Clogged Drains

Dwight D. Eisenhower once said that “An intellectual is a man who takes more words than necessary to tell more than he knows.” My other text today comes from an unknown John Rich, “If everybody contemplates the infinite instead of fixing the drains, many of us will die of cholera.”

Life, at its best, is a pleasant mix of intellectuals and roto-rooters. My column has three points.

1. We all use more words than necessary (at times). Even so, without words we wouldn't be human; and not being human would mean that life, life after death, values and memories would have less importance (or none at all).
    
2. Few of us will die of cholera. Since this is true, we needn't worry too much about clogged drains or leaky roofs. Right? Wrong. We must worry (as in concern rather than fret) about some things in life such as pneumonia (vs. cholera), about people who talk much but say little (about important matters), and certainly about clogged drains.
    
3. The art of contemplating the infinite. It is an art, not a science, and I find that disturbing. Wouldn't it be easier to inject a soothing serum when someone in intensive pain says, “Sir, where is the Infinite now when I need Him?” No, I stumble over too many words and then slip away to unclog the drain. That is easier.

Ah yes, each column has an ending. In conclusion: Here I think someone wiser than I summed it all up for me: “Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me (Matt. 11:30).” And then He went for a walk through the grain fields. Matt. 12:1. Suppose we can learn anything from this?