Readying the Van for another adventure, circa 1990
I think I am like most people in that I spend more energy and emotion than I should trying not to be the weirdo. Oh sure, I like to think that I am unique and special and all that, but deep down the reality is I don’t want to be the oddball, the dummy wearing Bugle Boy jeans when everyone else is wearing Levi’s. I am pretty sure this actually happened in the 8th grade at one point.
There is something kind of innate within us that wants to be part of the herd, not get out there too far on our own. We like to be around what is familiar, what is like us. We feel safe there, probably like a zebra–if he wanders to far from the herd those crazy stripes really stick out like some weird Girl Scout cookie. Stay in the herd and your safe.
Cain was the first traveler. The first tourist, sort of. He was told by God to leave his place, where he had grown up [and murdered his brother by the way] and go wander the land. He really didn’t like that idea; too vulnerable, too out there, even though God said he would protect him. So he said thanks anyway and headed for the city, figured he would settle down, get married, have some kids, build a wall, live the life of the masses.
Perhaps the most acute experience I have had with this was a time my brother and I were driving through some German town, a city really, in an old 1973 Volkswagen bus our family had shipped over from the States. If you know my family and our history with the automobile you will not be surprised to learn that this particular vehicle could only be started by pushing it manually [down a hill if you are lucky and/or blessed with foresight] until you reached terminal velocity [approximately] at which time the clutch would be released, and in turn would, after a series of violent mechanical epileptic convulsions [hopefully] start the engine.
The trick with driving this kind of vehicle is to not stall, ever. Because if you do, someone is going to have to get out and push, and they will no doubt be cussing you under their breath the whole time.
And I don’t know how many of you have been to Germany, but Germany is where they make a lot of cars, a lot of nice cars. Our Volkswagen in fact was a German car, but that was a different era and if you think driving a VW van in Germany would help us to blend in, well you would be wrong. Very wrong. No, Germans drive new cars, expensive cars: Mercedes-Benz, Audi, BMW. They drove fast, with precision and I’m just guessing here, I don’t think any of them had to drift start to get to work in the morning.
Anyway, my brother and I are in one of these German towns, Audis flying past like we are a couple of old ladies on our way to bingo. Suddenly we hit a red light, which normally we would run without conscience, but we had to stop because there was a car in front of us. When you have to push to start your car you don’t stop for much. So red lights, especially in crowded cities were viewd mostly as a “good idea,” but not always as “necessary.” In any case, any time you had to stop always created a a bit of tension with our starter situation the way it was. But we were cool. Just a Volkswagen at a red light; nothing strange or out of the ordinary to see here.
Now I am not totally sure who was driving at this point. The details are a bit hazy so many years later. And that part is not really all that germane to the story. Suffice it to say that once the green light came up the restart did not go so well. A little light on the gas, a little quick on the clutch. A violent hiccup and cloud of smoke and we were dead in the water. Stalled.
The rest is really a blur. Traffic begins to move, Germans speaking in tongues cursing the idiots holding up progress up ahead. Cars start whizzing past us. The tension begins to mount.
Fortunately this wasn’t the first time this had happened. And so one of us (pretty sure it was me) reacting with catlike reflexes, threw open the side door of the van like a SWAT team, and with sudden, Herculean effort (like when a father is able to lift an airplane off his trapped daughter’s leg) the car begin to roll. It moved slowly at first, confused/angry/annoyed Germans looking at us out their windows as they sped by, slowly gnawing their morning strudel. We picked up speed, my massive muscles and sinews straining against what had to be the several tons of rusted metal and bolts and baling wire and wood paneling we called a car.
Finally we reached adequate speed, the clutch popped, the motor turned and started. Whoever was pushing (I forget) jumped in, collapsed on the floor pulling in deep breathes of precious oxygen. Off we sped to our next adventure at approximately 25 miles per hour. The humiliation, soon enough, would be far behind.
It is never fun being the weirdo, being different. And yet there is something really cool about it too. That is one of my favorite stories and one of my best memories with my brother. I laugh every time I think of it. In retrospect, I am glad we had that old bus. In retrospect.
Peter reminds us that in our calling as strangers, tourists and travelers in this life, we are different, we are separated from those around us. Like Cain we are simply travelers here, temporary inhabitants and as such that kind of puts us on the outside of things. Peter uses the word “holy,” which in spite of whatever theological baggage that word may carry for you simply means “set apart.” It means that we are to see ourselves, understand and experience the world from a position of separateness. And at times that feels like driving a 1973 VW bus when everyone else is in a Mercedes Benz.
I am not going to go into a detailed discussion here of all of Peter’s thoughts on holiness, but I wanted to make a few observations related to being different, to being set apart:
Being Holy (1:13-16)
I think when Peter encourages these people to be holy, what he is really asking them to remember is that they are different, they are strangers and as such there should be a certain distance between them, how they see the world and how they act in the world. “Do not conform to the evil desires you had” literally means do not connect with them, remain separate, unaffected.
Not that being cool is the goal, but some of the most intriguing people I know are those who seem totally unaffected by the opinions and trends of the crowd around them. They are kind, nice, polite, sociable, but totally unaffected by what others think. And they are just going to do what they think is right. To me, that is holiness and I like it.
From the Empty Way of Life (1:17-21)
It would be a mistake I think in Peter’s mind for us to think that our life as travelers, as strangers in the world, is based on some corruptible financial economic system: silver and gold. To try to buy or earn holiness with someone fro within the same system from which we are trying to extract ourselves would be like trying to pull ourselves out of quicksand with a rope attached to the quicksand. Kind of futile.
This is the key point of the Gospel: to separate us, to make us holy, God had to be Himself separate. “You were redeemed…with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect.” (1:18-19)
Now that You Have Tasted (1:22-2:3)
I am honestly dumbfounded at times at kids. Put something new to eat in front of them and they will tell you, without even tasting it that they don’t like it. And reasoning does not work. “How do you know you don’t like it, you haven’t even tasted it?” “I don’t like it.” End of discussion.
I think Peter’s thought here is, I know this life of God is different, it looks weird, and no one likes to be different. But taste it. It is sincere, it is eternal, it is good. Taste it.
[1 Peter 1:13-2:3]
