THIS OUR VALLEY: Tickets are yet another bull by-product

"The comfort of the rich depends on an abundant supply of the poor.” Voltaire

Good grief. I like to think I am sort of tech savvy. I’ve put computers together. I’ve had cell phones since the late 1990s. I switched from writing checks to using debit cards at stores decades ago. I organize travel plans and book rooms at hotels, seats on planes and trains, and tons of stuff one can do online or over the ether. But now?

I find the steps required to do anything are beginning to match the number of functioning gray cells I’ve got left. 

There was a bull riding event scheduled in nearby Everett that my wife and I were interested in attending. I went online to order tickets far enough out that the tickets could be sent by snail mail with plenty of time to spare. Sadly, that’s not how things are done anymore. We had to purchase e-tickets, which meant we had to pay for the event tickets online, as well as a surcharge for each ticket. Well, what’s six bits among friends?

Wait, it costs more than six bits to buy tickets? How much? The cost of several dozen eggs PER TICKET? Well, if the tickets are embossed with gold leaf, I guess that’s OK. I’m not happy about it, but it is what it is. But wait; there’s more!

They don’t ship the tickets. There is no ticket pick-up or ticket-waiting at the box office. The tickets will be available electronically on your cell phone. Oh, OK. But wait; there’s MORE!

Your tickets are not sent in a way that allows you to print them. You have to “accept” your tickets on your cell phone, which sends you to a site in which to create an account (new user name, new password, new app) in which to access your tickets. But wait; there’s MORE!!!

Once you get to your tickets (congratulations for making it this far), you now have to add them to your cell phone’s “wallet” (Good grief, now I have to set that bleeding thing up) where they will be available for the local docent to scan you into the event when you arrive (assuming you have access to both cellular service and your e-wallet and the theoretically attached e-tickets for easy peasy scanning).

I think I just qualified for an electronic decathlon event at the next Olympic games. Good grief. Again, I say, GOOD GRIEF!

Fortunately, it all worked out just fine. We made it to the event, gained entrance, found our seats, and cheered on the plucky riders and their bucking bovine companions. Yee Haw!

When it was over, I had to ask myself if it had been worth it (because I’m not only cheeky, but cheap, too). I must admit the idea of putting out a week’s wages for a minimum wage worker to watch twenty eight-second events over the course of two hours seems a bit much. 

We live in a world that has become highly transactional, and whether  I approve or not is completely immaterial. I don’t really know how to compute the value of an evening’s entertainment, or a meal, or a drive across town or across the country. I took a course in economics back when the earth was still cooling, and recall talk of supply and demand and its effect on prices, but I think a gremlin has snuck in over the fence and added some bull shine to the processes.

Everyone wants a piece of the action, and there is no correlation between the service offered and the price exacted for that transaction. No human being earned bread for their table or shelter for their family from my electronic transaction. Yes, maybe there was an operator standing by somewhere, but I can guarantee they didn’t get much of the six figures collected by the ticket merchants (for their fees). 

The Bible says a laborer is worthy of his hire, but that seems to have been turned on its head, where it is the purchaser who has to do all the labor, and pay for the convenience. I don’t like riding the bucking back of a golden calf; it takes far longer than eight seconds here in this, our valley. That’s a lot of bull, if you ask me.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

THIS OUR VALLEY: A raggedy tale of a raggedy man

 

"Things don't have purposes, as if the universe were a machine, where every part has a useful function. What's the function of a galaxy? I don't know if our life has a purpose and I don't see that it matters. What does matter is that we're a part. Like a thread in a cloth or a grass-blade in a field. It is and we are.” Ursula K. LeGuin

It’s winter. The air is frosty, the ground frozen, and no matter how tight the house is, the air inside feels thin and cool. The thermometer says it is 70, but it doesn’t feel like it. I could turn the heat up, of course, and make the home’s interior toastier, but why on earth would I do that while I’ve got thermal unmentionables, sweaters, and blankets in which to bundle? 

Layering up is the key to conserving energy and staying warm. I suspect my chattering teeth are also burning calories, so that’s a good thing, right?

There used to be a fellow who lived on the streets just to the east of downtown Spokane. He was one of those “invisible people” who always seem to be around. I was a police officer back in the day (1970s!), and if I or my partner wanted to know what was happening around the city center when we had the paddy wagon detail, we would drive out near the railroad tracks just east of Riverside and Division. 

There was a mountain of rags piled up there (about ten feet in diameter and four to six feet high, or more). We’d call out, “Hey Rags!” After a moment or two, the mountain would start to shimmy and shake, and “Rags” would make his way out of his burrow where we could chat and catch up on what was happening. 

He wasn’t a TV-trope informant. He didn’t have details on who was doing what to whom, but he could give us a sense of what was going on or things he had noticed that could help us do our job better. When we finished our chats, we would hand him a token of our appreciation, he would burrow his way back to the center of his mountain, and we would return to our patrolling.

I don’t plan to live in the center of a mountain of rags, but Rags helped me appreciate the value of layering up when it’s cold. There wasn’t much we could do to change his circumstances, but then again, he never indicated that he was dissatisfied with his life or situation. He had no mortgage to fuss about. He was kind and gentle, and never a nuisance. 

I don’t know if God planned on Rags being a police informant or panhandler from the beginning of time. I think Rags simply fulfilled God’s purpose in being the best human being he could be, no matter what the circumstances of life steered him into making the choices he made. 

As silly as it may sound, I found him to be an inspirational character. He was a man of honesty and integrity, and I respected him for it. He lived by his wits and was among the most inoffensive persons I’ve ever known.

I have often counseled people who wondered what God’s plan for them is or was. I don’t think any of us are pieces on the great chessboard of life, with God and Satan moving us about here and there for sport. 

Life for some of us may be a tale of rags to riches; for others it may be a tale of going from riches to rags. Some will get what’s coming to them, while others will skate by never having to face justice for what they’ve done or failed to do.

What God requires of all of us, though, is to know we are part of the whole, part of the fabric of all that is, ever has been, or ever will be. We are rags in whom God finds warmth, light, and love. Rags don’t produce their own heat, but reflect the warmth of life within. 

We are rags, but rags in whom God dwells and warms here in this, our valley. We are God’s raggedy treasures. We reflect the warmth of God’s love. Wow!

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

THIS OUR VALLEY: Faithfulness is the Preacher’s Workbook

 

"When nobody around you seems to measure up, it’s time to check your yardstick” Bill Lemley

I do not make it a practice to delve into the matter of politics in this column. I do talk about matters of faith and values; I offer a perspective on life that has a religious bent, but my goal is always to do so with a light touch. There is already too much anger and violence in our homes and communities. My intention is to bring a bit of peace and sanity and, if at all possible, a ray of sunshine to warm the cockles of the readers’ hearts. 

This past week there has been a lot of discussion and debate regarding the style or substance of a sermon delivered by Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde at the National Cathedral. Some of her remarks were directed toward the President, the substance of which was “People are scared … good people … have mercy … be merciful towards them …” Why? “They are God’s people.”

When my wife says, “I’m scared,” it is and always has been my job to ask, “What’s scaring you? Is there anything I can do to help? Is there anything we need to do or stop doing?”

Now, I don’t do that as often or as effectively as I should, but the question remains: is there anything we can do? How shall we respond?

That is a political act. That is a political conversation. It sounds like a family matter because, of course it is. But politics isn’t the down and dirty smoke-filled back room wheeling and dealing that takes place in our capitals or city halls. It is about identifying needs, finding and negotiating solutions.

In the example of my wife, I could be dismissive: There’s nothing to be scared of (which is not very caring or loving), or I could be empathetic: Yeah, that scares me too; I’m with you on that (which is loving, but not very helpful). I could be chauvinistic: I’ll take care of it (which reinforces the helpless female stereotype). I could be arrogant: It’s not my problem; you deal with it (which is hurtful). Or I could be a partner: Yeah, I’m scared too. How do you think we should deal with this?

Bishop Budde’s sermon was kind, thoughtful, respectful, and gracious. She talked about the hard work of building unity; identified three key values that go into that work (the dignity of every human being, the need for genuine honesty and truth, and a sense of humility that recognizes we need each other); and she was forthright in saying (I paraphrase): “Many people are scared, Mr. President. Please consider that in making your policies and decisions. Temper your decisions with mercy.” It was an invitation to partnership, as opposed to partisanship.

Being retired, I don’t preach as often as I once did, but I have always made it my practice not to preach partisan politics from the pulpit. I’ve never told my congregations who to vote for or how to vote on various matters put before the electorate. I study the scriptures and seek to proclaim the good news of God in Christ, because that’s my call as a Christian pastor. 

My work as a columnist is similar, but different. I cannot help but bring what I would consider a Christian perspective to what I have to say, but I know there are other forms of the faith that may well take issue with some of the things I say, do, believe, or practice. The Christian faith, as a whole, is richer for that diversity of approaches and beliefs. 

Should I be more sectarian or partisan in these columns? I don’t think so. Should I be more assertive and fiery like John the Baptist (“You brood of vipers!), or is it enough to strive to be more like Jesus (Come to me you who are weary and overly-burdened in life, and I will give you rest)?

Certainly there are times each of us needs a stern talking to, but I think scared people need to hear words of comfort and sense that they are not alone, but valued, respected, honored, loved, and called to work together for the common good. We need more mercy, more grace, not less.

We can be merciful and graceful. Why? Because God has had mercy on each of us here in this, our valley. That’s the heart of our faith.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

THIS OUR VALLEY Simplifying the complicated life

 

"... because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you ...” Isaiah 43

Life is complicated. 

I bought my wife a 344 piece puzzle for Christmas. Unlike standard puzzles, it is mostly a circle, with bits and pieces that burst through the edges here and there. Beyond being circular when complete, the pieces themselves are cut into more intricate curves and curls, jagged teeth and curlicues. If that isn’t enough, the picture is a complex mix of shapes and colors with an owl at its heart. And if THAT wasn’t enough, the puzzle bits are quite small, most of which do not interlock with their counterparts and companions. If you try moving any of them across the table, they come apart and need to be put back together when they’ve reached their destination.

When people look at the “344 pieces,” they laugh. “Child’s Play,” they declare, and maybe it is. My ego isn’t so fragile that the thought that it may take us more time to put this together than Yogi Bear would offend me (for we know Yogi is smarter than your average bear). 

The puzzle begins

Still, it is taking time to figure it out, and time is one thing we have in abundance; I have no desire to finish it all in one sitting. My back and my rump can’t handle that sort of commitment anyway.

It is true that standard puzzles go together quickly, but what’s “standard” doesn’t interest me. The delight is in finding solutions, connections, and those occasional “ah ha” moments when the piece you’ve been looking for is found, and fits! The joy, as is often said, is to be experienced in the journey, not in the destination (although it WILL be nice to get it put together eventually).

Puzzles are complicated. So is life. Puzzles used to come in boxes without a picture. One might never know what they were assembling beyond a vague description (scenery, farmhouse, waterfowl, etc.); they wouldn’t know what it would be until it was completed; their enlightenment was deliberately incorporated into the process of the assembly!

It's coming together

Some people want to know what’s happening in advance of what’s happening, but life’s not like that. It unfolds slowly (most of the time) and nothing is revealed until it is revealed. We can make plans, but there is no guarantee our plans will survive their engagement with reality. 

For example, we were having our HVAC system inspected for winter and in the process of seeing that all was well, the inspector noted the hot water tank was rusting out and had developed a small leak. I called around and discovered the cost of a replacement was about quadruple what I’d estimated it should cost to replace. 

The cold water of reality put me into truly hot water financially, but what can you do? When life hands you lemons, you say “Tanks,” and hire a plumber. It takes what it takes, not what I want it to take. 

In the Bible, God says, “Do not fear, for I am with you.” What God says to the community, God says to you and me and everyone else: “Don’t be afraid; if you find yourself in hot water, fear not. My son’s a carpenter, a plumber, and an all-around decent fixer-upper. He knows a thing or two about jigs, jigsaws, and jigsaw puzzles.” I’ll bet he knows a thing or two about hot water tanks, too!

Life is complicated, but God sees the whole picture. God IS the whole picture, and God has a special place for each of us and, in fact, even God feels incomplete until we’ve been pressed right down to where we belong. 

Miraculously, it is right there; don’t you see it? Those curlicues of life we find so confusing help secure us into the living, beating heart of God. There’s no slipping up or sliding out of place in God’s heart, ever! 

And if we slip? Easy peasy – God puts us right back where we belong. So we can enjoy (hot) showers of blessings, for God has figured us out from way back when. So let’s not fret here; let’s enjoy the process of assembly right here in this, our valley. God knows which outie fits each innie of this, our puzzling life.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)