Being Myself This Morning

For much of the last few years we've heard, ad infinitum if not also ad nauseum, that we need to 'be' ourselves. Notwithstanding that all this actually means is that certain people want me and you to accept certain ways of thought and living which they find agreeable and little more (a rather hollow, selfish, arbitrary and dictatorial mindset on its own terms, frankly, as you may notice that those same folks don't particularly want you to be true to you), it flies in the face of what I remember being taught in the generation before this one. Namely, that we ought to embrace change.

Those familiar with my rants over the years know that I have slight regard for that, uh, I suppose it might be an ideal, either. Those even more familiar with my rants over the years, and I do apologize and feel genuinely sorry for you, know that I don't take kindly to useless phrases and terms. Yet here today I'm giving you two more. Perhaps three.

Exhortations to be yourself have absolutely no meaning outside of context. Neither does any concept of change mean anything worthwhile without the asking and answering of various pertinent questions. 

Be yourself. Well, and I've asked this before, what if you're a jerk, indeed a rather supreme and self satisfied jerk? We tend to ignore that question, and understandably. We would never have urged Adolf Hitler to be himself and follow his dream, would we? So to the point: I'm not convinced that there's an entirely natural 'your self' for which you are, for which you exist. Aren't we always developing to some point? Do not people and events in our lives, quite obviously, direct us in one way or another? Isn't 'yourself' altered by these various forces as they happen upon you? 

Thus, as a practical reality, you seem never to stay the same. Few if any of us are the same at 60 as we were at 20. Things affect us whether we would care for them to or not. And that alters the self. Yet being yourself at its very core indicates that there's an eternal and unchanging self within you. What else can it mean, if we leave being yourself entirely to its own terms?

So it appears we do, and indeed arguably must, be changing. But from what into what? And why? We can't take that to mean we are simply evolving from one blob of cells and matter into another, can we? Don't we want to take shape, to form into something worthwhile? Why wouldn't we?

Of course, the key trouble here is that answering all those questions demands making judgments. Judgments about the good and the bad, the well and the ill. Yet - here he goes again - by modern parlance, we're not supposed to judge. This leaves me with one final issue this morning.

What the hell are we supposed to do then? 

Things aren't so obvious

We are often told that you can't judge a book by its cover. Sorry, friends, but you almost always can. The whole point of a cover is to give a clue to a book's contents, and in real life, people generally are what you think they are through their actions and appearance.

We are told that the poor don't understand the concept of work, the idea of applying themselves in order to do better for themselves. Yet how quickly do the shovels come out and we find them aggressively going door to door offering to clear our walks after a snowfall. You might notice too that they can find a piece of cardboard and write a sign, to sit by freeway exit ramps and beg for change.

I have been told that a thief does not understand that stealing is wrong. Try stealing something of his; he'll get the point.

I was told in teacher college that all kids can learn and further, that all kids can be reached. But the problem is that many of them don't want either. Some simply will not learn or allow themselves to be touched by education. Not everyone can be helped.

I have been told that high taxes will help us prosper. You know the response to that.

I know that appearances can deceive. Yet just as often they do not. We need to remember that whenever we discuss right, wrong, and responsibility.

Judging book covers

They say you can't judge a book by its cover. Then why bother to put a cover on one?

Well, to entice folks to buy it. That's why there will be photos or a painting or fancy script on a book's cover. Writers and editors and publishers want the cover to sway your judgment.

So, then, the axiom actually means nothing useful. So why employ it?

So that you may feel guilty when you judge something on appearance. Usually this involves something that would generally bring contempt upon itself.

Think about the next time you are blithely told that you can't judge.

One Year with the Pope

The Holy Father, Pope Francis, has been our Pope for a year now. It is a blessed anniversary for all the faithful.

He has spoken with great kindness and charity. There is a lesson in that, one not easily learned. The lesson is simple, so simple in fact that it is often seen as trite and formulaic. We are not to judge. It is not our job.

What does this mean? Are we not to consider what is right or wrong? Are we not with a guideline to our acts?

We are with a guideline to our acts, of course. As are all others. Yet when they stray we are not to look at them nor what they do. We are only to look at the act, nothing more. Why?

That is the great question. It is based on the idea that we don't know them; we don't know what cross they carry. We don't know their burden. No creature, no created thing, does, nor can, know what cross another man bears.

This is the lesson which the Holy Father teaches. We would do well to heed it.

Judgment of People and Things and Ideas.

They say you can't judge a book by its cover. Then why bother to put a cover on one?

Well, to entice folks to read it. That's why there will be photos or a painting or fancy script on a book's cover. Writers and editors and publishers want the cover to sway your judgment. So, then, the axiom actually means nothing useful. So why employ it?

So that you may feel guilty when you judge something on appearance. Usually this involves something that would generally bring contempt upon itself.

Think about the next time you are blithely told that.