Looking Through Rose Colored Stained Glass Windows

Terri Schiavo. The Pope. The majority of Americans have probably spent more time reading about or listening to news regarding these two individuals in the last few weeks then they have probably spent with their kids or spouses or even showering. What’s worse, at least that I’ve realized in my own life, is that I know more about the quarter century of Terri Schiavo’s conscious life than I do about most of my coworkers. (To my credit, I’ve only been in the office about ten working days, but nonetheless…) I know that Terri was shy and overweight in her teen years, and after she met her husband, she lost a lot of weight, and actually became anorexic. She wasn’t too interested in school and never finished college. They believe that a calcium imbalance is what led to her heart failure. And the legal battles began about seven years later…

I don’t even know where most of my coworkers went to college. I do know what their Coke product of choice is, thanks to Coca-Cola’s partnership with the federal government in providing beverages. But outside of that, I know so very little about them, it’s pathetic.

Then there’s the Pope. I’ve read all about the infections and how they’ve led to heart failure, a feeding tube, breathing difficulties, kidney failure, all telltale signs of a disintegrating body. Massive public outpouring of sympathy and grief.

But… when I think about it… I’m rather ashamed. I know more about the medical details of the Pontiff’s passing than I do of my own Grandpa, who slipped away after a struggle with Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s two years ago. But there weren’t cameras and commentators at his bedside, speculating or waiting for word outside convalescent home. We knew it was coming for some time, especially in the final days. But I wasn’t hanging on every last detail. I don’t know many people who do when it’s their own loved one, really. Because it hurts to envision the suffering of someone we have known dearly.

So my guess is there is something underlying in our culture that promotes this, a sort of passive approach to one’s own life circumstances, but a very involved emotionally attachment to distant leaders, characters or celebrity. And why? Because we can put them in a box, in a sense; we know what to expect, and what not to, so we’re never disappointed. “And an island never cries…” so we involve ourselves deeply with the lives we’re in no way a part of, and are hesitant to invest ourselves in coworkers, in family members, in friends, even.

I’m the chief of sinners where this is concerned, so I’m not pointing fingers at anyone. I am just starting to think this is a part of the human condition – the American condition in particular – and wonder what on earth can be done to stop it. Maybe it starts with simply deciding that I won’t spend more time reading Internet sites or watching television as I do interacting with real live human beings and trying to figure out what they don’t like, what they love, what makes them tick, and what their questions are about life.

Another sleepy Sunday, safe within the walls,
Outside a dying world in desperation calls
But no one hears their cries, or knows what they're about;
The doors are locked within, or is it from, without...

Looking through rose colored stained glass windows,
Never allowing the world to come in;
Seeing no evil and feeling no pain
Making the light as it comes from within, so dim...

Out on the doorstep lay the masses in decay
Ignore them long enough, maybe they'll go away;
When you think you have so much, you have so much to lose
You think you have no lack, but you're really destitute…

Looking through rose colored stained glass windows,
Never allowing the world to come in;
Seeing no evil and feeling no pain
Making the light as it comes from within, so dim... ~ Jars of Clay

If anyone among you thinks he is religious, and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart, this one's religion is useless. Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble… ~ James 1:26-27