August 22, 2013
There’s a Time and a Place
A recent obituary told of a man’s love of baseball and his involvement
in softball leagues. The time and place for the funeral service was listed and
in lieu of flowers, “…a donation box will
be available at the memorial service”, with the contributions going to
local baseball leagues. I’m not suggesting that having a donation box is wrong,
I just find it strange. It’s almost as though any assembly is now an
opportunity for fundraising. I suppose it’s no different than the grocery store
checker asking me if I’d like to donate to the store’s designated project by
rounding-up my bill to an even number. Maybe that’s why I find it
curious…there’s no difference.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Gail;
-----I think fun is a part of joy. And I think God created us to live joyfully. Joy also involves some social identity. We are walking paradoxes of mutual individualities. So, as some of us validate our mutual nature by associations around one set of interests, others validate around a different set. By our chosen associations we feel belonging, participation, and stability even though there are multitudes of associations available.
-----I never was much of a social creature (an euphemistic confession of unsociability, “does not play well with others“, arrogance, and other ill mannerisms,) so I’ve had to study grouping action more from an intellectual angle than an experiential one. And thus being a bit more on the outside looking in at the sharing of social interests, I have to chuckle at the variety of choices available for perceiving minor perplexities such as the ubiquitous donation boxes around every corner now seeping into funeral halls.
-----The intention behind them could be as little bill-boards promoting another interest to grab your association. What better way to catch a sympathetic consideration than to make an exhibition of the deceased’s beloved interest at his funeral. Or it could be a little button buffing, “Feel how wonderful the deceased was by dropping a buck towards his socially beneficent interest,” or worse “See how wonderful his survivors are by exploiting your sympathies for such a good cause instead of letting you waste your sympathies on flowers.” The intention could lurk in the dark, conspiratorial shadow of deconstructing the meaning of life and death by replacing the symbolism of beauty within a bunch of dead flowers with the trivia of pitching a quarter to a bunch of partying, wanna-be athletes. The choices are endless, yet a true intention is hidden in the hearts of the organizers.
-----When I see all those donation boxes and contribution pleas everywhere, I brush the thought of intention mostly aside, for I have little chance of knowing it. I like considering more their effect. They give people a moment to feel mutual by generosity, if not also by crossing interest boundaries in parting with a dime. Then even if the collected money does not solve the world’s problems or persuade another soul into Jesus’ hands, it may do just a piece of either somewhere for someone. But mostly, even if I don’t drop a nickel into them, they assure me that there is yet some sociability and generosity left amongst us, otherwise nobody would waste their time trying.
Love you all,
Steve Corey
Post a Comment