First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
April 26, 1998
Scripture: Matthew 6:16-24, 7:6
I have written in this week’s Steeple Notes of my life-long fascination with rolltop desks. Which are no good for writing sermons, given their scarcity of working space. But which are great for storing stuff, given their abundance of nooks and crannies, slots and drawers, shelves and cubbyholes. For the beauty of a rolltop desk is not in the stuff you can stash there, but in the stuff you can separate there.
Which explains why, as a child, I was equally fascinated by dinner plates which were subdivided by ridges into three autonomous sections. You could put your meat in one section, potatoes in another and vegetables in a third, with perfect confidence that juice from your corn would never water down your mashed potatoes, and that gravy from your potatoes would never cross the ridge and turn your corn brown. There was a day when I wouldn’t eat from any other kind of plate. And I still have one….sort of. My wife tells me it’s called a “grill plate,” and is really rather fashionable. But I seldom eat from it anymore….unless I am stressed, overwrought, or emotionally out-of-sorts.
I have grown beyond such desks and plates. But the images return, from time to time, when I pause to consider the ways that people compartmentalize their lives….thus insuring that one activity does not touch another….that one role does not impact another….and that the people with whom one does a particular thing do not become the people with whom one does anything else.
This is a subtle thing, given the degree to which life requires a modicum of differentiation. Each of us is called to assume a variety of roles, that call forth a variety of talents. Therefore, it is inevitable that we will function differently at work than we do at home, and that different sides of our nature will come out at a church meeting than on a softball field. It goes without saying that we will package ourselves a little differently, depending upon the time, the place, the task, and (most especially) the audience. The Apostle Paul talked about such “packaging” when he told one of his churches that he could adapt to a variety of circumstances….looking like a Jew to Jews and a Greek to Greeks….in order to win both Jews and Greeks to Christ. Paul considered such “packaging” to be both normal and effective. He figured that putting his best faith forward required putting his best face forward. But, depending upon the audience, his “best face” was not always the same face, although never so different so as to make him appear two-faced.
The one phase of life when “differentiation” is polished into an art form is the teenage phase. Most teens go through periods where they try to keep certain parts of their lives walled off from other parts of their lives. Even in the best of homes, most adolescents would prefer that their parents spend several years hiding in closets, rather than coming into any contact, of any sort, with any of their friends.
When surveyed to discover what kind of advice they would give to their mothers (as in a “list of rules” to post on the refrigerator), teens came up with the following:
· Don’t quiz me about my friends.
· Don’t make small talk with my friends.
· Don’t try to be “cool” around my friends.
· Don’t criticize me in front of my friends.
· Don’t hug me, kiss me or tell me I’m “cute” in the presence of my friends.
· Walk several paces behind me in the mall, in downtown Birmingham, or any other place where we might conceivably run into my friends.
· And don’t ever imply that you and dad might be romantic (or intimate) within earshot of my friends.
Most of us have gone through that stage….and survived that stage….knowing that the day will come when our kids can (once again) be talked to, walked with, and even kissed in public.
No longer will they feel the need to separate home from school, or friends from family. But some kids become stuck at this stage and never get the divergent parts of their lives reassembled. I recall the kid who said to me (sometime in the middle of his eighteenth year): “I have friends I get drunk with and friends I do everything else with.” Which is not unlike a woman I once knew….respected professional….beloved daughter…. cherished friend….who went through a period when she favored men she met in airports. She reasoned: “Airports offer men who like the good life and are not about to place any demands on my life.” In other words, she could “connect” in the one place that allowed her to remain totally disconnected.
Alas, some people never do make connections out of the “disconnects.” They remain altogether different persons in different settings, assuming that life is sufficiently compartmentalizable, so that the contradictions will never catch them up….or trip them up.
The best example is the Mafia don whose business, by day, involves every illegal activity known to man (up to and including murder), but who pays detailed attention to the roles of husband and father, leading many to view him as the quintessential family man. When I watched the first of the Godfather epics, I remember being caught up in the paradox. On the one hand, I was appalled by the viciousness, the brutalizations, and the cold-blooded cruelties of life in the Mob. But I was also attracted to the weddings, the christenings, and the multi-generational Italian family dinners, depicting scenes of familial solidarity I would love to have experienced as a kid. I found myself wondering how the Mafia don lived in both worlds. Obviously, part of every day he had to be living a lie. But (from watching the movie) I could never quite tell which part was the lie and which, the truth.
The Bible says, does it not, that you cannot live this way….that a house divided against itself cannot stand….that nobody can serve dual masters….and that while it is possible to move in a number of directions (which is called “being flexible,” and which is deemed to be “good”), each move must pivot-off-of, and be-true-to the same center.
Last night, several of you watched the rerun of a film from several years ago entitled Indecent Proposal. It featured a young, attractive couple….very much in love….but very down on their luck. About to lose their dream home (which was still in the process of being constructed), they went to Vegas where they were going to put it all on “one night at the tables.” But inside the casino, the young wife (Demi Moore) was spotted….and coveted….by a rich and handsome millionaire (Robert Redford). Redford befriended the couple, gained their trust, and then put forth a proposal. One night with the young wife….just one night….in return for a $1 million check, payable to the couple.
Which offer they pondered. Then accepted. And in rare cinematic understatement, we saw nothing of “that night” from the moment Redford and Moore went off with each other, to the moment she returned. What we did see was the great marital trauma that followed in the aftermath….in spite of the fact that both the young wife and her husband agreed to this arrangement at the outset. Fortunately, after an hour of marital pain and anguish, true love triumphed and everybody went home.
Yet most of the audience missed a key point. For those who saw it….and who went out for coffee afterward….pondered (aloud) what they would or wouldn’t do for a million dollars. Clearly, the dollar amount was paramount in those discussions. But the “million” interests me nary at all. It is not my reason for bringing this matter before you. What interests me is the “justification” the young husband and his wife feed each other, the better to calm their consciences about accepting the offer. “After all (they tell each other), it will just be one night. It’ll come. It’ll go. We’ll bracket it….block it out….set it apart from the rest of our lives….and never talk about it again. It will be like it never happened.” To which the young woman adds: “After all, it’s just my body.”
But it wasn’t “just her body.” They couldn’t block it out. And neither can you. For life is not capable of that kind of compartmentalization. You can’t put pieces of your life in a drawer…. slot….nook….shelf….cranny or cubbyhole….and assume that they will not (over time) wind up touching all the other pieces. Which means that the real issue of Indecent Proposal is not what you would sell….to whom….for how much. The real issue concerns the degree to which you can wall off one part of your life from every other part of our your life, so that you don’t get hurt by the contradictions.
With that in mind, let me turn (albeit briefly) to a pair of questions that many of you have posed of late. The first concerns allegations of indiscretions in the White House, and public responses to these allegations. To this day, I do not know who uncovered what….who covered up what….or whether the covering and uncovering had as much to do with politics, as with ethics. I simply don’t know. I have my own opinions. As do you. But that’s pretty much what they are at this point….opinions.
You have not asked for my opinion. But you have asked: “Should such things matter?” And the answer is simple. Sure, such things should matter. They should matter a great deal. Not because every leader should be pure. But because every leader should be whole….as in, together….as in, integrated….as in, non-compartmentalized….as in, maintaining threads of consistency between public and private promises, and between secret and social behaviors.
And I’m speaking of all leaders….not just the one who presently occupies the Oval Office. For the ultimate threat such leaders face is not the divided house without (Republicans vs. Democrats), but the divided house within.
But you have also asked a second question: “Should the economy provide immunity?” Meaning, are we more tolerant of our leaders when times are good than when times are less good? I suspect we are. Which says something about our own tendency to compartmentalize, does it not….ethics in one box, economy in the other.
Which brings me to a related question: “How is it that I decided to become active in the drive to repeal Proposal E (by seeking to place the ‘casino issue’ before the voters, one more time)?” As far as gambling goes, I have never done much….or said much. I am one of the few people I know who has never purchased a lottery ticket. My last really big wager was with Hunter Hook ….who, for all of his four years, played hardball when he won. Hunter took the Broncos. I took the Packers. At stake was a chocolate shake, which I paid in 24 hours.
I suppose there are a lot of ways I could explain my belated involvement:
1. Perhaps, because a layman I respect asked me to….gently….and provided me with a number of studies which, once I read them, became impossible to dismiss.
2. Perhaps, because my denomination has maintained a long-time opposition to organized gambling in any form.
3. Perhaps, because casinos levy an exorbitant tax upon the poor….who lose, proportionately, far more than I do, and who (given their situation in life) can ill afford to lose anything.
4. Perhaps, because the values I have spent a lifetime working to establish, tend to take a direct hit whenever gambling flourishes.
5. Perhaps, because gaming and greed have never been able to occupy the same bed without giving birth to crime….inevitably….repeatedly….and without the benefit of a normal, nine-month gestation.
6. Perhaps, because I don’t like the odds which differentiate the cities which lose from the cities (if any) which win.
7. Or perhaps, because the local fiasco of selecting the bidders and choosing the sites has convinced me that, even if casinos offered a flicker of hope, we wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of creating a flame.
But, as a suburbanite, it ultimately boils down to the compartmentalization issue once again. For if I believe that:
· cities are worth saving,
· jobs are worth creating,
· schools are worth improving,
· and families are worth rebuilding,
then why not put my time, money, effort and energy behind those goals, rather than acquiesce to an industry (dubious at best and immoral at worst) which offers to do it for me, if I but turn the lights and the money green? Especially when I know that casinos are not now….nor have they ever been….in the “salvation” business. The appeal that begins, “Let’s grab some of that money before it crosses the bridge to Canada,” is an appeal to my own greed, don’t you see? And if I sell out to it, I deserve the sewage that will come flowing back with the dollars.
* * * *
Several years ago, I told you one of my all-time favorite stories. It concerned a fictional character in the throes of an ethical dilemma. His name was Steven Keaton. And while I am not a regular viewer of Nick at Nite, I suspect he can still be seen as the father in the syndicated reruns of the sitcom, Family Ties. In this particular episode, the issue was Steve Keaton’s mid-life crisis. His wife had gone back to work. His kids were moving in meaningful directions of their own. No one seemed to have much time for him at home. But there was someone who did….have time for him, that is. She was young….creative….attractive….available….and assigned to work on his project at the office.
One day she let it be known that she’d be staying late to work on a campaign. It was an implied invitation….unspoken, but readable in her eyes. He read it. Then he packed his briefcase and went home to dinner. But nobody was sitting down to dinner. They were catching dinner on the fly. His wife and kids all had places they needed to be. But he had nowhere he needed to be. So he went back to the office.
He made a pass at working on the project. She made a pass at him. They embraced. He drew back. She said: “Steven, I know how much your wife and kids mean to you. I can live with that. If I ever get to the point where I can’t, I’ll walk away. So why not come back to my place, just for tonight. No one will ever find out. I guarantee it.”
He thought for a moment. Then he said: “I can’t do that. I can’t view my life as if it were a series of unrelated incidents. It’s not. Everything in it is connected to everything else.”
* * * * *
When I was reminiscing in the church office about my grandfather’s rolltop desk….complete with its marvelous little spaces for sorting, stashing and separating stuff….Janet said to me: “And when you wanted to walk away, all you had to do was pull down the lid and cover up the mess inside.” To which I thought: “Only in the world of furniture, my dear. Only in the world of furniture.”
