Elliot’s Run For Class President

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Elliot is my youngest. He’s 14. He just started high school. Elliot is unlike me in so many ways. He’s an extrovert’s extrovert. For every degree of awkward aloofness that permeates my every cell in every social setting, Elliot thrives in crowds, makes friends quickly, becomes popular with blinding speed.

A few weeks ago, I heard through his mother, who teaches at his high school, that he was “running for class president.”

I’m no tiger dad. I have no vested interest in his winning. I have no vested interest in leveraging his self initiated ambition (I don’t even know how he came up with the idea of running) for “his” future benefit.

I don’t care if he wins or not. Loosing might be a better teacher. It usually is.

Elliot is not an object, he’s my son. I’m not trying to churn anything out of this.

But I’m happy to see his initiative. I did ask him on Monday, “Elliot, heard you’re running for class president, do you need any help?”

Classic Elliot: “no.” End of conversation.

I heard he made the posters. Apparently he copied a famous image of Cesar Chavez and inserted his head. (I think I remember lecturing him on a drive up the 55 freeway on workers’ rights and wage disparity while I was listening to Springsteen’s The Ghost of Tom Joad). Everyone loved the poster, his mom told me. He likely had the idea for the poster but had friends (probably female) “help” him. He wrote the speech, I presume. He writes better than his dad.

His mother just forwarded me the quicktime video of that speech.

“I vow to be a humble, caring, thoughtful leader…”

I had absolutely nothing to do with any of this. He stood at the podium. Classic Elliot. Poised. Huge smile. Hand in pocket. Nonchalant. Booming deep voice. Crowd swooning (female) with his every gesture.

A humble, caring, thoughtful, leader.

I’ll take it.

I Store Up Treasures On Earth — A Confession

By in Religion, Spirituality Tags: , , ,

 

Recently I heard a sermon. The preacher (whom I admire and respect deeply) was talking about Jesus and that famous passage about storing up treasures.

Most of us have heard it before — people are to not store up treasures on earth.

I listened. I looked around. I sat wondering what Jesus meant by “treasures.”

Then I gazed around it occurred to me that everyone in the room was in clear violation of Jesus’ words.

Everyone was disobeying Jesus’ command to not store up treasures on earth because everyone in the room, I presume, had stuff that they liked, or even loved: books, cars, handbags, iPhones, furniture, homes, jewelry, surfboards, shoes, clothes (not to mention abstract things like reputations and image).

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21, NIV).

So what could have Jesus meant with these famous words? I can think of a few options.

Perhaps he was speaking to small group of people who were called to take vows of poverty. He called the 12 to follow him, and leave behind everything else. He didn’t give those radical orders to everyone. Today, many monks and nuns and priests take similar vows. They give up their stuff. The scripture would make sense in this case — those people should take Jesus at his word, literally, and not store up treasures on earth.

Or maybe Jesus was saying something like this: “It’s okay to have stuff, but don’t love it too much.”

We’ve all heard that axiom before.

But I struggle with this option. How much is too much?

I own a Rolex watch that was a gift from my father when I graduated from college. I like my Rolex. Or maybe I love it. I want to keep it (store it?) until I die.

I thought I left it at my yoga studio once, and I was a complete basket case until I found it under the seat of my Prius (which I also really like). My attachment to my watch is not solely because of its monetary value; it has meaning to me, there’s a story behind it, I want to pass it to one of my children.

I have other possessions, some that I keep (store up?) and which have great meaning to me: my books, my Martin J40 guitar, photos of my family and friends.

There’s this cast-iron Staub cocotte I bought my Mom for Christmas. Before she had her stroke. She never used it. She said it was so beautiful she wanted to keep it perfect. I now keep it on my stove to remind me of her, and of her love of cooking.

 

Plato did talk about the three appetites of man: for pleasure, for status, and for knowledge.

Many of our things bring us pleasure and, clearly, status.

I hate to admit it but I probably like my Rolex because it’s a status symbol. Damn, I hate to admit that but I know it’s true.

I bet you can relate, though. I bet you and have things you really like, or even love.

I left church that day feeling unsettled. The congregation heard the words of Jesus and the preacher, but it seemed clear that everyone was probably in clear violation of his teaching.

His teachings are hard. I read them. I contemplate them. I try to follow them.

But I like my stuff, my treasures. And I like to store them up.

Something tells me he’s okay with it.

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