Last weekend, we had a discussion with the young adults. One of them shared how he felt when he was doing his reservist. His army/commando mates are nearing their thirties.
When they gathered for that once-a-year national service, he said one would notice which station of life they are currently in. Some of them would drive their BMW into camp. Some would be sharing about their successes in their career, earning more in comparison. Others would have been married, maybe have kids...(which may not be all a good thing if one is trying to make ends meet).
While they all wore the same army uniform, shared the same bunk and food, and subjected to the same exercises, they were palpably different in terms of their different socioeconomic status. There is thus a gap when they started sharing about how they have reaped in the material successes while the rest, who are struggling, listened by the side.
When he shared how he felt, that is, how he felt left behind, he said one of his army mates who drove a BMW said casually that he discovered that having it all was not all it was banged up to be. It is just not what he is looking for, that is, he still feels empty inside.
Well, breaking into humor, the young adult said that at least his friend had a BMW with him when he said that. For him, he didn’t have anything to show for.
Well, he has a point, a pointed one. That sharing in fact kept me thinking about how our society is wired in general.
I guess it is the male peacock syndrome. If you have it, flaunt it. It’s the age-old conspicuous consumption, and kings and queens have no shortage of that exhibitionistic attitude.
And in modern times, if you work hard (and with some luck), you would have earned the bragging rights. It is therefore human nature to shout it out at the rooftop. It’s called giving yourself a pat on the back. For some of us, it is a lifetime reminder that you are first and the rest will just have to acknowledge that - consciously or subconsciously.
That’s a kind of signalling in society too. You send signals to people that you have arrived. Like the hare, you do the dance of jig when you complete the race with material possessions as the reward. The tortoises of society will just have to crawl their way to the finishing line at their own paces and marvel from a distance.
And apart from crawling towards the finishing line, what do the rest of us do?
Well, we can console ourselves. We can do what the wolf in Aesop’s fable do. He can’t get the grapes. He walked away saying they aren’t sweet. They are sour (I am just being realistic).
But, having said all that, is it really all it banged up to be? When you have arrived, with fancy cars and mansions to boot, do you really feel empty inside?
Or, you are just saying that to give out a counter-signal, that is, a form of bragging, but this time, you are flaunting humility, that is, a sobering philosophical outlook to elevate your status as the wise one?
At this juncture, I recall a tale about a devil having a conference, seeking consultation with his seniors on how he could engineer to get a priest to fall into temptation. Many have tried before and he was infallible, because in his village, he was practically a saint.
This was so until a voice from the back of the conference room cried out. “I have a winning formula. I know how I can bait the priest. It’s a sure win.”
The room fell into pin-drop silence to hear what their partner-in-sin has to say. “Well, it’s easy,” whispered the little devil. “Just tell him his younger brother has just been appointed as a bishop.”
I think that says it all. Envy, the kind that bites and doesn’t let go is the kind that rots the soul when everything we do, whether we admit it or not, is a means to an end. And that end being for self-glorification, even if it is about doing charity for a cause.
Mind you, the already-rich amongst us can be flaunting it big, telling the world how they are remodelling their multi-storey bungalow in some Cayman island, or send another signal, no less soul-biting, by wearing it down, like Zuckerberg, who is always in jeans and body-hugging t-shirts - almost the same colour everytime he is presenting in public. Nothing of the usual bling-bling.
Either ways, when the heart is desirous of attention, the actions will follow suit. Even virtues can be made a goal to elevate oneself.
Let me return to the camp sharing and about a BMW. The young adult has a point about how he felt, that is, when he said that at least his camp buddy owned a BMW when he lamented.
As a cluster leader, I sat there and nodded in amusement, allowing the biting irony to sink in. It is a feeling quite universal and undeniable. That’s the way the society is wired. Even the priest, no matter how outwardly pious, has his own demons, very much like the fate of the respected religious leaders who fell from grace.
My point is to acknowledge that this is human nature. It is the uno-stacko nature of a hierarchical society, when everything we do is an intense competition from birth, grades, schools, salaries, properties and bank accounts, constantly striving to be numero uno.
These are deemed the benchmarks of worldly successes, that is, the things we acquire that define us. And people who have “arrived”, even at an early age, will not let you forget it, whether intentional or otherwise.
But, having said all that, there is an interesting twist to what the young adult had shared that night. It was almost a divine moment he had encountered at the camp. It doesn’t change everything of course, but it offered another perspective of things. I will write about it, erm, maybe tomorrow.
So, stay tuned....
(PART 2)...the young adult shared that he booked a grab one evening to leave campsite when he saw a car waiting just by the roadside. He approached the car, entered it and the driver greeted him. Along the journey, they had a good talk.
The driver shared that he was a missionary in Myanmar. He came back to Singapore before Covid. But, when CB struck, he was stuck. He could not return to Myanmar. So, the missionary took up the grab job in the meanwhile.
As they talked about life and faith, the missionary shared about Martha, Mary and Jesus. You can read the encounter in Luke 10:38-42. While Martha kept herself busy cooking up a storm in kitchen service, Mary sat by Jesus’ feet in what is called living room intimacy.
Martha was troubled by Mary not helping and said: “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” This was Jesus’ reply.
“Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken from her.”
That encounter was timely for the young adult. As he was bombarded by the relative successes of his camp mates (during the reservist exchange of who is seemingly more successful than who), the Martha and Mary story struck a chord in his heart. He felt a calmness after the storm, so to speak.
Our worries are in fact endless. At different stages of our life, we have different concerns, and some of them can turn into an obsession, and oppressively so. For many, the the need for status, the deep need to be accepted, the crippling sense of the prospect of a loss and how others will view us if we fail by the worldly benchmarks scare the living daylight out of us.
Anyway, who wants to be left behind right?
But being left behind implies that we have put ourselves by choice in that one-track race that can only end up in a one-dimensional trophy. That race is about money, power and fame and that trophy is about self-enrichment.
Yet, no, this is not a post to trash success, even the secular kind. And I feel we should stop being pretentious about it. We can tell our child that there are other more worthy pursuits than grades, and that may be true, but don’t we want our child tested, even through the academic grind, and hope that they will come out shining, like paper gold?
The more pertinent question is, if we have a child who quite naturally excels academically, without tuition, how will that change us? How will we view other kids who struggle and their mothers? And if not, that is, our kids struggle with their studies, how will that change us too? And whether we have academically inclined kids or otherwise, will we be the same, largely unchanged, or change for the worse?
This applies when our kids graduate too. When it comes to work and career, we too want them to excel, secure that promotion, and diligently work their way up the success ladder, right?
On this, Adam Smith made this observation: “The rich man glories in his riches, because he feels that they naturally draw upon him the attention of the world...The poor man, on the contrary, is ashamed of his poverty. He feels that it either places him out of the sight of mankind, or, that if they take any notice of him, they have, however, scarce any fellow-feeling with the misery and distress which he suffers.”
That shame is real for everyone who has judged themselves as not measuring up by the worldly benchmarks. And this is made worse when the comparing fever starts. It is the shame of being left behind, the shame of inadequacy, the shame of falling short.
But, that Jesus’ encounter woke the young adult up. It was like a timely freshwater spring on his way home in the grab ride. And we as a community are duly ministered by it too when he shared with us that night.
No doubt he will still be visited by that shame occasionally, and we all have that occasional guest. That is why we need to embrace a community that we can relate to. That is, a community that shares the shame, puts it in its place, and then replaces it with a perspective that anchors us in what matters in the long lens of things.
Although Jesus said that Mary has chosen the one thing (that is needed) and that was the better thing, which will not be taken away from her, I like to think that he was also reminding us that the one thing doesn’t stand alone in a social vacuum. I take that to mean this - “whether we can put to rest the rest of the things that is not that one thing that is needed, that is, the one thing that is better.”
And if we can’t let go, then it would be expected that we would soon come to lose that one better thing, because how can a mind perpetually struggling with wanting everything in order to avoid the persecution of shame ever give himself completely to that one thing that has the potential to release him from that persecution in the first place? Food for thought?
In any event, I have always believed that in every context, there is the better thing to pursue. It would take time for the young to find, treasure and anchor it.
When he works, it is not so much the material rewards as it is about how he has grown over the years in character. When he marries, it would be good to ask, what is he looking for - individual interests or the interests of his spouse, or a lifetime commitment or one where it is hope that the emotions of romance will not dry up?
And as a parent, the better thing is not about making sure your child jumps from one academic hoop after another. It is about the bond that your child carries with him or her when they start their own family. That sacred call of parenthood is not so much performance-based as it is relationship-rooted. For the deeper the roots, the stronger the child - and the closer the parent gets to the better thing.
Alas, in everything we do, we always miss the forest for the trees. We miss the intimacy for the service. We miss the bond for the performance. We miss the devotion for the presents and gifts. We miss the communion for the activities. We miss our anchored identity for the comparing. In essence, we miss the one thing for just about everything else.
That is why Charles Spurgeon writes this about Martha: “The condition of a servant well becomes every Christian. Her fault was that she grew “cumbered with much serving” so that she forgot him and only remembered the service.”
This is common amongst us. Even leaders running churches or captains of industries sometimes have to take stock. We all have our one thing, the better thing - one that endures with us for a lifetime. The intimacy, the bond and the legacy all dovetails to that one thing.
Our fault is that we strive to do all things at every different season of our life. And that only draws us further and further away from that one thing.
Sadly, that is the journey of shame, a journey we are scarce to find enduring peace and the company of the one who truly matters.
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