Hearts of Stone

4AM thoughts.

I was watching the Zoom of my mom's funeral. That's not so much a thought as a fact but just hear me out. I was watching and also looking at the surrounding graves. I noticed on a stone a heart made of rocks.

"Weird," I thought. "I know my kids (and nieces and nephews) had made a heart of stones on the tombstone after my dad passed -- is that his stone? Wouldn't they have moved the stone to put mom in?" Befuddled I was. That comes after a-fuddled and then there is c-fuddled. But I'm the middle child, so b-fuddled it is.

Then I saw that the name on the stone was not my dad's. "Even weirder," thought I. "I'm pretty sure I remember my dad's name, and upon last visit, there were no other hearts made from stones on other graves." My fuddlement jumped exponentially (which, literally means "like Montreal"). Next, the camera panned back and I saw my dad's stone which had, indeed been removed. It was standing up, slouching really, on the side, leaning against a wall, waiting to be acknowledged, like me at a party.

Initially, I was annoyed.

The fact that "I" is my brother's initial makes that sentence funny. To me. At 4AM. After watching a funeral.

Anyhoo, I was miffed you might say. The heart thing was a Rosen bit! I have the pictures to prove it. How dare someone else co-opt our show of stone-play based affection!

But then I played it out.

Maybe someone came by and saw the heart on my dad's tomb stone. Maybe that person was inspired to demonstrate love and care in similar fashion. Maybe, the love that that person felt hadn't known how to be expressed and maybe, just maybe, it was the act of people in my family, driven by and inspired by my parents and their love, which gave someone else the idea to show how he or she felt. Maybe, my parents are still helping increase love in the world and helping people show that they care. And that's not something to be annoyed, miffed, or even befuddled by.

That's something to be proud of.

Idol thoughts

Today's wandering wondering has to do with the topic of idolatry. I mean, why is it such a forbidden thing? I'm not saying that I have a current hankering for some bow down action, but what is it about idolatry that is so bad? Then I run into a news article which states that the state of Virginia will be removing the statues of General Robert E. Lee (the "E." is included so as not to confuse him with other Robert Lees who were in SAG). Many people are against this removal because Lee was, in their eyes, a great man. And I think that if you discussed his record with a bunch of people who were versed in the art of strategery many would praise his thinking and approach to the craft of warfare. Qua general, he might have been incredible. He probably was also nice to his mother. He might be worthy of admiration for his loyalty to a cause and his service to his government. There could be many ways in which his actions and behaviors could be applauded. He is a hero to many, in fact. That he aligned himself with a losing side, one which championed and defended an institution of slavery which subjugated an entire class of people, taints anything he could be adored for. And this is the problem. When we try to reduce complex people or ideas and put them above questioning because they are literally on a pedestal, we run the risk of ignoring deep flaws. Hero worship (heck, anything worship) limits its user's scope regarding the object of adoration to a particular dimension or aspect of existence. We can't see (and are trained not to look for) any problems when we idolize. We make the football player, the talk show host, the religious figurehead our hero until we can no longer ignore criminal activity. ANd then our world comes crashing down. Our judgment is suspect. Our cynicism flourishes. When God, then, forbids idolatry, God is forbidding our tendency to ignore what is bad. God is saying "don't ever stop investigating or asking questions." Why is idolatry so horrible? Because it puts blinders on us and strips us of rational thought, lowering us to the level of the animal who cannot think. It is scary not being able to rely absolutely on those we raise up. It is heart wrenching to know that anyone and everyone (from Mother Teresa to Oprah to Ron Darling, not of Peter Pan fame) has secrets, skeletons, and probably, secret skeletons, and with enough digging, will be found to be imperfect. Now, there's nothing wrong with being imperfect. Some of my best friends are imperfect, and we can recognize, leverage and rise above the imperfections we own and improve our world. But we can't idolize because that means forgetting about imperfection, and that's dangerous.