Exploring perspective per, inter-group & inter-personal dynamics

rLiving Day 24: A Life (Relationships)

My dad, Peter George Fowler, died last November 8th, age 85. Three of my sisters were with him in the hospital room in Tewkesbury (England); two holding a hand each, another massaging his feet. I called from Boston and asked to speak to him, so my sister held the cell phone to his ear. He wasn’t able to speak by now, and I don’t know if he could hear me. But I could hear him breathing. For what seemed like the first time in my life, I said out straight, “I love you.” Then, “I’ll see you tomorrow” (having already booked a flight). I hung up, and was called back seconds later to be told he’d just passed away.

For the next hour I sat and cried, along with my sisters on the other end of the phone. But we were mostly silent. My mom arrived with another sister, and we all sat some more. Thankfully we all know how to break a sombre silence with a wise-crack, a bit of pragmatism (who should we call first?) or an exquisitely timed fart. Although I was 3,000 miles away I felt right there with them. It was the most deep, sad, but profoundly wonderful hour I can remember. The next two weeks of crying and remembering and crying just deepened that feeling.

My dad’s death brought me then, and ever since, to a depth of gratitude and love for him that is profound. I never experienced anything like it during his life. And I don’t say that with regret. Our relationship was what it was, and despite good will there was little ability on either of our parts to make it ‘better’. I wished and tried to be more grateful, more loving, when he was alive. And maybe I made progress. But now it’s a different thing altogether, though it’s a mystery why death would make it so. Now, looking back from this side, his whole life and our whole relationship with me and him and my mom and six sisters … no matter what it was actually like … now there’s just abundant gladness and gratitude and love.

It feels like redemption.

The really profound lesson of his death to me, however, was in the letters, cards and personal messages from friends, family and local villagers. They simply told of the significance my dad had in their lives; their appreciation for him, for his unique character, his presence, his generosity. Relationships, simple as that. People knowing and other people over the course of a life. No ‘money’, no ‘achievements’, no ‘oooh, look at the nice house he left behind’. Just people with people.

Truly, “a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions [or in the ecstasy of his personal experiences]” (Luke 12v15), but in the depth and love of his relationships.

rLiving Day 23: Mortgage Crisis (Directness, Power)

Money, like power, gets a bad rap. It’s seen as so purely evil that we just cripple ourselves with guilt about having it or wanting it. Or else we resent, then reject, the guilt and instead embrace money as though it were God himself, the source of all life and happiness. The Bible calls it “greed, which is idolatry” (Col. 3v5).

But money is actually a major cause of human relationships by mere fact that none of us inherently have everything we want or need: we have to trade. We’re forced into a relationship caused by something I have (in the nature of material, skill or time) that you want. And vice versa. ‘Money’ is often the means of that exchange. And that is a very good thing. In millions of fair and equitable transactions every day around the world, from markets in Soroti, Uganda to corporate offices in Boston, MA, relationships are established and built upon and people get and give what they want.

The evil of greed and idolatry is that it focuses on the means, money itself, rather than the ends; a fair trade relationship in which we both gain what we were seeking and even build something new in the process. The other evil of greed and idolatry is that it lusts in power over others; it relishes in being able to extract more than it gives. It leads to injustice. Finally, its irony is that it’s never satisfied. To the question, “How much is enough?”, Rockefeller wisely responded, “just a little bit more.”

Relational Proximity Dimension #1 is “Directness”. My relationship with someone is better and healthier the less mediated it is. It can be mediated by technology or other people: these reduce our ability to communicate fully and know each other better.

Relational Proximity Dimension #4 is Parity. The greater the asymmetry of power between me and someone else the greater the potential for difficult and strained relationships. This asymmetry can be real or perceived, and its affect on relationships can be more about the use and misuse of power than the mere existence of power disparity.

I contend that the more a relationship is mediated – that is, the less direct it is – the weaker it is, because more mediation means less knowledge. And less knowledge means less trust. Less knowledge also means, I think, ‘less human’. When we don’t know people we render them less than fully human, less than ‘normal’. It explains why we demonize some and idolize others – we’re literally ignorant about them. So the ‘less-than-human’ becomes an object, an item, something to generalize about but not an individual with a name, a story, a past and a future.

So if we consider a relationship mediated by an unfathomable array of individuals, institutions and mathematical formula, then throw in ‘disparity’ (unequal power), I think you have an explanation of the mortgage crisis: Relational distance caused less knowledge, then less consideration, then less proper care for the human being at the end of the money chain. There wasn’t a human being at the other end, in fact, they were too distant to even be noticed.

One shouldn’t ascribe evil intent to Wall St bankers, necessarily. Greed and idolatry could just as easily be ascribed to the house buyers. No, relational distance and power asymmetry were objective facts of the matter. Even a heart of gold at either end would have had trouble ensuring an equitable trade, because between the hearts of gold were bureaucratic institutions and non-human mathematic formulae whose goal was, ostensibly, to minimize financial risk and maximize financial profit for the Lender. [UPDATE: This paragraph originally started with “One shouldn’t ascribe evil intent just to Wall St bankers.” This implied we should ascribe evil intent to house buyers also, which was not my intent! Instead, this paragraph was meant to point out that greed/idolatry is neither the sole preserve of Wall St bankers, nor, necessarily, the functional cause of the problem.]

We have a dilemma, however, and I’ll end the post with this. The financial wizardry behind the crises has just been an extension of the sound and prudent engine behind the economic explosion of the last 50 years: the pooling of money and the spreading of risk. What needs further investigation is how to manage the dilemma of relational directness and financial stewardship in such a way that it fosters parity and human flourishing in the context of trading relationships.

rLiving Day 22: “Homeless” (Continuity)

When I lived in central London, between 1996 and 2002, one group of people I saw more often than anyone else – more than my friends and family – were a specific group of homeless men and women.

Relational Proximity Dimension #2 is Continuity: our relationship is formed and strengthened by the amount, frequency and span of time we are together.

Shirley, Harry, Steve and others were regular guests at a fortnightly meal I helped run at our church near Victoria (which I’m delighted to see is still running.) It NEVER crossed my mind to try to arrange meeting friends or family more often – everyone thinks everyone is so busy it almost feels rude to ask to see people more often.

On The Street
Photo: Garry Knight

Consequently, I cherished this time with these 120-160 men and women every two weeks. The meal was intended to be a simple small act of love and giving. But frankly I found myself needing more from them than I was giving. I needed the stability and reliability of these encounters. And not just ‘generally’. It was about specific people. I would be sorely disappointed if Steve wasn’t there. I’d be sad if Shirley didn’t turn up. And if one of them hadn’t been for a few weeks I’d be thrilled to see them again. This may sound obvious or it may sound strange. But I was deeply conscious of my need for them and deeply grateful to see them regularly over those years; and especially every Christmas day for a huge, all-day meal inside the church (pews moved to the side).

‘Homeless’ isn’t quite the right word for many of them. Many had homes to go to but just preferred to be there that night. Those of us ‘homed’ folks felt the same way. I know for sure several of them chose to sleep on the streets rather than go to their lonely, empty apartments. In addition, they had more consistent relationships than many of simply by meeting together at the regular locations for meals around the city every day and every week.

It doesn’t mean they were good relationships, but I suspect the stability of seeing the same people was a comfort in some way. If they were in fact homeless and broke then a hot meal could be the only reason they were there. But the problems of family breakdown, mental illness or alcohol or drug misuse that were the dominant causes of their situation leads me to believe they deeply appreciated the human face, the smile, shake of the hand, hug, and prayer that those of us who volunteered were able to offer. We appreciated all that from them too.

We could all do with a whole lot more stability and relational continuity in our lives. Not using up time playing Chatroulette might be a start. Then perhaps we should stop thinking about whether this or that person makes us happy or not. Obsession with our own happiness causes us to miss out on a whole lot of loving and a whole lot of deeper, more satisfying relationship. If we’ll just take the risk of seeing fewer people more often, I suspect we’ll have a more satisfying relational life and feel more at home no matter where we live.