Thinking Out Loud

February 5, 2010

The Camp Monk Meal: Variant

At a couple of the Christian summer camps I’ve worked at we often did a variant on the classic monk meal.   In the original version, you’re trying to replicate a monastery where the monks have taken a vow of silence.   At about day four of a residential camp experience, there isn’t a single counselor who isn’t glad to see the monk meal on the schedule.

The variant doesn’t require silence.   You simply aren’t allowed to ask for anything.  You can’t say, “Pass the ketchup;” or anything like that, though with some camps’ food, the ketchup is exactly what you’d be asking for.

Instead, you’re supposed to see that someone across the table has a need.

Most people today are too selfish to be considerate.   It’s not taught.   In fact, I’d argue it’s at the heart of our spiritual condition; many of the verses containing the word “sin” continue to work if you substitute “selfishness.”

Today we were at a grocery store checkout where the groceries are scanned and then placed in one of two conveyor belts for customers to pack their own bags.   They alternate between the two, except that the guy ahead of us didn’t care to operate from the end of the belt, and was blocking everyone’s only means of exit.   With my wife staying at the cash register to pay, I wanted to start packing, but I couldn’t get by him.

The order just kept filling up the other belt, and still he didn’t move.  The cashier saw the problem and did nothing.    Normally I would say something, but I wanted to see exactly how inconsiderate this guy was.

When the cashier started scanning the groceries for the people after us, there was nowhere to put them.   She switched back to the belt that was, by now, clearing a little, but even as those groceries started appearing on his belt, he still didn’t move.   He didn’t care.    Didn’t give a

Later on, as we drove away, we found ourselves in traffic where two lanes merge into one.    Despite being ahead of another car, I realized that there was absolutely no way he was going let me in first.    He simply roared his engine and squeezed in ahead of us almost causing me to hit the curb.  It’s a me-first proposition when you’re driving; you almost have to adopt the mentality if you want to survive.

Somebody needs to find ways to adapt the monk meal to other areas of life.   Maybe people will get it.   Maybe they won’t.

Now if I could just get somebody to realize I’d like some more juice.

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