one boy said, “what good is character if you suck?”
“Yeah, what good is it?” echoed a few more voices.
“Boys, good character is the only way to make sure that you don’t ‘suck’ at living. Character is about being good—which is more important than winning” said Coach Joshua.
“But why?” asked the same boy. “You don’t get into the NBA for being nice!”
Coach Joshua sighed and shook his head sadly.
The crowd was dispersing. Max greeted Daddy and Sarah coldly. They understood his disappointment and didn’t try to make him talk. As they walked out of the gym, Max saw Kate’s discarded cup and the sticky red stains on the floor and bleachers. It was too much for him. He started to cry and ran out the door, leaving Daddy and Sarah behind.
For the next week, Max was depressed and never spoke except to answer a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question. Daddy began to worry about him.
“Max? Listen, honey. It’s okay that you didn’t win the game.” Max looked up, but didn’t answer.
“It’s okay. You did your best--I’m proud of you, honey.” Max kept silent.
“It ain’t your fault. You need to learn to forgive yourself, deares’.”
“No” said Max as he got up. He went to his room and locked his door.
That night, Max came out of his room. He noticed that all the lights were off and that there was no sign of Daddy. In the restroom there was a note. It said,
Max, Meet me at the Shaq at 10 PM. I’d like to talk to you. –DSJ. Max thought, who the heck is DSJ? Is this some kind of joke? Max was going to tear the note up, but something restrained him. For some reason he wanted to go. It might be a joke, he reminded himself. Maybe my teammates are mad at me for making us lose. Or…or…maybe it’s something completely different. In the end, curiosity got the better of Max’s judgment, and he made up his mind to go.
The gym was dark and deathly silent. He walked in, stepping slowly to allow his eyes to adjust to the light.
“Hello?” he called into the darkness.
“Welcome, Max” spoke the darkness.
“Coach?” said Max.
“We’re over here Max” said another voice.
“Wait, is that you Sarah? What…why…I mean…what’s going on?” asked Max as he walked through the darkness.
After some 10 yards, Max began to see the dark figures of people standing at the far end of the gym. As he got closer, he heard Daddy’s voice say, “Max, we brought you here because love you and we’re concerned.”
“That’s right,” Coach Joshua said, “we wanted you to know that we understand your disappointment about the game.”
“Yeah,” said Sarah, “nobody’s mad at you. So you shouldn’t be mad at you either.”
“We still love you Max,” said Daddy.
Max was shocked speechless, but soon regained his composure and said, “But I made us lose the biggest game of the year!”
“We know Max,” said Coach Joshua.
“And you’re not upset?”
“No Max. We’ve always loved you,” said Daddy.
“Okay, um…thanks,” said Max. “Is all you brought me here to tell me? If it is, I’m going home.”
“Max,” said Coach Joshua, “when you’re building a house, what keeps the pieces together?”
“What? Oh, um…nails, I guess.”
“Right,” said Coach Joshua, “you can’t build a house without nails. Now, when you’re nailing something, the wood can respond in one of two different ways: it can either accept the nail, allow the nail to pass through cleanly and cleave the wood together, or it can splinter and crack when the nail is shot through. Which one, do you think, is sturdier? The one that accepted the nail or the one that splintered when the nail was hammered?”
Max started to say “Coach--”
“Nope! No questions, don’t object, just answer.”
“Fine. The one that didn’t splinter.”
“Right! Mistakes, pain, and disappointments are like nails. Whether or not you accept them and allow your house to be built is your decision, son.”
“Wait, did you just call me son?” asked Max.
“Yes, that’s the other thing we wanted to talk to you about” said Daddy.
“Oh, Max, it’s so exciting!” exclaimed Sarah.
“What’s going on?” asked Max. He was starting to feel sick. All this talk about dealing with disappointment wasn’t helping. In fact, he felt even worse now. And now with Coach Joshua calling him ‘son’ he thought he might throw up. Coach Joshua never called anybody ‘son’.
“Max,” said Daddy, “Joshua and I are getting married.”
“OH MY GOD!” screamed Max, frozen in horror.
“That’s right,” said Joshua, “God invented marriage, so your God will be a part of this, son. Your Daddy and I love you very much, and after we get married, you can call me Mom.”
“OH MY GOD!” screamed Max.
“What about me?” chimed Sarah. “Don’t forget about me!”
“That’s right! Do you want to tell him yourself, Sarah?” said Daddy.
Sarah took a deep breath. “Max! After Coach Joshua—er, I mean Mom—and Daddy get married, they’re going to adopt me!”
“WHAT?” Screamed Max, his voice rising even higher. “OH MY GOD! WHY? I didn’t know you were an orphan! You can’t do this! You’re my girlfriend—you can’t be my sister! That’s…like…so wrong!”
“Max, listen,” said Daddy, “we all love you very much and we all love each other very much. We all wanted to give you a family, to be able to love you more.”
“In fact, we want to be your god-family in addition to being your real family” said Mom.
“That’s right!” said Sarah, “we’re going to be your god family! And we’re three persons! How cool is that? Mom can be the Son, Daddy can be the Father, and I’m the Spirit!”
“OH MY GOD!” screamed Max.
“No, no. Oh my god-family!” corrected Daddy.
Everything started spinning. “Oh My God…” Max whimpered as he collapsed onto the ground.
“Yes Max, your god-family is here. Max, we’re all here! It’s okay!”
Beep—beep—beep! Max woke up with a start, and screamed “OH MY GOD!”
“Are you okay, honey?” called Daddy from the kitchen. The smell of bacon and eggs reached him. Today was the big day. It was to be their first game in The Shaq. Max sat up, doubled over, and threw up on the floor.
Copyright 2009
Preface to THE SHAQ
This is my parody of The Shack by William Young. I don't think it's a proper parody, but I'm calling it one for lack of a better word. Unlike satire, parodies have no purpose but mockery. My parody, however, has a purpose. The point I intend to make is that God is treated with brazen irreverence in The Shack. That is my only point. Everything else is purely for the sake of mockery--I'm not going to lie. I'm not even going to defend my parody. Maybe it's out of place, perhaps I shouldn't be engaging in mockery, but this book upset me.
I made a point to parody characters, plot, and the writing style, although I doubt any of them are as effective as I'd like to think.
This parody is literary revenge. Mr. Young treated my God (and also Scripture) lightly. In return, I'm treating Mr. Young's book lightly. If he wants to be flippant with God, I'll be flippant with his story. If this makes people angry, I apologize. I don't mean to cause offense. I mean only to amuse myself and others who disliked his book.
If you loved The Shack, I'd love for you to tell me why--provided that you don't mention how it made you feel. I know that already. I felt it too. I nearly cried several times when I read it. But I still didn't like it. There is no necessary relationship between emotion and truth (or value, for that matter).
I admit, I'm being a little abrasive, but people are so divided over this book that I'm pretty sure anything I say is going to upset someone.
At any rate, I'll repeat it again. I did not write this parody to cause offense, and you're entirely free to dislike what I've written, to criticize it, to parody it, etc. I apologize if you're offended, but I do hope you'll enjoy it and join me for a chuckle.
I made a point to parody characters, plot, and the writing style, although I doubt any of them are as effective as I'd like to think.
This parody is literary revenge. Mr. Young treated my God (and also Scripture) lightly. In return, I'm treating Mr. Young's book lightly. If he wants to be flippant with God, I'll be flippant with his story. If this makes people angry, I apologize. I don't mean to cause offense. I mean only to amuse myself and others who disliked his book.
If you loved The Shack, I'd love for you to tell me why--provided that you don't mention how it made you feel. I know that already. I felt it too. I nearly cried several times when I read it. But I still didn't like it. There is no necessary relationship between emotion and truth (or value, for that matter).
I admit, I'm being a little abrasive, but people are so divided over this book that I'm pretty sure anything I say is going to upset someone.
At any rate, I'll repeat it again. I did not write this parody to cause offense, and you're entirely free to dislike what I've written, to criticize it, to parody it, etc. I apologize if you're offended, but I do hope you'll enjoy it and join me for a chuckle.
Why I Didn't Like 'The Shack'
The Shack by William Young has caused quite a stir, as I'm sure you know. There seem to be two camps: persons that loved it and persons that hated it. I'm more on the side of those that hate it. I don't hate it, but I did find alot to dislike. Here's a brief breakdown on the reasons I didn't like it.
1) It's not a good novel.
-Although the story is very emotional and powerful even, the execution was lacking--I thought. I found many of the characters flat and completely unbelievable (the same for parts of the dialogue). Furthermore, entire sections of the plot seemed obviously borrowed from greater works of fiction. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for borrowing from other writers, I just think it should be done more tactfully. For instance, I swear Papa is the same character as the Oracle in The Matrix. There were other (larger) borrowed elements that bothered me, but I don't have time to discuss them.
-I also felt that some of the time Young was engaging in emotional manipulation. Because your emotions are engaged, it means your brain probably isn't. This is handy when you're trying to get people to buy a sketchy position.
2) I thought it was brazenly irreverent.
-I don't know about Mr. Young, but the God I worship is actually Holy. The picture of God that Mr. Young paints is more like Santa Claus than the God of the Bible. I understand that he's trying to emphasize God's love and mercy, etc. but I felt it was done at the expense of Holiness.
-I did think that he did do a good job of clearly distinguishing between the persons of the Trinity, thus avoiding the heresy of Modalism (Modalism states that the persons are simply modes of the same being, not distinct persons). However, in doing so, Mr. Young incarnated all three persons of the Trinity--not just Jesus. Certainly, you could say, "But Young made it clear that they only appeared as a black woman, a carpenter, and an asian woman." Sure, but God never makes himself appear as something he isn't. He's not a Greek God.
3) I had to play "Insight or Heresy?" when I read it.
Young had some very insightful things to say. If you can look past all the problems with it and just pay attention to those bits, the book won't bother you as much. I was perturbed by the book, sure, but not nearly as much as other people I know. As I was reading, I tried to keep an open mind and ignore the bad bits. Fortunately, I was able to find some very good insights. Unfortunately, these good insights were always nestled amongst very unhelpful 'insights'. 'Heretical views' might be closer than 'insights'. I will temper that by saying that I did understand his reasons for most of the views I didn't agree with. He was trying to correct some misconceptions people have about God. I just think he went too far.
This article sums up my opinion pretty well. I don't necessarily agree with everything that's said, but I'd hold to most of it.
Here is an additional article which was brought to my attention. I think it makes many of my own points, but perhaps in a more balanced fashion.
Of course, you don't have to agree with me, but I think I have valid reasons to hold my opinion.
Peace.
1) It's not a good novel.
-Although the story is very emotional and powerful even, the execution was lacking--I thought. I found many of the characters flat and completely unbelievable (the same for parts of the dialogue). Furthermore, entire sections of the plot seemed obviously borrowed from greater works of fiction. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for borrowing from other writers, I just think it should be done more tactfully. For instance, I swear Papa is the same character as the Oracle in The Matrix. There were other (larger) borrowed elements that bothered me, but I don't have time to discuss them.
-I also felt that some of the time Young was engaging in emotional manipulation. Because your emotions are engaged, it means your brain probably isn't. This is handy when you're trying to get people to buy a sketchy position.
2) I thought it was brazenly irreverent.
-I don't know about Mr. Young, but the God I worship is actually Holy. The picture of God that Mr. Young paints is more like Santa Claus than the God of the Bible. I understand that he's trying to emphasize God's love and mercy, etc. but I felt it was done at the expense of Holiness.
-I did think that he did do a good job of clearly distinguishing between the persons of the Trinity, thus avoiding the heresy of Modalism (Modalism states that the persons are simply modes of the same being, not distinct persons). However, in doing so, Mr. Young incarnated all three persons of the Trinity--not just Jesus. Certainly, you could say, "But Young made it clear that they only appeared as a black woman, a carpenter, and an asian woman." Sure, but God never makes himself appear as something he isn't. He's not a Greek God.
3) I had to play "Insight or Heresy?" when I read it.
Young had some very insightful things to say. If you can look past all the problems with it and just pay attention to those bits, the book won't bother you as much. I was perturbed by the book, sure, but not nearly as much as other people I know. As I was reading, I tried to keep an open mind and ignore the bad bits. Fortunately, I was able to find some very good insights. Unfortunately, these good insights were always nestled amongst very unhelpful 'insights'. 'Heretical views' might be closer than 'insights'. I will temper that by saying that I did understand his reasons for most of the views I didn't agree with. He was trying to correct some misconceptions people have about God. I just think he went too far.
This article sums up my opinion pretty well. I don't necessarily agree with everything that's said, but I'd hold to most of it.
Here is an additional article which was brought to my attention. I think it makes many of my own points, but perhaps in a more balanced fashion.
Of course, you don't have to agree with me, but I think I have valid reasons to hold my opinion.
Peace.
Friday, 12 June 2009
Humility: Lovely Roots
Humility. I never really understood it as I was growing up. I had the idea that humility was making yourself as small as possible. This made it exceedingly difficult for me to respond to compliments. Humility seemed to require me to say, "Oh, it's nothing, really. It's probably luck or something..." But politeness seemed to require me to say, "Oh, thank you! That's very kind of you to say." I felt that to accept compliments was the antithesis of humility: it would be agreeing with their assessment of me or my work. I felt that it was my duty to make sure that no compliments stuck to me, as if an accepted compliment was a stain on my robe of humility. After all, pride is a terrible vice.
It did not occur to me until several years later that this is not true humility. In fact, such an attitude is only another kind of pride. Instead of being truly humble, I was placing myself in an elevated position of judgment. For instance, whenever anyone told me I was talented, I'd try to tell them that they were wrong--thinking myself very humble. Instead, what I was doing was this: 1) I was discounting their honest judgments--which is arrogant, especially because I knew they were right; I was trying to convince myself that they were wrong. 2) I was (willfully) misjudging the gifts that God has given me (which those persons had recognized) and diminishing them and calling them worthless--which is extremely arrogant. What right have I to demean the good things God has given me? What right have I to lie to myself?
Self-deceit is not humility. It is Pride. It always is. It makes no difference whether you set yourself up as god or trample yourself into the dust. Self-deception is self-misjudgment and self-misjudgment is judgment which spits in the face of God. It screams, I--I and not You--am the judge of who I am. It is Pride.
I have learned that humility is something very different. True humility is liberating. I remember the relief I felt when I realized that humility is not self-depreciation. I am free, I thought, free to recognize the good in myself. This is precisely what humility is: humility is to see yourself clearly. I am talented. I am intelligent. The humble man recognizes that these are gifts from God. It is not humility to compare oneself with other people. The humble man takes joy in his own being. I take joy in the good things God has given me--joy and not pride. I do not compare myself to others, but rather joy in the good God has given them. When others recognize the good in me, I rejoice in that goodness. I am free to agree with them--not in pride, but in joy.
At the same time, the humble man recognizes his own weakness: he is not blind to his own faults. I do not excuse my own faults while judging others: I am charitable towards others and merciless with myself. Just as it is wrong to recognize the good in myself, it is wrong to excuse my shortcomings--it is wrong to not recognize the sinfulness of my sin. I am not a good person. I don't pretend to be. I have gifts, but I have also given myself griefs. Just as my gifts are worthy of celebration, my sins are worthy only of grief. To pretend that I am good is self-deceit and therefore pride.
At least, that's the goal I strive for. I have a secret for you: I'm not humble. I'm an extremely conceited individual. But I hope that one day I will be humble--that I will joy in my gifts, that I will recognize the sinfulness of my sin, that I will be charitable toward others and only merciless toward myself.
"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Jesus Christ: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and become obedient to death--even death on a cross!" - Ephesians 2:3-8
Jesus, being perfect, was perfectly humble. He had no sin--no weakness to recognize. He is God incarnate, yet chose to serve. This is the last aspect of humility that I wish to stress: service. Humility, being self-honesty before God and man, is not a devaluing of self but rather a super-valuing (love) of others. Humility is an act of Love.
As I mentioned in my blog post 'Be Good', the good man is good because he loves rightly. If one loves rightly, one will be humble. It is all a matter of love.
As Jesus said, " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." (Matt 22)
O God, help me. I have not yet learned to love. Thus, I have not yet learned to live. Nor have I learned to die. But I am learning.
It did not occur to me until several years later that this is not true humility. In fact, such an attitude is only another kind of pride. Instead of being truly humble, I was placing myself in an elevated position of judgment. For instance, whenever anyone told me I was talented, I'd try to tell them that they were wrong--thinking myself very humble. Instead, what I was doing was this: 1) I was discounting their honest judgments--which is arrogant, especially because I knew they were right; I was trying to convince myself that they were wrong. 2) I was (willfully) misjudging the gifts that God has given me (which those persons had recognized) and diminishing them and calling them worthless--which is extremely arrogant. What right have I to demean the good things God has given me? What right have I to lie to myself?
Self-deceit is not humility. It is Pride. It always is. It makes no difference whether you set yourself up as god or trample yourself into the dust. Self-deception is self-misjudgment and self-misjudgment is judgment which spits in the face of God. It screams, I--I and not You--am the judge of who I am. It is Pride.
I have learned that humility is something very different. True humility is liberating. I remember the relief I felt when I realized that humility is not self-depreciation. I am free, I thought, free to recognize the good in myself. This is precisely what humility is: humility is to see yourself clearly. I am talented. I am intelligent. The humble man recognizes that these are gifts from God. It is not humility to compare oneself with other people. The humble man takes joy in his own being. I take joy in the good things God has given me--joy and not pride. I do not compare myself to others, but rather joy in the good God has given them. When others recognize the good in me, I rejoice in that goodness. I am free to agree with them--not in pride, but in joy.
At the same time, the humble man recognizes his own weakness: he is not blind to his own faults. I do not excuse my own faults while judging others: I am charitable towards others and merciless with myself. Just as it is wrong to recognize the good in myself, it is wrong to excuse my shortcomings--it is wrong to not recognize the sinfulness of my sin. I am not a good person. I don't pretend to be. I have gifts, but I have also given myself griefs. Just as my gifts are worthy of celebration, my sins are worthy only of grief. To pretend that I am good is self-deceit and therefore pride.
At least, that's the goal I strive for. I have a secret for you: I'm not humble. I'm an extremely conceited individual. But I hope that one day I will be humble--that I will joy in my gifts, that I will recognize the sinfulness of my sin, that I will be charitable toward others and only merciless toward myself.
"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Jesus Christ: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and become obedient to death--even death on a cross!" - Ephesians 2:3-8
Jesus, being perfect, was perfectly humble. He had no sin--no weakness to recognize. He is God incarnate, yet chose to serve. This is the last aspect of humility that I wish to stress: service. Humility, being self-honesty before God and man, is not a devaluing of self but rather a super-valuing (love) of others. Humility is an act of Love.
As I mentioned in my blog post 'Be Good', the good man is good because he loves rightly. If one loves rightly, one will be humble. It is all a matter of love.
As Jesus said, " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." (Matt 22)
O God, help me. I have not yet learned to love. Thus, I have not yet learned to live. Nor have I learned to die. But I am learning.
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
Be Good!
I've noticed that when I say "Be good!" I don't actually mean it. My suspicion is that most people who say "Be good!" don't mean it either. Most often, I hear these words said to children. I have, however, noticed that I occasionally toss a "Be good!" in the direction of a mischievous friend.
What we really mean when we say "Be good!" isn't "Be good!" What we mean is "behave!" which is something entirely different. It is far easier to behave than it is to be good.
Behaving is external. I behave by driving the speed limit, by not being rude, and by not flying paper airplanes in church. These are all negative examples--things I don't do, but behavior can be positive as well. For instance, I behave by respecting my elders, by sharing, and by helping old ladies across the street. But behavior is not goodness. Bad men can behave. In fact, most of them do.
Behaving is no mark of goodness in a man, but misbehaving is clearly a mark of badness. A good man will not (ordinarily) misbehave, but a man may behave and still be bad. In fact, behaving is often a good way to place yourself in a position to do wrong. For instance, the most effective way to harm a great number of people is through a misuse of political power. But misbehaving men are seldom elected. Hitler behaved for most of his life. He got himself elected.
But not all bad men are Hitlers. Most bad men will never murder anyone; in fact, most probably think themselves good men. But this is precisely where the trouble begins. Goodness and badness cannot be reduced to matters of behavior. Behaving is very simple compared with the trouble of being good.
The good man is good inwardly. The bad man is good only externally. A few examples may help explain what I mean. The good man loves his wife as his wife because she is his wife. The bad man loves his wife as his wife for secondary reasons--because of her personality, her beauty, her character, etc.. The good man also loves his wife for these traits, but he does not love her as his wife because of them. The good man loves her for them in addition to her wifeness. The bad man, on the other hand, loves his wife as his wife not because she is his wife, but rather because she is a certain way or has certain traits.
The Bible tells us this very thing. Ephesians 5 tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loves the Church. A husband should love his wife because of her position as a wife--the love he has for her because of her traits is secondary and superseded by his love for her as his wife. Likewise, Christ does not love the Church because we are particularly good, smart, or beautiful people, but rather because we are the Church. Christ loves the Church as the Church because the Church is. It would be preposterous to claim that Christ loves His Church for any reason other than the fact that the Church is the Church. Clearly, He loves the Church's good attributes, but those attributes are not why He loves us.
This applies everywhere--not just to love as defined in marriage. The good man is good because he loves rightly--because he loves the right things in the right way for the right reasons. A man may love poetry and he may love hot showers, but he must not love them the same way or even pretend that his enjoyment of hot showers is anything like his enjoyment of poetry. He must take pleasure where pleasure should be taken and he must take displeasure where displeasure should be taken. And he must take them in the right ways and in the right amounts.
It is a very difficult thing to be good. If I were not a Christian, I should strongly doubt that any man could be truly good. Since I am a Christian, I know that no one is good--except God alone.
I do my best to behave, but I continually discover that I am a bad man. I love behaving only when it suits me and even then because it suits me, not because it is right. I do not take displeasure where displeasure should be taken--I laugh at bad jokes and excuse my shortcomings.
I am a bad man--not because I'm full of hate--but because I don't know how to love.
-D. Araujo
What we really mean when we say "Be good!" isn't "Be good!" What we mean is "behave!" which is something entirely different. It is far easier to behave than it is to be good.
Behaving is external. I behave by driving the speed limit, by not being rude, and by not flying paper airplanes in church. These are all negative examples--things I don't do, but behavior can be positive as well. For instance, I behave by respecting my elders, by sharing, and by helping old ladies across the street. But behavior is not goodness. Bad men can behave. In fact, most of them do.
Behaving is no mark of goodness in a man, but misbehaving is clearly a mark of badness. A good man will not (ordinarily) misbehave, but a man may behave and still be bad. In fact, behaving is often a good way to place yourself in a position to do wrong. For instance, the most effective way to harm a great number of people is through a misuse of political power. But misbehaving men are seldom elected. Hitler behaved for most of his life. He got himself elected.
But not all bad men are Hitlers. Most bad men will never murder anyone; in fact, most probably think themselves good men. But this is precisely where the trouble begins. Goodness and badness cannot be reduced to matters of behavior. Behaving is very simple compared with the trouble of being good.
The good man is good inwardly. The bad man is good only externally. A few examples may help explain what I mean. The good man loves his wife as his wife because she is his wife. The bad man loves his wife as his wife for secondary reasons--because of her personality, her beauty, her character, etc.. The good man also loves his wife for these traits, but he does not love her as his wife because of them. The good man loves her for them in addition to her wifeness. The bad man, on the other hand, loves his wife as his wife not because she is his wife, but rather because she is a certain way or has certain traits.
The Bible tells us this very thing. Ephesians 5 tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loves the Church. A husband should love his wife because of her position as a wife--the love he has for her because of her traits is secondary and superseded by his love for her as his wife. Likewise, Christ does not love the Church because we are particularly good, smart, or beautiful people, but rather because we are the Church. Christ loves the Church as the Church because the Church is. It would be preposterous to claim that Christ loves His Church for any reason other than the fact that the Church is the Church. Clearly, He loves the Church's good attributes, but those attributes are not why He loves us.
This applies everywhere--not just to love as defined in marriage. The good man is good because he loves rightly--because he loves the right things in the right way for the right reasons. A man may love poetry and he may love hot showers, but he must not love them the same way or even pretend that his enjoyment of hot showers is anything like his enjoyment of poetry. He must take pleasure where pleasure should be taken and he must take displeasure where displeasure should be taken. And he must take them in the right ways and in the right amounts.
It is a very difficult thing to be good. If I were not a Christian, I should strongly doubt that any man could be truly good. Since I am a Christian, I know that no one is good--except God alone.
I do my best to behave, but I continually discover that I am a bad man. I love behaving only when it suits me and even then because it suits me, not because it is right. I do not take displeasure where displeasure should be taken--I laugh at bad jokes and excuse my shortcomings.
I am a bad man--not because I'm full of hate--but because I don't know how to love.
-D. Araujo
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)