Non-Pratiquant

Je n'ai jamais compris l'idee d'un chretien non-pratiquant. D'Etre chretien, c'est d'etre pratiquant. C'est un point de vue sur la vie et l'universe qui, si vraiment on y croit, forcement influence tous ce-qu'on dit et fait. Se dire "non-pratiquant," c'est a dire qu'on est pianist qui ne joue pas. Comme si je me disais "Oui, je suis pianiste, mais je ne joue pas. Je sais jouer, je pense a jouer, mais je ne joue pas quand meme." Pardon?! Si quelqu'un a raconte une telle betise concernant un divertissement, on penserait qu'il est devenu fou, ou au moindre, qu'il n'a pas de force de caractere. On se demanderait, "Pourquoi ne joue-t-il pas? A-t-il honte? A-t-il peur de ce que pensent les autres? Sais-t-il vraiment jouer?" Comment se fait-il que ces questions ne se posent pas quand il s'agit du chretiennite? Que signifie alors "chretien non-pratiquant"? A mon avis, c'est quelqu'un qui a honte de ses croyances, qui cherche rationaliser son comportement qui ne correspond aux principes bibliques, ou bien qui est simplement lache. En tout cas, comme avec tout les vocations, moins on les fait, moins qu'on sait les faire.

Neda--Not Just Another Face

I watch Neda Agha Soltan die. I am no where near her when she dies, and I don't even see it until days after it happens. I nonetheless witness her last moments on earth. I watch as the men carry her to the side of the road and lay her down, and someone presses his hands against her chest to stop the bleeding. I watch as she looks directly at the person who's filming her with the cell phone--looking directly at the would-be audience of thousands around the world, looking directly at me--before she herself looks into the face of death, her sometime beautiful visage contorted into a haunting expression. It is not a serene expression of surrender, nor peace at meeting one's Maker (though we pray that is what she has now found). No, it's a look of indescribable pain and shock, like she feels her shattered heart finally give out and realizes this moment is her last. Blood erupts from her nose and mouth, and a man cradles her and shouts for her to stay with him. I know from his tone that he knows she's already gone.

I have seen people die before, in movies, in games, in photos, and even on video, but never have I seen the look of death recreated nor captured as succinctly as in this pixelated cell phone footage, and it will not soon leave me. Her death is not isolated, nor is her cause unique. Many unjust deaths go unwitnessed, and far too many deaths are witnessed because of their violent nature. One should die in privacy with loved ones, not in the middle of a crowded street. But once in a while everyone needs to be reminded of the price of a human life, and the high cost of violence for any cause, be it just or unjust, so that we don't look at Neda or those like her and see just another face.

The End All, Be All

In life, we often search for definitives. The definitive house. The definitive job. The definitive life partner. In all likelihood this tendancy is part of the human condition, but there is always that possibility of permanence that drives us to search for it. We all have a grandparent or know someone that has lived in the same house his whole life. We occasionally encounter that lucky individual who found her life calling and has been committed to it ever since. And let's not kid ourselves--once we get married, typically we plan to stay married (with the exception of some particuarly twisted individuals with either ulterior motives or a mad masochistic streak). In general, people like to do something, and they'd like to do it only once. Personally, I'd like to brush my teeth once and be done with it.

My husband and I are in the process of buying a house. During our search over the past year, we've found some houses that really felt like home, and for the first time, I pictured myself old in a positive way, surrounded by grandchildren. These houses felt like a grandparent's house and certainly had room for a young family to grow. The house we actually settled on is different. It's modern, brightly painted, and not overly large. It reminds us of our youth and vitality. It actually needs some work, which I'm not opposed to doing--though I had been formerly, on account of wanting a plug-and-play-condition house--because it will help transform it into our own. We may grow old in it, or we may not. I'm no longer terrified of the idea of not owning the definitive house. Owning our first house should be good enough. There are many people that never get that far. Even if we got stuck with it forever, how terrible would that be? Oh gosh, we're stuck with our 3 bedroom house in a nice neighborhood, with the yellow kitchen I love so much and the cathedral ceiling. Yeah, the bedrooms are a little small, and so is the yard, but well, see aforementioned statement about some people never having the burden of such "small" luxuries.

Incidentally, I've also just gotten a raise at work--further proof of God's continual grace towards this often ungrateful, self-absorbed child of his. I complain about my job, that it's contract, that I wouldn't want to go permanent because everything is political and the skilled worker is undervalued...but is it really that horrible? Really? It's amazing how significantly an increase in pay reduces the "unbearable factor". I guess all my moral objections weren't as, well, moral as I had thought. Much of my discontent with any job I've had stems from this unreasonable desire to find the definitive job. Once I relinquish that desire, or at least resign myself to it's unlikelihood, I can work for this company for all its faults, for now, and see what I can do about them.

Many people are frustrated in their quest for permanence. Permanence itself is not bad, and is a thing to be desired, but the lack of it shouldn't discourage. Nothing except death is definite, and little more than marriage is available to the common man or woman. Everything else is bonus.