“R.E.S.P.C.T. Find out what it means to me.” (Aretha Franklin, lyrics from the song “R.E.S.P.E.C.T.”)
“Respect—not adoration—is what I would like to receive.” (Overheard at a 12-step meeting)
“He felt like he was being disrespected.” (A co-worker, explaining to me why two of the guys who work in the kitchen almost came to blows last night.)
“Simple respect! I want nothing more, and I’ll accept nothing less.” (Loretta Swit as Major Margaret Houlihan. She was responding to Hawkeye’s question about what she expected from him. Hawkeye pointed out that this might be a good thing to say to her mother-in-law, who was not treating Margaret with respect.)
Two guys who work in the kitchen at the restaurant where I work as a server nearly got into a fistfight last night. Fortunately, an alert server (not me) told the manager before it came to that. Apparently, one of the men felt like the other was disrespecting him. Respect matters.
Both of the men were African American. I think that respect is important to everyone. However, it may be even more important to African Americans. I don’t know that for sure, and it may just be another racist stereotype. However, if it is true, I think that I may understand some of the underlying dynamics of it. As a society, those of us who are in the majority have tended to treat minorities without respect (in other words, with positive disrespect). When a commodity becomes rare for an individual or any group of people, people tend to value it greatly, and fights tend to break out more frequently over that commodity. A dearth of respect breeds conflict.
Women also come to mind as people who, although not a minority, are often treated with radical disrespect. When I was young, I worked at a factory. One of the other young men who worked on the assembly line with me, was always talking about his ‘old lady.’ This did not sound very respectful to me. Finally, one day, I had had enough, and said (rather disrespectfully, I acknowledge), “You’re always talking about your ‘old lady.’ Do you realize that makes you either an old man or a gigilo?” I would like to tell you that I myself have always treated women with respect, but I like to tell the truth occasionally.
Be that as it may (or may not be), respect is important for all people. Here is the problem. We all want to be respected, but we are not quite so intent on being respectful.
However, I’ve known some people who seemed to have recognized the importance of being respectful. My wife is generally a very respectful person. It is one of many wonderful qualities that she possesses. Strangely enough (or is it really so strange?), her respectfulness often frees me up to recognize when I am in the wrong.
One of my professors at Hebrew Union College, Dr. David Weisberg, was another person who was very respectful. He genuinely liked and thought the best of his students, even when some were not altogether respectful of him or of his assignments. (One that I know only too well was not always so respectable, but Dr. Weisberg gave me another chance. He was prone to do that.)
So, what is respect anyway? Aretha wanted someone to find out what it meant to her. That points out something crucial: Respect does not necessarily mean the same thing to everyone. However, I think that perhaps some broad statements might be helpful. They can always be customized for individuals and particular situations. Here is the state of my present thinking on the matter. Feel free to e mail me or comment on this blog site with your own thoughts.
“An Ordered Life”
“Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our foolish ways!
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.
In simple trust like theirs who heard
Beside the Syrian sea
The gracious calling of the Lord,
Let us, like them, without a word
Rise up and follow Thee.
O Sabbath rest by Galilee!
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity
Interpreted by love!
With that deep hush subduing all
Our words and works that drown
The tender whisper of Thy call,
As noiseless let Thy blessing fall
As fell Thy manna down.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.
Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.”
(“Dear Lord and Father of Mankind)
The words that always grab me from this hymn are:
“And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.”
That is likely because my life is not very orderly.
For some reason (but does there really need to be a reason?), I felt my mom’s presence very strongly as I sat at my desk, thinking about my day, sipping my coffee, and thinking about the words of “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind.” I don’t know that this was one of her favorite hymns, but I do think that she reflected the aspirations of the song in many ways, as my wife does also. (And, of course, I know that my Mom liked coffee! My wife does not.)
My Mom was a very ordered person, even though she had a very old, very small farmhouse. She worked hard, but still seemed to make time to put things in their proper place.
And yet, Mom never made order into a fetish. She could be spontaneous and playful. She was fun to be around. Same with my wife.
Some of us are, I am afraid, like Dr. Sheldon Cooper on “The Big Bang Theory.” Sheldon is so ordered that he is rigid. While it is funny in fiction, it isn’t so funny in reality. When orderliness becomes rigidity, you set yourself up for misery. You also spread your misery around to others.
I would like to tell you that I am like my mom and my wife in pursuing order in my life, without order becoming my slave driver. What I need to tell you is that I am much more like Sheldon Cooper. Well, in fairness, I am not like Sheldon in his strengths, but I do mirror his weaknesses. My pendulum tends to swing wildly between the extremes of chaos and compulsive order. Once in a while, I am very briefly in balance. However, I recover from balance very rapidly.
My mom, my wife, and the lyrics of this song remind me of a simple, but vital, fact: Order does not have to be obsessive-compulsive. Order can be good friends with spontaneity and fun.
Of course, the hymn “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind” is an aspiration and a prayer, not a statement of fact. And certainly, I can aspire and pray.
So can you!
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