I
was traveling 62
miles per hour.
I know, because
that’s what the
officer told me.
He also mentioned
that I had neglected
to signal when changing
from the left to
the right lane.
He gave me a little
piece of paper to
remind me never
to do it again.
As
you might expect,
I wasn’t too pleased.
Are we ever?
I
suppose it’s therapeutic,
but I’ve been musing
(and commiserating)
about this experience
for a few weeks
now.
Why
do we need speed
limits? Why do we
blatantly violate
them? And why are
we so offended when
we get caught? What
does it say about
human nature?
I
can name that tune
in one word: Depravity.
Or two: Original
Sin.
I
know these are not
very popular ideas
today. We like to
think that humans
are inherently good.
We like to believe
that self‑centeredness
is the result of
poor upbringing,
or poor education,
or poverty, or survival
instincts, or even
bad religion. We
like to think that
evil is a problem
“out there.”
But
it isn’t. It’s right
here, deep inside
our hearts. We are
selfish people.
Selfish people do
selfish things.
Selfish people resent
being told what
to do.
Nor
do they like to
get caught breaking
rules. Especially
at 4:30 in the morning.
“The
total depravity
of man,” G.K. Chesterton
wrote 100 years
ago, “is the one
doctrine empirically
validated by 4,000
years of human history.”
That’s
why we put locks
on our doors. That’s
why we pass laws
forcing society,
big business, and
us, to do the right
thing. That’s why
we are not surprised
when some of the
first words our
children say are,
“Mine!”
It’s
also why any philosophy
of life must take
into account the
propensity we humans
have to make destructive
decisions.
All
of us want to be
masters of our own
universe. When we
want to drive fast,
people should get
out of our way.
When we want to
drive slow, people
should leave us
alone. When it’s
4:30 in the morning
and we change lanes
without signaling,
people should let
it slide.
That’s
what I plan to tell
the judge when I
go to court. I’ll
tell him that the
laws don’t apply
to me. I’ll tell
him that he should
let me go without
any consequences.
I’m sure he’s a
nice guy. He’ll
let me off, don’t
you think?
As
ludicrous as it
sounds, this is
precisely the attitude
we naturally have
toward God. We don’t
deny that we are
guilty,
but we think our
guilt should have
no consequences.
The
beauty of Christian
spirituality is
this: it is honest
about our condition,
realistic about
its consequences,
and hopeful about
its solution.
For
from a Christian
point of view, Jesus’
death paid our ticket.
In this way, justice
is satisfied and
guilty people are
forgiven.
There’s
an old song which
reminds me of this
truth in a beautiful
way. In speaking
about Jesus’ crucifixion
it says, “Heaven’s
peace and perfect
justice kissed a
guilty world in
love.”
So,
I guess I’ll pay
my ticket and be
grateful that it’s
only a few hundred
dollars. When I
take Holy Communion
this week I’ll be
grateful that Someone
paid a lot bigger
ticket than that.
