Have you ever heard of the notion that it is impossible to do a truly selfless act? The idea is, whatever you do to help someone else will inevitably help you somehow too. Maybe it makes you feel good, or someone owes you a favor, or you get a reward of some kind. For example. if we give food to the homeless on the street we ease our guilt about there being homeless people on the street.
Apparently it was the French philosopher Jacques Derrida (read as JACKwah Da-ree-dah with your nose up in the air) who first proposed this heartwarming nugget of truth. He went on, if the internets are to be believed, to state the only way completely selfless acts are possible is to give your life to something (or for someone), and that Jesus himself performed that act.
Well, I thought I'd found something that disproved his theory: helping people move. I hate helping people move. It's boring, it takes an eternity to complete, the job is never finished, it is frustrating trying to move couches through doorways, and nothing ever has a handle to grab. You move stuff from the house to the truck, then from the truck back to another house. You might get rewarded with pizza.
I will help friends move, and do it with a smile on my face, because they are friends. Friends helped me move. I understand that's how it works. But one time I was called by my friend John to help a stranger move. Someone I'd never met before, who went to a different church and wasn't really in need of help (he was moving things to his summer home in SunRiver -- just hire some movers!).
I hadn't seen John in a while, had nothing going on that day, and figured I should help. John said "It should just be a couple of hours," which of course means it will take three days. We picked up the UHaul, drove the 45 minutes to his house on the McKenzie river, and got started. Yes, it took us over an hour just to start moving. Start to finish it took us about 7 hours of work. He ended up paying us some fair amount.
But there was a moment inbetween the starting and the realizing we were going to get paid where I turned to John and said "You know John, I hate helping people move. It's probably the chore in life I enjoy the least. I would rather go to the dentist. But I just realized that by helping this stranger move, who I don't know and won't get any reward for, I am doing quite possibly the most selfless act I could do. This is quite literally when I am most like Jesus."
Which I promptly followed with "Isn't that pathetic?"
Ha! I was in the process of performing an act that gave me no tangible reward, no emotional reward, and really no feeling of satisfaction, despite the fact that I did not enjoy the act itself at all. At that moment, I had proven that uppity jerk Jackwa wrong. I tell you this long, boring story to give you hope.
Then I got paid. And bought a pizza. And realized that I had proven that uppity jerk wrong, and realizing that made me happy. Now, when I go to help someone move, I enjoy it a bit more because I can think about what a great person I am.
For example, yesterday I helped a friend move from his apartment to his new house. He and his wife had just recieved their keys to their first home and I was happy to help (even volunteered!). Cody and his brother are strong dudes who run their own little moving company, so it went by lightning quick. There's nothing quite as emasculating as seeing two guys move a big couch around a few corners and doorways, and - while holding the couch - ask me to grab the cushions. (I did, however, move his 5, 10 and 15 pound weights all by myself. In three trips.) I enjoyed the move, because the whole time I could take satisfaction in doing something selfless. I was selfishly seeking selflessness, which really undermines the whole premise that I can help people move in a purely selfless way. Ugh, that bastard Jackwa has beaten me.
(Also, sometimes helping people move can be fun, if they have to move embarrassing stuff. Cody had two hula hoops. Hula hoops!! He can claim they are his wife's but I don't believe him - his hips are too well defined. We also threw his kitchen table off the balcony. And he had like seven toaster-ovens that he moved as well. He did decide to give his brother his old Space Jam poster, however. All but one of the above things are true.)
I wonder: if I hadn't been aware of this truly-selfish-acts-are-impossible conundrum, if I ever performed one (shy of dying), would it count? The only thing that ruins my helping-people-move theory is knowing that it makes a good argument against that conundrum. I don't know. You don't care. Let's call it quits.
But first: admit it. Based on the title, you thought this post was going to be about a Christian Dance Party I was throwing (which I have done), or maybe a dance-rehab-class, or a Maroon 5 Moves Like Jagger remix or something, didn't you. Sucker.
Apparently it was the French philosopher Jacques Derrida (read as JACKwah Da-ree-dah with your nose up in the air) who first proposed this heartwarming nugget of truth. He went on, if the internets are to be believed, to state the only way completely selfless acts are possible is to give your life to something (or for someone), and that Jesus himself performed that act.
Well, I thought I'd found something that disproved his theory: helping people move. I hate helping people move. It's boring, it takes an eternity to complete, the job is never finished, it is frustrating trying to move couches through doorways, and nothing ever has a handle to grab. You move stuff from the house to the truck, then from the truck back to another house. You might get rewarded with pizza.
I will help friends move, and do it with a smile on my face, because they are friends. Friends helped me move. I understand that's how it works. But one time I was called by my friend John to help a stranger move. Someone I'd never met before, who went to a different church and wasn't really in need of help (he was moving things to his summer home in SunRiver -- just hire some movers!).
I hadn't seen John in a while, had nothing going on that day, and figured I should help. John said "It should just be a couple of hours," which of course means it will take three days. We picked up the UHaul, drove the 45 minutes to his house on the McKenzie river, and got started. Yes, it took us over an hour just to start moving. Start to finish it took us about 7 hours of work. He ended up paying us some fair amount.
But there was a moment inbetween the starting and the realizing we were going to get paid where I turned to John and said "You know John, I hate helping people move. It's probably the chore in life I enjoy the least. I would rather go to the dentist. But I just realized that by helping this stranger move, who I don't know and won't get any reward for, I am doing quite possibly the most selfless act I could do. This is quite literally when I am most like Jesus."
Which I promptly followed with "Isn't that pathetic?"
Ha! I was in the process of performing an act that gave me no tangible reward, no emotional reward, and really no feeling of satisfaction, despite the fact that I did not enjoy the act itself at all. At that moment, I had proven that uppity jerk Jackwa wrong. I tell you this long, boring story to give you hope.
Then I got paid. And bought a pizza. And realized that I had proven that uppity jerk wrong, and realizing that made me happy. Now, when I go to help someone move, I enjoy it a bit more because I can think about what a great person I am.
For example, yesterday I helped a friend move from his apartment to his new house. He and his wife had just recieved their keys to their first home and I was happy to help (even volunteered!). Cody and his brother are strong dudes who run their own little moving company, so it went by lightning quick. There's nothing quite as emasculating as seeing two guys move a big couch around a few corners and doorways, and - while holding the couch - ask me to grab the cushions. (I did, however, move his 5, 10 and 15 pound weights all by myself. In three trips.) I enjoyed the move, because the whole time I could take satisfaction in doing something selfless. I was selfishly seeking selflessness, which really undermines the whole premise that I can help people move in a purely selfless way. Ugh, that bastard Jackwa has beaten me.
(Also, sometimes helping people move can be fun, if they have to move embarrassing stuff. Cody had two hula hoops. Hula hoops!! He can claim they are his wife's but I don't believe him - his hips are too well defined. We also threw his kitchen table off the balcony. And he had like seven toaster-ovens that he moved as well. He did decide to give his brother his old Space Jam poster, however. All but one of the above things are true.)
 |
| Is it embarrassing that Bugs Bunny is listed before Michael Jordan? Maybe. Is it embarrassing that my wife was like "you should put a picture of Space Jam on the blog" as she read and then said "one with Shaquille O'Neal on it." ?? Yes. That is embarrassing. |
I wonder: if I hadn't been aware of this truly-selfish-acts-are-impossible conundrum, if I ever performed one (shy of dying), would it count? The only thing that ruins my helping-people-move theory is knowing that it makes a good argument against that conundrum. I don't know. You don't care. Let's call it quits.
But first: admit it. Based on the title, you thought this post was going to be about a Christian Dance Party I was throwing (which I have done), or maybe a dance-rehab-class, or a Maroon 5 Moves Like Jagger remix or something, didn't you. Sucker.
2 comments:
Wait 'till you start (or maybe you have, where would you place it within this theory?) doing things for your kid(s) in place of your spouse so she doesn't have to. Those feel like pretty completely selfless acts at times. Fun read!
Katie,I hear what you are saying. In fact i've been up since 4:00 am feeding the little boy and now won't be able to go back to sleep. But the thing about helping a spouse or your child is that there's the possibility of the favor being returned in the future. I want a healthy family so I take care of my family. If I needed help they'd take care of me. At this specific moment it can feel selfless, but in 50 years when I move in with Wyatt's family and they care for my dementia, I can say they owe it to me (not that I would, but it's there). Thanks for reading!
Post a Comment