Those that know me well, know that I've never wanted to own a home. Even when prices were rising astronomically, it never seemed like something that made a lot of sense. The recent economic issues have made it less of a sure thing, money-wise. Although we do have plans to be in Middletown for the long haul, so we're not exactly looking to sell in five years anyway.
Part of my reluctance had been selfish - I didn't like having to worry about yard work and home repairs. Part of it was the thought that we'd be in a city somewhere and really unable to afford such a luxury as a home.
However, given the current climate and situation in Middletown - lots of people who want to live there, but fewer who can qualify for a home loan - renting an identical home to the one we're buying would cost almost twice as much. Buying was a no-brainer - because even if the value of the home never increases, we're still making out well. In fact, buying a home rather than renting is the only way we can afford to make this move right now.
Still, I have a difficult time thinking of this as an investment. We're not buying this house to make money, we're buying it to have a place to live that we can afford. Is there a chance we'll make money on the home? Sure. Is there anything wrong with making money on the home? Not at all. Still, the mindset troubles me some.
Obviously, part of the current housing crisis was due to people buying homes they couldn't afford with the presumption that they could sell them for a profit in a few years without ever having to pay the bulk of the mortgage. In other words, people who made risky investments on homes.
I studied history as an undergrad - one of the basic conceptual frameworks we're taught early in our history studies, is that most people choose a specific lens through which to interpret history - religious, economic, social, or political. Each of these has some impact on how events unfold, but usually, historians choose one (consciously or otherwise) as the dominant factor.
I feel as though our society has chosen for us, these days. Everything is economic. We attempt to market everything and monetize everything. It leads to a fascination with value, efficiency, and return on investment. Not that these issues are inherently evil, but simply that we take them too far. I haven't read it yet, but I'm intrigued by what Michael J Sandel will say about this in his new book, "What Money Can't Buy: the Moral Limits of Markets."
All of this to say - I'd like to slow down the conversation a bit. We are agreeing to spend a lot of money on a place to live. We'll be paying for it for at least two decades (probably three). We have made a lot of economic considerations in the decision to buy it - mainly figuring out how we could afford to pay for the mortgage and upkeep on what we make. At the same time, our priorities are how well it fits our growing family and the ways in which our new home can be used to serve those around us.
I have never once thought of this home as an economic investment, but I hope our home can be an investment in the lives of those around us.
For most of history and in many cultures still today age is respected, and the signs of age are coveted. Here in the US we tend to worship youth and avoid anything that reminds us we're growing older. I saw a Dick Clark retrospective and the man looked older in 1980 than he did before his stroke in 2004. America's Oldest Teenager aged for a while, then seemed to reverse the process.
Like just about everything else, this is a complex issue - I think there's probably something to be said about how our cultural fear of death fits in - but today I want to focus on this obsession with youth and appearance.
We've built up a culture where youth, beauty, and sexuality are valued above all else (except maybe money). We associate the value of a person with how young they look. I imagine there's some biological component to this - the idea that the people most likely to propagate the species are more attractive to us - but human beings do also possess the ability to understand, evaluate, and ignore those natural impulses.
Why do we not just encourage, but assume that anyone under the age of 60 who has a few gray hairs will, obviously, dye them? Because it's easy? Why do we only make, sell, and buy little girl clothes that make them all look like grown up women? Because we don't want to be left out? Perhaps we just want everyone to have as much time as possible at their peak?
Why is it a peak? Life is diverse and ever-changing. Each and every stage of life is important and valuable. We're not who we were and we're not who we will be. I don't think there's anything wrong with being nostalgic for previous times - or anything wrong with looking forward to what lies ahead. However, we can't get so caught up in the past, or the future, that we neglect today.
Of course, we also have to work hard to encourage and affirm others to embrace who they are and not buy into the cultural conditioning that drives us to live in the past, the future, or to be someone else. We have to combat the notion that our ability to make ourselves someone else is freeing and empowering. You are valuable because you're valuable - not because of what you look like or the color of your hair.
That got me to thinking about how well we, as God's people, have embraced and internalized the real victory of the cross. Do we believe death had been defeated? What about hunger, pain, or greed? Do we believe that those battles have already been won? Our actions often betray our lack of faith.
We too often mistake the very real remnants of sin for some force with actual power - and not as the last vestiges of a dying structure.
I used to pride myself on being a realist - to dispassionately analyze a situation and come up with the most likely path for success. I've given up on realism thanks to resurrection. I'm unabashedly optimistic now. Perhaps you can say I'm still a realist, but with a different perspective on reality?
I might have to recognize the fallen, broken, messed up reality of our current age, but that doesn't keep me from holding myself, and the rest of God's good creation, to a higher standard.
I know human beings make terrible choices; I don't expect any of us to act rightly or properly or even morally most of the time. I broadly admit that the failures and faults of the world will likely remain, if not worsen, over time. I'm not denying the real suckiness of our present.
However, I also believe in a good creation, one endowed by its creator with an ever-present grace - calling and pushing and, at times, dragging us towards our intended selves. Resurrection means that death doesn't - that selfishness and convenience and efficiency, while immediately effective, are ultimately fruitless.
Resurrection means that while individual freedom likely means an open door to depravity and destruction, it's not the only answer. The powerful good we were created to be is possible - and not in some far off magical world with clouds and harps and fairies - but in the world God created for good.
What seems is not what is... and that is the power of the resurrection.
Call it emotions, psychology, or personality, but we all have a spiritual element. more and more it's become clear that our spiritual selves and our physical selves are seriously intertwined. You might even say they're inseparable - the ancient Hebrews certainly did. Long before those crazy Greeks told us our spirits were good and our bodied were bad, the Hebrews taught and believed that you could not be you without both. Anyone who spends time studying the human brain will tell you that while we're learning more and more about the biology of our spirits, there's still more and more mystery unfolding.
Religion enters the picture as the set of practices we live out reflecting our beliefs. These are our true beliefs, not just those things to which we intellectually assent. Our religion encompasses the answers to questions about the value of human beings, the way we see ourselves and the world around us, also what we believe about God or morality.
There's a lot of truth in the idea that church people are hypocrites (I say church people, but it could be synagogue people, or mosque people, or country club people, or strip club people, really - they're all indicative of a religion, of sorts, and this generalization could be equally right or wrong about any of them). So often we conform to a specific religion in public and then privately conform to a different one. Some of us have multiple religions - we conform to the practices of Christianity when we're in a sanctuary for service; then we conform to the practices of the workplace while there; the sports team on weekends; perhaps also the family around holidays.
Sometimes out religion is simply doing whatever it takes to avoid be discovered as a fraud. In other words, we can't bear to admit who we really are, what we really think, and what we'd like to do, so we imagine ourselves differently - and attempt to act that out as consistently as possible before other people.
There are plenty of others out there who serve one religion whole-heartedly. Some practice the religion of self (as in, I'm the most important thing in this world and no one will take care of me if I don't look out for myself), others extend that to immediate family (and are generally applauded by society), others practice the religion of market principles or scientific inquiry; still others practice individualism (leave me alone and I'll return the favor).
Each and every one of these is a consistent religious ethic, with prophets, icons, traditions, and sacraments. We've often incorporated one or more of the world's faith traditions into our own version of religion, using the terms and concepts to enforce our own set of beliefs, thus making them more socially acceptable.
There's a lot of people out there who claim to hate religion. They generally fall into two camps - those people who don't like being told what to do, and those people who don't see any sort of consistent cohesion in the practices and beliefs espoused by a "religious" organization. While each group comes from its own distinct religious presupposition, they're both reacting against a lack of integrity and commitment.
I don't want this post to come off simply as a "be true to who you are" post. It's more than that. We can easily find the faults and failures of someone else's position (certainly we can do so more easily than we can evaluate our own), but it's important to recognize that we are all religious - we are all acting and standing for something - even if we're not consciously aware of what it is.
It's difficult to critically examine something we like so much.
Even before this incident, it had become more and more troubling for me to continue to watch the NFL. It goes beyond the money and excess of the league, although that should probably be enough. For me, it just seems more and more like watching Gladiators in the arena.
When it comes to that comparison, there's two big differences: the gladiators are willing participants and they're handsomely rewarded. The argument being that if a man wants to take 20 years off his life (and spend his latter years in terrible pain and/or disorientation) that it's his prerogative to do so. Perhaps the shortened life and painful existence is worth knowing his loved ones will be well taken care of after his death.
That negates some facts about how well NFL players are actually paid or how well they spend such money - but the theory is sound given certain assumptions - namely that the person who knows what's best for me is me.
I'm not sure I agree. The longer I live the longer it seems like I'm the last person who knows what's best for me. Sure, ultimately I am responsible for the decisions I make and I do choose whether to follow my own opinion or submit to the authority of others. That doesn't mean I ever fully understand the consequences of my actions or that I do indeed know what's best for myself.
Does handsomely paying our gladiators and creating a society that glorifies the pain and suffering they endure absolve us of the guilt for their abuse and injury? I don't think it's a cut and dry answer either way. Obviously, society has never been all that successful in choosing what's best for people either. I think the best solution is to attempt some balance in between - the best governments find a way to do that.
There is something to be said, however, for those who defend a system that produces such tragic figures (even if those figures are not the majority). Is this macho, self-sacrificial violence really a valuable way to define ourselves? I recall, more than 100 years ago, when President Teddy Roosevelt intervened to make football safer after a rash of deaths on college campuses. He persuaded the powers than be to institute a forward pass.
I can't think of anything that changed the game more. Sure, we might not like the new version of football as much - mostly because it's new. I'm just wondering what price we're willing to pay to make sure the people playing are not paying with their lives.
