I got into an argument with a cop last weekend, over a speeding stop – on the way to church no less. I had been going 54 in a 55 and I told him so, whining with such phrases as, “You’ve got to be kidding!” He said that he had clocked me at 56 just before going into a curve a half mile back. There, the posted sign changes to “45,” so technically I had been speeding for a few yards. I didn’t care. I had had it with ham-handed cops and government and regulations and, although I didn’t threaten or even swear, in my heart I didn’t give a damn what happened to me. Cuff me, tazze me, what the hell difference did it make anymore?
He didn’t give me a ticket, which, I finally understood, he wasn’t going to from the start. I might also add that, some five minutes later, I didn’t feel the perfect Christian, or even the kind pagan, as I sat down with all those holier-than-me people in the dim light of evening mass. But I did begin to think. This was not my normal behavior. I do not argue with cops. They represent the law and, besides, it only makes things worse. I was not then hung-over or in the middle of a divorce or anything else in the normal world that might put me on edge. This mood was the real deal and it was both troubling to me personally and revealing generally of what is now going on in this country – and perhaps in many people’s soul.
My blood still simmering, truth began to roll out as the mass progressed. I had, indeed, lost a lot of respect for the law and society in general over the last several years, especially this last year. I had seen top law-enforcement officials get away with lying and spying; I had seen the end of any sort of objective journalism on the “mainstream” media; I had seen cities and courthouses and police stations burned with impunity throughout the summer, and then a total condemnation of half the country after one three-hour riot in the after- burn of a Trump rally; and I had seen governors and mayors force useless prohibitions and lockdowns and requirements that have ruined the lives of million, caused an upsurge in addiction and suicide, and subjected our young to isolation and misery even though they are almost entirely immune to the “plague.” Yes, I had not been aware of it, but I have been affected by it all: something inside me has simply had it.
Anger, however, never stands alone, and its usual companion is fear. The cop had stopped me only a few miles from my home in rural Wisconsin, a place that I now understand had been my “safe space.” His stop had violated that sense of isolation and security. And so it continued to affect me beyond reason, even in church, giving me thoughts of disappearing into the Canadian Rockies or, more realistically, fleeing to Costa Rica. Given the current weather here, that might not be such a bad idea, but I digress. So, there it was: it seemed to me that the long arm of the corrupt state had finally intruded on my personal life, where I had once felt immune to the terrors and tremors shaking our nation and society at large.
It, that safety, was an illusion, not for the traffic stop which was nothing, but for the fact that all things large eventually influence things small. For instance, even in the small city where my mail goes through and in which I go shopping, the influences of Big Society are everywhere. In a town of just 12,000 mostly blue-collar people surrounded by corn fields, the opioid epidemic surges on, everyone knowing at least one family disturbed or ruined by it; the animosity of the “maskers” vs the “non-maskers,” from where we buy our groceries to where we go to church, is present daily; and male/female dysphoria is on surprising (shocking to me) display, with many young people’s bodies made sexless by hormones that might cause cancer or early mortality but almost never fulfilment and happiness. Of course there is more, much more, but I have blocked it out. Is any young person aware of, say, the Monroe Doctrine? Have they been shown the fantastical mechanics of dialectical materialism? Can they not watch porn on their I Phones for just a few hours a day?
The thoughts went deeper and then hit me like a brick: there never has been a safe space, either in actual space or in the space of human ideas and politics. All things human-made are flawed and, with that, all things and ideas are eventually fatal to its users and believers, at the very least to their sense of well-being. Everyone is hoisted on their (his or her) own petard, that is, skewered by their world views, sooner or later.
There is absolutely nothing original in this realization. In the Old Testament, Israel is constantly admonished to not go back to worshipping the regional idols that were simply objects made from human hands, yet that is what they did and what I, we all do, every day. We trust in government, in police, in our army, in employment, in our self-important ideas that are all secondary to transcendent truth, and subject to, and eventually always succumbing to, deterioration and collapse.
As I did in the car that night, I can still conjure the anger and resentment, the feeling that I have been betrayed, even though the little machine on the cop’s radar clearly said that I had gone over the limit a half mile back before the curb. Of course, we all violate traffic laws now and then, from not coming to a complete stop at a sign, to speeding past the posted limit, to not being completely through the intersection on a yellow before it turns red. We are all guilty, whether we are caught or not, just as we are all guilty of our own forms of idolatry, trusting or believing in things and ideas of human making. In the later offenses, however, we will all be caught. I have already, many times. As a young man I thought I could live the fast life without consequences. I was wrong. As an old man, I thought I could live beyond the tumult and chaos of “the system;” boy, was I wrong. And more, boy was I stupid to be surprised by that fact.
People of the Old Testament thought that God’s favor was shown by how well someone did on earth. Job was a thoughtful digression from that, the beginning of a new wisdom. In the New Testament, the futility of the idea that this world was our final judgment and jury was illustrated many times in many, if not all, of the Gospels and epistles. The Apostles would all suffer for Jesus, and all but one would be martyred. To suffer in my name, He said, was to be blessed, and most would suffer in one way or another. This world is not only not the final judge of our righteousness, but an eternal obstacle to it. The truth, Jesus said, would bring father against son, mother against daughter, meaning that the cultural values of the past or the present or of any time would never suffice or satisfy. There is no final justice in this world; more, there is little truth, little validity to our own versions of ‘dialectical materialism;’ and there is no safe space, at least not for long, for anyone “out there.”
These are useful things to know. The flashing lights of the cop car and exposed deeds of a decadent government are warning signs, good teaching devices that bring us to understand that this world and the things of it are not our final home or part of it. As a commentator on our recent troubles said, ‘this is a great time to be Catholic’ (and Christian). ‘The religion was made for this, not good times, but for bad. It makes us see that it is only in God that we can trust.’
And so it is. Should we thank the liars and the schemers and cheats, the vulgar culture makers and greed- heads for these opportunities to grow in wisdom and holiness? I don’t think so. Nor should we simply let such things pass without comment or judgement. But we are told that we must beware, that we must not fall into the trap that they have not only made, but have fallen into themselves. That is how we are made miserable. However, such misery is also how we are brought to awareness. Our safe space, along with justice and truth, lie elsewhere. To remain in good cheer, we must never forget that.
I got into an argument with a cop last weekend, over a speeding stop – on the way to church no less. I had been going 54 in a 55 and I told him so, whining with such phrases as, “You’ve got to be kidding!” He said that he had clocked me at 56 just before going into a curve a half mile back. There, the posted sign changes to “45,” so technically I had been speeding for a few yards. I didn’t care. I had had it with ham-handed cops and government and regulations and, although I didn’t threaten or even swear, in my heart I didn’t give a damn what happened to me. Cuff me, tazze me, what the hell difference did it make anymore?
He didn’t give me a ticket, which, I finally understood, he wasn’t going to from the start. I might also add that, some five minutes later, I didn’t feel the perfect Christian, or even the kind pagan, as I sat down with all those holier-than-me people in the dim light of evening mass. But I did begin to think. This was not my normal behavior. I do not argue with cops. They represent the law and, besides, it only makes things worse. I was not then hung-over or in the middle of a divorce or anything else in the normal world that might put me on edge. This mood was the real deal and it was both troubling to me personally and revealing generally of what is now going on in this country – and perhaps in many people’s soul.
My blood still simmering, truth began to roll out as the mass progressed. I had, indeed, lost a lot of respect for the law and society in general over the last several years, especially this last year. I had seen top law-enforcement officials get away with lying and spying; I had seen the end of any sort of objective journalism on the “mainstream” media; I had seen cities and courthouses and police stations burned with impunity throughout the summer, and then a total condemnation of half the country after one three-hour riot in the after- burn of a Trump rally; and I had seen governors and mayors force useless prohibitions and lockdowns and requirements that have ruined the lives of million, caused an upsurge in addiction and suicide, and subjected our young to isolation and misery even though they are almost entirely immune to the “plague.” Yes, I had not been aware of it, but I have been affected by it all: something inside me has simply had it.
Anger, however, never stands alone, and its usual companion is fear. The cop had stopped me only a few miles from my home in rural Wisconsin, a place that I now understand had been my “safe space.” His stop had violated that sense of isolation and security. And so it continued to affect me beyond reason, even in church, giving me thoughts of disappearing into the Canadian Rockies or, more realistically, fleeing to Costa Rica. Given the current weather here, that might not be such a bad idea, but I digress. So, there it was: it seemed to me that the long arm of the corrupt state had finally intruded on my personal life, where I had once felt immune to the terrors and tremors shaking our nation and society at large.
It, that safety, was an illusion, not for the traffic stop which was nothing, but for the fact that all things large eventually influence things small. For instance, even in the small city where my mail goes through and in which I go shopping, the influences of Big Society are everywhere. In a town of just 12,000 mostly blue-collar people surrounded by corn fields, the opioid epidemic surges on, everyone knowing at least one family disturbed or ruined by it; the animosity of the “maskers” vs the “non-maskers,” from where we buy our groceries to where we go to church, is present daily; and male/female dysphoria is on surprising (shocking to me) display, with many young people’s bodies made sexless by hormones that might cause cancer or early mortality but almost never fulfilment and happiness. Of course there is more, much more, but I have blocked it out. Is any young person aware of, say, the Monroe Doctrine? Have they been shown the fantastical mechanics of dialectical materialism? Can they not watch porn on their I Phones for just a few hours a day?
The thoughts went deeper and then hit me like a brick: there never has been a safe space, either in actual space or in the space of human ideas and politics. All things human-made are flawed and, with that, all things and ideas are eventually fatal to its users and believers, at the very least to their sense of well-being. Everyone is hoisted on their (his or her) own petard, that is, skewered by their world views, sooner or later.
There is absolutely nothing original in this realization. In the Old Testament, Israel is constantly admonished to not go back to worshipping the regional idols that were simply objects made from human hands, yet that is what they did and what I, we all do, every day. We trust in government, in police, in our army, in employment, in our self-important ideas that are all secondary to transcendent truth, and subject to, and eventually always succumbing to, deterioration and collapse.
As I did in the car that night, I can still conjure the anger and resentment, the feeling that I have been betrayed, even though the little machine on the cop’s radar clearly said that I had gone over the limit a half mile back before the curb. Of course, we all violate traffic laws now and then, from not coming to a complete stop at a sign, to speeding past the posted limit, to not being completely through the intersection on a yellow before it turns red. We are all guilty, whether we are caught or not, just as we are all guilty of our own forms of idolatry, trusting or believing in things and ideas of human making. In the later offenses, however, we will all be caught. I have already, many times. As a young man I thought I could live the fast life without consequences. I was wrong. As an old man, I thought I could live beyond the tumult and chaos of “the system;” boy, was I wrong. And more, boy was I stupid to be surprised by that fact.
People of the Old Testament thought that God’s favor was shown by how well someone did on earth. Job was a thoughtful digression from that, the beginning of a new wisdom. In the New Testament, the futility of the idea that this world was our final judgment and jury was illustrated many times in many, if not all, of the Gospels and epistles. The Apostles would all suffer for Jesus, and all but one would be martyred. To suffer in my name, He said, was to be blessed, and most would suffer in one way or another. This world is not only not the final judge of our righteousness, but an eternal obstacle to it. The truth, Jesus said, would bring father against son, mother against daughter, meaning that the cultural values of the past or the present or of any time would never suffice or satisfy. There is no final justice in this world; more, there is little truth, little validity to our own versions of ‘dialectical materialism;’ and there is no safe space, at least not for long, for anyone “out there.”
These are useful things to know. The flashing lights of the cop car and exposed deeds of a decadent government are warning signs, good teaching devices that bring us to understand that this world and the things of it are not our final home or part of it. As a commentator on our recent troubles said, ‘this is a great time to be Catholic’ (and Christian). ‘The religion was made for this, not good times, but for bad. It makes us see that it is only in God that we can trust.’
And so it is. Should we thank the liars and the schemers and cheats, the vulgar culture makers and greed- heads for these opportunities to grow in wisdom and holiness? I don’t think so. Nor should we simply let such things pass without comment or judgement. But we are told that we must beware, that we must not fall into the trap that they have not only made, but have fallen into themselves. That is how we are made miserable. However, such misery is also how we are brought to awareness. Our safe space, along with justice and truth, lie elsewhere. To remain in good cheer, we must never forget that.
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