El Gringoqueño

I was reading this article entitled: "Why Great Men like John Edwards Cheat"

It’s a great article and I think spot on as to why we see politicians cheat on their spouses.  Of course, it begs the question, who says John Edwards is "Great"… but I digress.

­In the course of reading this article I keep hearing my pastor, Fr. Vega, give variations on his favorite sermon: "You are not your job.  You are not a doctor, lawyer, politician.  You are not loved for your accomplishments.  You are you.  Be you, fully you and only you.  Know you are loved as you are."

The measure of how often and how far we are as a society from this ideal is revealed in the quantity of people who are miserable in their jobs, dead, bored, unhappy, yearning for something better, more meaningful, more important, more in line with what they think they deserve.  Sometimes it just takes someone to tell them them how meaningful they and their job really are.

I was visiting a cracker manufacturing plant for a local trade organization a while back, writing an article on products made in Puerto Rico.  My intent is always to always get a human angle on the thing, find a compelling story, simple and touching.  I surprised one of the cracker inspectors by asking him what the best part of his job was.  He looked a little confused, irritated, and put out by the question, like, what the hell do you mean, "best part.  It’s hot as hell in here and I’m looking at stupid crackers all day.  I’m a trained monkey."

"No, I mean, do you have kids?"

"Yes," he answered, "three boys."

"Oh, I bet they love what you do.  What are their favorite crackers or cookies?"  A smile cracked his face.  "They love the florecitas and -"  And on he went through the different products.

"My kids eat these too.  They love them," I replied. These simple adulations I think caused him to reconsider his position, his job, maybe himself.  I wasn’t telling him he was the greatest cookie inspector in the world or that being a cookie inspector was going to get him a mansion in the hills.  No, I simply reminded him of how he impacted and touched others in a meaningful way.  There was something of value in being a cookie inspector, and better yet, there were people who loved him for it - simple and honest.

When I was commanding an Army unit, a shower, laundry, and sewing quartermaster company of 120 or so soldiers, I was always combating this tendency.  "What do you do," someone would ask a solder. 

"We are in direct support of the infantry," they would respond.  If further questions were asked, they would reluctantly admit, that yeah, it was a laundry and shower unit, but that we had powerful weapons.  I, myself, was guilty of this too.  You can see people’s inward snicker when they find out you are a shower and laundry unit.  Cue Korean dry-cleaning jokes, how they want their clothes folded, starched, etc.

The basic problem is this: we don’t really respect ourselves and what we do.  With pride, I tried to say, "I wash clothes for and shower the hard fighting combat troops of the infantry.  You have never seen gratitude until you’ve taken a miserable son-of-a-bitch covered from head to toe in dust and grime and gotten him a hot shower and clean clothes."  In that moment, there are no laundry jokes, no snickers about sewing machines and fashion shows.  He knows how much it means to him, and you know it from the humble thank you.  They all thank you, with deep respect - every last one - for a simple shower.

And personally, even though I’m staring down the barrel of 40, I still have to do intern level tech support such as: crawling under desks, messing with cabling in server closets, and telling people how to use Outlook.  Sometimes it’s damn humiliating.  There have been times when, I overhear the following: "El muchacho está aquí ahora mismo y está bregando con eso."  "The boy (unimportant technician not worthy of having a name) is here now dealing with it."  When did I become the "boy" or the "tech" or some other easily replaceable low level drone?  I have a name, damnit.

But then I remember - because I have learned this lesson many times - and because I write it down for myself in this blog to read later, that I am more than my job, or what I do.  In that moment when I am helping a person, I know that there is nothing more important.  If it was not for me, they would not have email, or a workstation, or an internet connection.  In that moment, I am doing something for them, only for them.  If they are not grateful, and they never are, it smarts, but I know of some truths to which they may not be privy.  I smile an inward smile knowing that I have helped someone. They had a need and I fulfilled it.

I am not my job, but a servant  We would do well to remember that we are all servants.  To serve is divinity itself.

I was on my way to the office when I passed an older man working to change a flat tire.  He looked to be in his sixties and drove a modest car.  My first inclination was to stop and help him out.  Here is a recap of my internal dialog.

I should stop.  He looks like he could use a hand.

Oh, there’s no real place to stop.  Oops, I just passed him.  The traffic is heavy, there’s no space.  Should I turn around? 

Would I want someone to help me?  

But I’m dressed for the office.  I’ll get all sweaty and dirty if I stop.

It looks really dangerous.  He’s got only 1 or 2 feet of clearance parked where he is in the middle of the road. 

It’s too dangerous.

If I stop to help help this man, what will happen to me?  I shook my head, and then it hit me.  I was on the road to Jericho.  No, I think, if I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him? 

He is in the middle of the road, there is traffic all around.  If he slips, if a car passes too close… what would happen to him if I’m not there to help?

I wheeled around and pulled up in where he was.  I stepped out of the car and asked him if he needed a hand.  He didn’t really, but "Thank you," he said. 

He was finishing up, but I told him I’d stand and watch for cars.  I’m tall and hard to miss.  I’ll make sure that the cars see you here.

Again, he thanked me.  I said I wished I could have gotten there sooner to help, because this thing has happened to me many times.  He tightened the lugs and stood up.  I shook his hand and wished him a good day.  We got into our cars and drove off.

I know I didn’t really do anything physically helpful.  Would that I had arrived earlier, but I suppose, with all the cars passing by barely noticing a fellow, my presence was lifting.  You’re not alone, hermano.  If anything, there was someone today looking out for you on the road to Jericho. 

Jesus Loves You.

This one takes a bit of doing, but here it is. I would rephrase it as: You are loved.

By whom, you ask?

The universe that birthed you, I reply.

That’s not love.

Okay, how’s this: You are loved, by the universe that birthed you, and your fellows are its surrogate. Those fellows are most closely your family, perhaps your friends, and maybe your neighbors. In the absence of any of these, I will love you.

Who are you?

He who was sent to love you.

So my friends, even in these desperate times, when so many feel so unloved, know that you are lovely, lovable, and that you are loved. All you have to do is open yourself to it, let yourself be loved, even when you don’t feel worthy, even when you feel unlovable. Laura continues to remind me, so I remind you.

Yes, I know. Atheists are offended by that. Let me taunt you again. If you disagree with that statement, you are NOT an atheist.

Let me set you up with a bit of background. Perhaps we can agree on this, no? Would you say that as an atheist God is no more "real" than say, Zeus, or Odin, or the Flying Spagetti Monster? Yes, you say?

Okay good. We shall continue.

Would you also say that religion, belief in an afterlife, or plain old "fear of God" stuff is just right out. Let’s face it, as an atheist, you don’t believe in that crap. Life is biological. When you’re gone, you’re gone. There is no higher calling than living your life to the fullest, not like a jerk, but fullest, being a good and productive human. It just makes good sense.

You also hate it when people say that without religion there would be no morals. Why not, you ask?

You reply, leaping forth from the fuente of Kantian thought, only that which can be applied universally is truly moral. You understand that the concept of universal morality and the golden rule are practical and lead to a good and solid foundation. Without this practical morality your own lifetime would have been marred with warring and fighting and disease and misery. Pay if forward, you say. Morals make good sense. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Now there’s a moral framework you can get behind.

One more thing, and this is important, so pay attention. You say that life is more precious for you than it is for a "believer," because, to an atheist, there is nothing after. Life is the greatest gift, the only gift you will truly ever receive. Life is all that you will ever have, and death takes away EVERYTHING else.

Are you still with me? Do I have it mostly nailed down? I don’t want a straw man here. I want an atheist that can stand up and take it. But you know the strangest thing?

I agree with you.

But I still say there are no atheists in foxholes.

What?! Haven’t I been listening? Bear with me here, I’m going to spell it out. Here it is:

If life is all that you have and all that you will ever have, what the hell are you doing dying in a foxhole? I ask you, atheist, what is so important that you would be willing to give your life for it? I’m baffled. You profess to no god. You patently disavow any sort of celestial reward. You cast off the yoke of religious dogma, superstition, and tradition. For what do you die? Are you stupid? Crazy? Crazy like a foxhole, maybe. I’m on to you though.

A steadfastly rational atheist might reply that he is risking his life for a stable future, for enlightenment, for an end to suffering. I shoot back, but YOU aren’t going to be around?  What would the point be?

Maybe he will talk to me of acceptable risk and potential reward.  Sometimes it just doesn’t work out, he would say. Don’t kid yourself. There is no acceptable risk in war. Why sacrifice yourself for oblivion then?

Nobody will live this life as well as you, for you are you and no one else. No one else will enjoy it like you. No one will smell it, taste it, touch it like you. No one can live it as you live it, experience consciousness as you experience it. This fact is not selfish, it is reality, the only reality you will ever know.

But why do you die in this foxhole, atheist? May I dare offer an explanation?

Perhaps, there are no atheists in foxholes, because by the very fact that you are willing to die for something, you believe in something bigger than yourself.  What would you call that thing? 

You’ve already proven yourself a practical maverick thinker, not prone to group-think. You’ve shown yourself to be a rational being of the first order. You have seen through all the veils the world has pulled over the eyes of your brothers. You’re the only one that actually sees the truth.

Why are you in the foxhole, then? Perhaps you are not only NOT an atheist, but the most pious of us all. By giving your life in a foxhole, you are faithful to your fellows. You make a commitment knowing the outcome is uncertain. That is faith, my friend. You have faith. Perhaps "true-believers" are not even fit to tie your sandal strap. You are such the atheist that you may as well wrap around and come out the other side transfigured and clothed in divine white.

So I ask you:

Do you believe in justice? Is absolute justice worth dying for? Do you believe in love? Is absolute love worth dying for? Ultimate empathy? I submit, dear atheist, that you are nothing of the sort. Not only are you not an atheist, but you are as the righteous of history, a hero of the first order, a savior of mankind.

Amen I say to you, brother.

Jesus: Mother Teresa was a great lady. She was a great and wonderful person. I say this because it makes me sad to see she was not happy.

I guess I knew it. I’d heard her cries in the darkness. She was tortured.

She was tortured by what though? What was it that was eating her up inside?

Host: Audience? I see that Jesus is pausing for us to ponder his question. What do you say, audience? What was Mother Teresa tortured by?

*audience member struggles to his feet*

Yes, you, hold on, here I come.

Audience Member: *out of breath* Yes, I think she was tortured by her doubt. She had lost her belief and was trying to gain it back.

Jesus: Well, that’s what she writes in her letters. But let me ask you… *smiles* because I like asking these questions. In what had she lost her faith? What was this "belief" she was trying to get back? Belief in what?

Audience Member: Ummm

Host: Let’s ask someone else. You there -

Audience Member 2: *grabbing microphone* I, um, think she had lost her faith in you? She wasn’t sure if she believed in God? Maybe she lost her belief in prayer? Maybe Satan had gotten to her.

Jesus: Maybe we’re getting closer, but we’re still a long way off. Let me do my best to answer this question. From what I can tell, all Mother Teresa lost was her belief in orthodoxy. Since orthodoxy was the foundation of her spiritual life, she found that when she lost her way with regard to the objectification of her faith as put forth by the Catholic Church… sure enough, she lost her faith, her belief in the way. It all got tossed by the wayside because she had never stripped it down enough to recognize it in its nakedness.

Orthodoxy is like paint. Sometimes it’s pretty, serves a function and works well enough. But sometimes it covers up some deep rust, scars in the structure and foundations. When we can’t strip away the paint and check out the undercarriage, give it some maintenance, we’re doomed to catastrophic failure. ‘Cause paint, although nice, doesn’t keep the ship from sinking.

I like to be certain about the root of things.

You like to be certain, right?

Audience: *in unison* Yes Lord!

Jesus: *laughing* That just reminded me of a movie. Sorry *stifles guffaw*. Where were we?

Certainty.

An older priest went on a sabbatical to spend some time with the Missionaries of Charity. He had been in a spiritual crisis, and upon meeting Mother Teresa, asked her to pray for his clarity. She laughed at him and walked away, refusing with a flip of her hand. Baffled and confused, the priest asked her why? Why wouldn’t she pray for him. He sought clarity.

I know what she thought. She thought to herself, "clarity is a pipe dream, honey. There is no clarity. Don’t you think if anybody had clarity, I’d have it? Clarity is something I’ve sought my whole life. And it has eluded me."

That is just so sad, my friends. You complicate everything. You complicate and sour those very things that should bring you joy. You codify and organize and arrange - until you’re left with these tasteless, joyless morsels. Ughggg who can eat that stuff.

God = Love

Equal as in the same. What is love, but empathy, caring. Love is not mimickry. Love is not rules. Love is not "going through the motions" out of stubborn devotion, out of some misguided duty to ME. Men, how would it make you feel if you found out your wives were faking orgasms?

Not too good, huh.

Well, I don’t feel very good when you do the same. Do you bear the stench of the homeless old man, because he is Jesus, putting up with him for your chits in heaven. Slog your way through the unpleasantness to get to the creamy filling.

*sarcasm* Lovely.

Personally, it doesn’t do a thing for me, and it shouldn’t for you either. It’s a waste. It wastes my time, and it wastes yours.

Love is empathy. Empathy is projecting yourselves, getting outside of your mortal shell and into the hearts of others. I don’t want you to help the dirty, miserable, craven, pathetic, misguided, or criminal. I want you to LOVE them. What does love mean. Love compels you to help them.  You should be passionate about that.  Love is acceptance. Love doesn’t judge. Love isn’t proud. Love doesn’t despair. Love is a force multiplier. Love is infectious. Love is sincere. Love is binding.

In that connection, that connection of love, within its tendrils as they intertwine amongst you all, between rich and poor, between self-righteous and humble, between the smug and the doubtful is where I dwell.

Let me tell you what you will do, people. Here it is. You will do this because it will make you happy. It will bring you joy.

Connect with each other. Reach out to your enemies and love them, especially those that would hurt you, fear you. Love them more, because they need it. Love them not as a sacrifice, but as a joy. Don’t worry about the outcome. Outcomes will take care of themselves and beside you don’t love for the outcome of it, do you?

And if you’re looking for me, know that I am Love, that it is in your true and sincere devotion to one another that I exist.

And if you fake it, it doesn’t work.

I will still love you though.