Groot sportmanne, groot helde?

Spiritualiteit sê eintlik ook dat 'n mens daad by die woord voeg. Jou hart moet wees by wat jou mond kwytraak. Wat jou geloof sê, moet deel wees van jou lewensweg en jou lewenservaring. 

Baie keer sal dit meebring dat jy maar eerlik en onbevreesd dinge wat verkeerd is, moet uitdaag en kritiseer.

Muhammed Ali was ook in Suid-Afrika 'n legende. Daar was tye dat boks 'n groot sport was, met toegewyde aanhangers. 

Ons het selfs in ons klasse in die kweekskool na 'n groot boksgeveg grappies met die professore oor die uitslag gemaak. Die geveg is oor die radio uitgesaai, man en muis het daaroor gepraat en die media het groot daaroor geskryf.

Ali was op almal se lippe.

En toe weier hy om in die oorlog te gaan veg.

Daarvoor het hy 'n groot prys betaal. En ander atlete wat op ander maniere in die openbaar protes aangeteken het teen wat hulle as onreg beskou het, het ook in latere jare verguising en persoonlike lyding ervaar.

Vandag weet almal hoe sinloos die Viëtnam-oorlog was. En al hoe meer mense bou teensin op teen die sinnelose geweld wat hulle oral om hulle merk. 

Twee dinge bly ook nog by my: hoeveel sportmense sal vandag hul groot inkomste en hul populariteit wil inboet om hul oortuigings uit te leef? En, as ons van sportlui verwag om nie hul gewetens uit te verkoop nie, wat van ander mense - die besigheidsmense, sportlui, predikante, dosente, dokters, spesialiste, skrynwerkers, verwers, kantoorwerkers en iedereen wat elke dag 'n eerlike bestaan moet voer? 

Hoe spiritueel is ons? 

Maar, wonder ek, tweedens, as Ali so dapper en toegewyd eenvoudig botweg geweier het om oorlog te gaan maak, hoe rym 'n mens dit met sy gewilligheid om te boks? 


Hier is 'n artikel in vanoggend se NYT wat my hieraan laat dink het. 

I woke up Thursday morning and heard a familiar voice that I thought was part of a dream: Muhammad Ali was discussing why he had refused to be inducted into the Army.

This was no dream, but the commemoration of an unforgettable moment that was being replayed on the radio. The clip was taken from a June 20, 1967, interview after Ali was convicted of draft evasion. Two months earlier, at an Army induction center in Houston, Ali refused to step forward.

The radio show host, Joe Madison, who played the clip, said he was a high school senior in 1967 and that Ali’s defiant action made a profound impact on his life.

As a high school junior and varsity athlete in Chicago, I had a similar reaction to Ali’s act of resistance. We were engulfed in the Vietnam War in personal and often tragic ways. Two classmates of mine at Harlan High School — one a great track athlete, the other an outstanding quarterback — each lost their legs in combat.

Ali was one of the most identifiable human beings on the planet. Here was the Greatest, telling the world that he was not going to war. For me, words like conscience, principle and integrity were merely terms in a civics class. When Ali defended his controversial position, how he had no appetite for war, standing for one’s principle became concrete.

“My conscience won’t let me shoot my brother or some darker people,” he told reporters. “And shoot them for what? They never called me nigger.”

That phrase triggered heated debates in our school and in our neighborhood, prompting us to ask each other hard questions.

Why do we continue to use the N-word?

Why should a black man, whose ancestors had been raped and beaten, deprived of human rights in the name of building a democracy, take up arms to fight an immoral war?

Ali’s actions changed my standard of what constituted an athlete’s greatness. Possessing a killer jump shot or the ability to stop on a dime was no longer enough. What were you doing for the liberation of your people? What were you doing to help your country live up to the covenant of its founding principles?

Shortly after Ali’s conviction for draft evasion, Jim Brown, the legendary Browns running back who had recently retired, called on some of the most influential black athletes of that era to meet with Ali in Cleveland. Bill Russell, Willie Davis, Bobby Mitchell and Lew Alcindor (later Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) were among the athletes who met with, and grilled, Ali. Convinced that Ali was sincere, the athletes held a news conference the next day to express their support. Ali’s actions inspired other athletes to step out of their traditional roles and speak out against injustice.

A year later, a pair of United States sprinters, Tommie Smith and John Carlos, staged their iconic demonstration on the victory stand during a medal ceremony in the 1968 Olympic Games in Mexico City.

In 1969, Curt Flood, an All-Star center fielder for the St. Louis Cardinals, took on Major League Baseball’s reserve clause.

For those athletes who took courageous stands, there was a high price to be paid. Ali was banned from boxing for three years. Smith and Carlos were unable to find consistent employment for years. Carlos’s wife committed suicide. Smith’s first marriage ended in divorce. Flood will likely never be voted into the Hall of Fame.

I’m not sure that contemporary athletes are wired for making those kinds of sacrifices. Taking unpopular stands may jeopardize their earning potential or even their employment.

I have stopped using the word hero to describe greatness.

In an era of unimaginable intrusions into our private lives, the would-be hero walks on a rug that can be snatched away at a moment’s notice. Better to talk about someone’s heroic moment or performing a heroic act.

Muhammad Ali is a great man. What he did 46 years was a heroic deed for the ages.

Each generation has its own method of protest and resistance. Listening to Ali on Thursday morning was a reminder that courage, honor and integrity are timeless.

Waarom vrede 'n mens ontwyk

Vrede, skryf die kerkvader met die naam, Matteus die Arme, raak ‘n mens innerlik en bring jou hart en gedagtes tot rus. Mark Sedrak gebruik sy gedagte in sy daaglikse brief. 

Maar Christelike vrede is nie maar net ‘n geestelike toestand nie, voeg Matteus by. 

Dit is ingebed in ‘n verhouding. 

Vrede vloei voort uit die gelowige se verhouding met God en met mense.

Albei hierdie verhoudinge gee ‘n mens innerlike vrede. ‘n Mens kan nie met God vrede hê en dan in onvrede met ander leef nie.

Vrede ontwyk ‘n mens wanneer hierdie verhouding met God of mense skade ly.

Mense hou selfs vergaderings om oor die dood te kan praat.

Mense soek mekaar gereeld op in kafee's in Amerika om oor die dood te praat.

Dit is 'n nuwe tendens in Amerika, soos onderstaande artikel uit vandag se NYT uitwys.

Dit klink morbied, maar die artikel wys watter interessante en boeiende perspektiewe na vore kom wanneer mense oor die dood praat. Wie het nou ooit gedink aan die sake wat in die gesprekke na vore kom.

Die artikel laat my dink: gelowige mense oral op die aarde reageer nogal soortgelyk. Die dood is ook hier by ons nie 'n gewilde onderwerp nie. Dokters, begrafnis-ondernemers en predikante is inderdaad mense wat meestal daarmee omgaan.

Maar waarom kan 'n mens nie inderdaad die "eksklusiewe" plek van die dood verander nie? Waarom kan mense nie in 'n rustige, normale gesprek daaroor praat nie (collatio!)

Die artikel kan nogal 'n hele klomp preke oor die dood genereer, dink ek terwyl ek dit lees. En dit kan 'n interessante bybelstudie-groep aan die gang sit.

En mense se innerlike behoefte, wat dikwels verdring word, na vore bring as 'n onderwerp vir bespreking.Want waaroor 'n mens nie praat nie, kan jou lewe negatief raak. Deur met ander te deel, kan 'n mens 'n groot klomp rustigheid kry.

Wat gebeur as 'n mens sterf? Hoe raak die feit dat 'n mens gaan sterf jou lewe? Hoe wil jy dat jou familie oor jou sterwe moet reageer? Waarom praat spiritualiteit oor die dood as die transformasie tot heerlikheid?

Stof tot nadenke!

By PAULA SPAN

¶Socrates did not fear death; he calmly drank the hemlock. Kierkegaard was obsessed with death, which made him a bit gloomy. As for Lorraine Tosiello, a 58-year-old internist in Bradley Beach, N.J., it is the process of dying that seems endlessly puzzling.

¶“I’m more interested, philosophically, in what is death? What is that transition?” Dr. Tosiello said at a recent meeting in a Manhattan coffee shop, where eight people had shown up on a Wednesday night to discuss questions that philosophers have grappled with for ages.

¶The group, which meets monthly, is called a Death Cafe, one of many such gatherings that have sprung up in nearly 40 cities around the country in the last year. Offshoots of the “café mortel” movement that emerged in Switzerland and France about 10 years ago, these are not grief support groups or end-of-life planning sessions, but rather casual forums for people who want to bat around philosophical thoughts. What is death like? Why do we fear it? How do our views of death inform the way we live?

¶“Death and grief are topics avoided at all costs in our society,” said Audrey Pellicano, 60, who hosts the New York Death Cafe, which will hold its fifth meeting on Wednesday. “If we talk about them, maybe we won’t fear them as much.”

¶Part dorm room chat session, part group therapy, Death Cafes are styled as intellectual salons, but in practice they tend to wind up being something slightly different — call it cafe society in the age of the meetup. Each is led by a volunteer facilitator, often someone who has a professional tie to the topic (Ms. Pellicano, for instance, is a grief counselor). The participants include people of all ages, working and retired, who are drawn by Facebook announcements, storefront fliers, local calendar listings or word of mouth. Women usually outnumber men.

¶“In Europe, there’s a tradition of meeting in informal ways to discuss ideas — the café philosophique, the café scientifique,” said Jon Underwood, 40, a Web designer in London who said he held the first Death Cafe in his basement in 2011 and has propagated the concept through a Web site he maintains.

¶Mr. Underwood adapted the idea from a Swiss sociologist, Bernard Crettaz, who had organized “café mortels” to try to foster more open discussions of death. “There’s a growing recognition that the way we’ve outsourced death to the medical profession and to funeral directors hasn’t done us any favors,” Mr. Underwood said. He envisioned Death Cafe as “a space where people can discuss death and find meaning and reflect on what’s important and ask profound questions.”

¶In practice, people’s motives for attending vary, as does the depth of the conversation. Dr. Tosiello, who said she had never lost a close family member, was there for intellectual enjoyment. Others went to ponder the questions and feelings that the death of a loved one had raised.

¶For instance, at a Death Cafe meeting this month in St. Joseph, Mo., the host, Megan Mooney, a 29-year-old social worker, asked each of the 19 participants to supply a single word that he or she associated with death. “Freedom,” someone said. “Grief.” “Transition.” “Relief.” “Finality.” And then, “Graduation.”

¶The last came from Kelly Vanderpool, a 25-year-old mother, who was a high school freshman when a friend with a new driver’s license died in an auto accident. “Ever since, I’ve wanted to know where he was,” she said in an interview. “Is it true that life continues? Is Joe around still?”

¶Jeneva Stoffels, who is 69 and drove 70 miles from Auburn, Neb., to attend the meeting, told Ms. Vanderpool that she did not have an answer. But she did know that her late mother once spoke to her in a dream. “A younger version, glowing and happy, an ‘I’m in a good place so you can let go’ kind of thing,” Ms. Stoffels said in an interview. “Regardless of where it came from, it was reassuring.”

¶Ms. Mooney, the host, asked a series of conversation-starting questions: What is your biggest fear about death? What do you want your legacy to be? She had brought markers and blank boards on which people could finish the sentence “Before I Die I Want to … .” The responses included “See Egypt,” “Win the lottery,” “Write a book of poems” and “See my daughter grow up.”

¶ 

Over all, Ms. Mooney said, “There are some somber moments, but people laugh. They have fun.”

¶The meetings tend to be more mundane than macabre, and more likely to produce small epiphanies than profound realizations. “It’s not like psychotherapy,” Ms. Stoffels said. “There’s not going to be a big breakthrough. It just widens the door a crack.”

¶Doctors and scholars who study attitudes toward death say that for most people, such conversations are healthy; talking about death can ease people’s fears and the notion that death is taboo. “A major part of American society is very averse to thinking about dying,” said David Barnard, a professor of ethics at the Oregon Health and Science University who has written extensively about the end of life.

¶ 

In the United States, Death Cafes have spread quickly. The first one met last summer in a Panera Bread outside Columbus, Ohio, where guests were served tombstone-shaped cookies. Since then, more than 100 meetings have been held in cities and towns across the country, including Atlanta, Baltimore, Cleveland, Los Angeles and Seattle.

¶ 

“At one cafe, I had someone who believed in reincarnation sitting across from three atheists, telling them about her past lives,” said Lizzy Miles, a hospice social worker who organized that first meeting in Columbus and has led the group there ever since. Discussion topics have included euthanasia, grief, the best-selling book “Proof of Heaven” and do-not-resuscitate orders.

¶ 

Ms. Miles logged 112 participants in her first nine events and determined that a quarter were under 35 and 22 percent were over 65, with most ages 45 to 64 and women predominating. About half of the people who filled out a survey after a meeting agreed with the statement that “I feel more comfortable talking about death and dying now.”

¶ 

The Death Cafe movement has a few ground rules. Meetings are confidential and not for profit. People must respect one another’s disparate beliefs and avoid proselytizing. And tea and cake play an important role.

¶

Kontemplatiewe gebed en Calvyn

Wat gebeur wanneer ‘n mens bid? In sy boek oor spirituele praktyke gebruik Driskill gedagtes van Calvyn om daaroor na te dink. Hy vertel hoe verras mense is as hulle hoor dat Calvyn gebed benader het in die lig van die mistieke eenheid van God met die mens.  Trouens, Calvyn het gebed as die belangrikste geestelike praktyk beskou.

Terwyl ek die opmerkings lees, besef ek hoe die praktyk van ons gebede bepaal word deur ons verstaan van gebed. Kru-weg sou ‘n mens kon dink dat gebed ‘n kans is om sekere versoeke aan God te rig. Maar gebed, in Calvyn se perspektief, is in die eerste plek om in God se teenwoordigheid te wees en om te deel aan God se intieme verhouding met die mens. Dit is gebed wat ‘n mens se geestelike vorming bepaal en stuur.  

1. Bid is om by God te wees. Dit is nie in die eerste plek om met God te praat nie. ‘n Gebed beteken dus om alle aandag op God te rig. Die dinge wat ‘n mens se aandag kan aftrek, moet vermy word. Die alledaagse lewenspatroon word onderbreek. Voor of na die dagprogram, of selfs in die hitte van die dagtaak, skep ‘n mens ‘n kans om weg te kom en voor God te gaan staan.

Wanneer ‘n mens ‘n gebed begin, is dit met die voorneme om allerhande los gedagtes te verban en te vermy, om al ‘n mens se gewone doenigheid op te skort en in God se teenwoordigheid in te gaan.

Dit beteken dat ‘n mens jou doelbewus losmaak van los gedagtes wat die aandag van God wegneem of ‘n plek opsoek wat ‘n mens in afsondering by God kan laat wees. Gebed is ‘n tyd van konsentrasie en fokus.

2. Gebed kom uit ‘n opregte hart na vore. ‘n Koue hart kan nie bid nie.

3. Gebed het ook met ‘n gebroke hart gedoen. In God kom ‘n mens tot rus in jou onrus, vind ‘n mens stabiliteit in tyd van onsekerheid wanneer ‘n mens jouself en jou gebreke aan God ontbloot. Gebed is dus nie ‘n vriendelike gesprek met God nie. In gebed stort mense hul teleurstelling en spyt oor hul eie mislukkings voor God uit om van God vergifnis te kan kry. Gebed is daarom ‘n oefening in nederigheid, ‘n bewuswording van jou plek in die skepping en in ‘n gemeenskap. Gebed is dus om jouself aan God se ontferming toe te vertrou.

4. Gebed is ‘n vertroue dat God mens tot ‘n volwasse geloofslewe lei. Mense houvas aan die krag wat God gee om sinvol te kan lewe. Gelukkig , besef hulle en bid hulle, is daar uitkoms, kan mense buite hulleself ‘n bron van besieling en bemagtiging vind. Juis daarom wil hulle in gebed deel hê aan die intieme verhouding met God waaruit nuwe geestelike groei gebore word. 

Boeiend is dat Driskill skryf dat hierdie gedagtes van Calvyn oor gebed eintlik sentrerende gebed is: dit is kontemplatiewe gebed, wat ingestel is op die mistieke eenheid met Christus. 'n Biddende mens soek om met 'n hele hart by God te wees, om met 'n brandende hart vir God te aanbid, om in berou deur God hernuwe te word en om met vertroue op God se teenwoordigheid die geestelike reis te bly loop. 

Blydskap wanneer die kerk sy eie feilbaarheid raaksien. Oor 'n pas uitgereikte verklaring...

So pas kom daar 'n berig uit Nederland dat die kerke amptelik hul spyt uitgespreek het oor die kerk se aandeel aan die bedryf en instandhouding van slawerny.

Uit die reaksies kan 'n mens aflei dat daar vele mense is wat hierdie gebaar waardeer. 

Dit het die Nederlandse kerke 'n jaar geneem om die verklaring voor te berei.

Die een rede vir die vertraging was die reaksie van die Kwaker-gemeenskap. Hulle het die aandag gevestig op hulle eeue-lange verset teen slawerny.

Dit klink kleinsielig dat hulle daaroor praat. Maar wie die geskiedenis ken sal weet watter lyding sulke kleiner kerke ervaar het omdat hulle nie die hoofstroom-kerke in hul ondersteuning van slawerny wou volg nie. 

Eintlik moet die hoofstroom-kerke nie net hul spyt oor slawerny betuig nie, maar ook bely hoe hul mede-Christene wat van die begin af die evangelie hieroor reg gehoor het, verneder, bespot en selfs vervolg het. 

Nietemin  -  die verklaring is insiggewend. Ons betree 'n tyd waarin die kerk nie onfeilbaar wil voordoen nie en daarmee nie foute wil erken nie. Trouens, die kerk wat sy eie foute erken, verstaan kerk-wees goed.

Meer nog: die berig sluit af op 'n treurige, selfs beskamende noot omdat die geskiedenis van slawerny ook met Suid-Afrika en die N.G.Kerk te doen het. Veral in ons land, waar huidige generasies nog ly onder slawerny as 'n instelling, is dit dus nodig dat die kerke ook oor so 'n verklaring begin nadink.

Hier is die berig in vandag se Trouw.

Nederlandse kerken hebben honderden jaren steun gegeven aan uiterst winstgevende slavenhandel. Met mooie woorden uit de Bijbel praatten dominees het uitbuiten van mensen systematisch goed. Dit jaar, precies anderhalve eeuw na afschaffing van de slavernij, tonen Nederlandse kerken officieel spijt. Het is de eerste keer. 

De excuses komen niet heel snel, erkennen de kerken. "We realiseren dat we te laat spreken", zo staat te lezen in de 'Verklaring over het slavernijverleden', die de Raad van Kerken gisteren in Zeist presenteerde. "We erkennen onze betrokkenheid in het verleden van afzonderlijke kerkleden en van kerkelijke verbanden bij het in stand houden legitimeren van de slavenhandel", luidt een de kernzinnen in het document. Volgens de Raad, die in Nederland achttien kerken vertegenwoordigt, lieten gelovigen zich leiden door 'misplaatst winstbejag en machtsmisbruik'.

Het opstellen van de verklaring, waaraan een jaar is gewerkt, is omgeven met gevoeligheden, leert navraag bij Klaas van der Kamp, algemeen secretaris van de Raad van Kerken. Zo wensten de Quakers, een klein kerkgenootschap dat zich al vroeg keerde tegen slavernij, dat werd opgenomen dat er wel degelijk 'verschillende geluiden' te horen waren in de diverse kerken.

'Spijt en schaamte'
Dit soort nuanceringen betekent volgens Van der Kamp niet dat de verklaring lichtzinnig moet worden opgevat. "Wij zijn als kerkleden verbonden met de kerk van alle generaties. We bouwen voort op de erfenis van onze voorouders. Daar hoort ook erkennen van dit belaste verleden bij."

De Protestantse Kerk in Nederland (PKN) kwam gisteren meteen met een extra aanvulling op de Verklaring. De PKN is de erfgenaam van de gereformeerde kerk, tot 1816 de officieuze 'staatskerk', en de latere Nederlandse Hervormde Kerk. Zo viel Suriname kerkelijk onder het buitengebied van de gereformeerde kerk in Amsterdam, omdat vanuit deze stad veel schepen vertrokken richting de kolonie en kerkleden winsten haalden uit de slavenhandel. "Met spijt en schaamte moet worden uitgesproken dat dit alles deel is van ons verleden als kerken", staat in de extra toelichting.

Nederland was een van de laatste landen in Europa die de slavernij afschaften. Dat gebeurde officieel op 1 juli 1863, bijna anderhalve eeuw geleden.

Slaven niet gedoopt
Gelovigen liepen bepaald niet warm om de slavernij af te schaffen. Slavenhandel werd in de zeventiende eeuw, de hoogtijdagen van de VOC en de WIC, theologisch zelfs goedgepraat door de toenmalige protestantse leiders. Wie niet gedoopt was, redeneerden deze, hoorde niet bij het christelijke 'uitverkoren verbondsvolk'. Gereformeerde slavenhouders in de Kaapkolonie (Zuid-Afrika) lieten om die reden hun slaven vaak niet dopen. Zo behielden hun slaven de status van handelswaar en werkvee. De vooraanstaande protestant Isaac da Costa bestempelde in 1823 de roep om te stoppen met de slavernij tot een dwaling van de Verlichting.

Wanneer rykes hul rykdom wegsteek.

In die Bybel praat Jesus met die gesiglose skare voor Hom daar op die berg op 'n verrassende manier: "Julle is die sout van die aarde." Dit is nou al daardie mense wat arm van gees is, wat honger en dors na geregtigheid, wat vervolg word. Hulle is die mense wat die aarde smaak gee. Sonder hulle het alles laf geword. Dit is hulle wat  'n samelewing sy sout werd maak.

Die spiritualiteit van Jesus is duidelik: Jou menslikheid word gedra deur die manier waarop jy in liefdesverhoudinge leef. 

Hier onder is 'n artikel uit vandag se NYT wat die sosiale implikasies hiervan uitspel. Ek lees die artikel graag in 'n tyd dat ek nadink oor die kerk as die plek vir mense wat nie altyd in ons tyd hoog geag word nie. Trouens, in sommige gevalle lyk dit of die kerk wil wegkom van te noue assosiasie met ongerekendes van die aarde. 
 
Die artikel spel uit wat gebeur wanneer 'n samelewing op sy kop gekeer word: in 'n verbruikersmaatskappy word menslikheid nie deur 'n eerbare deugdelike lewensstyl gevorm nie. Wie jy is, tel nie meer so veel as wat jy het en hoe jy daarmee uithang nie. Nie net wys mense spoggerig en trots af nie, maar diegene wat nie soveel het nie, laat toe dat hulle minderwaardig voel.

Ryk mense was in 'n menslike omgewing nie altyd trots op hul besittings nie. Sommige het dit selfs weggesteek. Hulle wil nie gemeet word aan wat hulle besit nie. 'n Mens van wysheid weet dat sulke uiterlikhede maak jou nie. 

Wat my opval in die lesers-kommentaar op die artikel is die verhaal van 'n verpleegster wat vertel hoe sy beleef het dat 'n skatryk man alleen in 'n hospitaal gesterf het sonder dat sy kinders by hom was, teenoor 'n werker wie sy seuns hom met groot liefde op sy sterfbed bygestaan het. 

Die ou volkswysheid druk dit uit: die vere maak nie die voël nie. 

  

Hier is die artikel:

Religion and Inequality

By DAVID BROOKS

His father explained that he thought his son might one day go on to become a fine doctor, but he had also seen loose tendencies. Some hard manual labor during college would straighten him out.

Judd took the train to the university, arrived at the station at 10:30 and by 12:15 had found a job washing dishes at the cafeteria of the Y.M.C.A. He did that job every day of his first year, rising at 6 each morning, not having his first college date until the last week of the school year.

Judd went on to become a doctor, a daring medical missionary and a prominent member of Congress between 1943 and 1963. The anecdote is small, but it illustrates a few things. First, that, in those days, it was possible to work your way through college doing dishes. More important, that people then were more likely to assume that jobs at the bottom of the status ladder were ennobling and that jobs at the top were morally perilous. That is to say, the moral status system was likely to be the inverse of the worldly status system. The working classes were self-controlled, while the rich and the professionals could get away with things.

These mores, among other things, had biblical roots. In the Torah, God didn’t pick out the most powerful or notable or populous nation to be his chosen people. He chose a small, lowly band. The Torah is filled with characters who are exiles or from the lower reaches of society who are, nonetheless, chosen for pivotal moments: Moses, Joseph, Saul, David and Esther.

In the New Testament, Jesus blesses the poor, “for yours is the kingdom of God.” But “woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort.”

In Corinthians, Jesus tells the crowds, “Not many of you were wise by worldly standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.”

Under this rubric, your place is not determined by worldly accomplishments, but simply through an acceptance of God’s grace. As Paul Tillich put it in a passage recently quoted on Andrew Sullivan’s blog, “Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted.”

This inverse hierarchy took secular form. Proletarian novels and movies made the working class the moral bedrock of the nation. In Frank Capra movies like “Meet John Doe,” the common man is the salt of the earth, while the rich are suspect. It wasn’t as if Americans renounced worldly success (this is America!), but there were rival status hierarchies: the biblical hierarchy, the working man’s hierarchy, the artist’s hierarchy, the intellectual’s hierarchy, all of which questioned success and denounced those who climbed and sold out.

Over the years, religion has played a less dominant role in public culture. Meanwhile, the rival status hierarchies have fallen away. The meritocratic hierarchy of professional success is pretty much the only one left standing.

As a result, people are less ambivalent about commerce. We use economic categories, like “human capital” and “opportunity costs,” in a wide range of spheres. People are less worried about what William James called the “moral flabbiness” of the “bitch-goddess success,” and are more likely to use professional standing as a measure of life performance.

Words like character, which once suggested traits like renunciation that held back success, now denote traits like self-discipline, which enhance it.

Many rich people once felt compelled to try to square their happiness at being successful with their embarrassment about it. They adopted what Charles Murray calls a code of seemliness (no fancy clothes or cars). Not long ago, many people covered their affluence with a bohemian patina, but that patina has grown increasingly thin.

Now most of us engage in more matter-of-fact boasting: the car stickers that describe the driver’s summers on Martha’s Vineyard, the college window stickers, the mass embrace of luxury brands, even the currency of “likes” on Facebook and Reddit as people unabashedly seek popularity.

The culture was probably more dynamic when there were competing status hierarchies. When there is one hegemonic hierarchy, as there is today, the successful are less haunted by their own status and the less successful have nowhere to hide.

Sy was 'n ongetroude vrou toe hy gebore is...

Die Bybel het ‘n manier om veral oor ‘n sekere soort mens te praat.

Jesus se geboorte is vir skaapwagters aangekondig – mense vir wie die samelewing nie veel respek gehad het nie. Sy “vriende,” soos Johannes Evangelie dit stel, kom uit die nederige dele van die samelewing. Sy dissipels was vissers en het ‘n oorlewingsbestaan gevoer. As hy rondreis, praat hy met die mense wat nie veel kos het nie, wat honger ly, wat desperaat siek is en wat deur hul geestelike leiers uitgebuit word.

Hy maak kontak met straatvroue, met mense wat as geestelik onstabiel beskou is, met die tollenaars, die armes, die ongerekendes.

Nou is daar “normale” mense wat dit lastig vind dat die evangelie skynbaar so op “minderwaardiges” ingestel is.

Hoekom is dit nodig dat die evangelie so nou verbind is met die uitskotte van die samelewing?

Daar is egter ‘n diepe sin hieraan.

In elke mens skuil daar iets van al die mense waarna Jesus uitreik:

Elke mens worstel met armoede, al is dit net dat ons ‘n diepe angs het dat ons van al ons besittings en rykdom beroof sal word.  Wat sal tog van ons word wanneer ons niks besit nie? Hoe sal ander mense oor ons praat? Hoe sal mense tog op ons neerkyk... 

Ons sien ons armoede aan erkenning en roem raak. Ons wil graag soos mense wees wat deur almal bewonder word.

Mense is maar te bewus van hoe arm hulle is aan ‘n goeie lewe. Hul weet van hul foute en hulle is deeglik bewus dat hulle agter die masker van ordentlikheid dikwels donker dinge wegsteek.  

Mense ervaar hul tekortkominge, hul vrese, hul liggaamlike swakheid.

In vele opsigte lyk die “ordentlike”, “welaf”, “normale” mens in sy of haar binneste nie anders as die mense met wie Jesus vriende is nie.

As ‘n mens eerlik is....

Trouens, wanneer ‘n mens eers ander mense sonder hul maskers en bravade’s leer ken, dan kom jy agter dat die mens in die Bybel tipies is van die mens van alle tye.

Daar is iets bevrydends in die tipe mens vir wie Jesus omgegee het. By Hom hoef ‘n mens nie ‘n masker op te sit nie. Hy kies nie mense uit oor hul aansien, besittings, invoed en mag nie.

Hy wil bloot net by mense as sy vriende wees, maak nie saak wie hulle is of wat hulle doen nie.

Hy weet. Hy was self bloot ‘n timmerman se seun en ‘n onegte kind van ‘n ongetroude ma.

Hy weet te goed. Wat tel is nie wie die mens is nie, maar wie God is. Die God van die liefde, wat gee eerder as neem en vergewe eerder as vergeld.

Daar is iets dinamies aan die mense met wie Jesus die blye tyding gedeel het.  Dit troos ‘n mens, inspireer ‘n mens en tel die mens op tot ‘n nuwe lewe.