Ford shouted out, "Hey, listen! I think we've got enough problems of our own having you shooting at us, so if you could avoid laying your problems on us as well, I think we'd all find it easier to cope!"
Another pause, and then the bullhorn again.
"Now see here, guy," said the voice, "you're not dealing with any dumb two-bit trigger-pumping morons with low hairlines, little piggy eyes and no conversation, we're a couple of intelligent caring guys that you'd probably quite like if you met us socially! I don't go around gratuitously shooting people and then bragging about it afterward in seedy space-ranger bars, like some cops I could mention! I go around shooting people gratuitously and then I agonize about it afterward for hours to my girlfriend!"
"And I write novels!" chimed in the other cop. "Though I haven't had any of them published yet, so I better warn you, I'm in a meeeean mood!"
In a very funny way, this section illustrates a pretty important lesson. These cops, who are trying to kill our heroes with Kill-O-Zap guns, have lives and problems and hopes and ambitions. One has a girlfriend. The other is a would-be novelist/writer. Their two-dimensional character types (stupid, bloodthirsty bad guys) are battling their three-dimensional character developments.
Of course, we all go through our days judging people, putting them into categories that make sense to us. If I see someone wearing a "Trump 2020" tee-shirt, I will make certain assumptions about that person--that he is a sexist, egotistical, lying, hypocritical bigot. That is before I've spoken with that person, found out that he has a mother in a nursing home and has just been diagnosed with lymphoma. Based on my shallow first impression, I immediately dismiss Mr. MAGA, make him less than human, which is exactly the tactic Donald Trump has been using during his whole time in office.
It's a question of control. Using labels, we are able to approach a person/group of people not as fellow human beings. By doing this, we cast ourselves as somehow superior. It's a tactic that's been used throughout history. It's how slavery was justified in the United States. It's how Jews were sent to concentration camps in Nazi Germany.
If you call yourself a Christian, then you know that isn't really the way Jesus Christ operated. For me, that is one of the great lessons of the Gospels. Christ always hangs out with people from the lowest classes. Fishermen. Tax collectors. Lepers. Samaritans. Gentiles. Christ--because of his God-self--didn't judge these individuals. He met them, ate with them, visited their homes, touched their wounds, loved them, and made them whole.
And that was one of Christ's greatest gifts--the ability to see all people as children of God, worthy of love and hope. That Christ gift is something we should all try and emulate in our day-to-day interactions. It's the way I try to be every day of my life, some days more successfully than others. Anger and frustration have been my companions all too frequently in the last few months. They have become comfortable emotions for me, especially when dealing with the irrationalities of mental illness and addiction.
Tonight, I have to remind myself to be more Christ-like. To accept and love people in my life, despite their brokenness. Or maybe because of their brokenness. That's a tall order, especially if that brokenness causes you pain and heartache. And that is another of the great lessons of the Jesus narrative. Christ gave up His life for the human race, even though those humans didn't really deserve it. In fact, those humans were kinda assholes to Him. But that's what selfless love is all about. And I ain't there tonight.
It's time for bed. Maybe Saint Marty will do better tomorrow. There's always hope.
A reminder from a friend:
I like that pic and saying a lot. A lot!
ReplyDelete