Saturday, March 29, 2014

Pascal's Decision

Yesterday a friend and I visited another, mutual friend who is living in an assisted care facility for people with dementia.

My friend is especially torn because of the onset of dementia with our mutual friend.

So, at one point, just the two of us were sitting in the lobby while our mutual friend was enjoying herself having a cupcake in the activity room.

My friend said things like dementia, and social injustice, cause her to question the existence of God. It's a classic case of, "If God's so good and all-powerful, why does God allow..."

Blaise Pascal came up with an approach to handle this question which is called Pascal's Decision or Dilemma. It goes like this:

If there is a God, and you live a moral life, then you've satisfied the criteria to be in Heaven when you pass from this life.
If there isn't a God, and you live a moral life, then at least you've lived like a decent human being, regardless if God exists or not.

Now, there are lots of arguments, pro and con concerning Pascal's Dilemma, and I'm not a philosopher and I'm not writing this post to prove the existence of God. (Actually, it would seem that if there is a fail proof argument that absolutely, without a need for faith, proves God's existence, then we would have discovered it by now; or God would have given it to us).

My main point is much less ambitious and pretty simple. It's that God, if God exists (and I want to say that I happen to believe that God does exist), decided to require faith to establish relationship with us.

It seems like it really comes down to that. Each of us either decides to believe, or not. On faith. That's the essential question. You can debate God's goodness or any other aspect of God that you like, but it seems like those other questions are philosophical icing on the cake.

I don't mean to minimize tough questions. Or ignore the fact that awful things happen in life, oftentimes, without our ability to make sense of them. I'm only trying to grab hold of the broader, bigger issue, in light of my friend and I's conversation in the lobby of the assisted care facility.

Friday, March 21, 2014

The Lithotripsy That Wasn't

I should probably explain that a lithotripsy is a medical procedure involving "blasting" a kidney stone so it breaks up and you can pass it.

For guys, passing a kidney stone is roughly akin to the pain level involved in having a baby, or close to it.

My brother and I arrived at the hospital out-patient department around 9:30 yesterday morning, and the usual pre-op stuff happened - including a not-so-usual part where the nurse tried two times to insert an IV in my arm. It turned out my veins "rolled" too much and the needle kept on pushing out of the vein. (I don't know if that's the correct term for it, but that's what it felt like).

When the anesthesiologist mentioned that no anesthesia would be administered if the technician couldn't detect the kidney stone on their scanning equipment and that the procedure would be cancelled, I didn't think anything of it. (I'd had at least two other lithotripsies and this had never been an issue).

So, I was wheeled into the procedure room, and after 15 minutes spent unsuccessfully trying to pinpoint where the kidney stone was, the procedure was cancelled. Which was about the emotional equivalent of finding out that the team you were rooting for in the state semi-finals lost in overtime by one point.

The only actual treatment I was given during the three hours I was in the hospital was a dose of motion sickness medication, which works to counteract nausea when receiving anesthesia (which I didn't actually receive).

I left the hospital with my brother, actually feeling disappointed that, with all the preparation (including taking magnesium citrate to clear my stomach and intestines the night before) it was a no go.

Isn't it funny how even potentially unpleasant experiences can result in disappointment if they don't come to pass?
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Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Ash Wednesday Reflection

Today is Ash Wednesday.

Growing up, I went to a Catholic school where we had Mass each morning before class. (This was a long, long time ago!)

I vividly remember the priest putting a liberal thumbfull of ashes on my forehead at some point during the service, saying: "Remember man, that thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return."

Especially in grade school, it made quite an impression on me - ushering in 40 days of fasting (on Fridays), and being asked to "give up something," enjoyable during that season. It was all in preparation for the joy of Easter Sunday.

This morning a co-worker gave me something her own pastor handed out recently. And, after reading it and thinking, "this is really, really good," I'm passing it along to you. The only thing I will add is that you don't have to be of any particular religious persuasion to benefit from it.

ASH WEDNESDAY CALL TO SPIRITUAL DISCIPLINES

"Fast from worry, and feast on divine order by trusting in God.
Fast from complaining, and feast on appreciation.
Fast from negatives, and feast on affirmatives.
Fast from unrelenting pressures, and feast on unceasing prayer.
Fast from hostility, and feast on tenderness.
Fast from bitterness, and feast on forgiveness.
Fast from self-concern, and feast on compassion for others.
Fast from the shadows of sorrow, and feast on the sunlight of serenity.
Fast from idle gossip, and feast on purposeful silence.
Fast from judging others, and feast on the Christ within them.
Fast from emphasis on differences, and feast on the unity of life.

Fast from apparent darkness, and feast on the reality of light.
Fast from thoughts of idleness, and feast on the healing power of God.
Fast from words that pollute, and feast on the phrases that purify.
Fast from discontent, and feast on gratitude.
Fast from anger, and feast on optimism.
Fast from personal anxiety, and feast on eternal truth.

Fast from discouragement, and feast on hope.
Fast from facts that depress, and feast on verities that uplift.
Fast from lethargy, and feast on enthusiasm.
Fast from suspicion, and feast on the truth.
Fast from thoughts that weaken, and feast on promises that inspire.
Fast from problems that overwhelm, and feast on prayer that undergirds."

(Source unknown but generally attributed to William Arthur Ward (1921-1994)

Sunday, March 2, 2014

I Have an Author's Page on goodreads.com

In case you are a fan of goodreads, I've got an author's page there.
To view it, please go to:
www.goodreads.com

And plug in my name under search.

Thank You!

Saturday, March 1, 2014

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

One of my favorite poems by Robert Frost is "The Road Not Taken."

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Through as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I'm not exactly sure what got me to thinking about this particular poem. Maybe because of its mixture of adventure and sentimentality and how they both color our decision-making. It's an oversimplification to say that youth is drawn to newness while older adults seem to drift towards the familiar. Is a taste for adventure confined to the youngest generation? Do you have to wait until you're older to appreciate the past?

In his poem, Frost wisely doesn't give any clues as to the age of the observer. And although it seems as if "the less traveled" road wins out, it's important to note that the observer appreciates the fact that, years later, when he tells the story, it will be with the perspective of a deep appreciation of that fateful day in the woods.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!

Pinocchio: Art Credit, Disney If ever there were a time for a national "Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire" award, it's now. And certai...