"The Penny is a dying breed!" Oh the humanity! If only the pair of weathered, tristful Lincolns I swiped off the chilled walkway under Blair Hall knew how endangered their very existence truly was. Sadly, I can't really argue the bureaucratic motion to axe the beloved fiscal mainstay. The current one-cent piece actually costs almost two cents to produce and any penny minted prior to 1982 is worth more in its weight in copper than it's given monetary value (talk about throwing money away). In fact, the penny is little more than a jar-bound, minutely meaningful token which rarely sees the light of the average business transaction. More often than not they become delegated to the sidewalk or Barnes and Noble parking lot where even the most entrepreneurial of 6 year-olds selectively ignores them, finding the act of bending over is worth much more than even a handful of the little guys.
As I was writing this I suddenly remembered that I myself had a collection of copper cents slurred around my desk area. After about 5 minutes of extended effort and detailed digging I scrounged up around a $1.17. Not bad to be honest. A penny may not (literally) be worth its weight, but a buck seventeen...that's a different story. That's a cup of gas station coffee, a pack of Sour Patch Kids, maybe even a pack of gum. I've always wondered what kind of glances I'd get paying for something in all pennies, I'm sure some of you may know what such glares and eye-rollings may look like.
What are we to do with these now-irrelevant pieces of "ancient history"? Ohio Representative Zach Space proposed a couple years back that the US Mint begin production of copper-coloured, steel pennies in order to cut production costs, which would save the US Government over 500 million dollars in 10 years. Francois Velde suggests that the US change the monetary value of the coin from one cent to five cents. Many have even suggested the removal of the cent altogether; suggesting we round our prices to the nearest nickel. Regardless, even the most pragmatic and utilitarian of solutions still leaves a hoard of brooding questions: how will one be able truly offer a "penny for one's thoughts"? Is "a penny saved" truly a "penny earned" if it becomes little more than an archaic artifact? Further, will our nickel face the same face as our good friend the penny? Is Thomas Jefferson next on the list of axed currency? What a tragedy! As if it wasn't cruel enough to cut the two-dollar bill out of circulation!
It's easy today to cut out what doesn't fit the bottom line, and understandably so. Every day new stories come out of factories shutting down, public resources being dried up, and hundreds of opinions of just how, or when, the economic shortfalls may be fixed. Though the term may soon be obsolete we are in a time where the "penny-pincher" thrives. Just yesterday night a new report flashed across the screen; Camden, New Jersey lets go of one half of its police force, Detroit is shutting down almost one third of their public school system, and many other places are facing similar fates. It makes one wonder if a penny does make a difference when such massive deficits exist.
Once, there was a woman, a widow, who like many of us, was feeling the stifling effects of the current situation. She lived in a decaying, one-room apartment. Her furniture was meager at best, hunched over like the woman herself. She was in her upper sixties, maybe older, with the weight of nearly fifty years of hard work bearing heavily on the corners of her somewhat hallowed face. Covering herself in simple garb, she slowly scuffled down the sidewalk past what used to be a thriving neighborhood, now sterile and silent as the factories surrounding this specific block of any large metropolitan area you can name. She ventured into a large cathedral, Anglican or Episcopal or Presbyterian or something along those lines, as the daily Sunday crown adorned in heavy jackets scuffled to their lives, leaving her alone down the long aisle towards a pile of empty offering plates. Looking over her shoulder with a tint of embarrassment she quietly placed a handful of odd change out of pocket, a few quarters, some dimes, a nickel or two, and a handful of pennies, and with a solemn sight slowly trodded her way out.
It was outside that she saw Jesus awaiting her on a nearby bench. With an understanding nod he ushered her forward to the empty seat to his right. With much effort she slunk onto the bench as he spoke with kindness "My dear, thank you so much for the gift, I love it." She shrugged sadly as she loosened her straggled grip on her scarf. "My Lord, it was honestly nothing. I'm ashamed its all I had. I haven't given in months, I'm so sorry, its just times are touch, too tough. What I got left is barely enough to pay for food, much less...well...." Her voice drifted into melancholy and then into silence.
"Truly my dear, you have put more into that place than all the others who filed out of these doors today." He smiled "indeed the heartfeltness of your gift truly was a gift. " (Mark 12)
No penny is insignificant, no moment too mundane, and no person unable to serve. Our offerings of worship go beyond mere bottom lines or percentages; true worship is true conformity and true conformity does not focus on whether one's task and purpose in the moment is of momentous significance. The Christian life is one where the grace of God flows not only into the most public of squares, but even more so into the cracks and crags where no one else dares, or cares, to venture. It is the type of worship which dares to reach out to the marginalized, attempts to let faith move us where we dare not to go ourselves, and shuns even the most vicious and vivid of our temptations. It sheds off the shield of individuality and puts on the personhood which God always intended us to be and, in doing so, offers worship to the one who created all things. One of the truest expressions of faith is to reach beyond our own cosmic expectations and venture into the near-meaningless for it is there that the work of God truly finds significance.
The Kingdom of God is a kingdom unlike any other; where the first shall be last, the weak shall be strong, and even the common penny carries innumerable weight.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
What Grows On The Moon?
A local pastor recently attempted an essentially simple metaphor during one of his sermons. In the midst of passionately declaring to his congregation that "God is light and in Him there is no darkness at all" he tied on the fact that nothing can grow or flourish in the darkness. He brandished his metaphor with florid verbs and flourished his adjectives for dramatic affect. He announced that we only see one half of our moon; the half which is consistently illuminated by the light of the sun. The other half, the half facing away from the earth, is always in perpetual darkness (the dark side of the moon for those Pink Floyd fans out there). It was then, with an air of self-appreciated brilliance, that he exclaimed that on this "dark side" of the moon, there was no life. There were no vineyards, there were no gardens or palm trees, there were no rolling hills or trickling streams. All that existed was darkness; nothing could grow on the dark side of the moon.
Then again, nothing can grow on the light side either. Oops.
That's the thing about the moon and outer space; things just don't grow there. Sure, you Battlestar Galactica and Star Trek junkies might dispute this, but last time I checked Mars was still desolate, Venus a foaming fireball of gas, and Pluto a cosmic ice chunk. Outer space is a very inhospitable place, regardless of light.
It's this inhospitality towards life in general which has always left me with a subtle fear of outer space. Whenever movies like Apollo 13 grace the television screen once every couple years I can't help but marvel at how only a thin layer of titanium allow and heat paneling separates the astronaut from certain peril. Even more so, I admire those brave individuals, who with roborant daring venture outside the ship into the chaotic unknown, tied to the ship by a mere cable. One snap, one cascading piece of space trash, one misguided movement and you're walking Spanish, pushing daisies, slowly suffocating towards a cold and lonely demise.
Space is a cold place; a frigid nothingness whose as tender as a cactus, as cuddly as a crocodile, and as nurturing and cordial as a pack of coyotes is for a wounded deer. It is a place of such desolate solitude and utter lifelessness that even the energy and warmth of the sun can't change its fruitless essence Nothing grows on the moon, and for good reason at that.
Light means very little in a world where nothing could grow to begin with. How lucky we are to live on this green, lush planet, a fertile cradle teeming forth with life both big and small. How jaw-dropping the intricate beauties, the incomprehensible wonders, the majesty and sheer art gracing each crevice and nook, every crag and peak, the very depths of the ocean and the vast grandeur of the burgeoning forest. The warmth of the sun, the complexity of our atmosphere, the invaluable properties of the water which composes our oceans, lakes, and rivers; how hospitable a rock we live on!
How hospitable a God we have. Oft we forget, oft we drift on glued intently on our individual lives without the slightest whim of the ground we tread upon, the sky we bask under, or the sheer mass of living things abundantly gracing our surroundings. In Genesis, God created and it was good, in the Psalms we hear extolling praise for the wonders, and in Christ we see just how far-extending and passionate the Creator's love truly is for His creation.
It makes me wonder, in this benevolent light are we truly providing the atmosphere for that light truly create growth, to nurture those around us towards the revelation of Christ through the grace of God? Are we lush soil awaiting planting or are we solitary rocks, drifting through the frigid emptiness of space? Am I truly willing and able to be a catalyst for change in His kingdom or am I merely an empty space?
The moon is about as inhospitable place as you can find, but I'm pretty sure quite a few of us give it a run for its money. God's light is surely bright beyond comprehension, but we stubborn creatures can sure find new and imposing ways to cancel out the good news and suffocate it into a mere datum of niceness to others and a loose moralism. How many of us have hindered the light of God in the life of others with our stifling and smothering? How many of our actions have all but crippled the work of God in even the most minute and insignificant acts?
Some scientists have said that someday we might live on the moon. That's a scary thought, though intriguing. Could such a inanimate satellite really support life? If so, maybe there's even hope for us. Maybe the light of Christ may even be able to crack through the asphyxiating shells of our individuality and touch the very depths of our person hood. Perhaps even our deepest wounds and hurts are reachable. The only way we will ever know is to take that leap of faith, to venture outside the safety of galactic ships and seek the light, to trust that the nurturing of the Holy Spirit can overcome even the most stubborn of hearts.
In the meanwhile, I think I'll keep my feet on this good, green earth and let those folks down at NASA take care of the outer space stuff.
Then again, nothing can grow on the light side either. Oops.
That's the thing about the moon and outer space; things just don't grow there. Sure, you Battlestar Galactica and Star Trek junkies might dispute this, but last time I checked Mars was still desolate, Venus a foaming fireball of gas, and Pluto a cosmic ice chunk. Outer space is a very inhospitable place, regardless of light.
It's this inhospitality towards life in general which has always left me with a subtle fear of outer space. Whenever movies like Apollo 13 grace the television screen once every couple years I can't help but marvel at how only a thin layer of titanium allow and heat paneling separates the astronaut from certain peril. Even more so, I admire those brave individuals, who with roborant daring venture outside the ship into the chaotic unknown, tied to the ship by a mere cable. One snap, one cascading piece of space trash, one misguided movement and you're walking Spanish, pushing daisies, slowly suffocating towards a cold and lonely demise.
Space is a cold place; a frigid nothingness whose as tender as a cactus, as cuddly as a crocodile, and as nurturing and cordial as a pack of coyotes is for a wounded deer. It is a place of such desolate solitude and utter lifelessness that even the energy and warmth of the sun can't change its fruitless essence Nothing grows on the moon, and for good reason at that.
Light means very little in a world where nothing could grow to begin with. How lucky we are to live on this green, lush planet, a fertile cradle teeming forth with life both big and small. How jaw-dropping the intricate beauties, the incomprehensible wonders, the majesty and sheer art gracing each crevice and nook, every crag and peak, the very depths of the ocean and the vast grandeur of the burgeoning forest. The warmth of the sun, the complexity of our atmosphere, the invaluable properties of the water which composes our oceans, lakes, and rivers; how hospitable a rock we live on!
How hospitable a God we have. Oft we forget, oft we drift on glued intently on our individual lives without the slightest whim of the ground we tread upon, the sky we bask under, or the sheer mass of living things abundantly gracing our surroundings. In Genesis, God created and it was good, in the Psalms we hear extolling praise for the wonders, and in Christ we see just how far-extending and passionate the Creator's love truly is for His creation.
It makes me wonder, in this benevolent light are we truly providing the atmosphere for that light truly create growth, to nurture those around us towards the revelation of Christ through the grace of God? Are we lush soil awaiting planting or are we solitary rocks, drifting through the frigid emptiness of space? Am I truly willing and able to be a catalyst for change in His kingdom or am I merely an empty space?
The moon is about as inhospitable place as you can find, but I'm pretty sure quite a few of us give it a run for its money. God's light is surely bright beyond comprehension, but we stubborn creatures can sure find new and imposing ways to cancel out the good news and suffocate it into a mere datum of niceness to others and a loose moralism. How many of us have hindered the light of God in the life of others with our stifling and smothering? How many of our actions have all but crippled the work of God in even the most minute and insignificant acts?
Some scientists have said that someday we might live on the moon. That's a scary thought, though intriguing. Could such a inanimate satellite really support life? If so, maybe there's even hope for us. Maybe the light of Christ may even be able to crack through the asphyxiating shells of our individuality and touch the very depths of our person hood. Perhaps even our deepest wounds and hurts are reachable. The only way we will ever know is to take that leap of faith, to venture outside the safety of galactic ships and seek the light, to trust that the nurturing of the Holy Spirit can overcome even the most stubborn of hearts.
In the meanwhile, I think I'll keep my feet on this good, green earth and let those folks down at NASA take care of the outer space stuff.
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