The Lost Art of Moderation

Do not be excessively righteous and do not be overly wise. Why should you ruin yourself?

Do not be excessively wicked and do not be a fool. Why should you die before your time?

It's good that you grasp one thing and also not let go of the other; for the one who fears God comes forth with both of them. (Ecclesiastes 7:16-18, NAS)

Ecclesiastes is my favorite book in the Bible. I can't say exactly why. The first time I ever read it, I was exhilarated. It seemed like the exact book I would have written myself, if, you know, I was the wisest man in the world AND being inspired by the Holy Spirit.

I used to try to put my finger on exactly why I connected with it so well. I eventually stopped trying to figure it out when I realized it was a multitude of factors: the brutal honesty, the vulnerability of the author, the rollercoaster-like nature of the Teacher's sequence of reasoning, the beautiful gems of wisdom, the stunning resolve of the conclusion, and who knows what else. It's a fairly complex text, and I don't think I could ever comprehensively list the ways I connect and interact with it. But, as of a few days ago, I can add one more to the list: it is a book of moderation, which has always been something I value highly.

The verse quoted above is a prime example. To be clear, I don't think it's encouraging us to dabble in wickedness, nor to temper our good deeds. The author is confronting the reality of pervasive sin in our world. He's saying that if you indulge in it, you will destroy yourself, AND, by the way, you're not much better off if you try to pretend that you're above it.

Traditionally, we put prophecy and wisdom in distinct genres of Biblical literature, but I sure do wish we could receive words of wisdom as prophetic. These words could speak so directly to the heart of the American church, if we would allow it. My fear is that extremism is too ingrained in our cultural DNA for that.

Everything is permissible, and many things are beneficial.

If you can excuse this blatant distortion of a famous passage of Scripture, I believe I have a valid, and even Biblical, point to make here.

The Apostle Paul originally wrote the following in a letter to the Corinthians, who were apparently trying to justify as much sin as they could get away with, based on the idea of "freedom in Christ":

"Everything is permissible," but not everything is beneficial (1 Corinthians 10:23)

This is certainly a valuable piece of Scripture, that can guide us when we find ourselves tempted to dance right on the edge of the line of sin. It can guide us when we confuse our freedom in Christ for a free pass from God to engage in whatever behavior our hearts desire. I think this is the intent of Paul's words.

Unfortunately, this passage often seems to be used as a kind of all-purpose guilt-trip tool. When there's something we just think is bad or dangerous, but we can't find any clear Biblical teaching against it, we pull this little trump card out of the deck. Game over.

But there's often a double standard. For example, Paul also stated that "the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil" (1 Timothy 6:10). People always point out, and rightly so, that it's the love of money, and not money itself, so there is nothing inherently wrong with acquiring wealth. In fact, wealth is a very good thing when it is used appropriately. I agree.

But you never hear anyone saying, "Well, you should just avoid the temptation to love money altogether by just not having any." No one counsels a man whose getting a raise by saying, "You know Bob, from a Biblical perspective, you probably shouldn't take this raise. No, there's nothing in the Bible that forbids it, but there's a line, and shouldn't you want to stay as far away the line as possible?"

If Paul says "not everything is beneficial," the other side of that is that there are many things that are beneficial. While we should certainly use Paul's words as an impetus for throwing out bath water, let's keep the baby in the tub.

Reflecting at 28

Where I come from, birthdays are sacred.

Birthdays always meant I could eat whatever I wanted.

I could hit my brother, and he couldn't hit me back.

I could watch whatever TV show I wanted, even if my sisters had no interest. I could sit where I wanted. Eat what I wanted . . . wait, did I mention that one already?

All those things might seem trivial now that I'm 28 years old, but for me, birthdays are still sacred.

The things we call "sacred" are simply things that remind us of God. The Ark of the Convenant was sacred because it reminded the Israelites of God's laws and promises. The Eucharist is sacred because it reminds us of the body and blood of Christ, and the promise of his return.

Birthdays are sacred to me because they remind me that my life is not my own. It is a gift, given to me by God. He has blessed me tremendously, with not only life, but health, friends, family, and even his very own Self, given over like bread and wine at a dinner table.

I haven't earned any of these things, any more than I earned being born 28 years ago to this day. They are all gifts that both humble me and drive me to live my life in a manner worthy of them. This is my sacred reminder, my birthday.

And I like ice cream and cake.

How to Avoid Sippin' That Hatorade

For as long as I can remember, it has been one of my core philosophies of life to not hate unnecessarily. In urban terms, having unnecessary hate is referred to as "sippin' that Hatorade." In case you didn't know, Hatorade is bitter, unattractive (except to fellow Hatorade drinkers), and contains no electrolytes. I don't want to have a lot of hatred, so I try to reserve it for things that really matter.

For example, I may not care much for teen pop idol Justin Bieber, but it would be trivial and wasteful for me to actually expend energy on bashing him or trying to convince other people to not like him.

Another example: just because I absolutely LOVE the TV show Lost, it doesn't mean I have to feel threatened when someone tells me their favorite show is 24. We don't always have to compete about everything (cf. Twilight vs. Harry Potter for definitive proof that this kind of behavior is indicative that one has the mind of a middle-school student.)

Another example: speech and grammar mistakes are not moral issues, nor are they very good indicators of whether a person is intelligent or not. If you are one of those self-appointed grammar police, I am begging you, for your own sake, just relax. Your life would be more enjoyable. : )

Another example: it's so much easier to hate when the issue isn't close to home. It's easy to say all kinds of terrible things about homosexuals when you have no gay friends. It's easy to talk about what Muslims "really believe" when you have no Muslim friends. Here's a good rule of thumb: don't post something on a Facebook status or write it on a sign unless you would actually say it, face-to-face, to someone whom you know personally and care about.

In conclusion, while Hatorade can certainly quench our thirst for feeling superior to others, the long-term effects are proven to be hazardous. Next time you're tempted to pick up a bottle, try some chocolate milk instead. You can never go wrong with chocolate milk.