Professional Care

I had my six month check up today at the dentist, which afforded me plenty of time to think ... well, thinking is a relative term at the dentist.  It's hard to contemplate relativity or the general course of our nation's economic situation when the hygienist commands you methodically, "and spit," as he or she pauses for a moment only to delve back into your mouth with a miniature mirror and pick axe.  Yes, most of the time I simply think, "really this will end soon ... right?"  ... [several minutes of tongue gymnastics] ... "Please gums, just don't bleed" ... [crap, gums are bleeding] ... "Were you trained as a dentist or in the fine, persistent art of archaeological excavation?" ... [out comes the flouride football mouth guard with horrific suction device crammed into last remaining space] ... "I will do better at taking care of my teeth" ... 

But, the other thought that passed through my head many times today was this realization:  the dentist cares a great deal more about my teeth than I do.  Yikes.  This immediately put me in an uncomfortable position:  penitent nincompoop.  

As the dental hygienist methodically worked her way through the exam, I imagined her revulsion:  "Seriously, it's pretty simple, pal.  You wake up, walk to the bathroom, put a little toothpaste on a toothbrush and brush, brush, brush.  Do the same at lunch and dinner, and use some floss every once in a while.  We can train monkeys to do this."

And, if that wasn't bad enough, I knew she was just a minor minion in the hierarchy of blaming.  Soon to follow would be the dentist who would (in usual fashion) scald soberly and gravely, pointing out in detail what the hygienist already informed me of.  Isn't this some form of double jeopardy?  

They are right to call it an examination.  Inquisition may be more appropriate.

I think this is the closest thing in my life to going to confession.  The humiliation and embarrassment of committing wrongs and not doing enough good, the coaxing to attend more faithfully to healthy habits, the subtle, demeaning reminders to do better next time:  I'm paying the dentist to serve as my oral priest.

Which also makes me think ... anytime I (or you or we) start paying someone to overlook my own responsibility (whether it be dental hygiene or spiritual formation), I am stepping on a slippery slope.  It's very easy in our world to step right onto that dangerous place.  For it is the professionals now who have the knowledge and the know-how, the instruments and training, the classification and certificate to "attend" over us.  Besides, if we were interested in attending to our own health, where would we ever begin.  And, on top of that ... well, I am paying them.  And so it goes.

Anyhow, I've decided to start charging more for my pastoral services.  Maybe someone will wake up and realize that they're paying too much for something that they can exam themselves.

Wes