When I was growing up, the tendency to do things because they were politically correct or because others would not agree with a moral move was called acting out of human respect.  It was a term that might confuse the newcomer, but it made sense.

Adolescents who accept a reefer (marijuana cigarette) because they don’t want to offend the giver, or who go along with bullying to avoid being a loner are said to be acting out of human respect.  It is the evil part of socialization.  And it takes a toll on the human conscience.

My oldest son, Greg, was always reluctant to buck the consensus among his friends, and so endured a constant harassing and belittling from a fellow in his group we’ll call Arch.  Maybe it was meant as a joke, but Greg complained to my wife about it one day.  “Punch him in the nose,” was her concerned reply.  “Never mind human respect.”

Well, the next time Arch started his offending banter, Greg hauled off with a roundabout to the nose.  He not only drew blood, but broke his glasses as well.  It was a sudden and effective end to the razzing.

The millennials seem to be an easy target—give up your inheritance for a reefer, for an alcoholic habit, for drugs in general.  It is the story of Esau all over again, the biblical twin who sold his inheritance as eldest son to his brother for a bowl of pottage (thick soup) because he was hungry.

What is the inheritance they are surrendering?  It is a far nobler life: middle class ease instead of ghetto penury, or alcoholic homelessness.  It is the ability to seek higher things, like education and a profession.  And if worse goes to worst, life stops when you reach the point of suicide.  You’ve lost all the pretty girls, you’ve lost the friends who would wine and dine you, you’ve lost those who loved you.

It takes an effort of the will to recognize the good things God has given us—free.  May I always be appreciative, always humble, always forward looking.  Like Esau, the young are fooled by a small, temporary comfort.

Before the pedophiles endangered one of the finest organizations yet devised for boys, the administrators made the ill-conceived move of opening it up to girls.  You mean girl scouting, modeled on boy scouting, wasn’t good enough?  Somebody was trying to be “pluperfect,” or too perfect.  But mistakes ignored, the rank of Eagle Scout surely remains a worthy goal for Baden-Powell’s followers.

As a former scoutmaster who guided several boys to Scouting’s highest rank, I must say the steps were challenging and promoted character, ideals, and knowledge about the world in which we live.  The Eagle Project is a work the scout needs to devote his best efforts to, and included such things as refinishing a private school’s all-purpose room, planting a hillside with special grass to stem erosion, collecting a truck-full of food to help a free food pantry.  Scouting does not waste time with Marxist or liberal ideology—these children are learning for a period of less than ten years, and every minute counts.

I am glad I became involved in scouting as a youth, and that two of my sons benefitted from its riches.  We little realize the debt we owe the British for Lord Baden Powell’s educative innovation.

I recently read an article called “Breads of the World” which actually featured European breads, or the Western world’s breads.  First on the list was the Swiss Zopf, though actually I remember it as Züpfe, a braided bread similar to the Jewish challah.  As a matter of fact, I used to buy challah from a nearby Jewish bakery on a Sunday morning.

Bread goes way back in Western history, and probably the Mideast too, for Christ used it at the Last Supper.  It was a triumph of the transition from hunter-gatherers to the agricultural society which started civilizations.  If it had anything to do with the success of Western Civilization I don’t know, but certainly its ready availability encouraged scientific and other endeavors, not all of them good.

Armies could travel with it (no need to go out and hunt) and cities no longer needed forests nearby if wheat could be grown in the fields.  It truly, for centuries, fed humankind.

It is still Europe that makes the best breads, as the article maintained, and with butter and jam and a good cup of coffee, what more can you ask on a Sunday morning, other than peace or the company of the Prince of Peace.

We See Life Incompletely

His name was Phil Brown, and though we played different positions on our high school varsity basketball team, I thought he just might be the better player of the two of us.  He had a knack for scoring when all the signs of a game were down for us, and I’m sure he kept us from being a losing team.  After high school I lost track of him, though I heard he got a job and got married.

And then he died.  I don’t pretend to understand God’s plans for any of us, even me, but I’m sure it’s something that works our own, feeble human will into the magnificent plans of God.  What results is part of our own doing, though the divine help is probably incalculable.  I mean, just take into account what was asked for and was granted.

I am grateful for what divine Providence did for Phil, and don’t doubt I am ignorant of what resulted in supreme happiness for him.  Never mind that he didn’t see the earthly satisfactions many of my classmates did.  Right now, his life is complete.