I live in Australia. Today, the 21st of May 2013, I am sitting in bed typing this blog entry on an iPad which I reluctantly purchased for my job (at my employer’s expense mind you!), and which is made in China. I am surrounded by furniture, clothes, books, electronics and perishables that are all made in China or Bengladesh.
No, this is not one of these I-wonder-what-life-would-be-like-without-X type of blog entry. T’is no fantasy, no mere chimeric musing, but a protest, a revolt, a mutiny!
If you are one of the tens of millions of people who constantly worry about what others think of you, consider the following impeccable logic:
If you believe that everyone around you really is watching and negatively judging your appearance and every move, you must have a very negative opinion of them.
In fact, you are doing the very thing you fear from them: judging them harshly based on limited information: their appearance and outward behaviour.
The reason you do this is that we only have access to our own thoughts and ways of thinking; we must guess everyone else’s, and we do it based on our own thoughts. If we tend to judge everyone harshly, we tend to assume that everyone does the same.
So, the key to being more confident around others is not to worry less or ignore people’s feelings: it is to be less judgmental of them.
A typical response to my controversial challenges of ubiquitous elements of our modern lives is that we need these things to keep up with an ever-changing world. I would like to challenge this notion by offering another:
By keeping up with the world in this way, aren’t we contributing to what the world is becoming? We send our kids to school to prepare them for a world that is massively influenced by schooling itself. We buy the latest technological gadget to remain at the forefront of the consumerism that our purchases have unwittingly promoted.
So when people look at what I do and say “wow that’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”, I like to reflect on what it means to be “extreme” in a world in which the once extreme is increasingly common, and the once common is increasingly extreme!
In other words, I’m trying to be mindful of the ways in which my lifestyle choices influence the world in which my children will grow up. If they are to change the world into something better, they need to be exposed to ideas and experiences that are foreign to what the world currently accepts as conventional wisdom.
I’m writing this in frustration of my own recurring tendency to sacrifice worthwhile opportunities for the sake of ephemeral instants of pleasure.
I am reminded of the very meaningful and symbolic biblical story of Esau selling his birthright for a good meal. Although it is easy to judge Esau by saying that he was short-sighted and impulsive, how often we tend to act that way!
When we are in a moment of crisis or weakness as Esau was, it is natural to lose sight of long-term goals and our core values. We feel terrible and all that seems to matter is to resolve the immediate situation.
How often I have sold an opportunity to spend quality time with my wife for an hour of television! How often I have sold meaningful service for selfish indulgence; health for a treat; self-respect for a moment of pleasure…
It is so hard to deny myself of these pleasures when the world is shouting at me that I am entitled to them, that I somehow deserve them, that saying “no” is a sign of weakness! Yet, how many times do I need to learn that indulging leads to no lasting satisfaction or happiness?
In the words of Jesus Christ: “It is better that you should deny yourselves of these things, whereby you take up your cross, than that ye should be cast down to hell”.
Hell is the state of mind in which you are when you act against your better judgement and knowledge, we you commit acts of self-betrayal. It involves remorse, shame, guilt, self-loathing, and is adequately described scripturally as unquenchable fire. No one “casts” us there but ourselves.
Conversely, acting in harmony with our growing knowledge involves daily trials and challenges, but is accompanied by a soothing, healing backdrop of inner peace of conscience. That peace is what Christ suffered for, that treasure for which it is worth denying ourselves of worldly pleasures and, as he did, take up our cross.
“Hospitality is the welcoming of strangers” (John McKnight & Peter Block, The Abundant Community)
As we strive to build up a Zion community, we must be careful not to become too insular. We must not close our doors to strangers and outsiders, regardless of how self-sufficient and bonded we feel as a family, a neighbourhood or a ward. Doing so would be denying them the opportunity to share their gifts with us, and to benefit from our gifts.
This applies to people who come to Church and who look unfamiliar to us. As Australians we tend to be mistrusting of strangers, we fear that their intentions may be selfish or downright evil, and that their intrusion into our tightly-knit community may disturb our peace and cause problems.
We want to wait until we know people really well before we trust them enough to do anything with them that could lead us to know them really well.
Consequently our relationships with one another tend to be superficial. We don’t develop deep friendships unless we are thrown together by unplanned (and usually unpleasant) circumstances. We feel physically close to each other, but emotionally and spiritually isolated. We don’t feel like we belong. We don’t feel like a community.
The scriptures, and particularly the New Testament, teach us to welcome strangers in our lives and homes.
“Use hospitality one to another without grudging.” 1 Peter 4:9
“Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” Hebrews 13:1-2
“I was a stranger, and you took me in…” Matthew 25:35
“Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another. Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord; Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer; Distributing to the necessity of saints; given to hospitality.” Romans 12:10-16
“And if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land, ye shall not vex him. But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.” Leviticus 19:33-34
“And if thy brother be waxen poor, and fallen in decay with thee; then thou shalt relieve him: yea, though he be a stranger, or a sojourner; that he may live with thee. Take thou no usury of him, or increase: but fear thy God; that thy brother may live with thee. Thou shalt not give him thy money upon usury, nor lend him thy victuals for increase.” Leviticus 25: 35-37
Welcoming strangers in our homes requires us to take a risk. But it’s a calculated risk: we value the gifts of the strangers so much that we are willing to take the very unlikely risk that they may cause harm to our family.
Our unwillingness to take the risks associated with welcoming strangers in our home has led to the corruption of the word “hospitality”, which is now mostly a synonym of entertainment in the sense of providing guests with food and drink for a fee. We have outsourced our hospitality to hotel chains. This makes our neighbourhoods and wards less welcoming, and undermines our sense of community.
What is the basis for our mistrust of strangers? Most often it comes from three sources:
As we become increasingly xenophobic (literally “afraid of strangers”), we are
less and less inclined to be helpful to others,
less likely to make new friends or to establish meaningful relationships with others,
more and more justified in our prejudices,
increasingly unsafe in our neighbourhoods, as we know few of our neighbours and are unable or unwilling to look out for each other’s well-being
more and more prideful, as we assume that the only people worth associating with are those who are like us
Even if all a stranger had to offer was a different view of the world—which all people have—that would be reason enough to welcome him into our home, especially in the absence of any evidence that he intends to do us harm.
Conventional wisdom in Australian society dictates that relationships should be created only between people who share many interests and attributes, such as ethnicity, age, gender, and economic status. This is based on a number of faulty assumptions, such as these:
Conflicts of opinion are bad and should be avoided
Friendships can be established only upon a foundation of common interests and values
Conversations between strangers need to begin with mundane, superficial topics about the things we have in common
Let’s look at each of these in turn, to justify why they are faulty.
First, conflicts of opinion are not only good, but they are necessary for any meaningful relationship to develop. What we mostly fear and avoid is the discomfort of considering the possibility that our current point of view is inaccurate or downright erroneous. This discomfort can lead us to feel threatened, which can trigger reactions of defensiveness or even aggression towards the other person.
That is certainly not a desirable outcome, but it is not the only possible outcome of a conflict of opinion. Instead, we can accept the discomfort, have the humility and courage to explore a new way of thinking or a new belief, and accept that the other person probably feels just as passionate about their views as we do about our own. This approach makes it possible for both parties to be enriched by the other, and establishes a foundation of mutual respect and trust that will make future dialogue even more rich and open.
Secondly, although common interests and values can bring people together and help initiate connections, they are not a sufficient basis on which to form friendships. As interests come and go according to fads and life circumstances, so do these types of friendship: they are transient and shallow. Once our “friend” no longer shares the interest we once thought defined our friendship, I find myself with nothing else to justify our association and I lose interest in our relationship.
True friendship develops as we spend time doing meaningful, satisfying, and productive things with someone. It requires frequent sacrifices of time and effort. Most importantly, it develops as we seek out the gifts in each other, overlooking whatever “problems” may be obvious to us. Within each person that crosses our path lies a universe of experiences, values, memories, skills, hopes, fears and points of view, almost all of which is foreign to us. Singling out a single interest, experience or possession in a person truly devalues that richness, and prevents any depth of friendship from developing.
Thirdly, our ability to initiate a conversation with someone else has arguably declined with each generation since the early 20th century. Chit chat is useful for getting eye contact with someone, and mundane introductions have their place, but nowadays our conversations tend to stay at that shallow level, as if we were afraid that talking about “deep” topics would somehow put us in an embarrassing situation. I argue, as others have done, that deep conversations can begin very early in the process of meeting new people. Indeed, the longer we wait for these conversations to begin, the more likely we are to become comfortable in the shallow water of small talk, and to miss the richness and depth of the other person.
This situation is familiar to me, especially in relation to my brothers. We have grown up having conversations centred primarily around entertainment, and today whenever we are together it is almost impossible to initiate any deep conversations, as we all feel much too uncomfortable doing it. This is why it’s much easier doing so with complete strangers, who then are more likely to become true friends.
Our willingness to welcome strangers in our homes and lives, our hospitality, plays a crucial role in the health of our families and communities. It helps us keep our minds unfettered from the burden of stereotypes. It keeps us humble and open to new experiences and points of view. It introduces frequent new ideas to us, helping us live a richer, more fulfilling life. It helps us stay curious about the unexplored, while learning to value the little we know and can do by sharing it with others who need us at least as much as we need them.
So, when can I come over for dinner?
Trust us, we wear white lab coats!
More and more nowadays, we hear the words “scientifically proven”, or “clinically proven”, used to justify the sale of such and such toothpaste, vacuum cleaner or miracle cure. You see the big guy in his white lab coat, looking so serious and knowledgeable, the archetype of the guy-you-must-trust. He talks so eloquently about how his patients all rave about this product, and how it will make your life so much better etc. And it really pushes my buttons.
Why?
Because these guys are actors. Everything is fake. The white lab coat is an old but very effective method to sell all sorts of things, from alcohol to tobacco to toothpaste and even exercise equipment.
It represents the authority figure who knows more than we do, saving us the hassle of having to think for ourselves. We see someone (mostly men) dressed in a white lab coat, and we feel safe, in the hands of the expert who will take care of us. This is reinforced by our experiences of hospitals, in which people in uniform really take our lives in their own hands, and we really have to let go and trust them. On TV, however, it’s all fake, and they want us to believe that it’s real.
It bugs me because, even though I know it’s fake, it still influences me and I’m not always aware of it. I know that sometimes I buy something because, some time in the past, I saw an ad that made me think: “this looks OK, I wonder if it works?”.
What about the claims of being “clinically proven”? This is frequently plastered over hair care products, make-up or other cosmetic products. What does “clinically proven” mean? Well, the advertisers would like us gullible customers to believe that it means “rigorously tested and shown to be so good you can’t live without it”. However, it really means nothing, because you can’t prove anything scientifically or clinically. Besides, if someone makes a claim that something has been tested, but fails to provide references and results from the actual test, it’s probably false advertising.
Customers don’t care though, even if you point this out to them. They don’t ask questions like “Who conducted the research?”, “Who funded the research?”, “Who were the participants in the research, and how were they selected?”, “What measures were taken, and how was it decided that the results warranted the label of ‘clinically proven’?”.
These are questions that actually matter, but the advertising companies don’t want people to know about the scientific method, or how experiments are conducted and science is published and peer-reviewed. They just want to sell their products, no matter how good/bad it is for us. It’s a greedy, dishonest business overall, and it’s a shame because advertising could be very useful and beneficial if it was conducted ethically.
More broadly, I think about the fashion industry, the women’s magazines, pornography, the music, film and game industries and how they all feed into each other to suck the goodness out of our lives in the form of money and time. They shape our thinking, limit our imagination, structure our day-to-day lives and restrict our potential. They’re led by conspiring men and women who will stop at nothing to benefit themselves at the expense of everyone else. It’s a war that is destroying our society from within, eroding our morals and tearing at the very fabric of humanity.
King Lamoni’s father asked Aaron, his teacher:
“What shall I do that I may have this eternal life of which thou hast spoken? Yea, what shall I do that I may be born of God, having this wicked spirit rooted out of my breast, and receive his Spirit, that I may be filled with joy, that I may not be cast off at the last day? Behold, said he, I will give up all that I possess [...] that I may receive this great joy” (Alma 22:15)
To which Aaron replied:
“If thou wilt bow down before God, yea, if thou wilt repent of all thy sins, and [...] call on his name in faith, believing that ye shall receive, then shalt thou receive the hope which thou desirest” (v. 16)
Latter-day Saints sometimes tend towards a certain provincialism, and talk of people of other faiths as though they were utterly confused, lost, and hopeless. They often refer to the Gospel incorrectly, equating it with the church. For example, I often hear:
“I’m grateful I belong to this Gospel”
or
“I’ve been so happy since I’ve been in the Gospel”
The Gospel is a message, not a group, a status or an organisation. You can’t belong to it, you can’t be in it, and you can’t own it. It is a grave mistake to believe that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the sole property and monopoly of our church. The principles of faith and repentance are available to everyone, members and non-members alike. When Lamoni and his father knelt and prayed for forgiveness, they received it, before their baptism and confirmation.
However, they needed to be baptised, and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, to retain a remission of their sins from day to day (Mosiah 4:12,26; Alma 4:14), and begin the process of lifetime conversion. Their desire to sin would have inevitably returned, no matter how hard to tried to fight it, unless they entered into a covenant with God to follow the Saviour, and receive the companionship of the Holy Ghost as a constant guide, purifier and testifier of truth.
As the Saviour taught the Nephites:
“Now this is the commandment: Repent, all ye ends of the earth, and come unto me and be baptised in my name, that ye may be sanctified by the reception of the Holy Ghost, that ye may stand spotless before me at the last day” (3 Nephi 27:20)
Jesus Christ single-handedly overcame all sins, weaknesses and even death. Although we can’t do that ourselves, the purpose of our mortal existence is to enable us to achieve the same purity, the same holiness, as that achieved by the Saviour. This can only be done through the atonement of Christ, and we can only receive the full blessings of the atonement by exercising our faith in Christ, repenting of our sins, being baptised and confirmed, and enduring to the end (2 Nephi 31:17-21).
The Gospel of Jesus Christ, then, is the glorious message that, through His atonement, we may overcome the natural man, become the receptacle of pure and virtuous principles, and become one with the Father and the Son. “Those who reject this glad message” are aptly designated as “damned”:
“And if they will not repent and believe in his name, and be baptised in his name, and endure to the end, they must be damned; for the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, has spoken it.” (2 Nephi 9:24)
They are not called “damned” because they go to an endless hell of fire and brimstone, but because they stop progressing, as water is stopped by a dam. This doesn’t just apply to people who refuse to join our Church. It happens to us on a regular basis.
We refuse to let go of the ungodliness and impurities in our hearts, we cling to the natural man, we want the mansion in heaven and the holiday home in Babylon. Unlike Lamoni and his father, we are unwilling to give up all our sins. Why is that? Because we lack faith in Christ and in his promise:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and you shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28-30)
I used to think of the words “labour” and “heavy laden” in this scripture as our earthly trials and tribulations, and thought that the teaching was that we could turn to the Saviour for comfort. Recently, I’ve started to see this scripture differently. These heavy burdens we carry may actually be our sins, bad habits, addictions, vain ambitions, or our worldly idols. Although it may appear easier to obtain happiness through pleasurable activities, the accumulation of wealth or the cultivation of popularity, these do not give “rest” to our souls. By doing these things we “labour for that which does not satisfy” (2 Nephi 9:51), and they are a heavy burden that just keeps on getting heavier, the more we seek happiness through them.
The yoke of Christ is easy, not because it requires little effort, but because it is simple. It is as simple as Moses’ staff raised for the healing of the poisoned Israelites who would merely look at it (Numbers 21:6-9; Alma 33: 19-22; 1 Nephi 17:41); as simple as Naaman’s washing seven times in the Jordan river to be healed of leprosy (2 Kings 5:8-15); as simple as following the directions on the Liahona to find food or the way to the promised land (Alma 37:38-46).
The hard part of the Gospel isn’t doing the Lord’s work. It is letting go of the feeling that we are entitled to our share of worldly distractions from doing His work. We can’t give away “all our sins” if we refuse to acknowledge them. We can’t let our hearts become the receptacle of pure and virtuous principles unless we first cleanse the inner vessel (Alma 60:23-24) through daily living the first principles of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
