Readers of this blog may wonder why I’ve written next to nothing about the ugly political turmoil that has rocked the state of Wisconsin over the past few weeks. It’s not that I don’t care deeply about such events or that I’m not directly impacted by them, but as one of the on-air voices of WGTD, I guard my public neutrality rather zealously. (And when the dispute turns as rancorous as this one has, there is something to be said for flying the flag of Switzerland.) And truth be told, I see some validity on both sides of this stark divide (I do call myself a political moderate) and frankly don’t fully grasp all of the complexities of the situation to consider myself any sort of voice of authority. I know what my gut tells me – and I have a rough notion of how Kathy and I and others are likely to be impacted by how things are going – but I leave this debate to the eloquence and expertise of others.
But I will venture to say this much . . .
Lent is a season of the church year in which many Christians choose to give up certain comforts or luxuries, in the hope and expectation that when we strip distractions away, we are more likely to encounter the Grace of God in deeper ways. Neither Kathy nor I have done very much of that kind of Lenten “giving up” very regularly or faithfully over the years- but we appreciate how many people choose such a path for themselves and admire them for their discipline.
This year, Lent – like it or not – is proving to be a season of relinquishment for a lot of different people. . . Kathy and I, included. Ironically, that reliquishment began on Fat Tuesday, which is often seen as a last night of fun and excess before the austerity of Lent sets in. For Racine’s public school teachers, Fat Tuesday was just the opposite, because they voted that night to accept a new two-year contract containing a host of very significant concessions on salary and fringe benefits. The one which made the headlines was the acceptance of a different health insurance policy in which the deductible skyrockets from $200 to $4000. (If the current health insurance policy is a Porsch, the new policy is a used golf cart.) The contract contains other monetary concessions as well that I don’t need to go into, but it added up to a painful loss for every teacher in the district – but it was believed to be a necessary move because of massive cutbacks in state aid to public schools which – without such signifcant concessions – would necessitate catastrophic layoffs. I for one was really proud of the teacher’s union for making such a move – and was gratified the next night when the Racine School Board added its stamp of approval. To see the union and the school board working together like this was nothing short of remarkable – and tremendously inspiring. But it was still a painful move to make, and in its wake people like Kathy and me were forced to think about how best to absorb what will amount to the thousands of dollars we will lose. Cut back on our cleaning lady? Eliminate the weed treatments for our lawn? Rethink my season tickets to the opera? Cancel our membership at Razor Sharp? Downgrade to a cheaper dog food for Bobbi and Ellie?
It’s only as I type those words that I realize that when it comes to deprivation and pain, Kathy and I are way down on the list. . . unlike people pondering far more difficult choices like whether or not they can buy braces for their child or whether they need to downgrade to a smaller and cheaper house . Kathy and I have fluff in our lives and will survive just fine with a bit less of it…. and for as unpleasant as all of this is, maybe Lent is a good time for us to be thinking about this, even as we also feel mounting concerns for those we know (especially younger teachers) who may face even more pain and for whom this may represent far more difficult losses than downgrading from 8 operas to 6. (And by the way, lest we be guilty of complacency, we are well aware that no teacher is utterly invulnerable at the moment- and especially specialists like music, art, and gym teachers. But for the moment, at least, we feel more fortunate than many.)
In light of all this, I want to share a most memorable moment from the Ash Wednesday sermon delivered by Pastor Samuelson, which involved the story of Dives and Lazarus. Dives was the rich man who ends up in hell because he was so insensitive to the suffering of the beggar Lazarus and did absolutely nothing to help him. Pastor Steve had a lot of fascinating insights to share about this complicated parable, but one stands out for me: He said that we hear so much about the reality of the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer – undeniable, of course, and a source of real concern for most humane people, I think – but he said that one dangerous attitude often just below the surface of that laudable concern is our tendency to think of Wealthy people as those other people who are far wealthier than we are. In other words, we almost never think of ourselves as Wealthy – when in fact, the vast majority of us are wildly rich compared to most people on this planet. And when we read stories in the Bible about rich people, it is a mistake for us to assume that the reference is only meant for the Bill Gates’s and Donald Trump’s of the world. In fact, a lot of us are richer than we feel we are or care to admit. And so at a moment when Kathy and I were both feeling like we were suddenly destitute, these words were a much needed wakeup call. *
And now we are all confonted by these horrific images from Japan, site of a massive earthquake, and seeing still more damage done by the ensuing tsunami. . . a brutally graphic reminder first of all of how small and fragile each of us is, and also of how much the rest of us have to be thankful for, even in times as tough as these.
If I am going to give up anything this Lenten season, I want it to be my Self-Pity. . . which I hope in turn will open up more space in my heart to feel the pain of others and move me to do something about it. And I am going to do my very best to adopt my wife’s philosophy for resisting the urge to worry, because it simply does no good- and as a wise man once said, Worry is A Terrible Misuse of our Imagination. So I hope that Lent will be a time for hunkering down, for anchoring to the bedrock essentials of life which we so often take for granted, and of trusting that through many dangers, toils, and snares, we have already come. ‘Tis Grace that has brought us safe thus far, and grace will lead us home.
-
*I want to share an interesting excerpt from a book called The Numbers Game by Andrew Dilnot, which puts the matter of wealth distribution in proper perspective:
A Dutch economist, Jan Pen, famous imagined a procession of the world’s population where people were as tall as they were rich, everyone’s height proportionl to their wealth. A person of average wealth would be of average height. The procession starts with the poorest (and shortest) ppersons first and ends one hour later, with the richest (and tallest.)
Not until twenty minutes into the procession do we see anyone at all. So far, they’ve had either negative net worth (owing more than they own) or no wealth at all, and so have no height. It’s a full thirty minutes before we begin to see dwarfs about six inches tall.
And the dwarfs keep coming. It is not until 48 minutes have passed that we see the first person of average height and average wealth, when more than three quarters of the world’s population has already gone by.
What delays the average so long after the majority have passed? The answer lies in the effect of those who come next. In the last few minutes, giants loom up. . . a lawyer, not exceptionally successful, eighteen feet tall. As the hour approaches, the very last people in the procession are so tall we can’t see their heads. Last of all, said Pen (at a time before the fully formed fortunes of Bill gates and Warren Buffett) we see John Paul Getty. His height is breathtaking, perhaps ten miles tall…. perhaps twice as much.
Makes you think, doesn’t it?