Sunday, July 24, 2005
I always enjoy the train ride to New York City. I pick out a window seat and stare out the window, pretend to take great interest in the New Jersey countryside, and listen to the plethora of languages and accents which inundates me. I listen to the crisp accent of the British Indian girls sitting a few seats forward, talking about their recent trip to Australia. I listen to an African American man discussing bills with his wife behind me. I listen to a Jersey woman scheduling lunch with her son over her cell, in that indescribable Jersey accent. I hear Russian, French, Chinese, Spanish, and wonder what it's all about.
At one of the stops a festively-plump Hispanic man and his Slavic-looking girlfriend board our car. They plop themselves down next to me without notice, and immediately launch into a discussion about their upcoming church activities. The man is very soft spoken, and the woman has no discernible accent. My eyes still glued to the window, I listen as their conversation drifts to more esoteric aspects of the early days of their religion, and the efforts of the apostle Paul to proselytize gentiles. I note with some annoyance that during the course of their conversation, the couple have gradually taken over more and more of our rather small seat. By the time the name "Paul" comes up, I am left uncomfortably squeezed against the window with little more than foot of seat space, trying hard not to let my leg come into contact with that of the lady.
I found it ironic that the couple sitting next to me were so absorbed in discussing the theoretical aspects of a religion that teaches kindness to others, that they completely forgot about the inconspicuous little Asian man sitting next to them, whose personal space they were rapidly encroaching upon. I suppose I should have said something, but I was kind of curious to find out if they would notice by themselves. It reminded me of a psychology experiment I had read about, in which seminary students preparing for the priesthood were told that they were to take a surprise oral exam in a building next door, and that since they were already late for the exam they should hurry over immediately. In the experiment, the seminary student walks though a doorway, next to which a fellow student is lying on the ground looking very ill. One would expect that as future priests, these students would have stopped to check up on their colleague. As it turns out, most students were so busy worrying about their exam that they either failed to notice the ill student, or hurried past even if they did.
So it seems to me that it is human nature to become so self-absorbed in one's immediate priorities that we completely neglect to pay attention to those around us. Past humanist thinkers who understood our nature better than us, warned us of this fault and extorted us to take into greater account how we affect those around us. I think Jesus must have been one of those thinkers, but it is not clear to me that the lessons of his wisdom are sinking in, when taught within the context of massively-organized religion... not when its followers are too busy discussing the apostle Paul's opinion of the followers of Judaism, and failing to ask the basic question, "do you mind if we sit with you?"
Something to think about on a slow Sunday afternoon.
At one of the stops a festively-plump Hispanic man and his Slavic-looking girlfriend board our car. They plop themselves down next to me without notice, and immediately launch into a discussion about their upcoming church activities. The man is very soft spoken, and the woman has no discernible accent. My eyes still glued to the window, I listen as their conversation drifts to more esoteric aspects of the early days of their religion, and the efforts of the apostle Paul to proselytize gentiles. I note with some annoyance that during the course of their conversation, the couple have gradually taken over more and more of our rather small seat. By the time the name "Paul" comes up, I am left uncomfortably squeezed against the window with little more than foot of seat space, trying hard not to let my leg come into contact with that of the lady.
I found it ironic that the couple sitting next to me were so absorbed in discussing the theoretical aspects of a religion that teaches kindness to others, that they completely forgot about the inconspicuous little Asian man sitting next to them, whose personal space they were rapidly encroaching upon. I suppose I should have said something, but I was kind of curious to find out if they would notice by themselves. It reminded me of a psychology experiment I had read about, in which seminary students preparing for the priesthood were told that they were to take a surprise oral exam in a building next door, and that since they were already late for the exam they should hurry over immediately. In the experiment, the seminary student walks though a doorway, next to which a fellow student is lying on the ground looking very ill. One would expect that as future priests, these students would have stopped to check up on their colleague. As it turns out, most students were so busy worrying about their exam that they either failed to notice the ill student, or hurried past even if they did.
So it seems to me that it is human nature to become so self-absorbed in one's immediate priorities that we completely neglect to pay attention to those around us. Past humanist thinkers who understood our nature better than us, warned us of this fault and extorted us to take into greater account how we affect those around us. I think Jesus must have been one of those thinkers, but it is not clear to me that the lessons of his wisdom are sinking in, when taught within the context of massively-organized religion... not when its followers are too busy discussing the apostle Paul's opinion of the followers of Judaism, and failing to ask the basic question, "do you mind if we sit with you?"
Something to think about on a slow Sunday afternoon.
