Certainty and Comfort

A while back I read a column by Robert Weston who said that that a fully-equipped Apple Mac Pro computer is selling for $850 less than the comparable Windows-compatible machine from Dell.

But wait. Aren’t Macs more expensive than Windows-compatible computers?

This is a small example of the sort of “sacred” truth we have come to accept in our daily lives. And people will continue to believe it for a long time, no matter how much evidence presents itself to the contrary. (For example, the evidence that now Macs ARE Windows-compatible computers.)

How a sacred truth develops is a fascinating process. When a statement is repeated often enough, we will begin to simply agree with it. When enough of us agree without questioning, the statement becomes a certainty that simply is believed. When the belief takes on a life of its own, the “truth” becomes sacred--it becomes a mantra. It becomes not just a certainty, but a comfortable certainty.

These days we are so often seeking both certainty and comfort, their synergistic combination is a potent mixture which begins to outweigh any connection with observable truth. This means that when facts begin to contradict a sacred truth, it will give way very, very slowly--if at all.

Other sacred truths under siege:
Real estate prices always go up.
SUVs are safer than ordinary cars.
Digital surround sound sounds better than monaural television.
Pluto is the ninth planet from the sun.
No cool person reads the newspaper any more.
The religious right is taking over America.

Being Stereotyped

One Sunday last year I went to a church I had never been to. While waiting for the service to start, a friendly man came over to say hello and introduce himself. We exchanged small talk. I said I was an ordained United Methodist minister and was visiting. A strange look crossed his face and he asked me if I was able to not be judgmental.

The question surprised me, and I said, “well, I try to not be judgmental but I’m not sure I succeed very well.” It wasn’t until a moment later that I fully realized the direct connection between his question and my saying I was a minister. When I realized that he didn’t seem to be interested in my answer to his question, I found myself getting a little angry at being categorized and dismissed in such a way. I felt judged.

I understand that he likely has had a very judgmental minister in his past. But isn’t this just like racism or any other prejudice, in which automatic, knee-jerk assumptions are made about someone without any knowledge of the person?

Does his experience with a bad minister justify his attitude toward me?

Grace Happens

“Grace strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility and our lack of direction and composure have become intolerable to us. Grace strikes us when, year after year, the longed-for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign within us as they have for decades, when despair destroys all joy and courage.”
--Paul Tillich, theologian

The great contemporary cliche that applies here is “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.”

We may daily work toward perfection--clean house (or perfectly unclean house, demonstrating the perfection of our lack of concern for such ordinariness), career advancement, kitchen remodel, blissful love life, perfect fame, perfect fortune or perfect family.

Our efforts may give us satisfaction. When we realize finally the satisfaction doesn’t last, and we drift into distraction, indifference, weakness and hostility, grace happens.