Thoughts Important Enough to Keep Me Until 3:25 am.

I often read Dan Savage's sex column Savage Love but as often as not I find myself disagreeing with his advice. That's probably not too surprising considering our respective worldviews. However, I recently read his column and was quite impacted by his response. The response can be found here, in reply to the first letter.

If there's one thing I believe with all my heart about Christianity, it's that God desperately loves all people, including those who are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered. However, there are some unfortunate verses that condemn these practices. Previously, I mentally filed these prohibitions with others such as premarital sex, drunkenness and abortion; not really condemnable if someone is not a practicing Christian. (and I would be very frugal with any sort of judgment) A parallel would be the fact that I'm not a Muslim so I don't feel that I should be chastised for not fasting during Ramadan. I then congratulated myself on my forward thinking liberalism. I could love the sinner and hate the sin. (Although I never understood why I even had to hate this particular sin.)

I read L.R's letter and thought it to be fairly well written with a balanced perspective. Rather naive perhaps to try and win Dan's sympathy, but certainly not the sort of thing that I would be ashamed to write. Then I read Dan's reply, by the grace of God I managed to do so without getting defensive. Here was someone who seemed to have a similar, almost equally accepting viewpoint as mine and for this Dan flew into a spitting rage. In that reply I managed to see clearly how Christianity looks from the outside and it certainly isn't pretty. It was definitely not the sort of group that I would choose to associate with. I saw Dan's hatred for Christians and I also saw why.

Of course this wasn't the first time that I've seen the church in an unflattering light. (To employ the grossest of understatements.) I know about the Crusades, I know about the history of racism, oppression of women and I know of the Catholic church's cover up of pedophilia. In that single sentence I've already mentioned an unthinkable amount of pain and suffering caused by Christians but I haven't even scratched the surface of the terrors done in God's name.

Yet I still name myself among this group, often times regretfully. I stay though, because of grace. Though ironically all too invisible in the church, the grace that I so desperately need can only be found here. When I see the horrors of this world, the gospel of grace seems more important than ever. There are people who are guilty of the most abominable crimes and someone must be held to account. Yet these same people are often victims of the most abominable crimes; I can't say that I would act any different having grown up in their situation. How can I blame them when I honestly feel that the difference between their crimes and mine is that mine are less severe because my life has been less severe. I want to forgive them because I myself want forgiveness.

But then how can the women being repeatedly gang raped in the Congo forgive their assailants? How can the starving in India forgive the those who economically enslave them while living comfortable lives of affluence? How can children who are forced into prostitution forgive those who abuse them? To offer a blank check of forgiveness to the guilty is an outrageous insult to those who have been wronged.

Gandhi said that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Every antagonist has also been a victim. Everyone is guilty. Justice isn't a matter of deciding which crimes are damnable and which aren't. The women in the Congo didn't give those men permission to sexual exploit them. Neither did the women whom I've lust after give permission to me to entertain my selfish thoughts. Is one crime forgivable and the other not?

Only Christianity offers complete justice. As Chesterton writes,

"Christianity came in here as before. It came in startlingly with a sword, and clove one thing from another. It divided the crime from the criminal. The criminal we must forgive unto seventy times seven. The crime we must not forgive at all."

Every crime has been answered for. Every criminal can go free. Grace is what the world needs, and grace is what I need; I found it in the Church and now I'm stuck there, in the same group who persecutes those who are stuck in a different group, the LGBT group.

Christians have screwed up big time, spewing hateful messages devoid of love or grace. By failing to offer grace, it's now us who are in need of it. Grace and forgiveness for the horrible things said in done in the name of Jesus, a man who came to freely offer grace to everyone. I think that the world already knows what the Bible says about homosexuality. I think that it's time that they learn what it says about grace and love. No, I think it's time that the world sees what the Bible says about grace and love. We've sunk too far. Words aren't going to cut it anymore. I think it's time to show that Christian everywhere care desperately about people, people who are so ostracized that they're taking their own lives. It doesn't help if we grieve these deaths in silence. If we don't care then we've missed entirely the message of God.

That's What He Said.

Writing a paper the other day I came across the dilemma of whether to write a gender neutral, though cumbersome sentence, or if I should write in the traditional, more elegant, though sexist manner. I made a quick note of the dilemma as a facebook status update and then went back to procrastinating from my paper. I thought nothing more of the subject until I went back the next day only to discover that over thirty comments had been written on the topic. On the one hand there were a few guys saying gender neutral language is stupid, on the other there was a host of women saying it isn't, with the support of a few guys.

Of course the debate hinged on the notion of equality. It is doubtful that any society in history has ever treated women with full equality, though the Western world has made huge steps in this area. However, as many point out, there's still a long way to go, as reflected in the firmly embedded language biases. Feminists see these biases as an insulting inheritance of a patriarchal society, something that needs to be relegated to the history bin like other injustices before.

I am in favour of equality of course. I think that most everybody thinks that equality is a good thing, a fair thing. The only reason one might conceivably argue against equality, is because things are unfair in his favour. (I thought that might be one sentence where I could get away with using an uspecified masculine pronoun.) Of the guys who protested the change to the use of gender neutral language, not one argued that women don't deserve equality or that equality is a bad thing. That's because the position is completely untenable. If the language is obviously biased, which it is, and inequality is obviously unjust, which it is, then there's really no good argument against gender neutral language.

Except perhaps, there's the fact that if the pursuit of equality at some point becomes infantile. There is no demographic more perceptive to inequality than children. Their ubiquitous appeals to the standard of equality are often correct though as often as not, the authority figure meets the appeal not with sympathy but rather the comment, "life's not fair." It's true. Life is not fair and the sooner that is learned the better. Of course one could argue then that the pursuit of equality is futile and should not be attempted but of course that argument is spurious. However, at some point a line needs to be drawn between unacceptable inequality and acceptable inequality. That of course is a task that defies unanimity.

It is an oft noted fact that women are proportionally underrepresented in high corporate and political positions. It is a telling litmus test that demonstrates the necessity of rectifying the sexism that prevents equal representation. This is mere speculation, but I imagine that bald men are also an underrepresented demographic. If not bald men, then perhaps short men, or obese men. It could then be argued that the discrimination that keeps short, bald men from being elected to public office is a great problem that needs rectifying but I certainly would not donate money to the cause.

The challenge of equality includes so many variables that even if it were possible to put every person on an even playing field, it would be impossible to discern what disadvantages cancel out what advantages. In the case of a hypothetical election for example: one candidate is a women, though she had access to the right schools, another is a man but he grew up in an abusive household, another man had a great family life but he likes to grow a handlebar moustache. Which candidate has the advantage?

Assessing inequalities is a useful practice to determine where discrimination occurs but the irony is that knowledge and subsequent attempts to rectify discrimination can lead to more discrimination. I am sure that many Caucasian men have been rejected in favour of a less qualified candidate because the less qualified person was from either a minority or discriminated group. The quest for inequality often begets new inequality. However, it is probably acceptable collateral damage.

Concisely put, my point is that life is not fair and it is wrong to try and fix every inequality. When some people have plenty and others starve to death, that is a problem that demands attention. When some have access to education and others do not, that demands attention. When some people live in mansions and others sleep on the streets, that is a problem that demands attention. When I write an essay and use the word "man" to refer to all humans... my gut feeling is that it is not that big a deal, especially when one considers that the alternative "humankind" is almost equally patriarchal.

My gut reaction carries little value however, in the presence of countless women who think it does matter. I have to accept the fact that my male perspective is not optimal for making these judgment calls. I think that it is important for myself, and other men to put greater value on the opinion of women on this question. If the majority of women say gender neutral language is important then I ought to change, even though I hate most of the gender neutral options available.

Speak Well Of, Etymologically Speaking

I have decided to write my own eulogy. I don't want to leave something so important to somebody else; it's a sort of "if you want something done right" sort of thing. Some people might say that you can't write write your own eulogy but that of course is nonsense. Everybody does it. In fact, that's what people spend their whole lives doing. Granted, someone else is usually responsible for a succinct idealized summary, but the raw material is autobiographical.

I should clarify though. When I said that I was going to write my own eulogy, I meant the succinct, idealized summary. This isn't some sort of preparation for death, but rather for living. The problem with life is that there's no dress rehearsal. So far I've been ad-libbing my lines which works to a point, but if I want to look back upon my life with few regrets I'm going to need a script. Of course life throws too many curve balls to script exactly so my eulogy is going to be a script of values.

For example, when I'm dead I want people to look back on my life and say, "I really admire how Ed always gave his best effort, no matter what the task." Of course if I died today nobody who knew me would say that. That's why I want to write this eulogy. I'll be able to see my values written out so I can live them.

Here's another example. "Man Ed was a great uncle!"

I gotta go. My nephew is calling me! (I'll write the eulogy later.)

An Incomplete List of Things That I Love:

In no particular order:

Coffee
Persimmons
Crisp, fall apples
Beer
Turkey dinners
Toast with Marmite
Christmas morning coffee
Ice Cream
J.S. Bach's Ciaconna in D minor
Afternoon Naps
Laughing
Wool Socks
A hug from a friend
Sunshine
Moist chocolate chip cookies followed by a glass of milk
The night sky lit up by countless stars
Good books
Kind words from a friend
Reading anything that my sister wrote
Smells that take me back to childhood, say Vicks Vapor Rub
Beating the opponent to the ball
Biking to the top of a hill in a hurry
Holding babies
Mountains
Diving into cool, clear, freshwater
The Four Seasons
And of course,
Family and friends
The faith to believe that these blessings are gifts, not accidents

Boasting in First Person is so Vulgar.

I was thinking about cycling today and I was reminded of an email written several weeks ago. The recipient of the email suggested that I post it as a blog. So, here it is.

Picture this.

Last Friday afternoon, a bearded man takes off from the university on a customized red bicycle. It's single speed and has sawed off drop bars turned upside down so that they look like bull horns. While waiting at the intersection of 29th St and 16th Ave NW another cyclist comes up behind the bearded one.

"What gear ration are you using?" he asks.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. My roommate made this bike. When riding this bike I'm a bit of a fraud because it makes me look like a bike nut but I did not customize it nor do I know much about bikes."

The light turns green and the bearded man sets off, quickly to demonstrate that he may not be an expert in the mechanics of bicycles, but he does know how to make one go.

He races down the hill by Foothills Hospital, remembering another trip down that hill that ended in a unfortunate collision that ended the life of his road bike's back wheel. He turns through the neighbourhood while the other cyclist continues on to the intersection at Memorial Drive.

The bearded man crosses Memorial further east at a cross walk. Eastbound on the pathway he notices the inquisitive cyclist not too far behind him. Bearded Man crosses on the Crowchild Bridge and heads west to where the pathway heads up a steep gradient, a favourite hill of his that he used to do daily on his work commute. Normally he pushes himself up this hill, but on rare occasions he is a bit lazier upon his ascent. Not today though, he powers up as fast as possible, knowing that the cyclist following behind is aware that he only has one speed to work with. He makes it to the top of the hill still ahead of the other cyclist, a bike commute regular. The other cyclist comments, "You're strong!" Bearded Man's attempts to casually shrug off the compliment are perhaps successful, though a keen observer of human emotion would note the pride written across his bristly countenance.

The two cyclist ride together talking "bikes" until their paths diverge and the bearded one goes to the market and the other to whither the road leads.

That same evening the Bearded Man makes his way home. He powers up a steep pathway that leads into Crescent Heights. Later he pulls up to an intersection. There are two lanes, the right lane, the one he occupies, is used for vehicles going straight or turning right. A car pulls up behind the bearded man, indicating right. Bearded Man, being a considerate sort of cyclist, moves tight to the car in the left lane, a car also going straight. This car is piloted by a young mother who has three young boys with her, two who are on the passenger side, one front and one in the rear seat. There attention is caught by the cyclist riding his bike on the road like a car. They call out "Hi" through the open window. Bearded Cyclist returns their salutations but then the light turns green and he is off like a bullet, easily beating the car off the line. He maintains his lead for at least half a block. The car catches up and the boys look in wonder at the man who can bike so fast. They probably didn't realize that he was riding an old, single speed mountain bike and that he could be considerably faster on a road bike.

Bearded Cyclist arrives to his house in Cambrian Heights. The ride from the market to home, including a quick stop to check the mail at his previous Chateau took less than 45 minutes. He proudly strides into the house. Lance Armstrong would be hard pressed to beat him, and would certainly fail in any type of facial hair-growing competition.

Catty

A blog post inspired by Calvin French's response to Debbi's facebook post. I hope that those who are unfamiliar with the background information will still manage to find some appreciation for the story.

After the ceremony concluded, the Queen of Cats summoned her personal advisor, Mittens, asking, "The Heroes who were honoured today, why were their names familiar?"

The advisor was unable to meet her eye. He looked away in obvious discomfort, knowing the answer would bring displeasure. The Queen fixed her most regal, demanding stare upon the taciturn advisor. The only movement was the involuntary flick of the tail. Finally summoning all his courage, Mittens replied, "They were among those..." Mittens only continued after the Queen let out a soft yet threatening meow.

"Among those involved in... the Incident."

The Queen leapt to her feet in anger. Without a word she left the room, courtiers looked about nervously while Mittens quickly followed behind advocating that she take heed.

They sped to the North Tower of the Palace. The guard at the door started protesting her presence but was quickly silenced by an icy, feline glare. The Queen ascended the stairs and didn't stop until she reached the top. She proceeded to the end of a dark corridor and looked in through the close bars to see the darkened form of a reclining cat, sleeping softly.

The Queen let out a quiet hiss and the reclining cat awoke instantly and with mien of a titled lord, greeted the Queen.

"You!" the queen angrily hissed. "Are you ready to recant your fiendish doctrine and order your followers to cease your hopeless rebellion?"

The incarcerated feline laughed softly.

"I will cease to breath before I cease the rebellion. However, you understand that I only rebel against one minor aspect of your reign, your misguided trust and fondness of humans."

"You've already given me your tired arguments about the failings of humans! Today we honoured two humans who, for no reason beyond compassion, rescued four kittens, orphaned and fated to die, took them in and cared for them. And these humans, so common they even keep a dog!"

"Four kittens saved? It's likely that humans orphaned the kittens. Humans have always held kittens in high regard, but since leaving the banks of the Nile 3000 years ago humans only see cats as a sign of bad luck. In a short while these "heroes" will have four cats, will they be so willing to share their house then? Sure there are humans who "love" cats. They take them in as kittens and are bewitched by the slightest purr or meow. But then they enslave the minds of these kittens with soft beds and delicate food and then "fix" them to keep them kittens. CATS AREN'T BROKEN!"

The prisoner leapt up suddenly and padded by the door in a practiced motion, the light and shadow casting tiger stripes across his body. He fixed a disdainful glance at Mittens who, upon his sudden movement, had involuntarily arched his back and fluffed his fur despite the protective barrier that confined the traitor.

"Humans are a curse! They have oppressed and subjugated cats for millennia, the fact that some cats willingly subject themselves does not make it right! If you wish to honour these humans for their mercy, fine. Perhaps these kittens feel gratitude. It's misplaced. Their salvation comes at the cost of a life of servitude. It would have been better if they died! I for one will never recant, and should I ever escape these confines I will continue my battle against you and against humans. I will use all my feline powers to enact revenge upon humanity for the unspeakable horrors historically and presently enacted against our kind!"

The queen silently rose to her feet ignoring the crazed laughter emanating from the cell and echoing through the hall. She came to the saddened conclusion that the rebel would forever remain inexplicably embittered against humans. The queen quietly left the tower, leaving also the hope of repentance and reform from the rebel, and leaving forever high security prisoner 269384, aka Dexter, to serve his lifetime sentence, no chance of parole.

Acting Strangely

One thing I love is relating funny or outrageous events that have occurred to me. Another thing I enjoy, though on a far lesser scale, is making large sums of money. An awkward situation is quickly diffused by laughter, and I also love laughing.

My friend is a doctor. We were driving together once and talking about his experiences in med school. if one is interested in getting cheap haircuts it is possible to go to a hair dressing school and have students practice on you. however, it's not so easy for med students to practice their skills. For them, actors are required.

It's often the case that doctors, to do a proper examination, require the patient in various states of undress and to poke and prod various places that by nature, necessitates the wearing of gloves. So while it's possible that there are people would would be willing to voluntarily subject themselves to this ignominy, these volunteers would be few and with questionable motives.

Money can be persuasive though, and suitable amounts can persuade enough people to submit themselves to the prying hands of callow student physicians.

What all this taken together means, I've been entertaining the thought of becoming a med school actor. The reasons are simple:

1. It's a good way to make money.

2. It's a good way to make life interesting

3. It's a good way to meet female med students.

So far I've been all talk and bluster. I've made no steps towards applying for this job. Perhaps it's mostly fear, although a large amount of laziness as well. I don't want to expend a lot of energy only to be turned down for the position, or worse, accepted.

Rereading the reasons I've given for the job, I suppose that the first would be more accurate if rendered, "It's a way to make good money." And the the third would be more truthful as "it's a way to meet female med students." Really though, it's the second argument that I find the most compelling. I've had some bad jobs in the past, but I think I could do worse...