In the Agora: Confessions of a GenXer

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December 31, 2004

Confessions of a GenXer

"That'll be $67.53," she said. I handed her my TJ Maxx gift card, but I didn't really care how much of the total I had to pay on my own. I had plenty of money, especially after all the Christmas gifts. I think the remainder was thirty-something, but I didn't care. I simply hadned her the plastic debit card, which I knew had more than enough to cover it.

As I stepped out of the store and onto the downtown sidewalk, two men in their 50s were crouching on the pavement, jingling fast food drink cups that had a few coins in them. The sight is neither common nor rare, it just exists. Occassionally I'll stop and offer a dollar, but today I lied and said I had nothing. The truth was that I didn't want to whip out my roll of cash and reveal the two $50 bills.

I made my way to my car - a nice four door Sedan that my parents pretty much paid for - and drove to the parking garage exit where a cheery attendant asked for $3.50. The normal cheap city garage was full, but I didn't mind the more expensive private garage; $3.50 was chump change in my book. I could've walked from my apartment which was less than a mile away, but why bother? Gas is cheap and, like I said, the parking fee was low, at least for me.

This shopping trip was preceded by a nice lunch with ITA brethren Zach, Eric and PunchTheBag, where I doled out $10 for a meal. When the day's errands were over I didn't return to work. Why? I don't have/need a job, at least not until this summer, when I begin my clerkship at the law firm. Granted, I could get a job doing trivial short-term stuff somewhere, but why bother? I don't need the money. So I went home and cleaned my apartment, surfed the internet, and read a few hundred pages from a novel. I was an unproductive citizen doing whatever I felt like doing.

In short, my day was one of luxury, where I did everything I wanted without concern for my safety or material ability to do whatever I wanted. In spite of this (or more likely because of it), I had a headache for most of the day. Each time I spent so much as a penny, or failed to be a productive citizen, my thoughts turned toward southeast Asia and the victims of the tsunami.

The tsumani victims are hard to ignore. Not only have they suffered an unexpected natural disaster of mind-blowing proportions, but even before it struck many of them lived a desolate life that was most often spent acquiring essentials like food, housing and clothing. They weren't completely hopeless, but there's no doubt that a day like mine would be as foreign to some natives as a Martian alien's would be to me. The point is, I knew of their desolation before the disaster, and now it's even more pronounced. This thought never left my mind, and yet I never altered my behavior either. I just thought about it...over and over, without necessarily changing or doing anything.

And so here I am, preparing to sleep in my queen size bed in my up-scale, downtown two bedroom apartment which I have all to myself, and I've still done virtually nothing. I've donated some money to the Red Cross, but it was chump change. It was as meaningful as my wasteful decision to drive a few blocks and park in a garage. This is my story, and I am not alone.

Update: John Adams has more.

Posted by Joshua Claybourn at December 31, 2004 02:34 AM

Comments

Years of struggling with mental illness has made me more aware of the sufferings of others, but not always more sympathetic. In fact, at times thinking about war, world disasters, crime, the personal problems of family and friends and so forth added to the depressive swings such that I sometimes trained myself to be indifferent so that I would be better in control of my emotions.

However, as the movie "The Machinist" demonstrated, the conscience can be a very powerful thing and feelings of guilt can be positive motivators to do something different.

I've given a lot to charity over the years, but I've spent far more on myself, my family and my friends. In several places, I have posted John Wesley's admonition to "earn all you can, save all you can, give all you can." But this year I bought a new computer -- not because I really had to have one but because I wanted one that was faster, cooler, etc.

I can rationalize that I drive a car that has 184,000 miles on it. I can rationalize that I probably give away more money than a lot of others. But I still feel stingy.

I felt my brain starting to shut down as the deaths from the tsunami mounted. At a few thousand, I felt really, really bad. Now I feel kind of numb -- the numbers seem unreal and my relative ability to help out is what, exactly? So I don't really care any more. Or do I? I didn't sleep well for the past two nights -- very unusual for me.

As Christians, we are to rejoice at all times. But I think it has to be an often uncomfortable and afflicted joy. True joy, yes that we feel down to our toes, but that will never be entirely separated from our feelings on the plight of others. Jesus wants us to be both "at peace" and restless.

Maybe my conscience, guided by God's grace, won't cause me to do anything different today. But maybe tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, God's sanctifying grace will take hold once again.

Maybe your headache won't change you today. But sharing this post might change the rest of us.

Posted by: Joel Thomas at December 31, 2004 03:34 AM | permalink

I can't really add anything to what you wrote, Josh, beyond saying that it was excellent. Wow.

Posted by: Pieter Friedrich at December 31, 2004 02:26 PM | permalink

Josh,

Great reflections for year-end. We are pretty much the most well off Christians in history. We need to translate that into action for others. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, that's not always as easy as it should be.

God Bless and Happy New Year,
Mark Sides

Posted by: Mark S. at December 31, 2004 11:07 PM | permalink

Joshua:
I really enjoyed the first post on the new blog. I can assure you, though, that isn't just Gen-Xers engaged in shallow, self-absorbed life styles. Whenever I look in the mirror, I catch a glimpse of a guy who is similarly guilty most of the time.

Posted by: Mark at January 1, 2005 12:39 AM | permalink

You are describing guilt, a corrolary to shame.
Growing us as a Southern Baptist I was spoon-fed guilt to the point that by the time I was in high school I remember looking at my class ring and feeling guilty for having such a nice piece of expensive (to me, at the time) piece of jewelry.
It was one of those life-changing moments, and the start of a personal journey toward freedom from counterproductive guilt.
I accept that not all guilt is bad. A fear of guilt protects us from nihilism, drives us to duty, enlivens our conscience, and separates us as human beings from the rest of the animal kingdom. Without a sense of guilt we become savage, like the ordinary people in Rwanda who cut their heighbors to pieces with machetes. Like the architects of the World Trade Center disaster. Like those who routinely carried out the atrocities we have all read about in Saddam's Iraq. It could be that suicide killers are driven by the reassurance that they need not fear guilt. How can a dead person "fear" anything? Just know this: as long as you can still feel guilt, you can know that you are still able to have compassion. Whether or not there is a constructive way to convert guilt to compassion, or a meaningful way that the one can be relieved by the other, there is definitely a link. Our mission is to discover, each of us individually, how to make that connection, converting it into some kind of redemptive action. There are extreme cases when an ultimate sacrifice is demanded. But those situations are few and far between. Something less demanding is really better, because it allows us to remain alive and influential, each within his own small constellation, maintaining a spark of humanity in an otherwise potentially savage world.

Posted by: John Ballard at January 1, 2005 05:08 AM | permalink