i'm not gonna state
obvious observations everybody makes
but baby, be prepared to be surprised
sondre lerche, "to be surprised"
Today in my Major Social Theorists class, I learned about Georg Simmel and his theory of modernity and our blasé attitude.
adj.
1. Uninterested because of frequent exposure or indulgence.
2. Unconcerned; nonchalant
Last weekend my mom visited, and we went to see the Washington National Cathedral. The first time we went, at 6.30p on a sunny Sunday evening, we didn't plan ahead. We stopped serendipitously on our way back to my apartment, because I realized as we were driving past it that my mom had never seen the Cathedral up close. She's only been to the District two or three times since I've gone to school here, and we've always been pushed for time. But this time, we stopped.
And it was closed to the public.
So we went the next day, after a relaxing morning-- during which we talked about the sexualization of middle school girls over our cups of coffee...charming, I know-- and this time the Cathedral's doors were open to us.
We walked in, and toured around. We didn't have the time to invest in a legitimate tour by robed Episcopalian tour guides, so I shared with Mom what trivia I could remember from my tour of the Cathedral during freshman year. I showed her the large marble caveat where the honorable President Woodrow Wilson resided, and how his wife Edith was only recognized with a plaque that says something like "Edith is buried way under this vault."
I told her about the stained-glass windows, and how they tell the stories of the Bible through their designs. I pointed out the largest and most impressive stained glass on the North, South, East, and West sides of the Cathedral and tried to remember their names and all that good stuff. We also got into a discussion of whether some Episcopal churches hold special blessing services for their domesticated animals.
Mom had her camera out and ready, but she was taking horrible pictures. I knew this would, inevitably, be the case.
Why?
First of all, her camera is older than I am. Secondly, she has no eye for or tendency to pursue such aesthetic things. And thirdly, after all this time she still doesn't understand the nuances of the camera flash. (Not understanding the workings of a point-and-shoot is my mother's only flaw, let it be known.)
So I took some pictures for her with my camera and we skittadled out of there and on to lunch.
It was all a very typical tour experience:
Arrive at Cathedral.
Marvel at its enormous size with visitor.
Share trivia and other random facts, like the fact that Tenleytown is the highest point in D.C., thereby making the National Cathedral the tallest point but not the tallest building.
Enter house of worship, scoff at the donation boxes and secretly wonder why tax dollars aren't enough to cover tourism efforts.
Saunter into sanctuary, begin the loop around the place.
Take photos, if so inclined.
Exit through the gift shop.
It was typical, at least, until we got into the car.
"Wow," Mom said under her breath as she sat down in the passenger seat of my beloved Honda Civic, the same car she and I traveled to Oregon in over the last summer.
"I know, right?" I responded, as I shifted it into Drive.
"The whole time we were there, I wanted to cry because it was so beautiful," she said. "I had no idea it would be so spiritual. I expected it to be cold. But I just had this overwhelming sense of peace in there."
This stopped me in my tracks, and I began to evaluate my own reactions. When did I check out? When did that huge building, the second largest cathedral in the U.S. and seventh largest in the world, cease to amaze me?
I've gone blasé.
And it's not okay.
Yes, I have gone blasé. Simmel predicted my reaction. He says it happens in metropolitan situations especially, or places in which we're so bombarded with stimuli and information and opportunities that we cease to react strongly to any of them. It applies to anything-- how we react to the trials of others, even something so "everyday" as how we react to a traffic accident on the interstate. (When's the last time I was more concerned for the accident victim(s) than the bumper-to-bumper deal I'm stuck in?)
When did something like a deadly wreck stop phasing me?
When did the Washington National Cathedral stop inspiring me?
When did God become so small?
The opposite of blasé:
concerned; responsive
I'm trying it out this week. Join me if you dare.
I will seek to see things as for the first time.
To see things like my mom did-- spiritual, relevant, awe-inspiring. The opposite of the expected. The comfortable. The cold. The distant. The indifferent.
[10] Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me.
[11] Cast me not away from your presence,
and take not your Holy Spirit from me.
[12] Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit.
(Psalm 51:10-12 ESV)
 |
| my beautiful mother basking in the general splendor at the Cathedral |
el fin.
