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You'll Get Yours

TORONTO (February 21, 2008) -- Back in the days before universal refrigeration, the farmers used to say "The rich people have their ice in the summer and the poor have theirs in the winter!"  While this was meant as a wry joke, it contained a kernel of truth in that assumption that sooner or later, you'd get yours
 
The scripture of the day today is that of the Rich Man (Dives) and the Poor Man (Lazarus, not to be confused with the Lazarus who rose from the dead, or Lazarus Long, for that matter).  Dives is described as enjoying his wealth and not noticing that there was a beggar, Lazarus, at his gate.  Some of us who live in Toronto find it hard to get out of our gates without stepping on at least one beggar, but apparently Dives had a back door.  So anyway, he lived a comfortable life and enjoyed all his Goodies, and then he died.  And, as the communists always tell us they will, he went to Hell; Lazarus, naturally, went to heaven and never the twain shall meet.  That is an indication, say the communists, that You'll Get Yours.  If not in this life, in the next, and you'll see the people who Got Theirs, that you hate, getting stiffed in the next world.
 
However, this is not what the story of Dives and Lazarus is about.  Dives' sin was not enjoying his wealth while someone else had none.  His sin was that he did not extend hospitality to a brother.
 
In the deserts where this lot lived, Hospitality was literally the difference between life and death.  That is, if a caravan wound its way to your door, much less a single beggar, and you did not share with them, it was pretty likely that the stranger or the beggar would perish. So everyone as in pioneer days shared what they had with the full expectation that (1) the visitor would not rip them off and (2) would reciprocate when someone else came to his door.  Unlike today, where people feel entitled to everything others have simply because they themselves lack it, and thus justify hitting them over the head and taking it away, a breach of hospitality was in those days punishable by death.  Not only because the guy you ripped off would be justifiably angry and want his stuff back, but because you do that often enough and the next guy down the pike is going to pay the price when he asks hospitality and gets the answer that the last time he tried it, he got ripped off, so no thanks and move along.
 
This is the problem with beggars, too.  When one town passes a law that moves beggars out, for example the Squeegee Kid Law that moved them out of Toronto, they move to a town with more lenience and pretty soon your town looks a lot like Calcutta.  The more hospitality you give them, the more they congregate, just like cats or birds who know who puts out the food.  So while it is necessary to practice hospitality, consideration must be given as to when, how and where, lest your doorstep become a stopping place for stray cats, birds and beggars.  This does not mean you ought not or cannot dispense hospitality.  You must do so because we're all in this together and sooner or later you'll be where that beggar is.
 
The Bible has nothing at all to say about whether wealth or poverty is the preferred lifestyle for humanity in general.  Don't listen to the communists who tell you that if you don't cough up here on Earth, you will be laughed at in the afterlife when you are forced to cough up and watch the beggars enjoying your stuff.  What it does say is that hospitality is a two way street, and you'd better be prepared for the day when you'll need yours and if you have been hospitable in your turn, you'll get yours.
 
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McCain Derangement Syndrome

Toronto (February 8, 2008) -- I receive the daily list of columns of interest from Town Hall every day, and today they were all variations on the theme of McCain Derangement Syndrome.    So I decided not to weigh in on that subject in that forum because I don't want to read through an avalanche of screaming, weeping, wailing, gnashnig of teeth, gloom and doom, by crybabies who would commit suicide if they could only stop crying long enough to find a rope to hang themselves.

For heaven's sake, people, if you don't get what you want the instant you want it, this is not the end of the world.  Yes, your Mommies taught you that the universe exists solely to make you Happy, and if you aren't Happy every nanosecond of your life, Somebody Is Gonna Pay Big Time.  But really, when you are old enough to go to school, shouldn't you be over this tantrum-throwing stage?

Aren't you, in fact, the same people who have been sneering at the Liberals for their Bush Derangement Syndrome for the past eight years?  Does it really matter that much whose ox is gored, or does it matter more that you can be just as childish and immature as they can?  Do you really think that if you scream, flail your arms and legs, and roll on a muddy floor -- if you hold your breath until you turn a beautiful gentian violet -- that Ronald Reagan will rise from the dead and knock the sword from John McCain's hand and sweep you onto his white horse and into the palace where you will live Happily Ever After?

We who have lived long enough to have been brought up by parents who thought thwarting their kids was good training for life outside our childhood bedrooms know how to take lemons and make lemonade out of them, rather than shrieking without letup for Koolade to be served to us in crystal goblets while we sit on our thrones and wave our pugdy little hands.  While we may be intransigent in the matter of not supporting Tony George's IRL or the pitiful excuse for a Toronto hockey team, we also understand that abandoning a racing series or a sports team is somewhat less serious than spending the next eight years shrieking because the President of the Only Superpower In The World isn't your chosen Da-da.

Would you people please get your priorities straight?  Life's too short for eight years of McCain Derangement Syndrome.  And in the alternative, for you to sit in the ruins of an exploded and burning Daycare Centre, watching Obama Feel Your Pain as another one blows up three miles away, and muttering through your sobs, "Well at least I didn't vote for McCain...."
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