Origins

Last night’s small group meeting made me realize in a fresh way the powerful influence that our background story has on our lives. For good or ill, it seems we either continually try to avoid something painful from our past, or we continually try to retain or restore something from our past that we valued. This gets pretty complex, since most of us are oblivious to the force of these influences, but any good therapist (at least those I’ve encountered) will confirm that awareness of this dynamic can bring a certain amount of power over it. The danger is when that desire is completely under the radar; we can become almost defenseless against its force, unable to resist.

For me, and due to various reasons, I know that my striving consists of seeking approval. Often to a very unhealthy degree. Many of us have this general inclination, but I will even allow the people closest to me to experience disadvantage or even hurt because I don’t want to upset the equilibrium of approval from others who aren't so close. Funny that I care more about approval from those at a distance. I suppose we tend to take more liberties with people who cannot easily detach from us.

All this makes me think that I need to be more conscious of it. I developed my own game about this recently: after a typical conversation with a friend or acquaintance, I ask myself if I would have responded and acted the same way if everyone I knew was actually present, watching the conversation. This does seem to work. It’s an uncomfortable exercise for me, but it makes things much more obvious.

What are you running from that you don’t want to experience again? What are you clinging to that you can’t stand to loose?

How a Christian view of grace can mess with relationships

I am convinced that there is an insulating effect that comes from doing favors for people, especially favors for those who are "organizationally subordinate" to us. If I am in a decision-making position (at work, in my family, in the community, etc.) and I believe that deferral to someone else's preferences is a matter of "grace", it is easy for me to avoid contending with the fact that my outlook or understanding might be wrong. If I'm wrong, will I see it? Or will I be numbed to this possibility by the self-soothing fog of my own gracious favors?

There is another habit that believers can often fall into without seeing the dark side: love of neighbor. I mean more specifically, that particular Christian perspective that we are to "love" the people around us, even though we know we don't like them. You know, those who are less-than-acceptable morally, or perhaps those who are bit too loud, less responsible, or of another fashion sense.  Good grief.  How about we decide to like these people instead?  But you object that we can't force ourselves to like someone.  I reply that we can, if we step back several paces and realize that "they" are a lot more like us than the safety tape that separates us would indicate.

I suppose I just think we need to give more space to the opinions and  preferences of other people, and not build elaborate barriers from our religious traditions that keep us separate and superior.  We are neither.

Remembering Larry Bensky

I didn't know Larry, but I know the roads he used to ride.  Butler Road in North Baltimore County is a favorite for cyclists: a connector between safer and scenic roads.  The problem is that the road is both narrow and straight, and motorists tend to travel too fast.  Around 4:30 last Tuesday afternoon, Larry was riding west along Butler with a friend, enjoying the early spring air, safely on the shoulder, and was struck from behind along with Joel, his riding partner.  Larry died at the scene.  Joel continues surgery to try to re-attach his calf, among other things -- a rough road ahead.

Larry leaves behind a wife and 2 beautiful young daughters.  I certainly don't know why this happened, but it didn't need to.  Hundreds of cyclists in the area felt the same, and when we realized that long-pending legislation in MD that could have made a difference in Larry's situation was about to be blocked for a fifth year in a row in the MD legislature, cyclists mobilized.  About 65 enthusiasts rode to from Baltimore and other areas to Annapolis to mark the day, honor our fallen comrade, and ask the MD legislature to lay down an obligation for motorists to give cyclists reasonable room when passing.  Not complicated.

From what I understand, the legislation passed, and now only waits the Governor's signature.  A few other bike-friendly acts have been introduced in this session.  I don't know their status, but I hope the outcome is favorable.

Cyclists should respect the rules of the road, as well as motorists.  We certainly do not own the road either.  Motorists must offer more caution to others who rightfully share the road.  Any cyclists can tell you that too many drivers are either unaware of, or unconcerned about their own driving habits.  Delegate John Cardin has championed legislative efforts relevant to this, and it seems to have finally paid off.  Because of Larry.

Larry's widow, Tami spoke to the group and media with sensitivity and conviction.  So impressive.  Our hearts went out to her, and we were all overwhelmed that she could speak as she did only a week after the horrible event.  I suspect that when the "cause-energy" wanes for her, things will get much more difficult.  I hope she knows there is a community of thousands who care for her and her girls.  Most of us have suffered close calls, which is part of our motivation to stand with her - but honestly, we are all part of the same community, and we should all give a damn about what happens next door as well as across the globe.  There are times, though, when our attention is drawn to people close at hand, and we need to respond in a loving and human way.  I hope and pray that's what today boils down to: love for members of our community, and softened hearts for those even further away.

God bless you, Tami.
G

Re: A Man and His Bike

To the BRCC crew -

Guys:

I'm honestly very touched by the fact that you all passed the hat for me and my cycling habit. I shopped Steamrollers (my first choice) when I originally planed on buying a fixie, and just couldn't spring for it. The bike is absolutely beautiful, and I appreciate everyone's generosity and the friendships that this group makes possible. It's really quite a unique group - I mean "unique" in a "underdog that makes it to the playoffs" sort of way, not a "special medication required" sort of way. Except for Rob. He's both.

Fyi, I did the math, and realized one can sell these rebuilt bike at a handsome profit. I hatched a plan with Eric to pull some sort of risk-and-crash stunt every few months. I'll be able to swap out donated bikes for a Dogma 60.1 Di2 in about 4 or 5 years ...

In all seriousness, I appreciate the well-wishes, and the thought and effort that went into this. You guys are the best!

Greg

Mischke on the Catholic Church Scandal

Mischke on the Catholic Church Scandal: "

T. D. Mischke - Photo by Michael Crouser/The Atlantic

Tommy Mischke is a Minnesota legend and a treasure, though you’ve probably not heard of him if you’re not from here. He’s a singer-songwriter, but he’s mainly known as a long-time radio host, known for weird gags, drunk callers, and long periods of silence. Rumor has it that he may be returning to Twin Cities radio (and on a clear channel station, so that many of you around the country will be able to hear him from 10-midnight Central Time on 830 AM — plus, of course, online).

Recently, Mischke has also been penning a column for the Twin Cities alt weekly, City Pages. In this week’s installment, he writes about growing up Catholic, and how he saw even then the origins of what would become the present pedophilia scandal:

As a grade-school kid, the Jesus I was taught to embrace was unlike any adult I’d ever encountered. He was dirt poor, humble, and a bit shabby in appearance. He hung out with the poor, the sick, the outcasts, and pariahs, but he didn’t lament their company. I didn’t know a single adult like him in my parish.

The Jesus the nuns taught me to cherish did something no adult I knew could pull off with conviction: He didn’t lecture the sinners or avoid them, but embraced them with breathtaking compassion. He seemed to genuinely treasure them, without judgment. As a child it was the most startling thing I’d ever encountered.

Too bad they had to temper it by shifting my attention to Rome.

To this day I remain stunned the church doesn’t see what even a young boy could see the first time he was given the chance. A church that holds up a poor carpenter’s kid as its ideal presents a leader who, symbolically anyway, seems to emulate the Roman emperors instead.

Doesn’t the church find it incongruent that the world of the Vatican is so royal and opulent? Everything about it drips with abundance and authority. Where’d that broke Jewish guy go?

via Origins of a Scandal – Page 1 – News – Minneapolis – City Pages.

"

Social Justice and Jogging

I was out for a run with a few of the local guys this morning and got into a conversation about Christianity, biblical literalism, and social justice.  Really made me think, even though I didn't have much to disagree with.  Two ideas from that conversation keep rattling around in my head:

Religion at its best (in my opinion) will enable us to understand -not simply tolerate- people and views that are different from our own.  Religion that we encounter in affluent white suburbia usually does the exact opposite.  As adherents of the latter, we subtly snub different people with divergent views.  The more people people look, think, and act differently from us, the less they are welcome.  This is usually carried out indirectly, not in an obvious way.  Was this the way Jesus carried on?  Didn't he mainly befriend social outcasts and the rejected?

The other thought that grabbed me is similar: the popularity of Glen Beck and anti-immigration sentiment, more specifically: (again) fear of those who are different from us.  Perhaps some react negatively to the changes in American culture because they accurately observe that the way things have always been is disappearing.  The thick lines that separated "us" from "them" are fading rapidly.  How many more generations until the question of race/ethnicity on the federal census becomes laughably obsolete?  That will be a good thing: perhaps then we will find it easier to identify and empathize with the "other".