They say you cannot walk before you crawl
I wonder why, I wonder why
Because everybody dreams before they fall
A wonder world and then we lose it allBut I will dream of tomorrow
Where the past will not be in my way
Passion lives another day
And I will dream of tomorrow…But I still dream of tomorrow
Where the past will not be in my way
Passion lives another day
And I still dream of tomorrow…Bebo Norman
Have you seen this TED Talk by Equal Justice Initiative Director Brian Stevenson? It is well worth 20 minutes of your time.
Over the next little while, I’m going to compose a series of posts digging deeper into the ideas in this talk, which I believe are distinctly Christian. I’m hoping to draw connections between the concepts Brian discusses and teachings throughout the Bible, and explore the implications of embracing these truths.
If you’re not convinced, here’s a teaser — and a warning! — from the talk:
There is no disconnect around technology and design that will allow us to be fully human until we pay attention to suffering, to poverty, to exclusion, to unfairness, to injustice. Now I will warn you that this kind of identity is a much more challenging identity than ones that don’t pay attention to this. It will get to you.
I was confronted today with a situation in which I was tempted to apply Hanlon’s Razor to exonerate a friend who caused pain to another friend.
Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.
However, I realized that applying this truisim was hardly benevolent. In exchange for forgiving my friend for mal-intent, I accused her of stupidity. I recognized truth in this saying, but maybe Hanlon’s razor could be refined to be more charitable and constructive.
The linked wikipedia article pointed out that over 200 years ago Johann Wolfgang von Goethe made a similar statement:
“…misunderstandings and neglect create more confusion in this world than trickery and malice. At any rate, the last two are certainly much less frequent.”
Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther (1774)
There are several interesting differences in Goethe’s version. Some are constructive, others I believe lead us down the wrong path.
Goethe helpfully uses the terms “misunderstanding” and “neglect” instead of Hanlon’s “stupidity.” Stupidity is an easy scapegoat. Once we assign blame to someone’s stupididty, we’re off the hook. Misunderstanding and neglect, however, present us with a challenge. These are conditions that we can undertake to rectify. If I see a misunderstanding, I can do my part to correct it. If I notice neglect, I can care for that which needs attention.
However, where Hanlon leaves the consequence unspoken, Goethe specifically mentions “confusion.” I think it’s safe to expand that to “pain” or “suffering,” but that does raise a whole other set of questions (if “confusion” can be equated with pain & suffering, does that make pain the result of a lack of knowledge? Can suffering be alleviated if we can just acquire and distribute the proper information?) I think this illustrates a fallacy the enlightened and modern mind has difficulty with. We deify knowledge and reason and have generally lost our capacity for faith and what the mystics might call “not knowing. I would prefer to substitute pain and/or suffering in Goethe’s quote without necessarily equating them with confusion.
Hanlon’s Razor hints at truth, but it may be harmful in the same manner as the actions it presumes to illuminate. It provides an incomplete understanding (stupidity) and encourages casting responsibility elsewhere, preventing the person who uses it from seeing the ways they can work to make things better.
Just two quotes this time.
I might seem to be comparing something great and holy with a minor and ordinary thing, that is, love of God with mortal love. But I just don’t see them as separate things at all.
Marilynne Robinson, Gilead
And,
Oh dear never saw you coming
Oh my, look what you have done
You’re my favorite song
Always on the tip of my tongueThe Civil Wars, Tip of My Tongue
I posted Psalm 131 here last Spring when I first came across it and decided to commit it to memory. These three simple verses have been working their way into my thoughts since then, and I’ve especially been meditating on them this week.
O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
Like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.O Israel, hope in the Lord
from this time forth and forevermore.
There are a good many wonderful promises in scripture, but this passage does not make a promise. It’s beauty is in the picture it paints of a soul fully contented with the Lord. No promise is necessary. Like a child, simply being with the Father is its own reward. I suspect this contented communion is what Elisabeth Elliot sought when she wrote
And so, not even for the light
To show a step ahead,
But for thee, dear Lord,
I wait.
I read an article recently in which the revered computer scientist Donald Knuth explained why he only checks his email once every three months (and even then, he only reads printed copies of the most important messages.)
I have been a happy man ever since January 1, 1990, when I no longer had an email address. I’d used email since about 1975, and it seems to me that 15 years of email is plenty for one lifetime.
…
Email is a wonderful thing for people whose role in life is to be on top of things. But not for me; my role is to be on the bottom of things. What I do takes long hours of studying and uninterruptible concentration.
And today a friend re-re-re-blogged* this bit o’ wisdom.
“When you’re writing a book, multitasking is your enemy.”— Alan Jacobs (via triadic) (via nachtseite) (via lukescommonplacebook) (via portraitoftheartistasayoungman)
Uh oooo rats — sincerelyyourneighbor
I wonder, what endeavors besides research and writing are also suffering when we insist on multitasking and entertaining so many distractions in our lives?
* Note that everyone listed in the via chain is very likely to be using the opportunity to re-blog this quote about multitasking as an escape from the task they ought to be doing. As am I.
Nah. I mean, it IS completely shameless self-promotion, but this is the internet, so that’s OK. Congrats on the LA Times mention, and keep up the good work.
Is it completely shameless self-promotion if I reblog this? Probably. I’ll pretend like it’s an excuse to support the other two featured transit-ers: follow, follow! I already did.
It’s Tumblr Tuesday! And it’s also National Bike Month! Here are our favorite local bicycle and transportation Tumblrs.
Car, Schmar
Karen Nicoletti started her Tumblr in January and doesn’t post daily, but she’s one of the few Tumblrs around with original commentary (not surprising for a former news editor). The Westsider chronicles L.A.’s streets from a cyclist’s perspective, touching on CicLAvia, car-sharing and midnight rides.Public Transit Adventures
Kristen Gaylord lives in Brooklyn, but the Fullerton native’s interest in transit development spans coasts. She picks up transit news from across the nation, with cool transit photos in between.The Rampart
Tim Jieh of Echo Park posts a ton of bike videos with a strong focus on L.A.’s aggressive fixed-gear scene. The Bay Area native also points out news from the bike scene, as well as local rides and races.Photos: left, Karen’s bicycle at Silver Lake Meadow; right, Kristen takes the 6 train on her daily commute in New York. Used with permission. Credit: Courtesy Karen Nicoletti, Kristen Gaylord
Question: What’s your preferred method of transportation? Do you have a bike? Or do you have a car? Bus pass? Sneakers? Skateboard? Roller blades?
The day after Jesus miraculously multiplies a few loaves and fish to feed a huge crowd, some of the people notice he’s gone missing and set out to find him.
When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered them,“Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not labor for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal.”
I too easily identify with the men who come to find Jesus in this passage. My thoughts, conversations, and prayers are filled with the words “I’d like.” The things “I’d like” are further up Maslow’s hierarchy than bread and fish, of course, and they are frequently wrapped in pious rationalization. I’d like to be out of debt so I can save more for the future and give more to charitable causes. I’d like to have a less demanding job so I can spend more time on activities I enjoy and building relationships with people in my community and learning to love my neighbors. I’d like to fall in love and get married so I can have a family and can be charitable and learn to love my neighbors with a partner. I’d like…
“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”
C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
I lack understanding of my own bankruptcy: I’m interested only in incremental improvements on the imitation life I already have. I cannot imagine the alternative set before me. Jesus astonishingly offers Himself, and I have no idea what that means or why I would want it.
Lord, I am half-hearted and my desires are weak. Make me desperate, by revealing the false gods that mask my deep need. Make me passionate by revealing yourself and your glory. Fill me with a strong desire for you, that I might pursue you at all costs.
I believe there is tremendous power in story. The narratives we hear and read shape our understanding profoundly and indelibly. I confess, I’ve often listened to the wrong stories. I need more stories that end like this one.
So they ran faster and faster till it was more like flying than running, and even the Eagle overhead was going no faster than they. And they went through winding valley after winding valley after winding valley and up the steep sides of hills and, faster than ever, down the other side, following the river and sometimes crossing it and skimming across mountain lakes as if they were living speedboats, till at last at the far end of one long lake which looked as blue as a turquoise, they saw a smooth green hill. Its sides were as steep as the sides of a pyramid and round the very top of it ran a green wall: but above the wall rose the branches of a tree whose leaves looked like silver and their fruit like gold.
“Further up and further in!” roared the Unicorn, and no one held back. They charged straight at the foot of the hill and then found themselves running up it almost as water from a broken wave runs up a rock out at the point of some bay. Though the slope was nearly as steep as the roof of a house and the grass was smooth as a bowling green, no one slipped. Only when they had reached the very top did they slow up; that was because they found themselves facing great golden gates. And for a moment, none of them was bold enough to try if the gates were open. They all felt just as they had felt about the fruit — “Dare we? Is it right? Can it be meant for us?”
…
But for them, it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.
