Remembering Community

At a conference last week, one speaker cited an amazing statistic: fully half of adults ages 45 to 63 are unmarried and of those one in three have never been married.

While I’ll certainly grant that some percentage of those single adults between 45 and 63 are happy, fulfilled, and firmly planted in a web of healthy relationships, I’m equally certain that many, many of them—probably the majority—are not.

When a never-married friend of mine in his mid-50s tells me that the biggest fear he and people like him face is the fear of dying alone, I was stunned. Just that fact that people think about that betrays a profound loneliness even if for many dying alone is a very real possibility.

The two action items that fall out of this fact are simple.

First, those who are married need to make room in their lives for single peers. New data indicates that after a divorce, it is very unlikely that pastors, church members, or friends will call the newly single people. After the death of a spouse, the calls keep up for a few weeks and then go away. No surprise then that older singles drop out of their old communities and, sadly, most don’t connect with new ones.

Second, while it’s difficult and often frustrating, singles need to cling to their communities even if it is from time to time as though they don’t belong. After my dad died, my mom said she felt like a fifth wheel. Feel like a fifth wheel and press on until you don’t feel like a fifth wheel any more. You belong.

Remember how once upon a time we baby boomers were all going to move to communes? Remember the enduring myth of what a fabulous community they had at Woodstock? We were the generation always talking about community. And while job demands, suburbia, and our automobile culture make community difficult, we need to make good on all that talk. Who can you reach out to today?

Ballard Street

Picture this (or click this link): An elderly man dressed in cowboy gear complete with chaps, a 10-gallon hat, and twin six-guns stands astride the sidewalk, one foot on each of two dogs who also wear six-guns and cowboy hats. An older woman holding a bag of groceries stands looking at the scene. The caption: “ ‘Well, if it isn’t Gary Chambers and that cowboy gang of his,’ mutters Arlene.”

Jerry Van Amerongen’s one panel comic, Ballard Street, is, for the most part, about people with way too much spare time. Alex has built a catapult to more efficiently hurl shoes at the neighbors. Martha has attached a propeller to a power drill and now has her own personal helicopter. There’s Francis who “maintains his life force by periodically choosing a different favorite chair.” And Todd has developed expertise in walking backwards.

Did I mention that all of the characters are older and most are retired? They’re cheerful, friendly, a bit addled, and none seems to have anything better to do than to create meaningless projects that amuse or annoy the neighbors.

I read Ballard Street every day for a good laugh and to remind myself that I need to envision meaningful projects and important work that will last me for years lest I too join Gordon and his group of men sitting in the basement with paper towels and water “looking into the question of absorbency.”

There's Something About Something

The German philosopher Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz (1646-1716) asked what some have called the first and greatest philosophical question: “Why is there something rather than nothing?” That is, why does anything—star, planet, dust, ducks, people, plums, the universe itself—exist?

And thus we might begin a semester course in ontology and metaphysics. Or we might simply sit a moment in wonder. It could have been otherwise. It might have been otherwise. Rather than there being something, there could be nothing.

That notion was a prominent feature in the thinking of G.K. Chesterton (1874-1936). For Chesterton, the fact that there is something rather than nothing was cause for amazement and rejoicing. He celebrated that amazement in his poem “A Second Childhood.”

In the poem, Chesterton contemplates old age. Even at death’s door, he wants to be astounded at creation, at night and day, at the ground beneath his feet, and even at his own being. He hopes to stare at such things with all the amazement of a child seeing them for the first time.

Life is a gift. That something exists rather than nothing is cause for wonder—wonder in both senses: “I wonder why?” as well as wordless awe. The wonder that the world is and that I too am goes a long way to develop gratitude in our hearts. It is truly amazing since it could have been otherwise.

Rather than reading silently, read this aloud.

“A Second Childhood.”

When all my days are ending


And I have no song to sing,


I think that I shall not be too old


To stare at everything;


As I stared once at a nursery door


Or a tall tree and a swing.

Wherein God’s ponderous mercy hangs


On all my sins and me,


Because He does not take away


The terror from the tree


And stones still shine along the road


That are and cannot be.

Men grow too old for love, my love,


Men grow too old for wine,


But I shall not grow too old to see


Unearthly daylight shine,


Changing my chamber’s dust to snow


Till I doubt if it be mine.

Behold, the crowning mercies melt,


The first surprises stay;


And in my dross is dropped a gift


For which I dare not pray:


That a man grow used to grief and joy


But not to night and day.

Men grow too old for love, my love,


Men grow too old for lies;


But I shall not grow too old to see


Enormous night arise,


A cloud that is larger than the world


And a monster made of eyes.

Nor am I worthy to unloose


The latchet of my shoe;


Or shake the dust from off my feet


Or the staff that bears me through


On ground that is too good to last,


Too solid to be true.

Men grow too old to woo, my love,


Men grow too old to wed;


But I shall not grow too old to see


Hung crazily overhead


Incredible rafters when I wake


And I find that I am not dead.

A thrill of thunder in my hair:


Though blackening clouds be plain,


Still I am stung and startled


By the first drop of the rain:


Romance and pride and passion pass


And these are what remain.

Strange crawling carpets of the grass,


Wide windows of the sky;


So in this perilous grace of God


With all my sins go I:


And things grow new though I grow old,


Though I grow old and die.

The First 35 Years

Thirty-five years ago today, on January 14, 1978 at Park Street Church in Boston, Dottie and I tied the knot. “No matter what unexpected things happen during the ceremony,” our pastor promised, “you will walk out of the church married.”

Unexpected things did happen during the service—late arrivals, missed cues, the inability to spit out “memorized” lines—and he was right, we ended up married anyway. Since then, unexpected things continue to happen—live is never smooth, easy, or predictable—and we are married still.

How have we lasted all this time?

First, we believe that marriage is, in fact, a permanent calling. “Till death do us part,” means just what it sounds like it means. Vows are real and vows are binding. When problems arise, we know how to kick the can down the road a time or two, but sooner or later, we’ve tackled the issues confronting us. If for no other reason, we’ve done it because made vows and so had no other choice.

Second, for the most part, we’ve managed to avoid the marriage killers listed in a recent article at Match.com: criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling.

Criticism involves attacking your partner’s personality or character by saying something like, “you never help with the dishes” or “why are you always so late?” Contempt involves putting your partner down (i.e., “you’re stupid for believing that”). Defensiveness often involves rebuffing your partner’s complaint with one of your own (“I may be late, but you’re way too uptight about it.”) Stonewalling involves clamming up and refusing to hash things out with your partner at all.

Third, and again, for the most part, we tell each other what we appreciate far more than we voice complaints. The same article notes that one researcher:

… found that 67 percent of happy couples say their spouse “often” made them feel good about themselves, whereas only 27 percent of unhappy couples could claim the same thing. The moral of the story: While you might assume your partner already knows you think he or she is smart/funny/sexy, or that you’re grateful he or she cooked dinner, it’s important that you reiterate your appreciation for each other often.

Flowers, favors, folding the laundry without being asked, compliments, encouragement, and a batch of cookies now and then have gone a long way to avoiding obstacles and to building the good will necessary to overcome obstacles that can’t be avoided.

Fourth, we sit down together for meals—breakfast, lunch, and dinner—whenever we are together. Studies have found that if a family has dinner together two or three times a week, all sorts of problems never take hold or simply evaporate.

Finally, we share a deep faith in God, praying with each other and for each other. We do our best to love as we are loved and to forgive as we are forgiven. Thirty-five years ago we were told that even under the best circumstances, marriage is work, work that requires divine help. And there’s no doubt in my mind that that is true. Contra the famous line from Love Story, love is regularly saying you’re sorry. It’s also repeatedly offering forgiveness. The willingness ask for and to offer forgiveness a gift of grace.

So with thanks for the adventures of our first 35 years, we’re on to the next 35 with all the new adventures they will bring. It’s been great and it’s going to be great.

"Core Values"

For reasons that I don’t remember, I came across the “Core Values” for National Community Church in Washington, DC. 

Rather than being a theologically driven set of values, they strike me as good solid advice for any organization, family, couple, or individual. And while I have questions about some (Everything is not an experiment though more things are an experiment than we usually admit) and would want to add some others (Sow seeds and be patient), overall I like the list and have been thinking about how to apply them.

The list is:

·      Expect the unexpected

·      Irrelevance is irreverence

·      Love people when they least expect it and least deserve it

·      Playing it safe is risky

·      Pray like it depends on God and work like it depends on you

·      Everyone is invaluable and irreplaceable

·      Everything is an experiment

·      You cannot out-give God

·      Maturity does not equal conformity

·      Go the extra mile

·      It’s never too late to be who you might have been

·      Do it right and do it big

Lots of food for thought here and lots of good mental habits to develop.

On Resolving

The ads in the paper show a clear trend. In addition to “an additional 50% off” on merchandise left over from the Christmas buying binge, the hot items all have to do with exercise. Now is the time to buy treadmills, elliptical trainers, weight machines, yoga mats, athletic shoes, and workout clothing.

January is the month we all resolve to loose that extra weight we picked up in December eating cookies as well as the extra weight we picked up before that eating chili cheese fries and other delicacies.

A few years ago, a friend resolved to solve his weight and health problems by running the New York Marathon—all 26.3 miles of it. He was fifty years old, about fifty pounds overweight, and on the threshold of significant medical problems. Once his doctor gave him the okay, he was off and running. His success is a great model of successful change.

First, he had a compelling reason to succeed. He came to believe deep down inside that he was faced with the choice between getting into shape or dying young. He chose to get into shape. We humans rarely make difficult changes because we have a vague notion that it would be nice if something was different. We need a carrot and a stick. Whether you resolve to get into shape, to learn to play the flute, or to get another job, you need a compelling reason if you expect to maintain the effort required to accomplish the resolution. Ask yourself: What are the consequences of doing nothing? What are the benefits of action?

Second, he knew he didn’t need to run the marathon by the following Tuesday. He had 11 months to prepare and started methodically putting one foot in front of the other (so to speak). When he began, he could barely make it one mile without some walking. But over time, one mile turned into two, turned into four, turned into ten, turned into a half-marathon, turned into New York and later Richmond, Boston, and others. That is, he started with small, reasonable steps as part of a larger long-term plan.

Third, he got the help and encouragement he needed. To keep himself motivated, he joined a training team. It was not a training team for a marathon, but for a 10-kilometer race (about 6.2 miles). Every Saturday he ran with a group of people who were in similar shape and ran at his pace. During the week, he had running assignments preparing him for the next Saturday—always a longer run than the previous one. And so it went until race day. Then after successfully running a 10K, he joined a marathon training team. At no point did he try to go it alone. He ran in community and that made all the difference.

If our resolutions are anything more than vague wishes, we need to same three strategies: find a compelling reason to change, begin with small steps as part of a larger plan, and get the help and encouragement needed to make the resolution a reality.