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Why do people do things noisily when they could just as easily do them quietly?
I work in a place where library quiet is required of us. We have groups of people in rooms trying to concentrate on their work. There are no cubicles, just six foot tables, two workers to a table.
Now it’s not supposed to be what you’d call quiet as a morgue; it’s just supposed to be quiet so we can concentrate on our work.
So here’s what I’ve noticed:
What’s up with all that? Passive-agression or what?
Shall I make a movie to illustrate?
We all have co-workers; we have many kinds of co-working relationships. Some of our work relationships are supposed to be egalitarian, most are not nonetheless. Co-working has many ramifications; not all of us are good at it. Remember the scores we got on our report cards for “Works well with others”? I don’t remember what my scoress were; I was always concerned with my “regular subjects.”
Now, we believers have a Co-Worker who is omnipotent and we are in a whole new league.
How does one work with the Omnipotent? Søren Kierkegaard said it well—”in blessedness and terror.” It’s not easy to partner with the Omnipotent, it’s hard enough to partner with a near-equal. But God is omnipotent and we are able to do nothing at all.
But we find that almost impossible to live with. There is such a lot riding on the thing—our standing in the community, for instance. No one likes to think he is going to be shown out to be the incompetent—the lazy one—the one who cannot pull one’s own weight. I know I don’t like being the person who cannot interface successfully with the business world, but whether I like it or not I am that person. Mind you, I am very good at doing quite a few things—but I am not capable of turning those skills into money. It’s just not in my character.
I run out of money and the bills pile up. Then, after struggling with guilt and shame and fighting with myself about whether I should beg donations for my volunteer web work, I finally go ahead and beg and feel bad for asking for a love-gift. When I stop and think I recollect all the things I did out of love for my web people. I put my passion into their web sites and hoped they would not think I was doing it for gain, and I wasn’t … or was I? I was really doing it to gain their love, to hoodwink them into loving me if I may be so frank. Ha. And I was doing it all without regard for my omnipotent Co-Worker, or without much regard. Doing God’s work without noticing Him. If I thought of Him at all it was a fast and fleeting thought, because I am good at fixing up web sites and I am good at fixing them fast. I love doing that and I love having people say, “Joe sure knows a lot about web stuff.”
And so, I am an example of a person—as most of us are—who is not good at working well with others, particularly our Omnipotent Other. We think we are good alone, or no-good alone—but alone nonetheless. Because we forgot we have an omnipotent Co-Worker.
Kierkegaard went on to say, “if he is your co-worker, you are able to do everything.” And so, there is a paradox to add to our body of paradox that is the Christian life.
God is omnipotent. We are powerless.
God is our Co-Worker. We are empowered.
It’s a hard road but we must walk it out. We have to bear it in mind one hundred percent of the time. We must never let it slip away … but we do. And when it slips away, not only do we get off-balance, but we begin to imagine we are alone; He is nowhere to be found. It’s a falsehood but then we would often rather believe falsehoods.
We have to go down spiralling, tailspinning, grasping at our phantom ripcords. We have to get confused—can’t see which way is up, in order to right ourselves.
God is omnipotent, but not seen. None of our kin have seen Him. But somehow or another we know—we must believe that He is the only One can surrender to. And so we do.
In the Peanuts comic strip, one of the kids (Lucy or Linus?) used to make a habit of telling the Beethoven-playing Schoeder that what people really want to hear is ‘waltzes, schottisches, and polkas’. And they were quite right, in more ways than we know.
But I want to add one more kind to the list. People like to hear ‘Dear John’ in a squeeky voice. So, going on that radical assumption, I did it. But let me back up a little.
The previous Friday, no the previous to that, three of my co-workers entertained with voice and guitar. I was so proud of them for their courage and humility and I decided just then I would end my seven year bitter ol’, wornout, jaded, don’t-do-that-anymore songwriter phase. So I went to our entertainment director and said, ‘put me down for next Friday. I promise to tune my guitar’. And she did and I did tune my guitar. And welded the pegs in place (only kidding).
I went home and wrote my parody, based on one of my old humorous songs (to the melody of ‘Bill Grogan’s Goat’), included all the inside work-place jokes and prepared myself mentally. I kept saying to myself, ‘what I really need is to stand up and humiliate myself.’ and I insured that by telling everyone, ‘watch me humiliate myself this Friday in Room 5′.
I said, ‘It’s not gonna be pretty but you will laugh’. And they did. But I didn’t have time for an encore. So I re-upped.
Angela asked me for another and it was then that my mean, little self-hating brain hatched the scheme. I would do something so radical, so shocking, so stupid, that they would have to laugh even more; they would have to laugh a rolling, rollicking, wave of a laughter and applause, and I would feel loved.
Now a word of warning for anyone planning on singing ‘Dear John’ in a squeeky voice. You will have to find a fortress of solitude in which to practice. ‘Dear John’ in a squeeky voice has to be done loud to work. Maybe I should clarify what I mean by squeeky. Remember Mr. Haney from Green Acres and remember that sort of feigned involuntary yodeling voice he talked with? The voice that kept breaking and changing octaves as he spoke? Well that’s the technique and you have to over-sing to pull it off. And you don’t need your guitar, that just gets in the way; you’ll need total concentration on your voice. My fortress of solitude is the inside of my car while I am driving on the interstate highway, making sure no one is parallel to me in the next lane, or even the next next lane. Then, and then only do I feel safe enough to caterwaul that loud and that stupid.
So, the day before the performance I got a plug from the director. She said, ‘Joe’s gonna sing a song tomorrow at entertainment time’.
And, of course I piped up, ‘I wouldn’t really call it a song, it’s gonna be more like … self-immolation’. And the reason I had to say that was to prove it by starting it right then—with that self-depracating joke. We self-depracators have a saying, ‘Always stay one step ahead.’ That way if your self-immolation is not up to snuff, at least you’ve got the self-depracating prelude joke to notch on your belt. Confused?
The next day, I kept thinking, ‘why am I doing this?’ But I did it anyway. I stood up on cue, opening with “Life Gets Teejus”, a humorous poem about the laziness of the urbanity-deprived country boy. Then I was ready for my pièce de resistance. I read a prepared introduction setting a serious mood for an exquisitely saaa-aad song and started in.
Now I gotta tell ya, I use expert timing on this; I don’t start the squeekiness on the first line, then I let just a little bit slip in on the second. Then more and more often and and more and more extreme on each line till it’s totally out of control on the last line. I gave it my all … no, sorry … not my best performance. My memory found little faults. Like I should have stuttered three times on this line, ‘… tonight I wed your br br brother …’ But I only did twice. I didn’t ’stick it’. Sorrrryyy
But they did laugh. And they did clap.
But not enough to make me feel truly loved. Will I ever?
[Edit: (2 hours later) Just now as I was driving to the park to walk some laps I stuck it. Oh well …. ]
We saw a documentary on Nashville WNPT channel 8 about the women of Gee’s Bend, Alabama and about the quilts they have been making for generations. The program was very interesting and informative, but the biggest thing about the thing was the love and faith that was communicated by the women.
I am filing this post under the category Work but it’s about love too. These women worked skillfully and creatively on these quilts but they didn’t really think so highly of their work until, through a sequence of events beyond their power, they and their quilts became famous.
There is a major museum show of their work, a major book and now the documentary. It is remarkable. It’s also more than remarkable how the love and thankfulness shines through. As I was watching I felt these women could be my mothers and sisters. Every woman interviewed displayed an inclusive relational attitude. It is also very apparent that the Christianity they espouse is deeply held and lived out.
I am posting this under my Work category but it is really just as much about love.
Here are some sites with information:
Quilts of Gee’s Bend
Auburn University Gee’s Bend Page