Dystopian Fiction?

Are you familiar with the dystopia?  The word is generally defined to be a community or society that is unpleasant or scary, the opposite of a utopia. There have been a lot of books written that fall into this category, some are classics like Brave New World by Aldous Huxley (my older sister and I still occasionally mutter “Oh for Ford’s sake” when feeling particularly frustrated), Animal Farm by George Orwell, and Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.  When I read those books as a teenager, it all seemed so far fetched, like those things could never actually happen.

Then I read Lord Of The Flies by William Golding. That seemed much more believable. By then I’d known some kids that seemed cruel and did mean, spiteful things and it wasn’t a stretch to imagine what might happen if circumstances allowed for them to assume a leadership role in a society.  For the first time I realized what true human nature looks like and what that means to those that are vulnerable.

Dystopian fiction is still a popular genre, particularly for young adults.  Even though I’m far from a young adult, I still read The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins and have the Divergent series by Veronica Roth on my list of books to read one day.

Today, however, it’s not hard for me to believe that we could destroy our planet, numb ourselves with drugs and distractions, become consumed by things that don’t truly matter, value that which is meaningless, and live in a society where freedom and justice are no longer things to fight for and defend.  It frightens me and yet I keep reading.

What is the attraction?  Why read something that disturbs me and makes me uncomfortable?  Why am I drawn in?  It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I think it’s because I identify so readily with the hero or heroine.  There’s a desperate longing to believe that I would be brave, I would stand against what’s gone wrong, I would fight the battles that need fighting, I would use my strength, wits, and intelligence to survive and protect my loved ones under the most dire circumstances.  Do you feel that way, too?

It’s all just fiction, though, right?  Our society is civilized, logical, reasonable, just, we care for the marginalized, protect those who are vulnerable . . . except that’s not really true, is it?  While I imagine myself rising up as a champion in the face of great adversity, I have plenty of opportunities to make a difference in this society today and yet I choose to do very little about it. 

It would take time, you see, or money, or it might not be convenient, and I might need to know what’s going on in the world around me instead of living in my own, quiet, pleasant, little space.  It would require some effort on my part and gosh, I’m kind of tired and busy right now.  Even if I did actually do something (and I’m not saying I’m going to), would it even matter?

These are things that I’m trying to explore on this blog.  When I read or hear something that seems like utter madness, I research it and try to decipher what I learn and share it here.  It would be my desire to motivate people to think about stuff and learn along with me.  It would be my desire that someone would have a Naked on the Tundra moment, take a risk, and do something different, even though they might be all alone in doing so.

If you ever do feel changed or motivated by what you’ve read here, please share in the comment section or on Facebook.  I love hearing stories of changed lives – it warms my hard and motivates me to do things differently, too!

A Poem

I’m not the poet in the family – that distinction belongs to my son Ben . 

Ben Kirsch Poet

But this came to me one morning and I thought I would share it.

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The waves ripple

Each one followed by a dip

The reflection of the sun on the water

Sparkling like a diamond

A fish jumps

A gull cries

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I miss it

The boat gliding across the water

The sunshine warm on my back

Or maybe

I miss you

Hard to say for certain

Chicago Skyline

I am thankful

For the passage of time

The ability to remember

What was good

To put aside the question

What went wrong?

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40 Days and Counting

Chocolate.  Potato chips.  Twenty minute showers.  Gum.  Diet Coke.  These are all things that I’ve given up for Lent in the past.  It’s a bit curious that even people who aren’t particularly religious choose to give something up for Lent.  For Christians, it’s a time of fasting, patterned after the forty days Jesus spent fasting in the wilderness after being baptized by John the Baptist.    

Some things I’ve given up for good – I haven’t had a Diet Coke in many years, and I only had some gum recently because I won it in a raffle.  Other things I’m not interesting in giving up forever – you know how I feel about my Lay’s Brand Potato Chips

This year I am reading an interesting book called 40 Days of Decrease, A Different Kind of Hunger, A Different Kind of Fast by Alicia Britt Chole.  Today’s assignment was to read John 12:1-11, to “Savor these sentences like a perfect cup of coffee or chunk of chocolate.  Place yourself in the story and let the words melt in your mind.”

And so I found myself at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus (yes, the one raised from the dead), reclining at a table.  It is just a few days before Passover and Jesus is hanging out with some of his dearest friends who have prepared a meal in his honor.  Martha is busy serving (she is always busy doing stuff), but Mary, the one who chose to sit at Jesus’s feet at a prior visit instead of helping Martha with the cooking and serving, Mary is washing Jesus’s feet, and not just with soap and water, but with nard, a perfume made from the oil of Spikenard, a flowering plant found in the Himalayas of Nepal, China, and India.

Mary is doing a task that’s usually done by servants, because, let’s be honest, washing someone’s funky feet who has been traveling in sandals along a dusty Roman road littered with animal droppings is not a pleasant task.  Yet she’s taken it upon herself to do this for Jesus and instead of using a towel, she’s wiping his feet with her hair.  She’s ministering to Jesus, but in a very different way than her sister, who’s serving the meal. 

The whole house smells of nard and Judas, the betrayer, takes notice. He’s not impressed, though, he’s irritated that she’s using expensive perfume for foot washing when that perfume could have been sold and the money given to the poor.  His irritation doesn’t really have anything to do with his heart for the poor, though, he’s more concerned about having enough cash in the money bag he’s in charge of to meet his personal needs.

Jesus comes to Mary’s defense, telling Judas to leave her alone.  In verse eight, he says, “You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”  This story has always bothered me, because I felt that Judas had a point, even though he was a liar, thief, and betrayer.  Isn’t it the nature of Jesus to be selfless and give to those who are poor?  Should Mary have poured pricey perfume into a basin to wash his feet or should she have given the perfume to support the ministry or help others less fortunate?  Wouldn’t soap and water have been sufficient?

Here’s what Mary understood, what I’m just starting to understand.  She understood who Jesus was – that he was her friend, but also that he was the Messiah.  Today there’s a lot of talk about having a personal relationship with Jesus, but I think sometimes I act like he’s just another one of my friends.  I forget that he’s God in a human, hungry, dusty package. He’s worthy of so much more than a meal or a foot rinse, he’s worthy of the best I have to offer.

That means I don’t rush through my prayers and read my Bible so I can cross it off an imaginary checklist.  It means I spend more time saying thanks than submitting my daily list of requests to be fulfilled.  It means that I spend my time and my money in a way that honors him instead of just seeing where I might be able to fit him into my schedule and my budget. 

That’s a lot of thinking for one day, making me really glad I didn’t decide to fast from chocolate for Lent this year.  There’s a ginger truffle in the fridge calling my name.  I hope you will take the time to tell me what Lent looks like for you this year by leaving a comment or posting on Facebook.