We found ourselves talking about weddings. Having discovered the tidy little amphitheatre in the woods behind this cozy Vermont inn (www.weathersfieldinn.com) -- a perfect matrimonial setting -- we inquired of innkeeper Dave on the subject. "We're selective," he responded. When prodded for an explanation, he hinted that, after a series of unpleasant experiences, he and Jane now virtually interview those who inquire about booking their nuptials at the inn. "We mostly do older couples who have their act together."
I nodded with understanding. "When I was graduating from seminary, I couldn't wait to do weddings, and dreaded doing funerals."
"But that quickly flipped," Dave interrupted.
"Yes," I confirmed. "People involved in funerals tend to be genuinely present and focused on large questions and attentions. They are interested in substance rather than show."
"While young, first-time brides," Dave dryly interjected, "are all consumed with whether the mashed potatoes will match the wedding dress, and whether the bridesmaid's' dresses will coordinate with the table cloths."
And so went our commiseration about the nonsensical distractions of youth. But I suspect we both knew that inane preoccupation with what simply doesn't matter is a malady without respect for age.
As I point my wheels into the untracked expanse of a new year, my first resolution is to lighten up, and seek a tighter discrimination between what matters and what simply doesn't. And second, to be more patiently forgiving of those who, like me, often get the two confused.
I nodded with understanding. "When I was graduating from seminary, I couldn't wait to do weddings, and dreaded doing funerals."
"But that quickly flipped," Dave interrupted.
"Yes," I confirmed. "People involved in funerals tend to be genuinely present and focused on large questions and attentions. They are interested in substance rather than show."
"While young, first-time brides," Dave dryly interjected, "are all consumed with whether the mashed potatoes will match the wedding dress, and whether the bridesmaid's' dresses will coordinate with the table cloths."
And so went our commiseration about the nonsensical distractions of youth. But I suspect we both knew that inane preoccupation with what simply doesn't matter is a malady without respect for age.
As I point my wheels into the untracked expanse of a new year, my first resolution is to lighten up, and seek a tighter discrimination between what matters and what simply doesn't. And second, to be more patiently forgiving of those who, like me, often get the two confused.
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1 comment:
Good luck focusing on what really matters. We live in a culture 180ยบ opposed to that, and you know it's always difficult to swim against the current of prevailing public opinion.
The most visible social structure of the USA of the 21st Century focused far more on style than substance. The prioroity is cosmetic appearance rather than the underlying reality.
It's considered normal to envy (or emulate) the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Whether it's youthful weddings trying to be royalty-for-a-day, or young professionals thinking that a "starter house" must be 2000 square feet with all the current amenities.
50 years ago people tried keeping up with the Joneses, now it's more like keeping up with the Windsors (old-world royalty) or the latest movie stars (new-world royalty).
The new social outcasts of society are the ones who can't afford to -- or choose not to -- participate in our consumeristic excesses.
No developers are building houses or apartments which are affordable for those on the low end of the middle-class income spectrum (to say nothing of those working for near minimum-wage). Gone are the days when Ford tried to make the automobile affordable to the masses -- nowadays automakers focus their efforts on the high-cost vehicles.
Our neighborhoods strive for cultural and economic uniformity, rather than the diversty of a previous era. Our clamoring for farmland to develop into shopping malls, or our destruction of the environment (or exploitation of cheap labor) for cheaper consumer goods are wreaking havoc with our ecosystem.
The problem has so snowballed that the problem extends beyond the consumer and the vendor, to less-commercial institutions like the government. Standards of city housing codes favor the upper-level expectations of domesticity, even to the point of keeping certain ethnic groups or income levels out of their commuities.
A city which defines maximum occupancy based on cultural expectations of a small nuclear family occupying one housing unit effectively shuts out those from ethnic or religious cultures with larger numbers of children or extended families dwelling under the same roof. People who can't afford a huge house with multiple bedrooms are excluded based on the expectations of an affluent culture, not on their need for more space.
I could continue to rant, but there's too much to complain about. Perhaps my grumblings are my own feeble attempts to minimize the extent to which our culture infects my own outlook.
It would perhaps be easier to remain unaffected by the surrounding attitude if the mainstream Church were more countercultural on this issue. But the modern American church is just as caught up in the problem as the rest of society. We waste our energies arguing about human sexuality, yet are consumed with the same yearnings for an affluent lifestyle as our non-religious contemporaries.
It is no surprise that Jesus had far more to say about the problems of money and greed than about sex. He saw which was the greatest temptation. Maybe that's why it's easier to debate those areas of human experience which we don't struggle with, than to try to live out our faith in the areas where we do fall short.
So, what's to do? I have more questions than answers, more struggles than solutions. And more words than wisdom! How indeed does one live in the world, but not *of* it?
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