Daily Journal #120 - Service is the Rent

Service is the rent you pay for living here on earth.  At least that's what I think.  And on this federal holiday celebrating the work and life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I find it only fitting to reflect on the importance of service to a greater good.

In and of itself service implies that one is capable of recognizing that there is more to consider than the Self.  This recognition might seem simplistic but have you ever noticed how myopic a typical human being is?  I mean, on a daily basis, the narrative running in our heads is about how things are affecting US - how that person over there wronged me or helped me.  The world as we know it revolves around the most important person in our lives.

I'm sure all of us would like to think that we're of a great nature - that we give more than we receive.  But as I spent the day doing my thing - running errands to prepare for the week - I couldn't help but notice how my thing is the same darn thing as everybody else's thing.  (Well, everybody else in the same suburban, middle class, privileged demographic.)

I had a latte in hand.

I had two kids in tow.

I had a bank account with enough money that allowed me to freely shop without concern for sales or budget.

When we were at Target, we checked out in aisle 8.  (I remember because that is one of my favorite numbers.)  I paid close attention to the lovely guy working.  I noticed his soft brown eyes and hesitant smile.  I noticed his kindness to Thing 1 as she bought herself some art supplies with a birthday gift card.  I saw how he helped her with the bag as she tried to lift it herself.  I heard his laugh after I made mention of how much laundry I had at home.

All the while, Dr. King's soaring voice rang in my ears...content of character...promised land...be concerned about your brother...our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

A roll call of names echoed next.  In quick succession the names came...Michael Brown...Sandra Bland...Freddie Gray.

I paid the bill and wished the lovely guy a great day and he did the same for me, but as I walked away, I looked back.  He was already ringing up another customer - a mom, latte in hand and two kids in tow.

Why was he there?  And why was I here?

We've got a long way to go to achieve Dr.King's dream, and as I grow older, I am beginning to think that we don't want to achieve equality and peace.  I think we pay lip service to the idea.  We say what we're supposed to say or stay silent so as not to offend. Sadly, we live in a culture of scarcity.

One day, may we have the capacity to project the "I" into the "thou".

In your memory, Dr. King.