It’s human nature to assume that the activities, possessions, travels, foods, books, clothes, etc. that we cherish and enjoy would naturally be desirable to everyone. We want to share our good fortune and discoveries with those around us because we love and care for them and want them to feel the joy that we feel. That’s a good thing. A line is crossed though when besides merely sharing a recommendation or information, and perhaps some mild encouragement, we then press ahead, pushing, prodding more and more adamantly until they cave in and partake – or alternatively, cut off our relations. At that point, our desire to share is overwritten by arrogance and coercion – never good. We have all been on both sides of that transaction.
This behavior is humorously illustrated in one of my go-to movies, one which never disappoints. I sometimes view it just to re-learn this powerful principle. George Lucas’ American Graffiti, 1973 features a cast of all-stars: Ron Howard, Richard Dreyfuss, Cindy Williams, Mackenzie Phillips, Wolfman Jack. Young unknowns Harrison Ford, Suzanne Somers, and Karen Quinlan make appearances. Perhaps my favorite character, Joe, is played by Bo Hopkins. Joe is a smooth 1962 greaser, unchallenged leader of the Pharaohs car club (Joe pronounces is “FAY-rose”)– dropout wanna-be hoods more out for fun than for violence – a more innocent age.
In a pivotal scene that sets in motion one of the films more intriguing story lines, reflective good boy Curt Henderson (Dreyfuss), scheduled to leave behind his childhood and fly away to college the next morning, is caught deep in thought on a hot summer evening, sitting on the fender of an immaculate hot-rod. The Pharaohs wander by and Joe casually points out that the car belongs to a friend of his, and that Dreyfuss has almost invisibly blemished the shiny paint job. The hoods discuss what they should do with the innocent Curt, proposing, mostly in jest, to chain him up and drag him. They don’t of course, but Joe then makes this memorable speech: “Despite scratchin’ Gil’s car, I know what you’d like more than anything right now. Like every guy in this town, you got the same secret dream, right? You want to be a Pharaoh. Go ahead, you can admit it. Bet you never thought this was possible, right?”
That thought never crossed Curt’s mind and he has absolutely no desire to associate with this band of outcasts but accompanying the hoods on their nightly rounds seems a better alternative than being dragged behind a car.
And there it is.
I suspect that as a young evangelizing missionary many years ago, my zeal and genuine passion for my cause, coupled with a lingering dose of North American snobbery, may have crossed that elusive line.
Neighbors and friends often approach us with well intentioned invitations to visit a particular shop, or destination, or activity. Then the persistent followup: “Have you been there yet?” “Oh you must try it, it was so much fun!” “I can help you book it.” While I am grateful for caring friends, and always carefully consider the recommendations of folks I trust and admire, at some point the stubbornness kicks in and there is absolutely no way I will EVER go there. Persuasion and encouragement, even testimonials can morph into badgering and coercion.
In reality, no two people will ever gain the same experience from a given place or thing or activity. They can be fun, and interesting, and similarly enjoyed, but never the same. Everything just isn’t for everyone.
The perception that all the world wants to be us: Christian, American, a Pharoah, etc., is presumptuous, arrogant, and inappropriate. What works for us in our time and place and circumstances is almost never a one-size-fits-all silver bullet solution to well-being, happiness, and prosperity of all peoples. When our proud Canadian and Greenlander friends, carrying their own rich history and culture, are taunted and insulted with statehood and acquisition like it is the greatest thing anyone could ever desire, we become Joe and Carlos and Ants in their grey car coats trying to tell folks what they secretly want. I fear those on the receiving end might be glancing over their shoulders on the lookout for chains and that hot-rod.
Traveling in Europe, the Orient, and Latin America, I am curious about how we are perceived and try and glean a sense of perceptions. All cultures and countries, including ours, have good to offer, and all have ugly flaws. I have never heard the thought expressed that they wish they could be like us. I have to respect that.