The Powder Room

It was the kind of night where you research creative eyeshadow techniques.

Red lipstick. 

Black dress. 

New shoes. 

Perfume. 

I stepped out of the bathroom to find my husband looking as dapper as ever in his suit. He still opens the car door for me, and I still get a little shy when he smiles at me that way. As we drove into the city, it was the first day all week where it didn't rain. From the Bay Bridge, it was clear for as far as the eye could see. (And these were my very well made up eyes, too!) 

We valet parked, and walked a block to the Four Seasons. I knew that everybody on Market Street could see what an enchanting life I was leading, what with my handsome husband and well put together ensemble. My husband decisively pushed the golden elevator button, and had me seated before the wedding began. The wedding was beautiful, and my husband conducted it with eloquence, romance, humor, and sentiment. I sat smugly watching him, hearing the murmurs of the crowd. What an amazing pastor. I did not turn around, I simply smiled to myself. Can he possibly have as great of a marriage as it seems? I knew they were wondering. And I thought to myself; why... yes! Yes he does!

The wedding ceremony ended, and the reception began. We all sipped on delicious wines and rich lobster bisques. My husband charmed the room, and I laughed at his jokes... while telling a few of my own. He swept me off onto the dance floor, and we swayed about until I excused myself to powder my nose. In the powder room, Korean grandmothers were chatting among themselves. I charmed them by demonstrating my surprising ability to speak Korean. I took a moment to admire the full length mirrors throughout the grand powder room, and the gold-plated vanities with disposable cloth-based towels. The soap complimented the modern fixtures, and the entire room was marble.

I walked further into the restroom, and walked into the first stall which was protected by a tasteful wooden door. I looked inside, and the seat was covered with urine and unflushed waste. I gasped and went into another stall. This stall simply had a toilet seat cover remaining on top of it, and a wad of toilet paper dancing gracefully in the water below. I furrowed my brow, and decided to skip 4 stalls in order to find a new one... only to find that there were unmentionable contents in there. As I rushed into a completely empty and clean stall. I sat down, and realized that for as beautiful as the powder room was... it was simply a place for excrement disposal, and people wearing nice clothes used it.

I went to the beautiful sink to wash my hands, realizing that it was simply there because of our fear that we might have residual excrement on our hands... and we really ought to wash it off (even if you will never be 100% sanitary). The reality was disillusioning, and I couldn't help but feel deceived by the splendor of the evening.

My husband was waiting for me, and I really did want to just powder my nose and go back to the grand illusion. But, I chose to hold my breath and flush those 3 toilets. 

I washed my hands again, and walked out with all composure... 

...satisfied that I had sustained the fantasy for others, and wishing that they had done the same for me.

On Altruism and Commodities

It's curious how education has become somewhat of an expensive commodity. I understand that our society requires "pricing out" in order to enforce a sense of elite belonging, which is supposed to indicate the "best of the best." This system certainly works well for a person who works hard, gets his/her MBA at Harvard, and manipulates the masses into paying off his student loans when he gets that job at Goldman Sachs. And that's capitalism, and it works as well as any other system I've seen.

Nevertheless, I've come to see that our society is not quite as driven by competition as free-marketers would like to think. Thankfully, some of us are motivated by cultivating a life of significance that's expressed by major altruistic or creative contributions to society. Motivation by altruism and/or creativity is something that I find is grossly overlooked by those individuals who seem to neatly tie their blanket assertions about our free-market systems. This makes me think that we will experience a major vacuum in capable teachers, social workers, probation officers, technicians, and journalists. With the rise of student loan interest rates and the decline of funding for these sectors, we are narrowing the scope of "best and the brightest" in these fields by demanding that they live a life of debt if they choose these career paths. It begs the question... is education as an expensive commodity the most effective way of making it more elite? More excellent? Or, is it simply a business? And if it is indeed a business, then why does our culture seem to view higher educations as such a noble institution?

On a more personal note, my husband and I have discussed the issue of seminary many times as a basis for equipping those who want to go into full-time ministry. My husband attended seminary for awhile, did not find it particularly useful, and was very aware of the uselessness of accumulating large sums of debt for studying several perspectives of systematic theology (which he would never use again), and so he did the reasonable thing... he left.

Acts 29 seemed to show us that ministers without seminary training were more successful than those with seminary training. In fact, Paul seemed to believe that attending the most prestigious seminary of the day was like poo-poo. Perhaps this is because they weren't isolated from the "real world" for several years in a sterile academic environment, writing papers, and discussing 10 perspectives on the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

I understand that seminary seems to give people the security of knowing you've been professionally trained to do ministry. Doctors go to medical school, lawyers go to law school, etc. However, doctors and lawyers are not being weekly trained in gatherings (and mentorship) in the same way that our modern church functions. Shouldn't we trust pastors with direct accountability more than those with degrees? Sadly, the perception of the expensive commodity of education enforces a belief that pastors with degrees are the elite... and therefore able leaders, with masses of debt. Does 4 years of rigorous religious theory really equip pastors?

I'm certain that I've made my biases clear. However, I truly wonder... why do we still submit to this system? And, if we do agree that it's flawed (even in part) how do we find a better way?