Wandering in (and wondering at) the Rain

Yesterday at the Sishya camp, after our night session as I was about to leave the big hall and head back to the dorms, it started to rain. I ran to the dorm with a book on G.K. Chersterton tucked inside my muscle tee to prevent it from getting wet.

I left the book in my dorm, changed over to shorts, muscle tee and rubber sandals and went back to get drenched in the night rain. It was absolutely awesome... Often, when I would be in office it would rain and the best I could do would be to watch the rain with an unquenched yearning in my heart to get drenched in it. So whenever I get an oppertunity to get drenched in rain, I never miss it.

It was the one most beautiful experiences I have had of late... The experience overwhelmed my senses as I was wandering about in the rain for more than an hour, my soul rapt in a sense of wonder. The sweet aroma of the wet sand, the cool sea breeze, the rain droplets on my skin, the incessant streaks of lightening that made the clouds glow across the dark expanse and then the meloncholic roar of the thunders following them... I couldn't want more of beauty. :)

I was wondering... with my head upwards towards the sky eagerly looking for the lightenings, I did not look ahead and so walked like a about zombie. Each time I saw the sky lighten up with the beautiful lights I found myself saying 'wow'... everytime!!!

God has had an awesome sense of esthetics and creativity when He made life, and He imparted into man the ability to revel in the sublimity of His creation. 'Oh! God how great thou art...' said I in the midst of the steady drizzle and the streaks of lightening bolts not unlike the ones that the Polish Priest saw which inspired him to write the very words of the great hymn.

Sometimes, the clouds were so low and the lightening was so high above that the lightening streaks wouldn't be distinctly visible, but the entire mass of clouds would lighten up like a gaint flourosent bulb; such sights were absolutely awe inspiring. In a second there would be four or five bolts of lightening and the clouds would flicker like the lights in a disco, only a million times more beautiful.

As the steady drizzle continued slanting from the west to the east, I stood by the street light facing the west and I would see the individual droplets of rain emerge from the utter darkness of the night and race through the air to hit my face carrying with itself a sparkle from the street light as it would near me. It was beautiful to see the fast, sparkling, cool particles emerge out of nowhere and hit my face - my eye lids, my eye lashes, my lips, my cheeks, my forehead... - a titillation to my senses.

I continued wandering in the Rain, wondering at its beauty and awed at the brilliance of the Creator until my knees began to ache and wanted rest. When I came back to my room, it was already midnight. I shall cherish this memory for as long as I live as one of the most beautiful experiences of life. If there is one person I need to be grateful for this, it is to God who 'fashioned' me with sight, smell and senses such that I would enjoy His creation to ALL its FULLNESS.

I was Lost at Church

Last week, I did not go to church in the morning. I attended the evening Eucharist.

Something hilarious happened. During the offertory prayer the congregation stood up and I stood up and I closed my eyes and was lost in thought when I opened my eyes again, the whole congregation was already sitting for what seemed like a pretty long time and I did not know who long I had been standing with my eyes shut deep in thoughts about life and God.

What is hilarious is not just that I stood longer than needed, and not just that I did not know how long I had stood after the congregation sat, it is just that when I am lost in thought as I was I should have looked very funny to folks there. When I am thinking my hands generally move in tune with my mind, but here my hands were fiercely clutching the pew in front of me, (incidentally none was sitting in front of me) if my hands couldn't not have move then my whole body would have swayed or even jerked a little in tune with my thoughts. It would have been utterly hilarious to folks sitting behind me to see me move and sway. :)

Actually, during the offertory prayer I was deep in thought about something I was not concentrating on the prayer, then suddenly I heard the pastor say 'Holy... Holy... Holy...' and there was something so beautiful about how he said it. He paused after each 'Holy' and seemed to utter the next with increasing awe it was as though with each utterance of the word 'Holy' a part of God's holiness permeated him. It was so beautiful and I was completely lost in the beauty of it and made a clown of myself...

I can't help laughing every time I think of that episode. Lesson to be learnt here is that next time I close my eyes to pray, I should concentrate on what is being said out there and not get lost in my thoughts. :)

My Summer's Love Affairs

As the long and hot summer wearies on and I see the children take off from school and enjoy the summer holiday in spite of the scorching sun, I am reminded of the Summer Love Affairs of my childhood.

When I was a kid, summer was a time to fall in love - to fall in love with life. It was a time like no other, because all I did during summer was to live life in a timeless bliss.

There was something so consistent and characteristic about my childhood summer love affairs. It is about that that I want to reminisce upon. It is about loving different kinds of young ones in the animal and bird kingdom by nurturing them into adulthood.

Every moment of my being during summer holidays would be centered around my love affairs with the young being that my sister and I nurture. The young ones could be chicks, pups, squirrels, sparrows, butterfly larva… When I wake up in those summer mornings, first thing I would do would be to go and see how the young ones are thriving. Every other hour I would have to feed it. The rest of the time I and my sister would play with it. Chicks will go to sleep early at night and I would watch it sleep, but they wake up early in the morning. My mom would put the chick on my face to make me wake up and I would wake up the feeling of the soft feet of the chick on my face. In fact I wake up kissing the chicks. If it is pups that we grow, it would be pup on my face to make me wake up by licking my cheeks, nose or lips or eyes... And who wouldn't want to kiss a pup.

Such were my summer love affairs.

Well, in summer my sister and I would go to my grand mother’s house. In my grand mother’s house which was a kind of a farm house, were many squirrels having their homes. During summers the squirrels have kids. And sometimes the parent squirrels disappear, accidentally dead or stoned by young bored kids in summer holidays seeking some excitement by training themselves with country-made catapults.

For me and my sister the greatest pleasure of life was to take those young ones which actually look like mice without hair, eyes still closed and then feed them with milk using rubber ink-fillers and nurture them and make them grow. And when they can live on their own, we would leave them to go off into the wild.

The hardest part would be when we have to let-go of them. Everytime we have to let go of them, it would be so heart wrenching as though we are letting go the 'love of my life'. Our mother said that if we loved them, we should never cage the animal or bird. Whatever we grew it ought not to be caged, unless it was for its own safety from prowling cats.

I vividly I remember how exuberant I was when one afternoon I was walking in my grandmother’s big house and found a little orphaned squirrel squeaking as its parents had disappeared. I searched for it home and found a couple of more little orphans. We adopted them and grew them. I think only one survived to become an adult squeriel, my memory is vague on numbers though it is vivid about emotions.

Invariably every summer, we’ll have something to nurture, grow and let then loose. Sometimes I’ll cry a little when I have to let loose, but I knew I would have to do it because I loved it.

I think two or three summers, we loved orphaned squirrels. Other summers, it would be little chickens which we would buy from shops just to have the joy of loving and nurturing them, but most of them would die in a fortnight or in a month. Of the many that we grew I remember only one that survived to become an fully grown hen.

We have lost many a chick to the vultures. I have seen vultures swoop down from nowhere and take my chicks away even as the chicks wander away when I play with them in the open terrace of our home.

How I used to cry when I lost my chicks to vultures. I would try to feel how painful it would be for the chicks to have its body torn and intestines pulled out and eaten by vultures. I used to console myself with the thought that that was how nature worked. Sometimes I used to wish I could do the same thing to the vultures that it did to my chicks, othertimes I used to wish that I had a gun to kill the vultures that tried to harm my chicks.

During a few summers we grew sparrows and in one it was an abandoned cuckoo bird instead of sparrows. Invariably during every holiday we’ll nurture the larva of butterfly, my sister and I would love it when the larvae used to crawl across our palms. We’ll get saddened when they begin to metamorphosis to a pupa. Then would begin the patient wait to see it turn to a beautiful pupa and then to turn dark brown and ugly pupa and then wait even more to see the butterfly break open from within the pupa and come out with ‘flying colours’.

I have observed many times the whole process of how the butterfly breaks open comes out begins to walk, spread and dry its wet wings, stretch its beautifully colored wings and then suddenly, it is off airborne. It is generally difficult to predict when it would take off. It would seem to be warming up and then suddenly in a flash it takes off. So marvelous is the creation of God.

We also used to grow pups. I used to love the feeling of the pup crawling on me - to feel its soft paws and the sharp nail on the skin and to feel it lick my face would be the most pleasurable experience. But eventually when the pup would grow up we would always give it off to someone, until we grew our dear dashund ‘winny’ which eventually lived 12 years with us and is now buried under a coconut tree in our backyard.

There is one incident that I can never forget. It was with one of the squirrel’s young ones. In my excitement at having won a caroom board game with my mom and sister, I was so elated and I was jumping around unaware of the young squirrel whose eyes had not yet opened was crawling around. The unthinkable happened, my jumping feet landed on its head at an oblique angle.

It started squealing. My mom said that it would die as the shape of its head had been changed. Every 30 minutes it would squeal and throw itself up in seizures. If we kept it in its box it kept hitting it head against the walls during the seizures causing more pain. So we hung it in a soft cloth bag so that when it jumps around in a fit, it would not hurt its head. In fact, the soft cloth bag was none other than my lunch bag which couldn’t find a better use during holidays.

We were expecting it to die off slowly. I was so guilty because I was the cause of so much pain to the squirrel. To redeem myself, I would diligently look after it. I would take it every hour to feed milk through an ink-filler. I would feel so sad that I was the cause of its lopsided head which I would hold with my fingers to the tip of the ink filler and gently squeeze the rubber just enough to get the right flow of milk so that an overflow of milk which could enter the tiny nostrils which is just above the mouth would be prevented.

I never thought it would survive, it kept having the seizures for many days. I and my sister used to pray that it would live. To me, those days would be tense. We would go out and when we come back the thought occupying my mind would be whether or not the little one would be alive when we got back home. And it was a miracle that the squirrel slowly recovered under our care and became an adult eating fruits and nuts. The time came for it to be let-go and I remember letting go of it in the Neem tree that was in front of our house. It quickly disappeared into the tree.

I don’t think I cried that time. I was glad that the hurt I had caused was healed completely.

As I reminiscence on my love summer love affairs, I realize how blessed I have been to have had so many lovely experiences. I think when Adam and Eve were in the garden of Eden the whole of their time was a summer love affair for them. No wonder Adam enjoyed naming all the animals. I dont think he stoped with naming the animals he must have played with them, just as I hope we'll play with them in the 1000 years of peace on earth when the Lord reigns. I thank God for all the lovely experience of my childhood which perhaps was just a foretaste of the 1000 years of peace that Christ promised.

What has life become now? I have almost forgotten the foretaste. In the corporate world, I live in the comfort of air-conditioned towers made of glass, steel and concrete completely protected form the scorching summer's heat. But at a HUGE cost - the cost of being alienated from any possibility of rejuvenating my summer's love affairs and that of being estranged from loving life in a timeless bliss.

Obama, Mother's Day and pleasing God.

CNN's Wolf Blitzer interviewed Obama after Time Maganize concluded that he was the to be the Democratic nominee for the November Presidential elections. Towards the end of the interview, Wolf, because the interview was on the Mother's day weekend, asked Obama what his mother would have thought about him if she had been alive to see him now.

Obama gave his flashing smile and then went on to what kind of a person his mother was as to how hard working and generous she was and so on and so forth with his usual eloquence. Then came his killer line "if she were alive today she would tell me, Son dont allow any of this to go to your head'". Then he talked about how his wife Mitchelle was the mother of his life now, being honest with him, about his short comings and taking care of his two daughters.

He then makes an important point about his mother. He says that she was someone he would always to to for any counsel he needed. He says that even now when he is in a dilema, that he would ask himself 'what would mom do here?', 'if I were to do this, would she approve of it, would it please her (that I am her son)'.

As Christians who love God, we need to give God the same place that Obama gives his mom. Whenever we do anything with our 'hands', we need to ask oursleves, 'Does God approve of this?' 'Am I pleasing God or am I provoking Him?'

The Lord says in Jer 25:6,7 that we should not provoke him to anger by the works of our hands.

When Obama spoke of how his mom was still very much a part of his live even years after her departure from his life, I couldn't help seeing the parallel in Christian living. We too need to live life so that God is a part of the decision making process of our life, we need to live with our face to Him.

Global Food Crisis - Who is really Barbaric here?

I was watching CNN clipings of the riots in Haiti and was wondering why people had to go about vandalizing shops and institutions in such a barbaric manner, even before I could complete the process of gathering a whlosome perception of the situation, there anchor’s voice said ‘you are watching the Food crisis riots in Haiti…’

For quite sometime, I had been following the food crisis that has been showing up it menacing head and so at the interjection of the anchor's, my entire perception of the presumed barbaric act changed. The price of rice, wheat and maize has gone up by about 300% since 2000. Salaries have not kept pace. Human kind is facing a severe food crisis.

I have been reading articles for about a month about the increasing number of people slipping below the poverty line because they are not able to buy enough food for their families. The poignant accounts of plight of such poor souls would make ones eyes wet.

The two reasons attributed are firstly, the raise of crude oil price which encouraged the US government to promote farmers to harness bio-fuel from food crops. Crops were cultivated not to be eaten but to be processed to produce substitutes for fossil fuels. Secondly, the increased food consumption in the emerging economies India and China which tries to immitate American consumerism created a demand which supply could not match.

As I was reminiscing over the riots, I was wondering what sense ethics made there. To go about vandalizing and looting is barbaric and wrong, but when one does not have food to feed ones children what does one do? Sit around and watch ones children die? In such a setup what is the moral thing to do? What is right? What is wrong? Who is responsible for the plight of these poor souls in anguish?

The present food crisis, apart from usual vagaries of monsoon and impotent government policies, has two primary reasons as stated. As I was continuing on my reminiscing I realized that, I, in the very act of living my own cozy little life was contributing my own share to both factors which caused the food crisis.

I drive around the roads in Chennai (India) in my gas guzzling motor cycle the Royal Enfield Bullet (which is kind of an old-fashioned Indian equivalent of the great Harley Davison). I could drive a motor cycle that burns less fuel, but I don’t because I love the driving experience the 350 cc Bullet gives me and I don’t care that I am burning the excess fuel just for the sake of my own pleasurable driving experience.

The regular activity on most weekends is munching into KFC Burgers and SubWay Sandwiches and now, thanks to the newly opened Mac Donald in Chennai, there is greater bandwidth of choices to be titillated from. I don’t wait to ponder if it is something I really need. I want it and I just get it. I’m single and I have the privilege (plight in one sense) of not having to support anyone but my own self and consequently I swipe my card and fill my tummy with all possible junk. All this, only for the sake of enjoying the titillation my tongue enjoys in the process.

A few hundred millions of folks with an attitude like mine, who want to live comfortable lives in air conditioned houses, offices and cars and who want to eat for the sake of pleasure and not for the sake of survival, in the very process of living our hedonistic ‘unexamined’ lives are depriving billions of their very chance for survival, and right to decent living.

Who may I ask is really barbaric here? The poor soul who goes about vandalizing because he cannot feed his children or the hedonist who goes bout in air conditioned cars with surplus to feed his already fat children, indifferent to the plight of his fellow being who exists just outside the hedonist's air (apathy) conditioned environment and who is left only to see his already malnourished children grow hungrier and slowly ebb towards annihilation?

Separated by a Glass Pane

In traffic signals there are people begging, children and women with young ones in their arms ‘claiming’ our compassion.

Of course, they lay a claim to our wallet. But underneath the appearances, the situation of their plight of having to lay claim to our wallets, in effect, makes a claim to our compassion, not just our charity.

We the fat and the rich of our land who drive in air conditioned cars have separated ourselves from them by a glass pane, the window of our cars. We use the transparent window or our cars to turn a blind eye to the plight of these people who are lost.

We somehow think that just because there is a separation of a glass pane between us and them, that their reality does not affect us. We then extend it one more step to assume that we have no obligation to them who find themselves in a reality quite different from our comfortable cozy cars.

How can the glass pane create so much separation? If the glass pane weren’t there we would rather prefer to shell out 10 bucks to get rid of them. Is the glass pane so powerful?

Sometimes I wonder how long it would take them to cause a crack in our glass panes. What would happen if they decide to resort to violence? They do not want to resort to this violence because they don’t not want to kill the ‘golden goose’, which is their livelihood.

But if we should just stretch our imagination a wee bit and realize that they might as well resort to break open our glass panes to give us an experience of the reality which we have shut ourselves from, then we would begin to have a different perspective of our own cozy realities.

Our lack of empathy would turn to a sense of insecurity and then at that point, we shall begin to understand the reality of their lives and the right sense of empathy would be restored in us.

If our glass panes are to be blamed for the separation, then the only solution is for it to be broken down. If the problem is our own hearts, the steely tissue that beats unceasingly till the end of our being, then solution is for that to be softened enough by the harsh realities of life to be sensitive enough to the plight of those whose lives are a part of the harsh realities.

The bottom line is that something has to be broken. The brokenness has to come from within, as in the Lutheran Reformation or it shall be forced from without, as in the French Revolution.

When The Magician Begins To Believe His Magic

Neville Isdell, who was a retired veteran of Coke was brought back from retirement to be the CEO to bring about a turnaround in Coke, when was asked the reason why Coke began to loose strength during the late 90s by the Economic Times when he was in India recently, said, ‘…When the magician starts to believe the magic, it’s a problem…’

When the executive begins to believe in his power and authority rather than his ability to be agile and innovative, it is a problem. When too much believe is placed in the magic of the brand rather than believing in ones ability to create and foster the brand itself, it is a problem.

I see a parallel between this and the contemporary Christian worship. In contemporary Christian worship the biggest problem is that the, worship leader has begun to believe in the methodology of worship rather than in man’s ‘innate’ ability to wonder at his Maker irrespective of the methodology of worship.

He believes in music to create the spirit of worship and begins to believe in this magic rather than his ‘innate’ ability to worship the Maker with all Truth and Spirit.

Recently, I happened to attend a worship session by a celebrity worship leader. He said, "Don’t worry about the words that you do not know, just catch the spirit of the song. That is enough". At first sight this seems an innocuous statement and quite pragmatic, one might add, why bother with OHPs and LCDs.

But as on pauses to think over what is being trusted here, one realizes that is all about ‘catching the spirit’. I wonder what spirit is easy enough to ‘catch’. He did not care that his singing was 'contentless'.

Here the ‘magician beings to believe his magic’ and that is trouble. Big time trouble.

Much of contemporary Christian worship believes in the act of worship rather than the Worshiped. They dont care that their singing is 'contenless' as long as the audience is pepped up to a contented frenzy.

Unless we learn to go back and learn from the age old Saint of how they worshiped in Truth by Gregorian chants and Byzantine art, we shall end up missing the important element of Truthful worship - the centrality of God’s greatness which invokes the innate need in man to worship is Maker.

Why do I write?

I have been thinking of why I write though I don’t have much of an audience which is evident from the fact that all of my writing has got just two comments.

In the movie ‘Fall of the Roman Empire’ the philosopher emperor Marcus Arelius becomes cognizant of the fact that he is nearing his death. His philosophical mind begins to ponder over what death would mean to him. Even after much contemplation he realizes that he is clueless. At this point because he is clueless about death, it seems to him that he is clueless about life as well.

His pragmatic self questions his philosophic self as to why his philosophic self has been pouring over so many things all his life even though, ultimately, it would all remain non-sense to his mind.

His philosophic mind pauses as it gets introspective and thinks as to why it has been doing what it has been doing…

Then it answers ‘…(I am a man)… what is man if he cannot read, think, talk and write…(about life)…’

When I heard that I agreed with reading, thinking and TALKING but I did not understand why writing was so special. I thought writing made little sense because I presumed it would just be a passive pouring out of the thinking already done.

But then I had not done much writing myself and presumed that writing was too passive a work to be enjoyable. In time, I started writing. It started with long emails in egroups and then went on to a deliberation of a few thoughts and then progressed to expressing my opinion on what was said by folks in movies or magazines…

I also discovered that when I started writing many thoughts began to ‘gel’ together and the very process of gelling was a pleasure in itself. That apart, writing was also a means of self-discovery, an act of ‘looking for me…’

Now as I look back, and think about my presumption that writing would be too passive to be pleasurable, I have only to laugh at myself for my naivety. Now I know why Marcus Arelius includes writing in the list that makes man a man.

I am a man, therefore I write. :)

Amazing Grace - 'saw but was blind, am blind but still I see'

I was seeing the wonderful movie the ‘Amazing Grace’ which is the story of William Wilberforce whose early life is depicted as young man confused about himself. He has a glittering political career ahead of him, his quick wittedness and rhetoric in the house stand as substantiate evidence of his abilities, but on the other his heart is most endeared to the simple and beautiful things in God’s creation, from the daffodils to the spider webs laden with the moisture of the heavy British atmosphere.

He contemplates a life of solitude for God’s service away from the politics and the pleasures of the world. He feels a need to do something about the plight of the slaves. Some tell him that he could be a politician and serve God through it. He needs guidance and goes to meet the old Rev. John Newton, the famous slave trader turned priest who penned the song ‘Amazing Grace’.

Wilberforce wants John Newton to explain to him about the atrocities faced by the slaves. All Newton tells him is that he is always haunted by twenty thousand ghosts of the slaves. He tells him nothing more.

When Wilberforce presses him further and he concedes that he has the heart to face his past by recounting his experience in the slave trade industry, an bring back the 20,000 ghosts to haunt his conscience. John Newton does not relent, he refuses go back and face the reality of his past.

Years later, Wilberforce in the thick of his struggle against the slave owners of the parliament to pass the abolition of slave trade, goes back to meet John Newton again. Then Newton is much older and ‘blind’. He notices something astounding, Newton recites an account of all his dealing in the slave trading industry and has a young man write it all down.

Wilberforce is surprised how Newton decided to do what he avowed that he would never do - bring back the old memories and allow him to be tormented by the twenty thousand ghosts.

John Newton, replies ‘I once was Blind, but now I see’. It is such a profound statement because it has no physical truth because it is only ‘now’ that he is blind. It is a metaphysical statement because earlier, though he saw, he was ‘blind’ about himself because he did not want to delve into the depths of his wretched conscience and be haunted, broken and contrite. But now he was blind but still he saw. He saw himself in true light of the conscience that God had given him.

One cannot ‘see’ oneself as long as one chooses to be blind to old hurting memories. One has to relinquish the comfort of ‘conscious amnesia’ and be haunted by ones own vileness and be broken before the One whose grace is ‘Amazing’ in the light of the vileness of ones nature and embrace His grace, before one can ‘truly’ see oneself in the light of the Light of the World.

In His Father’s Name

In my father’s Name is a movie which I started watching at about 12:00 am, I wanted to go to bed in half an hour and continue that movie the following night, but I ended up sleeping at 3:00 am as I sat and watched the whole of the movie.

It’s a story of a happy go lucky guy who of all things in the world wants to gets away from the control of his timid and conservative father and enjoy life on the high wire. He get away from Ireland to England to be as far as possible from his father. Being from Ireland he and a few of his friends and their families are tortured and framed in an IRA bombing case by the British police under the Prevention of Terrorism Act.

He gets 30 years prison sentence. His father is also convicted to 15 years sentence. He goes to his prison cell and then realizes to his utter horror that his father too has been assigned to the same cell, and his father's confession that he gald to be a guiding force in his son's prison life did not help. Of all places this was where he wanted to be away from his father, but he had to be under his watchful eye again.

Here his new life started, at the prime of his years, amid ruins. He loves his father but hates his ways of dealing with life. He had always seen his father as a timid person whose kind would become extinct in the evolutionary cycle.

But as the despondency of the prison becomes overwhelming does he realize that his timid father has a strength which he lacked, the strength of hope. His father was working on plan to expose the violation of Prevention of Terrorism Act and found hope and purpose to cling on to whereas he was finding himself sulking about life doing drugs and partnering with the strong men of prison world to incite his timid father's watchful eye.

Slowly he realized that the strong men he admired were in fact very inhuman and that their strength was a weakness of theirs to fight their feeling of insecurity. At one point he makes a ‘principled’ stand against the strong men when they try to burn the prison warden. It is only here he realizes that his father’s ubiquitous timidity was in fact great strength of principle.

It is here the father son relationship is restored. Just then his father beings to die, all his father wants is to meet his family, but that is not granted. He then asks his father how he copes separation with his wife. His father replies ‘Every night that I got to bed, I take your mom’s hand in mine and walk parks and the streets of Dublin, I have been doing it every night all these years’.

After his father’s death he remains in the prison for another 10 years, a completely changed man. Reading books, writing articles, exercising to keep himself fit. He continues this until the day evidence is uncovered the police officials had willfully framed him and his father and that he had spent 15 years in prison for no mistake of his. He is released with an apology.

He came into the prison a despondent man who thought his life, with the 40 sentence was over. When his father came and told him that he had given himself in to see to it that his son would be well, he was mad that his father would continue to keep a watchful eye over him.

But only in this state of complete loss, does the ground become fertile for a complete metamorphosis. Through his father’s, hope and principled resilience, his life gets a new meaning. He learnt the way to live from the very person, his father, whoes way of life he loathed. After his father's death, he lives on continuing where his father left, unwilling to give in to despondence, to fight the battle of life in His Father’s Name.

Greed and Fear So Accentuated...

The fifth largest brokerage and Securities firm, a firm that was 87 years old, a firm whose market value was close to $20 billion last year was sold out for a measly $240 million. Its share value which was $30 on March 14 reduced overnight to $2. Yes, I am talking about the much hounded topic the meltdown of Bear, Stearns & Co. Inc.

How do such things happen? Last year the CEO James Cayne received a salary of $40 million and this year the whole company is sold out for $240 million. What does all this mean? What does money mean? The bigger question is what does Security mean?

The cause of whole of this imbroglio is spelt out in the words of Gail Fosler, the President and chief economist of The Conference Board, independent non-profit organization doing research on management and market place economics, when she said "I have never seen the tension between greed and fear to be so accentuated…”.

On one side people were driven by greed to make the quick buck without prudent and virtuous investing principles. It was greed that was the driving force starting from the CEO of big corporations to the mortgage agencies and to the person who buys the house entirely on debt.

The financial world wanted to churn in the numbers within a year, whether practices that were undertaken to do it would make it worthwhile in the long term was never given consideration. And when their practices started working against them, fear gripped them.

All unrealized profits were going down the drain, to realize profits one had to sell out quickly even if the markets were going down so that they end up booking profits before the markets go down further more. Here the drive is fear that the market would soon go into a tail spin.

Suddenly, gripped by inexorable fear the investors had a run on Bear Stearns & Co for the tune of about $17 billion when the market value of Bear Stearns & Co was just a fraction of that amount. All investors who wanted Bear Stearns to make more money for them wanted what was left of their money, fearing that if they did not do that that even what is left out would be lost.

It was too much for Bear Stearns & Co, it had to go under. JP Morgan came to rescue, agreeing to by it for $2 a share when the previous day’s close was $30 a share down from $160 a share a year ago.

That is the story of greed and fear so accentuated… so far. Many more may follow... :(

Will this cycle of greed and fear ever end. Unfortunately, it may not, until capitilism holds sway because in the capitalistic system greed is a virtue that keeps the machine running. Fear is the natural result of unfettered greed. As we live this life in the capitalistic system we shall continue to witness many more cycles of collective greed and collective fear accentuating each other creating much havoc.

Philosophy in the Corporate World!!!!

Recently, in an interview to ET, an eminent professor from Harvard was questioned about the hurdles that were in the way to China becoming a superpower.

Interestingly, one of the hurdles he stated was that China believes in no God. Why should the corporate world be worried about the philosophic base of a country?

This is precisely because whether one likes or not the concept of God is so important to life. Much of what man does in life follows ones belief about God. When a country or a corporate setup is built on a foundation that isn’t resting on a bigger philosophic foundation of belief in God, results can be catastrophic.

Corporations are indeed worried about how a corporation built in a setup devoid of any concept of God would survive in the long term. Corporations are all about lives of people, without God, lives haven’t enough of a reason to live.

As per this Harvard Professor, the issue of atheism comes to the fore when a country is built on an atheistic foundation.

Its interesting that even the corporate world too have to give due credence to philosophy at least once in a while.

The Poignant Question in 'Alpha Dog'

A few days back, I was watching the movie Alpha Dog, a true life story, which is actually about adolescents enjoying a luxurious life on dope money. Some are in it for the fun, some are in it for the thrill and some for the dark power they get to wield on others.

The latter kind becomes the problem because when problems surface they tend to get insecure and get to use their power to eliminate the problem at any cost without regard to life.

A young innocent teenager who admires the dope dealers lifestyle becomes prey to this dark power. He is kidnapped on impulse. The police start a serious search. Then they do not know what to do with him. The guys there for fun and thrill want to make him a friend by sharing in their luxurious life style and they girls, that way this kid could be dropped off as a friend who would be grateful for all that they share.

But the guy who enjoys the dark power wants this innocent guy eliminated as he cannot trust this kid. Just when the guys take the teenager to release him, the malevolent character instructs one of the con guys to kill the teenager. The naïve teenager pleads for life but is killed cold blood.

There is a scene in the movie that is heart rending. It is an interview with the real life mother of the teenager. She is a completely distraught woman who seems increasingly imbecile with every sentence she utters because she laughs and gags at the end of every sentence to hide her overwhelming tears. But even then tears profusely flow.

In her tearful tirade against life, nature and God she asks a highly profound question. She vents her pent-up anger against God. She questions God with extreme anguish. The most important question that she puts to Him with great vehemence is the question of purpose.

She rages ‘What is the purpose of this? For what purpose did my son die?’

This brings out a very important point of how important purpose is in facing suffering in life. Man needs purpose. The undeniable need for an ultimate purpose, even in death, points to the reality of purpose.

Many nihilists maintain that every semblance of purpose is an illusion to help man live. Even this genuine need for an illusionary purpose belies the reality of purpose. But a nihilist may argue that even the need may be illusionary. He tends to forget that death isn’t illusionary, death is real. When death is real the need for a real purpose to really overcome the real loss of death also has to be real.

Even as the movie is over, her heart rending words questioning purpose reverberate through our beings.

The Financial Fundemental of the Sub-prime Mess

Sub-prime is making much noise in the media now, but the threat has been anticipated since almost the middle of 2006. I remember reading article in Economic times back in Dec 2006 about the rate hikes done by Fed (Alan Greespan then) would result in a sub-prime meltdown.

The media talks about the social side of the housing market collapse, that people were given loans recklessly and that the borrowers don’t bother to pay back and why they don’t. For the media, this makes more sensational news than the fundamental mistakes which lead to this predicament. Here I just want to talk about the fundamental mistakes made by the economic policy makers, in other words the Fed.

The problem started when Alan Greenspan was still Chairman of the fed. In a effort to keep Wall street happy, kept the interest rate as low as 1%. Wall street is always happy because people would spend more on borrowed money when interest rates are low and this would boost consumption meaning more money at Wall Street.

But everything has side effects. When interest rates go down so do yield on bonds and financial corporations were not getting enough returns on investments (ROI) so they started looking for ways to get more rate of interest. At this point the idea of easily repackaging the loan collaterals into CDO (Collateralized Debt Obligation) came in handy. This promised higher interest when compared with the banks and so the finance biggies were quick to jump in on this opportunity. It’s very interesting how CDOs work but that is out of scope here ;)

Now, this is where the problem came, such CDO (based on loan repayments) should not have been given AAA rating by risk assessment agencies, but they were. So many here was aware of risks involved and they poured money into this opportunity to get more returns. This corporate need (to get more ROI) made credit easily available and consequently the 'criteria' to lend loans was being lowered. The 'middle-man' was given a billion dollars to be lent quickly so that it could be repackaged into CDOs and sold off quickly to address the market need which is to get more ROI.

This was one route for investors get ROI (return on investment) more than the market's Fed rate of 1%. There was another route invest in emerging markets. FIIs were taking this route they invested heavily in Asian stock markets. This had a side effect, which was the depreciation of dollar against other currencies. Initially this was seen as something good, because this was lowering US fiscal deficit and making US goods cheaper abroad again keeping wall street happy.

But this artificial lowering of interest rate cannot go on for ever because, with the dollar consequently going down, that would mean the dollar loosing its place as the standard currency for all international transactions. The OPEC was looking to shift from dollar to Euro. So Fed had to raise the interest rate steadily when interest rates kept going up quarter by quarter upto 7% way back in 2006, financial analysts were already worried that the housing market would collapse and bring he economy spiraling down.

What we see now is just their prediction coming true. The problem was not that the interests were suddenly spiked, the problem was Fed wanted to please Wall Street with some quick-fixes and kept the interest rate too low. This leads to many side effects one of which is the housing fiasco.

But still financial corporations were irresponsibly continuing their affair with CDOs. It should be remembered that when Stanley O’Neal CEO of Citibank was questioned about continued investments in CDOs he replies ‘as long as the music goes on so will the dancing’, a few months later when Citibank came up with billion dollar write downs and Stanley O’Neal was asked to step down, the press was quick to remind him ‘the music most certainly will stop sometime and so will you’.

The Characters in the 'Song of Bernadette'

Song of Bernadette is a movie that profound in many ways. No wonder it got 4 Oscars in 1943. At first sight, it is about a gullible girl who is made to suffer the stigma of the society because of some visions that she sees. On a deeper side, its about what drives people in life and what difference faith makes to ones world view.

On one side is Bernadette a naive girl who hasn’t the caliber to understand the complexities of life around her. She lives a simple life enjoying all the beautiful nuances it offers. One day, she sees a vision of a ‘Beautiful Lady’ in a dump yard over a few days, but none else can see what she does. She does not try to reason out if she is in a hallucination or not, she just has faith that what she saw was indeed true. For this she is stigmatized by the following people. No matter how many times she is ridiculed by them she holds on to her faith.

Then there is the hedonist Mayor who of all cares only for his self advancement. His chief virtue is to seek affluence whatever the means, when Bernadette looked like she would affect his pursuit, he was dead against her when he realized that she meant money of a different kind, he sided with her.

Then there is the stoic nun Teacher of hers whose chief virtue in life is to suffer, to suffer for the sake of suffering hoping that suffering by itself would make her more worthy of God. She looks down on Bernadette as she is a playful simple girl. Then when Bernadette has visions of the Blessed Virgin, she is consumed with envy until she comes to the realization that Bernadette is dieing in excruciating pain at which point she asks for God forgiveness for having treated Bernadette badly and takes it upon her to care for the dieing being.

Then that is the existentialist Doctor. He pronounces Bernadette sane no matter how much the town officials want to send her to an asylum. He claims science to be above all, but his world view is that life is ‘absurdity’ because being an empiricist when he comes across miracles all he can claim is that its absurd. He is also the Sartre existentialist in that his chief virtue is to authenticate himself by his profession, in the midst of all absurdity. That is the only ethic he sees and does his work to perfection. Life to him has nothing more to offer.

Then there is the principled, pragmatic and prudent Reverend. His chief virtue is to be on the side of truth. He knows when to distance himself from Bernadette and when to side with her, whom to side with while not exactly siding with them. When he is convinced about the truth about Bernadette he fights for her tooth and nail even when it meant that he could loose his all.

Then there is the nihilist prosecutor of the city who of all people most earnestly seeks to destroy Bernadette because her claims defies his reasoning. To the prosecutor all of life has to be logical and rational. Anything that does not fit into his logical framework cannot be true. He is a loner who cares for none because logically there is no reason why anyone should care or love. When Bernadette is dead and the place where she saw the ‘Blessed Virgin’ has been converted into a Shrine where many sick come for healing he walks there knowing well that to his logical mind what was happening was an abomination. He walks there knowing that he is fighting a loosing battle with throat cancer but he cannot get himself to seek healing there because it is not logical.

He stands there and reasons out what has come of his life. His logic has driven him to nihilism. Logic and reasoning by itself cannot create anything of value in life and his life driven by logic and reasoning has become devoid of anything that is of any value. He has loved none neither has he allowed anyone to love him. His intellectual pursuits could not help him and he dies alone.

As he walk up to the altar of the shrine with all these thoughts run through his mind, he realizes that his logic cannot save him. Only a faith could give him hope and save him from despair. But his logic is so entrenched into his being that faith can have no place there. The movie ends with his plea calling Bernadette to help his unbelief, seeking help from the very thing he sought to destroy.

Story of the 'Song of Bernadette'

I had been quite sometime since my eyes got wet watching a movie until early morning today when I got to see the movie ‘Song of Bernadette’ which is a 1943 black and white movie.

When you watch the movie you’ll cry for the beauty of the peasant girl, the metaphysical kind of beauty, the beauty of a simple heart that has to endure much the stigma, doubt and the pain that when she dies she begins to doubt her own self.

It’s a story about a simple good natured peasant girl who is known for her sickliness and her gullible stupidity. All she wants in her life is to lead a simple life enjoying all the nuances of life. Even a simple splash of colors could excite her to exhilaration. Of all she just wants to marry a simple man and have a beautiful simple family. And she does have a simple kind-hearted man on her heels which bring color to her pale sickly skin.

She is the eldest last in her class, as she walks the streets everyone laughs. Her teacher snatches from her a holy picture of the manger gifted to her by the Reverend as in her opinion she hadn’t suffered enough to deserve it. Her teacher a nun herself thinks that God rewards those that suffer most.

And one day in a dump yard, she has a vision of a beautiful lady who tells her that she should come to the blessed place for 15 days and see her. Only Bernadette can see the lady, sight of the ‘beautiful lady’ brings great peace to Bernadette’s heart. Story spreads around that the ‘Blessed Virgin’ has appeared before Bernadette and suddenly the simple hearted Bernadette is the object of admiration of the masses, something she does not care for, and the object of ridicule of the elite of the city, something disturbing yet something her gullible heart cannot comprehend and the object of doubt of the Church especially her nun teacher, something that causes the deepest pains in her heart.

The Mayor, the Prosecutor, the Commissioner representing the elite as the harbingers of cultural progress, intellectual credibility, stability of the society respectively, try to do everything to stop her by portraying her as someone causing the masses to regress back to the middle ages, as someone under a hallucination and as someone who disturbs the peace of the town. They use all their powers to brand her a danger to the society, a deceiver of he masses and a fraud that has to be eliminated at all costs. They question her, confuse her and humiliate her. Her simple heart does not understand why people should be so mean to her but she still speaks the truth about her vision of the ‘beautiful lady’.

The wise Reverend silently watches to judge her genuinity having had bad experience with imposters. Her nun teacher simply distrusts Bernadette because she hasn’t suffered enough to warrant God’s grace in any form.

In the meantime the dump yard where the Blessed Virgin gives her visions becomes a place of worship of masses, but the ‘Beautiful Lady’ is visible only to the simple hearted Bernadette. The Reverend asks Bernadette to ask the Blessed Virgin to him a miracle as a sign that Bernadette indeed sees the Blessed Virgin. He tells her to ask her to make a rose plant blossom when it isn’t season yet.

The whole town rallies to the spot, the elite and the masses, to see the events that unfold. Nothing happens. Suddenly as instructed by the ‘Beautiful Lady’ whom none except Bernadette can see, she goes to eat the shrubs and starts to dig frantically at its root applying the damp soil on to her face. The crowd roars with laughter but she goes on until her mom takes her by force to her home.

Bernadette returns home not even cognizant of her stupidity for such is her simple heart. She never sees the ‘Beautiful lady’ again either.

But from the spot where she dug the soil comes out a spring which heals the sick. When the Reverend sees this, he realizes that Bernadette stands vindicated. Hordes of people being to flood the city to be healed by the holy water. The City’s elite decide to put an end to it by branding the water as unclean and by branding her mad and sending her to the asylum. The Reverend steps in to defend her.

He proposes that she be considered for Sainthood as she has been blessed by God and the water which stands a testament heals the sick. She is made to face the inquisition of the papal councils but she is never appreciated or approved. Her nun sister tells her that if she had been born a few centauries earlier she would have been burnt at the stake.

Her simple heart does not understand it all, but she knows that she loves the ‘Beautiful lady’ that appeared to her. She knows that the ‘Beautiful Lady’ was the only person who loved her and understood her. The ‘Beautiful Lady’ was her only solace. She remembers the ‘Beautiful Lady’ telling her a prophesy that Bernadette would not see happiness in this world.

Bernadette wants to marry the simple hearted man who loves her and to lead a simple life. Just then the Reverend convinces her that she having found unprecedented grace of Providence should set herself apart. It would be the cost she would have to pay. She is so simple hearted that she gives-in to his persuasion.

The childlike girl turns her back on the man that loves her, the man decides to remain celibate for the rest of his life. She embarks on her celibate life and is again put under the same nun teacher of hers from whom she faces the greatest stigma. Her nun teacher explains to her that she couldn’t have seen the Blessed Virgin as she hadn’t suffered enough in her life to be worthy before God. She tells everyone that Bernadette is a vile natured kid who came up with the story just to be the center of attention.

The nun confronts Bernadette about her lack of suffering, but Bernadette shows her a sore that causes her much pain that she had to limp around. Doctors consulted diagnose that she has tuberculosis of her bone and that she would die in excruciating pain. It is at this point her nun teacher realizes the cost the Bernadette has to pay she recants. She also realizes that she doubted Bernadette only because of her envy that the Blessed Virgin choose to appear to such a simple hearted person.

Slowly as life ebbs out of Bernadette, the stigma, ridicule and doubts that she faced begin eating into her being. Even then she still faces the question of the councils and gathers up all strength she can bolster to say emphatically that she did see the ‘Blessed Virgin’. Finally, in her deathbed, she calls for the Reverend and tells him that since the day she was humiliated eating shrubs and digging into the ground that she had never seen the ‘Beautiful Lady’ and that then she herself began for the to doubt her vision of the ‘Beautiful Lady’.

At this point one cannot help by cry for Bernadette for such a beautiful heart is made to doubt itself because of the vileness of fellow men. Just then as she regrets her life she regrets for something she does not understand and only the ‘Beautiful Lady’ can save her from this despair. As her body slowly sinks back into the bed wrenched by despair, the ‘Beautiful Lady’ the Blessed Virgin appears again, smiling and reaching out to her and Bernadette eagerly similes back with the same simple hearted smile and having been vindicated in her heart, gives up her ghost.

A Confused Rhetoric

A few days ago in my work place a seminar was organized on Work-Life balance an admirable personality was invited to speak. She is a Ph.D scholar who is involved in many social development activities.

It was a very interesting talk. I did enjoy that much and did admire her for the work she was doing and also for her confidence and presentation skills.

Her talk was edging on philosophy because it is difficult to talk about work-life balance without giving enough philosophical base as to why it is an issue of ethics and not just preferences. She had to give a framework to what she was talking about and she resorted to have the purpose of life as the framework from which to address this topic.

Of course, all this philosophic perspective was not explicit in her talk, it was the implicit assumption or the base on which her talk rested. Here, I am stating the unstated framework to put in the right perspective what I am about to say.

She said that if anyone should be caught up in anything which makes them feel unhappy she said they should quit it. The purpose of life she said was to be happy. For, example is anyone is caught up on a relationship that does not give happiness that they ought to quit it. And she substantiated it by confirming that it is a good thing that 40% of marriages in Mumbai are ending up in divorce, because now people undeterred by archaic values could decide to pull out of relationships of any form, anytime they felt not happy enough.

Pursuit of happiness became the purpose of life and Gross Happiness Product was the well being index of life. Always be happy, be happy, be happy was her recurring rhetoric. When she says so with a sweet smiling face you can’t really be critical about the content. If you don’t feel happy then change something external so that you’ll become happy was her advice.

Such rhetoric is nice to hear but if we were to step back and look at life we would find that when happiness, which is attained by manipulating the external factor, is sought as the goal of life and where happiness is made as the index of well being, there is where happiness is most elusive. And any form of aimless happiness, which is happiness for the sake of happiness, only leads to greater misery. Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World lays clear the dystopia in the utopian world where aimless happiness is sought as the highest virtue.

If we look back at our ancestor who were not that happiness crazy, we find that to them happiness was not something to be pursued but a state of mind that was the byproduct of a person being himself or herself. Somehow this truth does not resonate with anything in the mind of the modern man whose being is permeated by the noise and din of the happiness crazy world.

The other rule of life which she espoused was about loving all people. Objectively speaking, there was no reason why pursuit of happiness has to take ‘loving people’ as a normative in life. Sartre said “each is the other’s hell”. Some may say that when you love people you’ll automatically be happy, to justify that her second normative of loving people follows the first to pursue happiness as the purpose of life. But this proves that happiness only comes as a by-product when love is made the purpose. So if this argument proves anything, it is that happiness can only be really felt when it is attained as a by-product of something greater.

All she said was fine, but the problem was that her framework did not give enough basis for loving people to be made a normative. In fact to really love people one has to go through much pain, for love is never free. Free love cannot be love at all. Love has to have a cost. The cost to be paid for true love is the relinquishment of the selfish pursuit of happiness as the sole purpose of life. For where self asserts itself there love cannot be.

Her rhetoric did not cohere into a system it created conflicting normative. It was confusing rhetoric, at one point life was all about pursing ones own happiness on the other side life was all about loving people.

Looking a little deeper as to why the system did not cohere is because there wasn’t enough of a base on which to rest such normatives. God alone can give enough of a base for the framework, else they all become naïve affirmations and consequently confusing rhetoric.

Without God man hasn’t enough dignity to deserve anything in life and consequently all talk about work-life balance becomes just a series of affirmation or rhetoric which do not create a coherent system. Unless there is a system where the system creator has bestowed dignity on something all perception of inherent dignity becomes a necessary illusion. When such is the base for the frame of life all one is left with is confusing rhetoric.

Freedom isn't Free

Freedom appears to be most sought after by all men. The intelligentsia of enlightenment let out a euphoric cry of victory when it declared its freedom from the clutches of age old traditions and normative values which were based on the belief in an absolute God.

As man began to enjoy and revel in the new found freedom, he saw life from a humanistic perspective where freedom was perceived without a freedom Giver. In spite of the initial euphoria, the plight of enjoying freedom without knowing the freedom Giver slowly lead to a point at which it wasn’t known any more why freedom was given. And none was surprised when the famous existentialist philosopher from France Jean Paul Sartre said ‘I am condemned to be free’.

To Sartre in his enlightened world that was almost a couple of centauries old by then, he found not coherence all he observed was ‘absurd’. He did not know why man had to live? Why life should make any sense at all? Absurdity and nausea were the only certainties in life. But in spite of all senselessness, there was freedom.

In this context of absurdity where no unity of purpose or being in life, freedom becomes a curse because one does not know how freedom should be used. One cannot ever know if there is ever a right way of using freedom, but freedom exists. So such a freedom becomes a burden rather than a gift because the enlightened worldview has rejected the freedom Giver who is the person who knows the purpose and the limits of freedom.

His predicament is like that of one who is put in a fighter aircraft without any ‘revelation’ as to how to operate or what each of the controls are for. Such a person has absolute freedom to do all he wants, but the freedom is his curse because he knows not the purpose of such a freedom.

Freedom comes at a price and there is a price that has to be paid by the freedom Giver and a price that is to be paid by the freedom receiver. The freedom Giver pays a price in taking the risk of giving freedom to another. The freedom receiver pays a price in trying to ‘know’ how freedom should be enjoyed and by trying to align himself to the prerogatives set by the freedom Giver.

Freedom does have its limits, in the sense that freedom works within the framework where it is supposed to work for limitless freedom cannot be freedom any more because at that point freedom becomes nonsensical.

Purposeless freedom is meaningless, the price for freedom is the willingness to submit to the freedom Giver in knowing the purpose and the way to enjoy freedom.

Theology and Philosophy - Relative Importance

Philosophy is man understand of how life works. Theology is God’s revelation of how life works. To the question of what is more important than the other, quite a bit of deliberations are needed from man’s and realitiy’s point of view.

From realitiy’s point of view, theology is more important because if there is reality then there has to be an objective Person who has created reality (even if you were to call that objective entity as a force the implications are just the same) and that objective Person’s revelation of reality to man becomes theology.

From man’s point of view, theology is not something he first understands, it is philosophy that he understands. When he reads theology, he understands it a the point of meaning in philosophic frame. Using theology he frames his philosophy of life. So the end result nevertheless is philosophy.

Even the beginning comes in philosophy, because it is only based on his first understood philosophy that he decides on which theology he is to build his philosophy upon or whether to build his philosophy upon no theology at all. So philosophy is the beginning and the end. At this point it appears that philosophy encompasses theology so it appears to be more important.

But before we conclude about relative importance we need to delve a little further. If driven by ones first philosophy, if one decides to build one philosophy without any theological backing, then in the beginning though it looks like a unified theory is emerging later it is disproved and another unified theory to be proposed. So this process of cyclic disentions and new hypothesises keep on going which causes people to loose all confidence with philosophy. And at that point philosophy cannot trust itself any more (as in the case of Rousseau and the French Revolution or Kierkegaard and his existentialism) leads to annihilation of reason. The basic point of philosophy becomes that there is no philosophy objective enough to be trusted. Or in other words philosophy degenerates into anti-philosophy.

For theology to be comprehended there has to be philosophy for philosophy to be real and for it to have enough of a base to stand on there has to be theology. In the end, theology can exist independently, but philosophy devoid of a theological base cannot exist without disintegrating into anti-philosophy. So theology comes out stronger than philosophy.

My Meditations on Valentine's Day ;)

As I was writing my journal today early morning about 2:30 am, I realized that it was already Valentine's day and it got me a wee bit too romantic in my journal. Nevertheless, being a proud single guy I just wanted to share with all a few sober thoughts.

With the media creating some much hype sensualizing Valentine's day and the society getting increasingly prejudiced by the media, to the post modern 'progressive' man to be single on Valentine's day has become an abomination. To him/her being still single is to be outside the 'Survival of the Fittest' and destined to for extinction in a 'progressive' world.

In the animal kingdom to be unpaired is to be undesirable or unworthy of genetic propagation, the kind that is inferior that he/she is unworthy of life itself. And man living in the post modern world with a 'progressive' naturalistic worldview has no reason why this truth of the animal kingdom should not be applied to human race as well, after all man is a social animal say the science text books.

It’s a pity that the 'progressive' man is actually progressing (as per his worldview it is not regressing but still progressing) back to ape-hood, with regard to the quintessential essence of his innate 'nature'.

To such an apeman, there is no pride in 'character' there is no pride in singleness. To be proud about character or singleness as against following the throng and always be in a relationship, is relegated as archaic morality which is soon to be extinct.

So in the young man's or woman's life to pair up is a face saving act, whether it is with the right person or not is immaterial. The only concern is about whether or not they are in a relationship. And to be unpaired on the Valentine's day is consequently an abomination.

If Christ were to come into this setup, I think He would have said...

'Blessed are those who are single,
For they shall find true love'

Love unlike instinct is not driven by feelings but by a commitment. Commitment comes with patience and prudence in dealing with relationship. Unless there is respect for singleness, there would never be enough maturity for commitment. By jumping headlong into relationships one takes the route to never ever finding true love in life.

It’s better to be single than to be with the wrong person. To be single may not be heaven, but to be with the wrong person is most certainly hell. Its better to be and embodiment of strength in singleness than to spinelessly enter into a wrong relationship just for the sake of being in a relationship and thereby be accepted by the 'progressive' throng.

So the Valentine ’s Day, I would like to encourage all Christian singles to cherish their strength of character in singleness and build on it without feeling inferior or inadequate. They should rather be proud about flaunting their strength in singleness and the opportunity that singleness gives to mature and eventually find the one true love for which they are being fashioned. I would also urge them to prayerfully submit themselves and their yet-to-be-known future spouses to God.

All young Christians who are already paired-up need to re-evaluate their love for God. Before they go to beaches or restaurants or movies with each other to enjoy Valentine’s Day, they should first go to a nearby Church as a symbolic act, submit to God inviting him to be the love of their lives and the unseen host through all of their Valentine’s Day celebrations and their ensuing committed life together.

To all the paired-up ones… ‘Enjoy the Valentine’s Day with your mate submitting to the One True Valentine’

To all the singles… ‘Enjoy the Independence day as your freedom may soon be consumed in love’ :)

May His Blessings Abound,
Emmu.