Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ. [1 Corinthians 11:1 (ESV)]
Hearing the bird’s shrill harsh scream, I looked up expecting to see a blue jay. To my surprise, it was a mockingbird. Of all the beautiful songs it can imitate, I wondered why the mockingbird chose the strident call of the jay. Then, remembering how many blue jays inhabit our neighborhood, I realized their raucous “jaaaaay” is what the mockingbird frequently hears so that has become part of his song.
It’s not just mocking birds and parrots who mimic what they hear and see. Years ago, a retired friend told me about spending Christmas with his son’s young family in Minnesota. By December 26, he grew tired of hearing the three youngsters squabble over their new toys and this grandpa decided to enjoy some peace and quiet while shoveling the snow. When his young grandson insisted on helping, he gave the youngster a small child-sized shovel but the boy complained that he wanted the big one. Telling him it would be too heavy, Grandpa refused and started shoveling. When the child kept whining about using the big shovel, my friend used a few ill-chosen words before letting the boy give it a try. Of course, once he started with it, the child cried that it was too heavy. “$@#!&)%!” said Grandpa, “I told you so!” There were a few more profanities when the boy grew bored and started to toss snowballs. Eventually, however, the shoveling was finished. While taking off their coats in the house, the youngster proudly announced to his parents, “We just shoveled the whole $@#!&)% driveway!” You can’t blame him for the bad language; like the mockingbird, he was imitating what he’d heard!
Children never have been very good at listening to and obeying their elders but they are experts at imitating us. It’s been said that we should live in such a way that we wouldn’t be ashamed to sell our parrot to the town gossip (or have our youngsters answer questions like those asked by Art Linkletter in his 1960s show Kids Say the Darndest Things.)
Children mimic more than our words; they model our behavior, as well. For years, the kids and I watched my husband give two hard shakes to the handle after locking the front door to his business. Although he’d turn toward the car, before taking a step, he’d turn back around and give that door handle at least one more hard shake—just to make sure it was good and locked. When we returned north last May, I chuckled as I watched my son do the identical thing after locking the front door of the same business! Both our words and behavior get recycled to the next generation.
Children will imitate both the positive and negative aspects of our behavior. They can learn to be polite, considerate, positive, helpful, truthful, and modest or they can learn to be rude, selfish, negative, uncooperative, deceitful, and arrogant. Do we model the right kind of behavior—not just for youngsters but also everyone we encounter? As Christ’s followers, we should—regardless of how provoked, aggravated, or tired we may be.
My father-in-law, whose given name was Paul, was called “Bill” for most of his 96 years. When asked why, he explained that everyone called him “Bill” because he walked just like a man named Bill. Whose walk do we imitate? To be worthy of the name of “Christian,” we should be imitators of Christ and walk and speak as would He. Do we?
Pope Francis recently visited Singapore and, when speaking to young people at an interfaith meeting, he is reported to have said “All religions are paths to God.” After comparing the various religions to “different languages that express the divine,” he added, “There is only one God, and each of us has a language to arrive at God. Some are Sheik, Muslim, Hindu, Christian, and they are different paths [to God].” While the pontiff was encouraging interfaith dialogue, his words are troubling. I will not presume to know the Pope’s meaning or intention with his comments. Nevertheless, I find it important to address how the world understood the pontiff’s message.
Jeopardy introduced me to the word “performative” but, in an article about how scandals are hurting organized religion, the New York Times introduced me to another new word, “orthopraxy.” While “orthodoxy” means correct belief, doctrine, or teaching, “orthopraxy” has to do with correct practice, behavior, or action. Orthodoxy says, “Hear my words!” but orthopraxy says, “Watch my behavior!” With the flood of scandals throughout the Christian church, it’s easy to point our fingers at the disgraced Christian celebrities, megachurch pastors, and Roman Catholic priests whose orthodoxy didn’t match their orthopraxy—people who espoused devotion to God and adherence to His word while disregarding it in their own lives. Let’s remember, however, that whenever we point a finger at someone, three other fingers point at us! Although the Times article was about the disconnect between orthodoxy and orthopraxy in the church at large, there’s often a disconnect between the two in our personal lives, as well.
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” [John 21:15 (ESV)]
If I were doing what accountants call a cost-benefit analysis of our living in Florida, the cost side would include venomous snakes, poisonous cane toads, hurricanes, alligators, sink holes, fire ants, and mosquitos along with humidity, allergies, high insurance, and seasonal traffic. On the other hand, the benefits would include never having to shovel snow, scrape sleet from a windshield, or drive on icy roads, along with the enjoyment of beaches, beautiful birds, colorful flowers, ocean breezes, “early-bird” specials, sunshine, no state income tax, and never-ending summer. While not one hundred times better, the pluses outweigh the negatives and make it worthwhile (at least for us)!
Back in in 1586, during the Eighty Years’ War, Sir Philip Sidney was fighting for the Protestant cause against the Spanish when he noticed another soldier was without leg armor. Believing that he shouldn’t be better protected than his men, Sidney gave the man his cuisses (armor that covered the thigh). During the Battle of Zutphen, Sidney was fatally wounded in his thigh during the final charge and, three weeks later, he died of gangrene from the injury. While heroic, his death was avoidable if the man had worn his complete set of armor!
