Thoughts on a Distinctly Canadian Election

For the first time in my lifetime, I went to bed knowing who the newly elected Prime Minister of Canada is, but not knowing if he would still be Prime Minister when I woke up the next morning. It's an odd feeling, really. Maybe even a little scarry. Definitely bizarre. But now that I've had about 24 hours to work through all of this, I suppose I can chalk it up to the painfully unique Canadian electoral system.

I was excited about voting yesterday. I have followed the last couple of elections fairly closely but seemed to be especially captivated by this one, probably because there are some issues at stake that will have a bigger impact now on my family. Things like child care, health care, and even though it wasn't a major issue through the campaign, same-sex 'marriage.' The intensity only heightened when everything took a distinctly Canadian turn.

For example, since when is a 58-day (or however long it was) campaign a marathon? I would much rather go through a "marathon" like this than endure 18 months of mindless trash-talking by American politicians. Not to mention I was duly impressed by the fact I only had to watch about four-and-a-half minutes of election coverage before we could declare our new leader. Evidently, it doesn't matter that he didn't have the most votes at the time he was declared the winner.

And how do you explain an election where the winner - definition of "winner": the one who gets the most votes - actually gets the most votes but still manages to get neutered of almost all his power in the process? Are we electing a leader or not? Even though he earns the most votes of all the contestants, he doesn't have ... wait for it ... here it comes ... the "majority" of seats.

This may have been the most anticipated part of the whole election. Instead, he has a "minority," or as Canadians have cleverly termed it, he has the "plurality" of votes or seats or some other political term with which I am likely highly unfamiliar. It's like going to a hockey game and saying, "He didn't score a 'hat trick' ... he scored a 'plurality' ... eh?" It's just not right.

But the reason I went to bed anxious on election night was because of a word that we hadn't heard through the entire campaign: "coalition." Apparently, when the incumbent Prime Minister is unceremoniously dumped on his can after an election but still has enough seats (or 'votes' or whatever he needs to have) that, when combined with those of another party, they could come together - form a coalition - and take away the power of the newly elected Prime Minister.

In other words, the loser could still be the winner. Had Paul Martin and Jack Layton formed a coalition last night or today, Paul Martin could still be Prime Minister today. Talk of a coalition between the Liberals and NDP seemed pretty popular for a while last night. And after a low-ball campaign like the one this has been, it wouldn't have suprised me in the least.

Only in Canada, my friends. Only in Canada can democracy take a brutal kick in the teeth like that and come back for more two years later.

All of this, of course, after a series of debates whose passion rivaled that of a funeral for a person nobody liked. I'm not a huge fan of watching American politicians duke it out on national television, but at least they can descend into a free-for-all once in a while. They're allowed to get a little hot and bothered about stuff that turns their crank ... stuff that makes their boat float ... stuff that puts the peanuts in their butter. Like when former Presidential candidate Ross Perot was once asked about economic reform and health care, and he responded in his midget-like Texas twang by saying something like: "... fixing that is as easy as squeezin' crap through a goose!"

Well, OK, maybe Ross Perot didn't say that, exactly. Maybe, just maybe, it was a Dana Carvey impersonation on Saturday Night Live.

I know this blog is particularly long, but I had to get this stuff off my chest. (I should also mention that much of what I've said may be way off base; I think I know just enough to be dangerous.) All of this to say that the Canadian political system is a strange monster, indeed. It's strange-ness comes from a language that is uniquely Canadian. Words like majority, minority, plurality, seats, and coalition.

When it's all said and done though, there is really only one thing left to say.

Congratulations, Mr. Harper.

Ya hoser.

Having Nothing But Having Everything

I sat there unconciously comparing him to me. The way he carried himself to the way I carry myself. His clothes to mine. His hair to mine. OK, so I just looked at his hair and dreamt of how I would comb my hair if I had any. I watched intently as he received a special escort who walked him in and offered him a seat. He accepted the seat, no questions asked, and tried hard to blend in. It didn't work.

When everyone sat down, I found myself still strangely captivated by him. I stared at him through the maze of people between the two of us. I wondered what his situation was. Where he was from. What he did. And most of all, what brought him here.

His hair was choraled by a thick cotton headband meant to keep his ears warm. The hair that managed to escape the headband fell in a number of random directions. His fleece workcoat was supposed to shelter him from a brutal prairie winter. No gloves. No boots. No scarf. All things that I have and he doesn't. There I sat, comparing myself to him again.

By all appearances, this man looked to be homeless. The easy thing for him to do would be to look around and see what everyone else was doing and then copy it, especially in a room full of perfect strangers. But he didn't do that. He didn't do much of anything, really. He didn't go through the motions, nor did he do any of the things I had grown so used to doing. In fact, I continued to do those very things while still staring at him wondering who he was and why he was here.

A little while later a couple of guys, neither of whom I know personally but I recognized both, left where they were sitting and joined this homeless man who occupied an entire section by himself. They introduced themselves and then just sat there. It wasn't a good time to make small-talk with a stranger. It just wasn't a good time to talk at all. So they sat there. With a homeless man they didn't know. These two guys didn't have to do it, but they did.

Now I sat in my place equally captivated by the homeless man, as well as these two teenage guys who left the comfort of their familiar surroundings and parked themselves next to a man they had never met before.

Since the day I watched this happen, a few questions have been mercilessly doing laps in my head.

Would I have had the guts to do that? Would I pull up to a homeless man I didn't know and, if nothing else, just sit there with him? Would I befriend a guy who although surrounded by a few hundred other people, looked especially lonely? I would like to think so but I'm not sure.

Would I respond any differently to this homeless guy out on the street if I saw him on a Tuesday evening instead of a Sunday morning?

James lays all the cards on the table:

1My dear friends, don't let public opinion influence how you live out our glorious, Christ-originated faith. 2If a man enters your church wearing an expensive suit, and a street person wearing rags comes in right after him, 3and you say to the man in the suit, "Sit here, sir; this is the best seat in the house!" and either ignore the street person or say, "Better sit here in the back row," 4haven't you segregated God's children and proved that you are judges who can't be trusted?
5Listen, dear friends. Isn't it clear by now that God operates quite differently? He chose the world's down-and-out as the kingdom's first citizens, with full rights and privileges. This kingdom is promised to anyone who loves God. 6And here you are abusing these same citizens! Isn't it the high and mighty who exploit you, who use the courts to rob you blind? 7Aren't they the ones who scorn the new name--"Christian"-used in your baptisms?

James 2:1-7

I'm supposed to be thinking, acting, and responding differently. Different from the world. Different from what I am right now.

As James matter-of-factly says, don't think you're any better than him because, from God's angle, you're not. God loves him just as much as he loves you. Jesus died for him just as much as he died for you. The Holy Spirit longs to live in him just as much as he longs to live in you. The church needs to embrace him just as much as they have embraced you. The beauty of recognizing the need is the blessing that follows: you become "the kingdom's first citizens, with full rights and privileges."

The appearance of the outside matters little when the inside is a mess. When you judge a person simply by their outward appearance, you're sadly missing the point, as I was reminded from James' words.

Fortunately, James also says, "You do well when you complete the Royal Rule of the Scriptures: 'Love others as you love yourself'" (Jas 2:8). This is the heartbeat of Jesus. This is the hope of the gospel. And the gospel is the hope of the world.

Kudo's to two teenage guys who brought the pages of the Bible alive for me. They responded differently, and given another opportunity, I hope I will, too.