Stupid

We all do stupid things, but I’ve noticed how little grace and how much scorn I have for the stupidity, impulsiveness, thoughtlessness, and weakness of others. This is true even though I expect grace and understanding for my own stupidity, impulsiveness, thoughtlessness, and weakness.

Here is what hit me today: none of us set out to do something stupid. There is always some reason (possibly a horrifically bad one) for what we do. We may not be aware of the need or impulse deep inside motivates us to make the same mistake over and over again, but it must be there for… here we go again.

Back to my scorn for other’s stupidity... the very first line of the very first Psalm in the Hebrew Scriptures is the “Blessed is the one who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners, or sit in the seat of MOCKERS.” Unfortunately I fear I’ve spent enough time with the mockers that I’ve got a seat with my name on it in their midst. This is not all that unlike the practice at Spencer’s Steaks and Chops of giving frequent guests a nameplate over their favorite booth, only I don't think there is any honor in seat among the MOCKERS.

Only now I’d like to publically give up my seat. I’ve felt the damage scorn does to me, even as I’ve secretly dished it out at others. Of course, I pride myself that I cover my scorn with a smile so they’ll never know. But this is a lie. I pick up theirs; they pick up mine. Most of us survive by having sensitive antenna, and I now believe I’ve caused a lot of damage with scorn over the years.

In place of scorn I’d like to try a shot at the grace I so long for myself. I need to remember that no one willfully intends to be stupid. In place of scorn I’d like to instead look for what might lead a person to do what seems to me to be so foolish or destructive, wasteful or frivolous. Not that I may ever really know, but at least then I won’t be dumping as much of my scorn into the collective well. For after all I think that very well is the same I need to go to for water.

Poetic Intrigue

A friend shared a poem with me a week ago that I find intriguing even as I muse on what it means. Here is is.

I Pick Up a Hitchhiker

After a few miles, he tells me
that my car has no engine,
I pull over, and we both get out
and look under the hood.
He’s right.
We don’t say anything more about it
all the way to California.

Jay Leeming

Conan In Mexico

Not that you can probably tell this from the picture of me hamming for the camera, but our congregation's fifteen year investment in building homes in the Tijuana slums has had a significant impact on a number of subsistence neighborhoods and a HUGE impact on the senior high students and leaders who choose to trade the rest and play of a typical Spring Break for the hard work of building a two-room house in six days.

This year I was able to be a part of one of the housing teams for several days. It was a gift, and reminds me that some of the best meals on the TRAVELING FEAST might be served in some very unexpected places.