Ranthropologist

Category: Culture & Society

  • Be Good, For Goodness’ Sake

    Be Good, For Goodness’ Sake

    There’s something chilling about the lines of the classic Christmas song, “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows if you’ve been bad or good SO BE GOOD, FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE. Creepy. Funny thing is, if you substitute Jesus for Santa Claus, this song becomes a rollicking hosanna to the return of the Son of God: You better not shout, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m telling you why! Jesus Christ is comin’ to town! He’s makin’ a list, checking it twice, gonna find out who’s naughty or nice, Jesus Christ is comin’ to town! Um, okay. Instead of presents, Jesus’ naughty or nice list lets you know who gets into heaven. How are these two things different? Well I’m here to tell ya: early in their lives, children learn the truth about Santa: he’s all made up. As for Jesus, they get told that he’s real, oh yes indeedy, and you’d better be good FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! But I ask you: what’s the difference?

    Those of you who know me probably aren’t the least bit surprised by the foregoing. We tell children that Santa is a story, but we don’t say the same about Jesus, and for some reason the kids buy it. I honestly think Santa is more convincing; I mean, aren’t the presents there as real evidence of Santa’s visit? Where are the presents from Jesus? Real presents, that is; not the dangling carrot of the present of eternal salvation (whatever that means). And of course, some of the more manipulative practitioners of the Jesus myth will find ways to explain that Christ’s presents are of a more spiritual nature. Heaven is the ultimate present, and you’d better stay off JC’s naughty list if you want to get there.

    Hypocrisy. Lies and hypocrisy. The truth is that the most important line in the song is “be good, for goodness’ sake.” Let me reiterate: FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE. Not for God’s sake, or Christ’s sake, or Buddha’s or Vishnu’s or Odin’s or whomever your anthropomorphic spiritual guide may be. Be good, because it’s the right thing to do. Be good, because humankind has developed rules, over eons of evolution and cultural development, for how to best get along with one another. Be good, because most of those rules apply cross-culturally, and can be summed up in the rule that as you would have done to you, so you should do to others. This rule exists, in one form or another, in every culture in the world. It is not based on religion or God or spirits or the supernatural; on the contrary, the rules came first, and the religions came later. Be good, because our survival NOW, not in some imaginary afterworld, depends on it. Ask yourself: do I do good because I am afraid of God’s punishment or going to Hell, or because it’s the right thing to do? Ask any atheist, and you’ll get your answer. You don’t need God to be good; you just need goodness. So, be good, for goodness’ sake.

  • Center of the Universe

    Center of the Universe

    Lately I have been reading some things in the news about a disturbing increase in narcissism among young people, those of high school and college age in particular. This phenomenon is being linked to a variety of things, such as the proliferation of social networking websites, the drastic increase in instant communication technologies, and too much emphasis on self-esteem building by today’s parents. I tend to agree that an excess of narcissism is probably a bad thing. But it got me to thinking about the opposite phenomenon, as well; that is, the common feeling that one is simply a tiny, inconsequential speck in a vast and uncaring universe. My reaction to that is, simply: bullshit. Are we not all the centers of our very own universes? Is there something inherently bad about caring about our own lives and experiences? Is it wrong to be unhappy about the things we don’t like, just because someone, somewhere else, might have it worse? I am reminded of the classic parental guilt trap used to get children to clean their plates: “Don’t you know there are starving children in (insert generation-appropriate geographic region here)?” For me, it was Africa. My response? “Whether or not I eat my liver-frosted flakes, the starving kids in Africa aren’t going to get them.” (My dad used to tease Hilary and me with imaginary unsavory meal threats, liver-frosted flakes being a favorite. We were also terrorized with the horrifying possibility of liver-filled donuts). In any case, there is nothing wrong with keeping a little perspective; after all, unless you are extraordinarily unlucky, there is always someone, somewhere, who has it worse than you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be pissed about whatever bad experience you are having. If I have a broken toe, don’t tell me, “You know, it could be worse. You could have a gangrenous toe that has to be amputated, but the infection isn’t contained, and it spreads up your leg to your face and renders you hideously disfigured. That’ll learn you! Now quitcher complaining, ya big baby!”

    All that being said, there are definitely some people who are the center of the universe in a very unhealthy way. The thing about a universe is, it’s full of other stuff. You may be the big star, but you are surrounded by planets, moons, constellations of other stars, random space junk, even vast alien worlds (cue Ren & Stimpy “Space Madness” quotes)… and what you do may have an affect on those other parts of your particular universe. If you don’t take care of the whole universe, not just the center, there could be a huge destructive supernova, or a life-sucking black hole, and nobody wants that.

    So. I address this to the universal catastrophes out there: you are not that important. This is for the black hole in the BMW yesterday who zoomed up Poway Road in the break-down lane to get around a truck, just so you could make it to the light at the top a whole thirty seconds faster. This is for the supernova at Albertson’s, who left your dog in the car in 104 degree heat, just because it was too inconvenient to take him home before you stopped for groceries. This is for the asteroid collision who has to take that important call or send that life-altering text message while out to dinner with your children. This is even for the minor meteor-showers of people who leave their carts in the parking space because they don’t want to walk 40 extra feet to the cart rack, or the co-workers who don’t rinse their coffee cup until it grows a vast alien world that colonizes the break-room sink. You may be the center of your own little universe, but don’t forget that we all live in a multiverse, and what you do in yours is NOT more important than what I do in mine, especially if destruction in yours might cause collateral damage in mine. Ask yourself, honestly: is it worth it? Is it worth it, BMW black hole, to risk your life and the life of others to save a few seconds? Is it worth it, Albertson’s supernova, to injure or kill your dog for a few quick groceries? Is it worth it, cell phone asteroid collision, to alienate your friends and family for instant communication we can all live without? And for the minor asteroid showers, is it worth it to be a self-centered ass-wipe?

    Don’t get me wrong, folks. I know that I, too, have plenty of ass-wipe moments, and that sometimes my sense of my universe doesn’t allow for any acknowledgment of other worlds. We are all narcissists at heart. But I think we all need to start consciously asking ourselves to be aware of others and to have some much-needed perspective, to slow down, to take it easy, to turn off the TV and pick up a book, to stick to the speed limit, to write a letter or have a face-to-face conversation, to allow ourselves to find a happy medium between black hole self-centeredness and tiny speck meaninglessness.

  • Less Than Perfect

    Less Than Perfect

    Lately I have been musing about how people define their terms. A long time ago, I read somewhere that most arguments boil down to differences in how people define things. That simple concept has always stuck with me, and I have often found it to be the case in arguments I have been a part of. Of course, having that perspective does not always solve the argument, because people can cling pretty ferociously to their personal definitions. At that point the argument often distills into a debate over whose definition is more accurate. I strive to be very specific in defining my terms when getting into an argument, so that the real issue at hand can be addressed. It is always gratifying when the argument is solved by acknowledging differing terminologies.

    Let’s bring this discussion into focus with a specific example. Today I saw a bumper sticker that said “Next time you think you’re perfect, try walking on water.” Given the opportunity, I would have asked the driver of the car how he or she defined “perfect.” Perfection, in my definition, is attainable. You can bake a perfect cake, or turn a perfect cartwheel, or find the perfect gift for someone. Perhaps this could be considered a sort of proletarian definition of the concept, but certainly I am not the only one who uses it in this way. As for the bumper sticker, it got me thinking about the nature of perfection. Since when does perfection include the ability to perform supernatural acts? I believe that there is no such thing as the supernatural or the paranormal – there is only the natural and the normal, and things we haven’t explained yet. Given that walking on water is humanly impossible, how can that enter into the definition of perfection? Of course the logical conclusion is that perfection is also humanly impossible, hence the unspoken but clear context of the sticker: Only God/Jesus is perfect, and don’t you forget it, you flawed sinner you! This goes back to an old post on LiveJournal when I ranted about a different, but related, bumper sticker. What gives with people and the religious blame game? I’d like to define my terms: human beings can be perfect. We came up with the whole concept of perfect. We also invented the hocus pocus that positioned god/gods as the frame of reference for perfection (and incidentally gave us an out to explain all those “paranormal” and “supernatural” phenomena, such as, say, lightning, for which we had yet to find a natural explanation). Well, I have decided to reclaim the definition of perfection. You don’t have to walk on water to be perfect; you only have to do the absolute best that you can with what you are given, with the circumstances in which you find yourself, in your relationships with other people, and with your life in general, and those moments of perfect will happen.