Spinach and Chocolate Cake

When asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus’ answer was twofold:  love God (with everything you’ve got) and love your neighbor as you love yourself.  So, how many love commandments are there in this response?  Just two.

 

Some well-meaning interpreters of Scripture would tell us that there are in fact three love commandments here:  love God, love your neighbor, and love yourself.  They might insist, “Jesus tells us that we need to love ourselves in order to truly be able to love our neighbors.”

 

But I’m afraid that this interpretation, while probably well-intentioned, is mistaken – both grammatically and theologically.

 

For example, consider the instruction, Eat spinach as you eat chocolate cake.  How many commands have I issued?  Just one:  eat spinach.  I’m not commanding you to each chocolate cake!  In fact, there’s a good chance that I would prefer for you to STOP eating chocolate cake altogether.  But the command to eat spinach is based on a very good assumption:  the listener really likes to eat chocolate cake, and does so with eagerness!  In fact, the force of the command – as stated – depends on that assumption being true.  If I’m not sure whether the listener really likes chocolate cake or not, then phrasing the question in this way actually serves to undermine the impact of the command to eat spinach.  And to suggest that, when I say, Eat spinach as you eat chocolate cake, I really mean, If you don’t currently like chocolate cake, please learn how to eat it ravenously so that you can then fulfill my command to eat spinach with the same gusto – well, that’s just ridiculous, isn’t it?

 

By the same token, the very syntax of the phrase, Love your neighbor as yourself, must NOT be taken as a command to love oneself, implicitly or otherwise.  Jesus is making the very legitimate assumption that all of us really do in fact love ourselves.  NOT that we necessarily have the highest opinion of ourselves, since that is often not true. But we are passionately devoted to what we perceive to be our own best interests.  I’m no psychologist, but I would suggest that this understanding of self-love could hold true even to people who quite vehemently “hate themselves.”

 

So – we are already pretty well preoccupied with ourselves.  We don’t need another command to reinforce that.  We need to hear Jesus’ commands to love God first and love others with the same passionate commitment we give to our own interests.

 

And, yeah, eating more spinach might not be a bad idea, either.

 

 

 

Culture Shock and the Incarnation

This article was written for my ministry newsletter in July 2003.  I thought of it recently, because the same fundamental challenge remains – even after eight years of ministry in Cambodia.

 

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Immersing oneself in a new culture is not easy.  I just returned from a trip to Svay Rieng, a province in the southeast part of Cambodia, near the border with Vietnam.  I had the opportunity to go as one of the teachers for a regional youth leader seminar.  I am glad that I was able to participate, but I have to admit that the time was a challenging one. 

 

I have been here for over a year.  Though by no means a “veteran,” I am feeling more comfortable with the language, and feeling a certain sense of “belonging” here.  But culture shock has a funny way of sneaking up on you.  Among the nine people running the seminar, I was the only foreigner.  While I was able to teach my workshops for the seminar in Khmer, I am still far from able to follow the playful banter around the dinner table. So, instead of the warm camraderie I might have hoped for, I felt somewhat left out.  And the fact that some of my friends and colleagues seemed to enjoy teasing me – teasing that I couldn’t fully comprehend! – only made me feel worse.

 

I struggled with hurt, anger, and frustration.  “Don’t they realize how hard it is for me to be here with them?”  “Don’t they realize how much I’ve given up to come to Cambodia in the first place?”  “Don’t they realize that, even though I haven’t mastered the language, I’m not stupid?”  “Can’t they show me a little respect?”  Such selfish thinking only fueled the fires burning inside my heart!

 

Those struggles have led me once again to reflect on an awesome mystery – the mystery of the Incarnation.  When Jesus stepped out of the glories of heaven to enter a virgin’s womb and be born in Bethlehem with a feeding trough for His first crib, it was a lot bigger jump than a move from comfortable, affluent America to developing Cambodia.  He had to struggle with the mundane realities of life on this planet.  He had to sweat as the midday sun beat down on Him.  He probably had to eat food that wasn’t as tasty as it could have been.  He probably had to scratch a bug bite or two or twenty.  (I don’t actually know if they have mosquitoes in Israel!)

 

But the final chapters of that story were the worst.  He had to suffer the betrayal of one of his closest companions.  He had to endure the mockery of men who were not worthy to be in His presence.  And He had to undergo the injustice of being nailed to a cross and dying as a common criminal.  He could have said, “Don’t they realize who I am?”  “Don’t they realize how much I’ve given up to come here?”  “Can’t they show me a little respect?”

 

But He didn’t.  He endured it all.  And He did it for me.  I will probably never completely get past “culture shock.”  Instead, what I must do is constantly put my trust in the one who endured the “culture shock” of the Incarnation, so that I might enjoy the goodness that He has stored up for me.  And by His grace, I desire to keep pressing on to share that goodness – the joy of following the Incarnate One – with others.

Fences and neighbors

Growing up, I remember hearing the phrase “good fences make good neighbors.”  The phrase is actually quoted in the poem “Mending Wall” by Robert Frost, but the origins evidently are even earlier.

 

Hmm…good fences make good neighbors.  As I understand the phrase, it suggests that getting along well with your neighbors requires a clear demarcation of “my space” vs. “your space.”  Respecting each other’s boundaries, each other’s “personal space,” is essential for good relationships.

 

My Cambodian mother-in-law has said something using similar terms. 

 

Sometimes, when we’re tempted to get frustrated with our neighbors, she will say, “remember, neighbors are your fences.”  Wait a second, that’s different.  She’s suggesting that “good neighbors make good fences”!  What she’s implying is that the function of a good fence – protection and safety – can be provided by good neighbors.  If you have a good relationship with your neighbors, they’ll keep an eye on things for you.  You want to have good relationships with your neighbors, so they serve as your fence.

 

That strikes me as illustrating a key cultural difference between an American mindset and a Cambodian mindset.  The American mindset says, “respect my personal space and we’ll get along fine,” while the Cambodian mindset suggests, “let’s make sure we get along and I won’t have to worry so much about my personal space.”

 

Reading the wistful tone in Frost’s poem, I suspect he would have preferred the Cambodian approach.

 

 

Wants and Asking

It’s incredible to me that a two-year-old knows how to operate a DVD player.  Our son, Davey Will, loves to watch videos, and he actually knows how to put the DVD’s in the player and get them going.  It’s amazing to me.

 

Now, I still try to do most of the handling of the DVD’s myself, because our toddler hasn’t yet learned the proper way to hold them to keep them from getting scratched and all.  But I often let Davey Will pick out the video he wants to watch, and then I put it in for him.

 

But picking DVD’s can be tricky.  For instance, sometimes Disney DVD’s include not only the disc that actually contains the animated film, but another disc that has “special features.”  The discs tend to be decorated about the same, so little two-year-old eyes cannot discern the difference.

 

And so it is that my little boy has, at times, asked for me to put in the Jungle Book Special Features disc.  He loves the movie, the “Jungle Book,” and so I assume that’s what he wants to watch.  But when I go to put the right disc in the player, he gets upset.  He thinks that I’m not giving him what he clearly asked for.  Which, in reality, is true.  I know he asked for the behind-the-scenes documentary about the making of Jungle Book, but I’m pretty sure that’s not what he really wants to watch.  (He has watched it on occasion, though!)  So, as he’s fussing and rapidly approaching “temper tantrum” stage, I get a little bit frustrated.  In my heart, I want to say, “Look, I’m going to give you what you want, not what you asked for!”

 

And then I realize how often I can be like a two-year-old boy.  I can get so upset when God doesn’t give me what I asked for.  But maybe God, in His infinite wisdom, knows much better than we do what we really want.  And in His incredible grace He allows us to fuss and whine while He moves to give us what we want, not what we asked for.

 

 

Sex and Coke

NOTICE:  If you happen to be an attorney (whether working for Coca-Cola or otherwise), I freely admit that I talk about Coca-Cola in this blog entry.  I’m sure Coca-Cola and Coke are both trademarks, and this isn’t intended to infringe on that.  This blog entry is neither an endorsement nor condemnation of the beverage.  Just in case you were wondering.

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I really like Coca Cola.  When you live and work in a hot, tropical climate, an ice-cold Coke can be incredibly satisfying. 

 

It’s really a wonderful drink.  The acidic taste helps quench the thirst, the sugar gives some caloric intake, the caffeine gives a quick boost of energy, and the carbonation can make you feel full when the rice and whatever else is on the table doesn’t look terribly appealing.  It’s just a great beverage!

 

So, imagine that I have a can of ice-cold Coca-Cola.  And I think to myself what a wonderful beverage this is.  And I think further, that this beverage is so wonderful that 330 ml just isn’t going to be satisfying enough.  I mean, that’s only a good-sized glass worth.  So imagine that I round up about 15 glasses, each big enough to hold a can’s worth of coke.  And I take my single can, and divide it out evenly by pouring a little bit into each of the 15 glasses.  Then, I take a large pitcher of water and fill up each of the glasses to the brim with plain water.  Now I have 15 glasses of delicious, satisfying Coca-Cola, right?

 

Of course not.

 

I now have 15 glasses of slightly brownish water, and that’s about it.  If you ever tasted watered-down Coke (like when all the ice melts in your cup), you know how icky that taste can be.  It’s not satisfying at all.  In trying to spread out my satisfaction, I have instead radically diminished it.  It would have been much more fulfilling to simply accept the limits of my single can of the wonderful drink, and enjoy it in all its refreshing and satisfying purity.  Diluting it in an attempt to expand the satisfaction only destroyed it.

 

That’s God’s plan for sex.   In one sense, God’s intention to restrict sexual expression and fulfillment to the confines of the marriage covenant seems extremely limiting.  One sexual partner for life?  That’s it?  For many of us, sexuality seems to have so much more potential than that.  And there are SO many opportunities to seek for – and find – sexual pleasure in the world today.  It seems only rational to try to expand our satisfaction by seizing multiple opportunities for sexual fulfillment – whether that’s through multiple partners or just multiple websites.  But what we end up doing is diluting the pleasure that God intended, and diluting it in an attempt to expand the satisfaction only destroys it.  We are much better off to lovingly and gratefully accept the limits of a committed marriage partner as our sole source of sexual delight, and enjoy that pleasure in all its refreshing and satisfying purity.

 

 

 

Living into the Future

When you live in Cambodia, surrounded by a culture of those who are unfamiliar with Western holidays and traditions, even remembering when certain holidays ARE can be a bit of a challenge.  I mean, with Irish in my background, we enjoyed St. Patrick’s Day when I was growing up.  We ate corned beef and cabbage.  We drank green milk.  It was fun.  Now, St. Patrick’s Day can come and go without a trace!

 

That’s not as true of some of the major Christian holidays, of course, like Christmas and Easter.  The church here in Cambodia does remember those, although Easter is still a bit fuzzy.  People have asked me more than once when a holiday actually falls.  Here in Cambodia, Christmas is really all throughout December, and people don’t always realize that December 25 is the official holiday.

 

A while back, all this holiday-tracking made me realize something.  We usually celebrate a “holiday season” leading up to a holiday, and consider it finished when the holiday finally arrives.  The “Christmas season” generally kicks off around Thanksgiving, and lasts all month with party after party and all.  (Unless you work in retail, and then the Christmas season starts around Halloween or even earlier!)  But when December 25 rolls around, that’s the end.  People in the United States would probably look at you kind of funny if you invited them to a Christmas party on December 29, right?  The actual event marks the end of the season.

 

The same is true of Easter, and – in my home growing up, at least – of vacations.  The weeks and days leading up to our family vacation were a time of excitement and anticipation, as we eagerly awaited the great day of departure.  We weren’t nearly as excited when the vacation was over!

 

Why is this?  Why are we so excited leading up to a special event, and the excitement ends thereafter?  Why don’t we celebrate the Christmas season after Christmas?

 

I have a thought, and you can take it for what it’s worth.  I suggest this pattern of excitement exists because the joy of anticipation is part of our humanity.  We were made to live into the future.  We get excitement, joy, pleasure, and satisfaction in expectation of what’s coming, now what has already come and gone.  That’s just natural.

 

It’s not that the past is unimportant.  After all, remembering and celebrating the past is an important aspect of having holidays to begin with.  We usually celebrate holidays with traditions, which tie us to the past.  But when one holiday ends, we begin looking forward to the next one – because we are intrinsically drawn to the future.

 

I think this may be significant, because that’s the pattern of the Christian life.  We celebrate and honor the past, but we are living into the future.  We are made for the joy of anticipation of all the shalom that God has in store for us.

 

Happy holiday.  Whichever one is next.

 

P is for Parenting

Back in the day, I used to enjoy psychological tests.  Not the big, serious ones like the MMPI (which makes you feel weird just taking it, in my opinion).  But the more general, personality type of tests.  I remember taking tests based on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator.  I recall finding out that I am pretty much an off the charts Introvert.  Not a surprise, if you happen to know me.  I also learned that I was a very strong “J.”  The J stands for judging, and is set in contrast to the P for perceiving.  One of the things I read is that J’s (like me) like to tie up loose ends and “have matters settled,” in the words of Myers.  P’s are more open to ambiguity, I guess, more tolerant of things being up in the air and untidy, unfinished.

 

Yeah, I’m definitely a J.  People chuckle when they look at my planner book, because I cross things off with a vengeance.  That’s such a great sense of satisfaction – getting to the end of the day and knowing that you’ve accomplished something meaningful.  Getting to watch an hour or so of TV at the end of the day, knowing that I’ve worked hard and been productive all day, is a great feeling for me.  I like for things to be done, crossed off the list, accomplished, finished.  I’m a J.

 

But I recently realized something.  One of the challenges I’ve encountered in my two years of parenting experience is that it’s not really a J-oriented activity.  Parenting Davey Will never gets crossed off my list.  Raising my son is never, ever, really “done.”  When I became a parent, I signed up for the perpetually unfinished task.  That’s the kind of things P’s are into, not J’s.  P is for parenting, I guess.

 

There’s no question that I find parenting Davey Will immensely satisfying.  But I am going to have to redefine my “job satisfaction” in this case.  I’m never going to have the satisfaction from saying, “Mission accomplished,” because there will always be more parenting work to do.  Parental satisfaction has to be more organic, more characterized by the quality of my relationship to him and the kind of person he’s becoming than by a set of tasks that can be crossed off as “completed with excellence.”  This will be a journey for this committed J, but it’s one I’m looking forward to making.

 

This isn’t any great revelation for experienced parents, I know. But I’m new at this.