0:00

I hate when I see 0:00 on my clock. First, it remains me that I am staying awake way too late. Then, it reminds me of how awkward our perception of time really is. Can there really be a 0:00 in time? Is the now part of time or is time a measurement that comes before and after the present moment? It makes me aware that I am not living on my schedule, but it a realm of time I don't understand well at all. I wonder how well I enjoy my time each day.

Yesterday was a day when people fell easily into snits and didn't easily get out of them. One woman talked with the sacristan at church about posting a schedule in the glass case. He doesn't like or respect her and they both got upset that the other tried to talk with them. The sacristan is under strict orders to accept instructions from the Arabic-speaking pastor or from me. This woman really frosts his cupcakes. He was angry all mass long; She felt very disrespected and could not let the interaction die down in her consciousness. To me, it was a matter of insignificance and I wasn't going to let it disturb me. In fact, I thought it was quite comical. It is not anything I have to solve or mediate or smooth out.

Then another woman got upset because the door to the hall wasn't opened for her to get an advance look at how she can set up tables for the party next week. When I asked her if she really needed to see the hall before next week, she replied, "I'm organized?" So, I asked her, "If I ask you if you are organized, will you answer the question as to whether you need to see the hall before next week? That's really the question I want answered?" She raised her eyebrows. I made sure the hall was opened, but she spent Mass in down mood because she was offended that it took so long to see the hall. She spent so much energy running around when all she had to do was to come and ask me about it. Poor thing.

It illustrates how boundaries are very fluid here. People have a small, seemingly insignificant experience that they can recirculate and allow to accumulate energy. They don't know how to stop it, especially when language is a barrier. They stew until they no longer know the reasons for their initial upsetting experience. I'm trying to teach boundaries with a smile on my face. I do it through the confessional as well - because all sins are relational.

The place where I can't teach boundaries are on the road. Large traffic jams happen when a person in the innermost lane of a five-lane rotary wants to suddenly exit. There's little planning. What's that very old saying, "Your failure to plan does not constitute an emergency on my part."

Drivers seem to have a thought and act on it impulsively. If you are in the spot they want to occupy, they will try to push you out of the way.

I keep thinking back to the value of grade school. In the U.S., we were taught to walk single-file. O.K. That doesn't often work well in adult life, but we were instructed to stay to the right. It allows for easy flow of pedestrian traffic. Those values are not taught here in Amman, and if they are, they are not portable to the roads.

At least in the U.S., we have police officers who cruise the roads and will ticket people if they make egregious violations like excessive speeding, driving to endanger, reckless driving, triple parking, or driving on the wrong side of the road. The police here will sometimes navigate traffic at circles, but that is about it. The driving is an impulsive free-for-all. The most laughable thing is that most people rush so quickly to get to their destination, just so they can sit down with their buddies for hours on end.

Sadly, many people cannot afford cars and have to rely upon the taxi system, which is reasonably priced but it adds up. I think of my good fortune of having my own car to take me from place to place whenever I impulsively choose to go somewhere. Sometimes the great difference between the "haves" and "have nots' gets me down. Sometimes I am a "have"; other times a "have not."

Finally, we have three guests with us this week. The first is an Egyptian scholastic who is a nice guy, but understandably, he is watching a lot of television focusing on Egypt's travails this week. The Arabic culture is loud, so the television is played loudly. My silence has been ripped away. We have a Palestinian Jordanian with us for a week. He is rather quiet in comparison. The third is a New England Jesuit who has been traveling well. Soon, everything in the house will be put back into proper place. I think other cultures don't quite have the same organization to households and domestic works as Americans do. We tend to clean up after ourselves and to replace things from where we took them. In a culture where domestic servants do that for others, one does not have to pay attention to the proper placement of items. It is all in communicating well through our relationships.

Well, that's it for now - whether now is part of time or not.