Something Priceless Goes On

This is a poor neighborhood but the people who live here are very aware, very observant, whenever you do something to make things better. If I go around picking up trash that's been thrown around, or if I mow the grass along the alley way, or if I fix someone's broken fence, everyone notices. It's almost spooky how attuned everyone in the neighborhood is to any improvement and to anyone who makes the improvement. These people hate living in squalor. Two neighborhood young punks tore apart a section of the wooden picket fence across the alley from me Sunday night. I got out there next morning with my tools and repaired the fence, and while I was doing it five or six neighbors gathered around. They are poor and ragged and besieged and devastated, but there is something priceless that goes on at such moments.

The Big Competition Thing: Olympic and Otherwise

I approach the subject of “Competition” with a great deal of humility and even trepidation, because of its central and far-reaching importance. There is nothing I think of more than “competition,” which appears to me as the inverse of love.

The current Olympic competitions in Brazil are the occasion of more widespread public questioning than I've ever seen and much to the good. Brazil has immense problems, and plenty of poverty, which are much more deserving of attention and resource than this exercise in fantasy.

The first real questioning of the Olympics that I came across was Albrecht Haushofer's Moabit Sonnet #25. Haushofer was one of those magnificent Germans - imprisoned by the Nazis in solitary confinement at the Gestapo prison at Moabit, shackled hand and foot, released when the Russians arrived in Berlin in 1945, but shot by a gang of Nazis outside the prison gates. His body was found three weeks later, with his right hand inside his coat, clutching these sonnets he had written in prison.

All that youth, dedicated to death, is essentially what I saw all around me when I was young: the “competitive spirit” in everything related with school, from “sports” to grade-point averages carried out to the fourth decimal place.

The British empirical, scientific and cultural tradition was full of it – Hobbes, Darwin, et al., classical economics, utilitarianism, right down to the current “Evolutionary Psychology.” Life is a competition, death to the soul.

A reader recently sent me a link to an excellent TED talk by Dr. Thomas Fleischmann on near-death experiences.

I let his video run and it was automatically followed by several similar, even one by a crusty old Brit, which made me wonder how the tradition survives such contrary evidence.

One of the character changes usually following an NDE is loss of interest is the formerly all-important question of who is the greatest among us, and also the fear of death.

There are several places in the New Testament where the subject of “Who is the greatest?” is taken up and I often wonder whether those familiar passages are remembered with embarrassment or what. Those ideas are crucial to everything, for me, so I wonder how the competitors manage to know them, know that they are true, but go on as if they weren't true. That has always mystified me.