Sunday, April 20, 2008
Que cera cera
I would like to begin with yet another apology. Sorry I misled everyone by titling my last blog, "The shortest blog I've ever posted," or something along those lines; I realized soon after that it was in fact one of the longest ones I've ever written. Haha. Whoops?
Anyway, so ends the weekend. Tomorrow it's back to school, back to the cyclical battles of will with the kids, back to trying to make the ABCs less repetitive and more fun, back to trying to convince our kids that the ability to read and write is the beginning of success and the end of dependence.
Or is it? Well, maybe. Yes and no. Yes, if you place the emphasis on free will, the idea that man has some control over his destiny. No, if you prescribe to the tenet of predestination: God has already ordained everything that will come to pass, so if the kids are destined to get out of poverty, off the island, or go where ever it is they identify with success, then they will; if that's not in the cards, so to speak, then they're stuck.
But isn't it a little fatalistic to adhere to the latter? It's sort of like going through life with your hands clamped tightly over your ears and singing loudly that really annoying song that Doris Day sings in that one Hitchcock film, "Que cera cera, whatever will be, will be" and so on. The future's not ours to see and so who cares? If we're meant to be rich, beautiful, poor, ugly, then we'll be it; if our kids are meant to be financially well off, if they're meant to marry and have children and have jobs and be happy, if they're meant to transform the island into a place of spiritual and moral as well as physical beauty, then it will happen. But if they're meant to live the remainder of their lives dependent on someone else to care for them, if they're meant to live in plastic and aluminum shacks, if they're meant to be lucky enough to have one meal of rice a day, then so be it. Que cera cera. Then it won't matter if they can diagram a sentence or spout off multiplication tables. All that will matter is that they can survive. (And is that all that matters? Survival? Nietchsze would say that the only noble way to live is to get out of life completely, but that's another blog for another day....)
I guess it could be likely that a lot of our kids may end up living in poverty after they leave the home, that is, if they don't get adopted before they're old enough to leave. (And not that being financially well off is the key to happiness, obviously...look at America, look at Friendswood...we can be impoverished and downtrodden and still be profoundly, spiritually wealthy). But to say that, to say that because the odds are against them, that because maybe their fates are already foreordained and written in the stars or whatever, we can write them off is not right either. In fact, it's pretty close to flat out wrong as you can get. So I guess what I'm getting at or trying to get at in my own convoluded little way is that when it comes to humanitarianism, who cares about predestination? I mean, I know it's an important topic in Christianity, but maybe we should just push that aside right now and focus on the things in Scripture that are clear: we are called to love one another and love Jesus, to take care of the marginalized, those whom society has forgotten. Maybe we should act like everyone has a chance for transformation no matter where they are, no matter who they are, no matter what the cards hold in store for them. Maybe we should believe in a God who doesn't write people off and model ourselves in that spirit. Because to believe in a God who doesn't give people a chance is to refute Jesus' crucifixion. Isn't that what grace is? Giving undeserving, screwed up people a chance they shouldn't have?
Ok, so I'm not sure if that has made any sense. I think I confused myself, so I've likely confused all of you. But on the bright side, this one really is a short post, right? By the way, Naseem and I have committed to not showering for a week. We're almost there. Two more days and we'll have reached our goal. Dream big, everyone.