"Melativity" revisited

Penning Mel’s theory of relativity (see previous post) got me thinking about the whole relativity issue. And it gave me a little stab of guilt, right in the gut—because if truth be told, I am guilty of occasional judgment on others—and glorification of self—thanks to relativity.

For example, how many times have I excused my own behavior by looking around me and thinking, Hey, I’m not as bad as so-and-so? I’ve pulled that flimsy line out of my pocket to justify tests unstudied for, to comfort myself after hurting another’s feelings, to make acceptable a behavior that I knew in my heart was wrong.

The worst part is admitting that I whip out Mel’s ol’ theory of relativity in matters of faith. I’ve stood self-righteously atop many a soapbox, including the Christian soapbox, and I’ve told myself that at least I’m not a gossip like that woman (well, actually, I am sometimes) and thank goodness I can admit when I’m wrong about something (oh really? Ask my husband about that) and it’s a sign of my growth that I don’t get mad at God when things don’t go my way (hmmmmm… wonder what God would say about that?) and…you get the idea.

It’s funny in a sick kind of way that I’ve compared myself to others over and over as a means of minimizing my sin. I can’t think of any believer who hasn’t done that at some point. Yet, the Bible seems pretty clear about this issue. This is only one of many references:

We do not dare to classify or compare ourselves with some who commend themselves. When they measure themselves by themselves and compare themselves with themselves, they are not wise.
-2 Corinthians 10:12

It would seem that relativity among people doesn’t mean a whole lot. I’m supposed to be relating to all the other folks around me, but I’m not supposed to judge myself relative to whether those other folks are being holier or less holy than I am. I am instructed to compare myself to only One.

So, I’m sad to say that in matters of righteousness, my theory of relativity falls sadly flat. It’s stinkin’ thinkin,’ you might say. (Ah, remember Stuart Smalley? Remember the good old days when SNL made up its own parodied figures instead of mocking real, live people? Oops, there I go comparing again…)

All this blathering just goes to show that theories are only theoretical. But you knew that. The theory of evolution proves it even better than melativity does. *

* For a funny little 5-minute lesson on evolution’s improbability, hit the library and borrow the children’s book Yellow and Pink by William Steig. Couldn’t have said it better myself.

Mel’s theory of relativity

Yeah, I know, I’m borrowing where I may not have a right to borrow. But my theory is so simple-minded in comparison to Einstein’s that I feel certain he wouldn’t be threatened in the slightest. (By the way, I went to Wikipedia and tried to familiarize myself with the real theory… and my head began to pulse and ache and I was cruelly reminded of how feeble my brain truly is.)

So, in my theory of relativity, everything is relative to whatever else is around it. For example, you may have heard the notion that people who want to be thinner need only to hang around heavier folks to achieve the desired perception. Because, you see, you will appear to be thinner if those around you are heavier. The same goes for intelligence, fashion sense, talent, and so on. Improve your own in a hearbeat, merely by being seen around lesser examples of the same. Sick, yes. But true? I believe so.

Now I’m going to stretch this theory a bit, you see—because I stupidly chose to wear a light color this morning, and then also stupidly chose to eat something other than water. And as I was spilling food on my shirt once again, I put it all together: If everything is perceived relative to what surrounds it, then why not wear the same color I plan to eat? It’s so honest, so forthright in its boldness, this suggestion. After all, the sinking economy forces me to plan pretty much every meal anyway, right? And if I’m planning, then heck, I can wear red on tomato sauce day. I can don yellow on a mustard and hot dog day. I can pull out my finest salmon pink on salmon loaf day. And on holidays? Well, that gets a smidge more complicated. I think Christmas occasions would require mottled, semi-blended shades of brown, to better disguise the chocolate. And Thanksgiving might demand a nondescript, patterned blouse of a light, polyester blend—all the better to dry quickly after I’ve rinsed the spilt dinner and drops of red wine away in a sink and then donned again the damp-but-clean shirt.

I’ve got it all figured out; I only wonder why I didn’t think of this sooner. You all can thank me when your water bills and dry cleaning bills are drastically reduced on this plan. And you don’t have to say it—I know only a genius could come up with a theory this brilliant.