The other day my son was telling me something quite interesting. As he was talking I began to realize that something about it didn’t quite stack up. So I asked where he had heard about that. It was on “talk back radio”, he told me. And who was the person who had shared that gem? Oh, just someone who had called in. So did he believe it was true? Well, yes, why not? Perhaps it is because I’ve been around just a bit longer than him, but I asked instead “well, why?” Why believe something without checking out what is behind it, where is the source, does it comply with the facts, and a few important little things like that?

I have been noticing the same thing on forums and message boards as my son’s experience on talk back radio. People, often keeping anonymous, will say things with a sense of authority and yet it is only their opinion which is just as likely to be quite ill-informed and misguided. I am very aware of this when I write these entries to Judah’s Journal. Who am I to state the things that I do? What authority do I have to claim this or that to be the truth, or not the truth? It is characteristic of the blogosphere that all kinds of stuff gets published, much of it quite dubious in both worth and truth.

These are very good questions, and ones that every reader should be asking… and ask regarding whatever they read or hear.

I hope that readers of Judah’s Journal will notice that I make good use of references and note my sources diligently. Often I link to papers and websites where further information is found and credibility can be checked out. My own logic can be examined here-and-now in the case I present, and I do not point to myself as the expert, but in the direction of credible scholarship and authority. I find it annoying that unqualified or anonymous people will give an unsubstantiated opinion that they expect to have accepted as a sufficient case against the well researched and logically presented work of those with recognized expertise in the subject, even more so when there is no evidence of how they have dealt with the facts to come to their own conclusions, or appeal to such generalizations as “everyone knows…” and other common fallacies of thought that are equally meaningless.

And after that rather long sentence, I will hop off my soapbox for now. But think about it, folks. Do you care about the truth, and if so, how do you determine what is from what’s not?

“…to create an awareness on a global level of this world-class orchestra” is what he said. The words of our new, and oh so young, Finnish music director (Pietari Inkinen) who has been described as exciting, so talented, and particularly brilliant. With such glorious aclaim, I wonder what precautions are required to keep a sense of balance so necessary for one who must stand on a podium with both his back and feet so close to a sheer drop off the edge of the stage. But I do have to admit that he is certainly good - indeed quite exceptionally good. Our national orchestra has never played better, and world-class is indeed what it is.

Being way too early the other night we diverted two blocks to our favourite secondhand bookstore for a pre-concert browse. One has to be careful not to lose track of the time in there, and that was certainly true when I unearthed a pristine copy (printed in China - what a surprise!) of the complete short stories of one Katherine Mansfield. Wellington’s child, famous daughter of our beautiful harbour capital, she spent a full first five years on this soil before being swept back to Mother England and further abroad, thereafter disparaging of her native beginnings other than what of the culture could contribute to her literary works. With the pristine printed-in-China copy underarm anyway, we set off in time to be wowed by the wizardry of the wand, that curious little stick that draws out of the strings, brass and woodwind, all the magic there is to be heard in the music.

From our usual place three rows from the front, a little below eye-level with the ankles of the first violins, we can watch with awe the deft fingerplay, closeup facial expressions and other such fascinating detail. Humans are a funny lot. Who would have thought to compose music where first and second violins play in unison but one semitone distant from each other? It did little for me, and neither for most according to the scant enthusiasm in the applause to follow. It would have been interesting to hear an honest opinion from various players as to what they really thought of Rautavaara’s “A Tapestry of Life” and whether they would even be bothered with doing it again. The British cellist, Natalie Clein, is certainly clever on her strings and the sounds, set in order by Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, were exquisitely wonderful. But the facial expressions were agonizing. So much pained emotion! One hardly knew where to look, as though watching was a kind of voyeurism and such intimacy with the music should surely be kept just a little more private than given a full frontal display. Then our young conductor himself, so energetic and enthusiastic that my heart was left in my mouth, praying he would not poke himself in the eye - or up the nose - with his own baton. But it was as he said “…to create an awareness on a global level of this world-class orchestra” and surely, with each new performance, this certainly deserves to be done. On this occasion Mahler’s “Titan” was spectacular!

How does one keep humble when so much praise is heaped on one’s head? I can suggest one certain technique that sure works for me, and that is to brave the questions of the morning newspaper’s Five Minute Quiz. It would seem that unless one has a headful of Hollywood nonsense, the who’s-sleeping-with-who-this-time-around logs, then one is fated to swallow a dose of the humbles. An average score of three out of ten is hardly star quality, and I must admit to being a failure in all this Real Life. So much is going on out there, and I know so little. Fortunately my cat comes to the rescue. Her insistence that breakfast is the most important meal of the day eventually overrides my resolve to stay bedridden until my brain catches up with these important world events. Thank goodness for small mercies - a quiz score that indicates such a hopeless case, and the incessant mewing of a hungry cat. I can recommend both for a good sense of proportion. However, those who read what else I write here will know that is far from my first recommendation. As the broadcasters say… we can expect normal transmission to be resumed shortly.

This is a story that inspired me as a teenager, and challenged me to make something worthwhile of that which was not ideal. As a quilter, I have since heard the saying “when life throws you scraps, make a quilt from them”, and there is a similar one that goes “if life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” But the story of the oyster and the pearl especially captured my imagination.

The beautifully lustrous pearl is the response of the little oyster to an irritation, that caused by a foreign object such as a fragment of shell, or an unwelcome parasite, being accidentally trapped inside the oyster’s shell. Most of the time the oyster cannot expel the foreign particle, so to reduce the pain caused by the foreign body it surrounds it with nacre, a silvery calcium carbonate substance that the oyster normally discharges to line its shell. After several years, layers of nacre form around the irritant, making the irritant less painful. This way the oyster creates a rainbow-like iridescent pearl.

There is a wealth of symbolism that has become attached to the oyster’s little pearl. I remember being told that pearls represent tears, or pain and suffering. One hears of the “gates of heaven” being called the “pearly gates”, probably from the description in the Bible where it is written that “The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate being made from a single pearl.” (Revelations 21:21). Jesus is quoted as saying “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant looking for fine pearls. When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.” (Matthew 13:45,46). The parable is typically taken to mean that heavenly riches are far greater than the full total of all worldly riches. And some have come to regard Jesus as this pearl of great price, being our Saviour, saying as He does of Himself “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved.” (John 10:9).

I have always loved pearls. They show me how something that represents tears, that was caused by pain and suffering, can be the eventual transformation of that hurt into something beautiful and truly precious. I am not surprised then, that the gates of heaven are said to be made from a single pearl. And so I am also inspired to do what is necessary to make goodness and righteousness come from those things that have caused me to hurt as well.

An aquaintance of ours suffered a stroke last year. He is an intelligent man with two professional engineering degrees. His mind was largely unaffected, but he is now physically impaired and requiring ongoing rest home care. He is in a horrible situation, unable to relate easily to his fellow residents who are elderly and largely demented whereas he is not, dependent on nurses, no longer able to get out and about by himself, and with regards much of what the rest of us commonly take for granted, has suffered a great many losses. Strokes are so cruel when they suddenly steal so much of one’s lifestyle and leave such cause for grief in their wake.

Today we paid a visit, having to drive for some distance to get there. We had called beforehand but there was no answer. Of course, it would have been lunch time and everyone taken to the dining room for their meal. But we went anyway as he is usually “at home” that time of day. As things had come about, we were one of the few who now bothered to visit at all since he could no longer join in as before. Life moves on often leaving the incapacitated behind. We had just arrived and barely said “hello” when his partner (now living on her own) arrived too and immediately hurried him up to get ready for a gym appointment that she had made. He would need to get a move on and there was no time for talking. He would have to miss our visit. This woman was in charge now, the decisions being all hers, and she called the shots. We left.

The stroke had robbed him of much of his lifestyle, his independence, mobility and freedom of choice. The rest home, despite all their best efforts, was assisting him to become institutionalized. His partner, possibly quite well intentioned, was robbing him of much that was left. He was often telling us by phone that he was “going mad” in this situation. We hoped the frustration would help energize his rehabilitation, but it seems that he has reached the “plateau” and progress has now slowed to a stop. He had got as far as he could go, and the frustration was driving like lasers through his brain, together with its causes burning up what was left of any self determination, integrity and (for want of a better word) personhood.

So much of this is about control. He had lost a great deal of that, thanks to the stroke, and what was left was being usurped from him some more. It was a relief to hear of a belligerent episode he had with a very managing nurse, but unfortunately the nurse ruled regardless. A little rebellion does not go amiss and it is a shame that his carers did not read the message in the language it occurred.

I remember failing a job interview once when, given the scenario of an elderly and almost blind gentleman insisting on having his bedroom light left on at night, I did not come down on the authoritarian “you must behave yourself and switch it off” side of the management options. Since the light would have disturbed no-one, it was one interview I was very glad to have “failed” as working in such an environment would have surely been dreadful. Likewise, a nurse once looking after my mother during a brief stay in hospital, called me to request that I bring in some “day clothes” so that her patient could be dressed “properly” despite the fact she was so ill that she threw up each time she sat up. My mother, resisting the increasing dependency and wanting to determine for herself what she wore, did not want to be dressed thus. I was often put in these tricky situations, and so asked the nurse for her reasons. To prevent bedsores, I was told. Sure! Of course, there is considerably less risk of bedsores when wearing a petticoat and dress compared to a nightgown and robe, all else being equal. Those day clothes stayed at home and recovery occurred smoothly without any sign of a bedsore. Taking control away from others is often a bad move when there is no good cause for doing so.

Losing control creates a cabbage. That is the horrible description one hears for those who are near a vegetative state of being through whatever cause. Take away control without good reason and that has much the same result. People are not cabbages, not even in a vegetative state, but their “personhood” can so easily be overlooked to render them such in the eyes of some - including those who are otherwise very well meaning.

It is a funny thing about our use of language that it is considered polite to substitute one word for another when the most specific word might conjure up something a little too indelicate for the context of the conversation. Some words get to change meanings altogether that way. For example, the first time I heard an American asking to use the bathroom it really puzzled me that they wanted to go there, to the room that contained the bath or shower. Oh, it was the… er, you know… that was required. So why not say since that was in a different little room of its own? But trust an Australian to clear the matter up. My son, well used to polite Americanisms, discretely asked the waiter in an Aussie restaurant where the bathroom was, and received the answer in a nice loud voice “Oh, you mean the dunny, mate? It’s over there.” Yep, that sure was calling a spade, a spade.

Of course euphemisms have their place, like the lubricant that reduces the heat and wear of friction when two objects rub together, the reality and its representative in speech must slide against each other smoothly in the niceties of polite society. But one that I personally dislike is the saying used to refer to death - passed, passed away, passed on, passing. Is death so indelicate that we must misuse another word to mean someone has died and is now dead? It would seem so. It is used out of respect and sensitivity for the feelings of the bereaved of course, and I have no problem with respect and sensitivity for others where that is appropriate. But how long before those words will themselves become too indelicate and require another to take their place as well? Over time we will probably euphemize ourselves in lingusitic circles, for what it matters.

However, I don’t care that much if people choose to talk that way. Instead, something else I hear said next has peaked my interest more. It has become very commonplace these days to say of someone who has just… er, passed… that now “she will be at peace” and “he has gone to a better place” and other kindly cultural notions of whatever might be hereafter assuming such a thing or place exists. Well, I would certainly like to hope that is so, but as a Christian I cannot always agree with sentiments such as those. For folk who had no time for Christ, who did not accept God’s gift of grace so have a saving faith in Him, then I would tell a lie against my Christian faith to agree to such sentiments as those. But neither would I be so cruel as to say as much right then to the ones who are left behind and hurting. Turning the focus back on the bereaved instead, commenting compassionately on their experience of the loss, is one way to avoid compromising the truth of one’s Christian faith. After all, it is for God to make the judgement, and no other.

I have just watched the DVD “Molokai - the story of Father Damien” on my computer and it is certainly a very moving and humbling experience. Have you ever seen the movie, or read of Father Damien? This is a true story about a young Belgian Roman Catholic priest who, in the late nineteenth century, saw his calling as living among the exiled lepers of the island of Molokai. His dedication to caring for others was wholehearted and unstinting, a story of unfaltering faith, obedience and sacrifice. Without wishing to create some kind of ranking scale here, I do think I will have to put him alongside Mother Theresa as one of those most inspiring Christians who lived according to their beliefs in ways that show the rest of us how well short of the mark we fall just coping with ordinary everyday matters.

Father Damien, before he set foot on the island of Molokai, was warned by his superiors absolutely NOT to touch the lepers. His superiors would seem to have his best interests at heart as touching would put Father Damien at risk of catching leprosy himself. From a worldly point of view, that would have been good advice at the time with someone’s best interests at heart. But from a spiritual point of view, this assessment becomes somewhat debatable.

Father Damien chose straight away to forgo the advice and put his life in the hands of God. When warned again by one of the outcast lepers, he replied that he trusted God to take care of those matters for him. And if you were watching the movie and listening to Father Damien’s response, you would have heard the rest of his words - for as long as He needed him to do His Will.

Father Damien reached out to the lepers and was not afraid to touch, holding them in his arms when they needed comfort, and showing the love of God without holding back from them. Could he have loved them quite the same if he was too scared to touch? My view is that it would have been more of an intellectual act, nothing quite as complete as the love which God asks us to give to others. More about this shortly. So did God protect him? From a worldly point of view, it would seem not. Father Damien became a leper himself and died from the disease. But the issue was not that God would keep him from getting leprosy, but would take care of those matters until he had completed what was God’s Will for him. During his time on Molokai, much was accomplished. From a spiritual point of view, God did indeed do so.

Were Father Damien’s superiors right to have advised him as they did? Had he followed their advice he may have saved himself from leprosy. I would say that they were right to have appraised him fully of the facts concerning leprosy, but clearly Father Damien knew whose disciple he was - and that he had another path to follow. Advice is one thing but to my mind, his superiors could not with spiritual legitimacy make the command - to touch or not to touch - either way. Christ may command of those who would be His disciples, but some decisions are just not for others to be making for us.

John 15: 12 My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. 13 Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command.

All this must seem like sheer madness to those who know it would be a death penalty to behave in such a way. To touch a leper’s wounds when there was no known cure had to be the most incredible foolishness. It was surely asking for one’s life to be cut short by a most hideous death. No wonder those who are devout in such a way are often seen as crazies - so silly to believe such nonsense, that God might give them protection, that God indeed wants more people to die besides those already dying. But there is a matter of perspective here, and this is a spiritual one where life is far more than what is known to exist on this planet in this earthly time - and such a love that is willingly generous, obedient and sacrificial yet warm and feeling, is something way beyond that which humans can normally generate and sustain themselves.

1 Corinthians 2 :14 The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned.

In order to counter the idea that love is just the warm feelings one may have for another but without the substance of loving deeds, there is another view commonly held these days that love is the loving deeds themselves, ones which may not necessarily come hand-in-hand with any congruent feelings. However, neither is the complete expression of love. Either one without the other is deficient.

An act of love must have the right motives, and from it comes the right feelings as well as being the right deeds. To give of oneself begrudgingly, with resentment or irritation, is not what is asked of us at all. The deed is marred by the attitude, motive and feeling behind it. What is asked of us is not merely the perfunctory performance of some duty, but the act of love where the deed is an outflowing from the joy of giving, the concern and true caring that matches the deed to the need.

Matthew 22: 37 Jesus replied: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

It was this complete expression of love that Father Damien showed to the people afflicted with leprosy on the island of Molokai. He gave his whole self, body and soul, in the expression of a love that fully matched the deed to the need. What is foolishness to some is recognized and understood by his brothers and sisters in Christ. If only we all might live such a life, dealing with those daily things that others ask of us - not even life-threatening like the risk of leprosy - by choosing to give unstintingly with generosity and joy, without irritation and resentment.

I wonder… is it expecting too much of us, or not? After all, we are only human.

When was the last time that someone let you down, not just a little let down, but really badly so that you were left hurting, upset, angry, frustrated and stressed out by what happened? Such a thing has probably happened to all of us at some time or another. So what happens next?

A common thing that others may do for you is suggest all the horrible things you might imagine doing in retaliation. Lots of “deliciously horrible” ideas come to the fore, all those wicked things one might consider doing to give back those “just deserts” that should by rights be coming to the offender. The imagination can run wild and create all kinds of nasty little surprises as payback. There is some satisfaction, and even quite a few laughs at the more creative of the punishments, and then one begins to feel a little better - or is supposed to. And it is a harmless thing to do in order to feel better, isn’t it, because they are only imagined - not something that one would really do? But is it really that harmless?

Something of this nature happened to someone I know of recently, and sympathetic folks contributed a wealth of wicked suggestions. But my own experience is that these imaginings do not really help me that much. The satisfaction is short-lived, if it really ever existed at all. What this victim-perpetrator duel does do is to prolong the misery by continuing to engage with it. In a sense, one has handed over the puppet strings of one’s psyche to the person who dealt out the disservice and in allowing the strings to be pulled thus, accepted a form of diminished responsibility for oneself. Hitting back does not heal the hurt but keeps the wound open instead. One friend suddenly recognized this and apologized for her part in perpetuating the misery by this means, a loving act to counteract the earlier one.

But if you are that badly hurt and upset, it really is hard to put it aside and forgive. It is more human not to forgive sometimes, to hang on to hurts and suffer the misery of them instead. There can be a perverse satisfaction in being the injured party. It draws sympathy from others, especially those who are kind-hearted, but even more so from those who may take the opportunity to vicariously vent their own unforgiven hurts. Then a wise voice is heard saying “Let it go!” Letting it go is sensible damage control. “Take the moral high ground,” says another voice. And the wisest voice of all warned that what we do in thought is as dangerous as the deeds themselves. He said even more than that, perhaps the hardest thing of all and yet also the healthiest thing of all.

Jesus said…

Luke 6: 27 But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.

Luke 6: 31 Do to others as you would have them do to you. 32 If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even ’sinners’ love those who love them. 33 And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even ’sinners’ do that.

I guess it is a good marketing ploy, but for me it doesn’t always work that way.
But these people still annoy me when they do it. I discovered it done to me again today.

Have you ever bought a book that, in big letters near the title, says “Volume No.1″ ?
That usually means that other titles will be coming out in due course. And the sneaky publisher next brings out Volume No.4 because the previous two volumes are still in the pipeline. As soon as you have bought Volume No.4, you are trapped! Sitting up there on the bookshelf together, the set is incomplete.
Now psychology works against you.

We are all wired up in such a way that there is an innate drive towards completion - to fill in the missing bits to make something into a whole, or in psychology, a gestalten.
The way our perception is configured, we all have a strong tendency towards seeking closure, continuation, proximity, similarity and common fate among elements in our experience.
An obvious demonstration of this tendency is in the difficulty of detecting a simple little spelling mistake in a paragraph of one’s own writing. It is always better to get someone else to check instead, or to use a spellchecker. And there is another interesting example where you find you can still read and understand a paragraph of text that is written with all the vowels removed. On the basis of this ability, we can abbreviate words when writing hurriedly and still understand the message at a later date.
Any given nanosecond, we take in great dollops of data and make sense of it by being able to group it into an identifiable context. Or we take in just enough of the data to make sense without uploading the whole of it. Without this ability, we would likely be dead from mental exhaustion before we had even learnt to walk!

So, where is all this heading?
Back to the bookshelf, and to Books No.1 and No.4 with your natural question about to follow: “Where are No.2 and No.3?”
Does that make you want to get those missing books as well? The fact that they are deemed missing is a give away. How happy are you with something that is incomplete? Well, that is all a matter of personality and vast individual differences, but the marketeers have certainly got psychology on their side when it comes to that.

I had a little conversation about these matters with my son some years ago. As a young child he was falling over himself to amass the entire collection of those awful Pokemon toys. We were visiting the USA at the time, in one of those huge toy barns full of these things, and I wanted him to count the number of variations of one item. Just then we became witnesses to a spectacular display of temper from a young member of another family in there. Dad had apparently limited the choice to only one item, but young kidlet knew that they came in a set of five and he wanted all five because just one was completely unbearable to him. My son and I stood back and watched. There was considerable drama until Dad got hold of himself, and then of his youngster, and marched the kidlet right out of the store. After that we had some interesting discussion on what constituted a set, who decided such things, and just how much they might benefit from doing so. My son’s collection kind of waned after that, and he became far more discerning with his little bit of pocket money.

Now I am definitely not going to invite you to look in the drawers of my sewing desk at all my acrylic quilting templates. If you do, you will have to understand that I actually wanted every one of those! Yes, even the ones I hardly ever use… or have never used at all (er, yet, that is).
After all, my collection would hardly be complete without them!

Changing the subject…
We were out for lunch today and I noticed everyone at adjacent tables - yes, absolutely everyone! - on being delivered their meals, picked up the salt and sprinkled it liberally all over their food. Good grief, they didn’t even taste it first!
How funny it would have been to have given them a dish already so highly seasoned that any more salt would have made it inedible.
No wonder restaurateurs place a big jug of water on each table. But what about all those poor kidneys? And how much escalating hypertension was dining out as well?

Just a thought.

What is it with some people? What comes next is certainly distasteful, so skip it if you like.

On a Christian forum out there in cyberspace, someone posts news of a Bible study group and gives a couple of links for those interested to follow. Of course there is no compulsion… just follow if you want.
Then a married man posts next and says how he must engage furiously in a certain sexual activity as he reads from these “pornographic” Bible study sites.
I’m not a moderator there so I just wander out and and wonder why it is that some types have to post this kind of thing. Why must they sully it for others? Why the need to desecrate? What is it with some people?

Do I hear excuses? “The devil made me do it!” Then a deriding laugh.
Well, some would say the devil was involved, but I don’t believe that exonerates anyone at all. We are each responsible for the choices that we make, and it is usually we who discover the consequences of them too. In fact, we eventually become the consequences ourselves.
It is there inside us, our imperfect natures that prevent us doing the good that we would do, and there is some more to add to that as well.

The saying “we are what we eat”… So true, and it goes even further than that.
We are what we take in more than just through our mouths, but through our eyes and ears and through our very skins as well.
Walt Whitman knew when he wrote his famous poem.

There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became,
And that object became part of him for the day
or a certain part of the day,
Or for many years or stretching cycles of years

Walt Whitman ~ There Was a Child Went Forth

In my professional career I have been exposed to all the seemy side of life. An empathic listener, I have heard a lot of pain and grief and seen a lot of hardship and depravity. People sometimes ask how I deal with it personally - don’t I take it home with me and have it bother me. Well, yes and no. I took it home in some ways, but unlike the ones who ask I also have the professional tools to deal with it. I saw hope and I knew of good outcomes. I did not have to live in it myself, and so I could live apart from it, protected by the knowledge that all things are subject to change and nothing has to stay as bad as it is right now.

This same optimism, the realistic kind that is born of knowing courage and achievement despite the odds, is somehow there inside me and despite the personal grief I have experienced in my own life, I still remain bouyant regardless. I remember as a teenager, standing by a hydrangea bush in the front garden, and experiencing an overwhelming conviction that, no matter what, everything would be right in the end. Where this came from, and what exactly it was about, I was at a loss to explain back then… but it was something I just knew. And I knew to look for the good, the best, the wholesome, that which is lovely, that which is full of beauty. It is these kinds of things, these sights and sounds, ideas and experiences, which provide immunity for all the worst in the world. These things are sustaining, and they will help make a person who they are.

Philippians 4:8 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Just some very good advice for all of us living alongside the ugliness and plastic in this world.

Locked doors cause robbers.

But on this occasion, that same sentiment was voiced with an interesting and more thoughtful rationale.

The locked door is symbolic, and maybe the robber is too.
The locked door represents the way we are often closed to others, keep ourselves hidden and apart, do not share as well as we could, do not open ourselves to others and their needs, and are deceptive about ourselves. We keep too privately to ourselves and don’t live as communally as we should.
Empathy is encouraged by honest sharing of self, and with empathy comes stronger bonds of association, and the caring nature of love.
If more doors were unlocked, maybe more of the hungry would be fed - the spiritual hunger that leads to moral depravity.

The reason people steal is because they don’t have any association to us and they will never see us again. They steal from a person who means nothing to them. Hiding from each other lets compassion run low. There is little empathy among people in a society like this. The teachings of Christ just seem to kindle that feeling of empathy and the greater good. If we open our souls to each other then we will mean something to each other. If we mean something to each other then we will have no jealousy and no stealing.

I believe this second speaker does have a good point.

It is well known in psychological circles that a degree of dehumanization assists those who would harm others, and those who lack empathy are better equipped to act with criminal intent.

Baring one’s soul to the Islamic kidnapper has done very little to save the captured infidel his head. No amount of human fear and anguish on the part of the victim will interfere where the intent is driven by the perpetrator’s choice to cause grief in the name of a cause. This also demonstrates the effect of dehumanization, but it is important to note that compassion does not always result in the perpetrator from the sharing of oneself with others.

Yes to more openess with others, more honest connection, but yes also to the discretion of wisdom.

And that reminds me, someone I know has come up with a link to an interesting comment on Rudeness.
Check out this discussion as well.
It is suggested that this is an age of social autism - folk going about wired to portable entertainments that enable “limitless self-absorption”. The result is a gross lack of manners, a result of inconsiderate and antisocial attitudes. It is an age of “lazy moral relativism combined with aggressive social insolence”.

Oh dear. An example of locked doors robbing us all of real life?

I’ve just heard it again… the idea that locked doors cause robbers.

Yes, the fact that some have acquired more than others and must greedily withhold their spoils from the rest is the reason why we have theft in our community. It is all the fault of those who have more. After all, if we allowed each other to take whatever each other needed (isn’t wanted more likely the word?) then there would be no such thing as robbery and crime. Along with the expression of this sentiment was given the example of the early Christians, written about in the New Testament where it is said they sold all their possessions and gave to the poor, and shared everything so that none among them went without. Instead, these days, people hoard their belongings and keep them locked away from others who are needy. Therefore we have crime - needy people stealing to get what should be given to them instead.

Sometimes I just don’t know where to start when it comes to responding to these ill-founded ideas. Often they are a rendition of so-called Christian values built on a skewed unChristian premise and combine naivety, Marxism, a false sense of entitlement, and resentment stirred together with a very large measure of self-interest.

One of the ideas about human nature that I am often encountering is that people, generally and on the whole, are basically good. There is lots of evidence for that idea. People are often willing and generous - just look at how so many responded to meet the needs of those suffering from the effects of recent natural disasters! And if I ask for directions in a strange city when I am lost, they are readily provided with best wishes for a safe journey as well. Neighbours will look out for neighbours, and keep a protective eye on each other’s houses. Some will even mow your lawns while you are away, or collect and dump the junk mail for you. We are surrounded by good people, ones without ill intent, ordinary decent types who are basically honest and caring.

If we are, generally and on the whole, such basically good folk then why doesn’t it work, this idea of not locking doors and… well… all the rest? Oh no, surely you are not going to say that most are good and decent, but just a few are not. You and I are fine, but the other guy… he’s not to be trusted?

I know it can be hard to swallow, but how about the idea that exactly none of us is basically (intrinsically) good? Even although we are helpful, willing and generous, can be honest and caring and kind, go out of our way and put others first, want to please and protect, aspire to high ideals and behave with courage and integrity… still not one of us is basically good. Do you believe that?

The first time I read William Golding’s “Lord of the Flies” I was captivated. This literary classic is not only rich in symbols, but the allegorical content set me thinking along paths I had not travelled before. I am very sorry that youngsters attending schools in Toronto will not be allowed to savour this masterpiece since their School Board has banned it under the mantle of racism (it contains the word “niggers”) as that aside, it is a marvellous adventure into the nature of our beings. Just as natural human goodness, order and leadership, are represented by a couple of main characters, so too are the more base of our instincts - essentially self gratification at the expense of the wellbeing of others - acted out by the savage boys from whom the veneer of “successful socialization” has very quickly worn away. The notion that we are all like that underneath our better selves is certainly consistent with the Biblical message that none of us is righteous and “all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God”. Of course, if we compare ourselves with other people we can always be pleased with our own goodness, but what about those hidden character flaws that have us less than perfect… selfishness, small dishonesties, little white lies, a touch of greediness, laziness, can’t be bothered-ness, envy, covetness, bad temper, hatefulness, meanness, pride and self importance, plus a myriad other horrid little things? Maybe we are not quite so basically good after all.

Yesterday I was home on my own when the handle of my locked front door was tried. Whoever was turning it back and forth repeatedly had to be trying to get in. What if my door had been unlocked? I might not have lost just some of my material possessions, but a lot more besides. And what I would have been left with in exchange is unlikely to have been the kind of “sharing” in which the early Christians engaged among themselves. On the other hand, my locked door prevented a crime, not caused it. Until such time that all of us are truly regenerate beings, have had our basic natures thoroughly cleaned up, there is still a strong case in favour of locked doors staying locked and the key being used with discretion.

Now that Christmas is not so far away, we are having a fresh round of them… the end-of-year cocktail party.

I go when invited but more out of curiosity than anything else. It is always the same. How easy it would be to hang out in a corner balancing a glass of something, paper napkin and fussy nibble, and not get to speak to anyone at all. Why must it always be me to initiate and maintain a conversation, or else stand around on my own? How much the others like to talk about themselves with seldom a genuine question in return. Then when there is space for some comment, all care must be taken to keep it well under 50 words max as the average cocktail party attention span usually doesn’t go over that. Brief, witty and pithy is what works.

Sometimes it is more inspiring just to observe. So few people really listen, really attend, or show any real interest on these occasions. My observations have lead me to contemplate just how self-centred we can be. Last night, although I spoke with others, listened and responded thoughtfully - bright, witty and pithy - nobody, absolutely nobody, asked me anything pertaining to myself at all. What a dull and boring type I must appear! I should probably ask my hairdresser to dye my locks that new electric lime colour next time. Maybe that would provoke a question. Or might I just be marginalized back into the corner with a plate of delicious chocolate-dipped strawberries all to myself? Given the strawberries and a half-good shiraz, things could always be worse.

Know how to listen and you will profit even from those who talk badly. Plutarch

Sometimes these thoughts on self-centredness lead me back to this whole blogging thing. Why do I think anyone is really interested in what I have to say? And interested enough that I should publish it world-wide at that? Well, I did say in the beginning that this was kind of an experiment… I’d see how it worked out.

But there are things that I believe important to be made known. There is a lot of misinformation and ignorance out there in the world, folks being fooled into following what has been dishonestly told to them, or not asking good questions and listening, really listening, to whether the answers make any real sense. Sometimes it seems that the 50 words max attention span is not just a cocktail party phenomenon, fish bowled for more poignant revelation, but true of the rest of life also. How much do we prefer to talk than to listen? After all, it takes effort to actively listen, to think critically about what is heard, and to respond appropriately with some perceptiveness, sensitivity and understanding. It may also require a change of mind, but the odds are high that something worthwhile will be learnt from doing so. And although it may be quite blatantly self-centred of me to consider my thoughts worthy of world-wide publication, I still hope that doing so may have others consider what truth they know and what it is that actually verifies it.

It is what we know already that often prevents us from learning. Claude Bernard

The illiterate of the 21st century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn. Alvin Toffler

Proverbs 18: 2 A fool finds no pleasure in understanding but delights in airing his own opinions.