I got there early and tried to meditate in the pews, but my mind was restless and it was hard to concentrate on anything but the past couple of days. I've had some rough days at work and it's all I can think about. I've become increasingly unhappy there over the last few months, too, which makes everything even harder to just roll with. Low pay. Menial work. Inept co-workers. Condescending managers. Work-place conflicts.
I feel like part of the reason I've been so angry and unhappy lately has to do with these feelings of discontent. I feel like I should be doing something else with my life but I don't know what that is. Should I find a different job? Should I try to go to school? Should I take this as a sign to explore religious life? I don't know. I applied for a custodial and event set-up position at a Methodist church downtown. We'll see where that goes.
Sometimes when I stop to think about the world, I can't help but think how crazy it is, how miserable we've made life for ourselves. Half the world lives in abject poverty, struggling just to survive, while the other half wastes their lives in bullshit jobs created just to keep this global economic ponzi scheme moving, living in material abundance and oblivious to the lack of meaning their lives truly have. We're born into a world where we force ourselves to either sell our souls to Mammon or live in barbarism, being like the hired shepherd who, because he works for pay, has no concern for the sheep (i.e., other people).
God/Dhamma increasingly has no place in our world. Everything is all about money. Our time is measured by it, and our worth is in creating more of it. Without it, we feel helpless, powerless, and desperate. Paul was right when he wrote, "For the love of money is the root of all evils, and some people in their desire for it have strayed from the faith and have pierced themselves with many pains" (1 Tim 6:10).
Much of that pain is caused by the kind of society we've created. As MLK Jr. put it, we live in a thing-oriented society rather than a person-oriented society, where things like "machines and computers, profit motives and property rights are considered more important than people." I saw this clearly in the depths of my own poverty and unemployment, which I gave voice to three years ago in "Lament of the Unemployed":
I am the unemployed. Sitting, thinking, worrying about the future: that is me, as I sift endlessly through help-wanted ads, a hapless recruit of the reserve army of labour, that unholy legion, condemned for all eternity to suppress wages and frighten workers into submission by its very existence, and I by mine—a statistical example paraded around factory floors and offices, behind counters and in the fields, throughout workplaces of all kinds, to keep the workers in line.
"See?!" the angels of Capital thunder. "See what happens if you don't play by the rules? See how little you're actually worth when not selling your labour to Capital? Capital gives you meaning! Capital gives you purpose! Capital is your sovereign; and it is through your role as obedient subjects to the whims of Capital that you fulfill your purpose and give your existence meaning!"
I am a phantom, a boogeyman. I am the monster lurking under the working-class' bed at night. I am a warning, a cautionary tale told to all the good workers in order to teach them the blessings of selling their labour for Capital's gain; to teach them the joys of subservience; and more importantly, to instill in them the fear of self-determination and freedom.
"For Capital, and only Capital, is the one, true job Creator! Capital is the alpha and omega, the first and the last!" the angels trumpet. "And it is only through Capital that you may be productive and enter into the kingdom of heaven. Beware! Idle hands are the devil's plaything. Disobedience is the original sin; and the price of sin is death!"
I am the unemployed, my labour-time unrepentantly unproductive in the all-seeing eye of Capital. I am wretched, sinful, and undeserving of salvation; and only through the benevolent grace of Capital can I be saved.
For me, trying to find God in the world is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. It's a seemingly impossible task, and I crave those rare moments when I do experience the peace and love of God, like during communion or when I'm out in nature or in a warm embrace. It's not that God has forsaken us; it's more like we've forsaken God.
It's as if we've allowed ourselves to be swept up by the social and material forces at our disposal, seeing them as ends in and of themselves. And the ideological narratives that we've created (or that have been created for us by those who sit at the top of the proverbial coach in Edward Bellamy's Looking Backward) have seduced us into letting our appetites rule our souls rather than our reflective or rational side.
When we desire, we start to believe that whatever we do to satisfy those desires is just. When we see those who are without, or experience privation ourselves, we start to believe that this is simply the result of some personal failing—if you're not successful, it's because you didn't try hard enough, you didn't work hard enough, you didn't work smart enough, etc. And this kind of mentality allows us to turn a blind eye to those of us who sleep on the streets, or to look down upon ourselves as unworthy of salvation, spiritually or otherwise.
Our hearts become hard to the suffering of others; our eyes see not people but competitors and parasites. Our compassion is judgmental and conditional. We treat the least among us as less than human, less than animals even, instead of as Christ himself. We close the gates to the kingdom of heaven every time we ignore the suffering of others, every time we judge and condemn and 'cast the first stone' at another.
God hasn't forsaken us; God has shown us the way to happiness through teachers like Jesus, the Buddha, and countless other saints throughout human history. It's there if we'd only take the time to stop and look around. It's written in our hearts, if we'd only take the time to stop and look within. God is hidden everywhere in plain sight.
I go to church every chance I get to help remind me of that because I, too, forget. I, too, give in to my appetites and despair and need to be strengthened. I, too, need a guardian, a guide when lost, as well as the encouragement to be the same for others. And in the future, I can even see myself making a vocational choice to become a priest or brother.
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