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Dear Parish Faithful,
The following is hardly a meditation. It is an old piece that I wrote many years ago, but since so many new readers receive these mailings, I thought to perhaps offer a bit of humor as we approach the season of Great Lent. What prompted me to dig this old piece up was a recent visit to the dentist's office and another very similar experience. (There is nothing new under the sun). Although this recent time, when I refused the recommendation to have x-rays taken; and further refused to have camera images of my mouth taken, the air was pretty much sucked out of the room. From that point on the atmosphere was decidedly chilly for the remainder of my visit.
More serious lenten meditations will be forthcoming ...
THE JOY OF FLOSSING
I spent part of yesterday at the dentist's office having my teeth cleaned by the hygienist. On balance, a fairly tolerable experience. Part of that experience is usually that of hearing the following question from my hygienist early on in my appointment: "Are you flossing?" This time it came even before I climbed into my chair. Now to me, that sounds like the equivalent of a street-corner preacher asking, "Are you saved?" There is something remotely evangelical in that question, "Are you flossing?" As if humanity were divided between those who floss (the "saved") and those who do not floss (the "lost"). And with the slightest twinge of "guilt" I usually say something to the effect that "I find flossing difficult." I always hope that there is something sufficiently vague and evasive about that response - it is not actually a "yes" or a "no" - to deflect the conversation elsewhere. No such luck this time, however.
My hygienist, Michele by name, and a substitute for the usual hygienist, must have felt a professional duty that she should appraise me further of the joys - and benefits - of regular flossing. With a slight sigh in her voice which betrayed a certain sense of the uphill battle it would take to "convert" me, she fulfilled her role admirably. (Michele, by the way was very cordial and respectful by referring to me as "Reverend"). Hoping to shorten her disquisition on flossing, I employed a different strategy - after seeing some photos of children around the walls of the room - so I asked: "Are these your children?" This was effective, for I then immediately heard of her four lovely children (the first two were only sixteen months apart) and their most recent activities from piano to gymnastics.
So, as I began to settle into my dental office chair, I was momentarily overcome by a sense of dissonance when Michele offered me a pair of wrap-around sunglasses! For a split second, I asked myself, "Just where am I?" Probably noticing my dumbfounded expression, it was immediately explained to me, that since she was going to use a bright light the better with which to explore the cavern of my mouth, the "shades" would bring some relief to this probing light. Thanking her for her consideration, and being a compliant patient(!), I obediently put on the sunglasses, and quipped to Michele, "If only my parishioners could see me now!" (I don't think I have ever worn a pair of sunglasses in my entire life). Looking up into that light through my protective sunglasses - protruding from her forehead and held in place by a band - Michele resembled something between a miner and a diamond appraiser. Lying back in my chair, with the wrap-around sunglasses and with my mouth wide open, I realized that I must look rather ridiculous. Hopefully, no one else will enter the room during my session, I thought to myself.
The actual cleaning would have been quite uneventful except for this one "stubborn" (Michele's term) fragment of calculus (not math I was reassured) that would not yield to her dental pick. This "pick" has always troubled me since my childhood and it leaves me slightly on edge when it is being wielded in my mouth. To me, at least, it carries a certain ominous "weapon-like" look to it. One unforeseen jerk of the head, and you may just taste some blood in your mouth. At times I keep so still I am not even sure if I am breathing. The calculus, I learned, is actually solidified plaque, and is more resistant to removal for that very reason. Michele was determined to get that fragment away from my teeth and out of my mouth. Perhaps wanting to convince me of the nature of the impended struggle she brought me a mirror(!) and asked me to hold it up and see the fragment of calculus for myself. In the process of seeking out the recalcitrant calculus, an inadvertent glance at those wrap-around shades adorning my face only served to confirm my earlier impression of just how ridiculous I must have looked. But pushing such dour thoughts out of my mind, I settled down for the final assault on the calculus. When the stubborn fragment was finally defeated, I detected a certain sense of professional satisfaction on Michele's part. As the "Reverend," I was tempted to say, "Well done, good and faithful servant!"
At this point we could now move onto the safer and more enjoyable experience of the final teeth polishing. When I was asked if I liked mint - which I am actually not very fond of - I thought it would not be age-appropriate to ask in turn what other flavors were available, so I reluctantly assented to the mint. Then came the final touch - the flossing of my teeth! - and a last reminder on how beneficial flossing actually is. Unable to respond verbally, I raised my eyebrows and opened my eyes wider in assent. My dentist (of twenty-five years now) came in for a final consultation, accompanied by some light doctor-patient banter, and when he delivered his final deliberation, "everything looks good," I was relieved and ready to depart. But Michele had to remind me that I was still wearing the sunglasses before I took them off! Fortunately, this happened before I made my way to the reception's desk to pick up my paperwork. I must add that my hygienist Michele proved to find a good balance between friendliness, experience and professionalism. I would highly recommend her to anyone seeking a dental hygienist.
Not sure that there is a "lesson" in all of this, but perhaps I could say that I am amazed at the conviction and perseverance with which certain persons can "evangelize" for their respective causes - eating healthy, physical exercise, alternative medicine, flossing(!) - even if they know that their respective interlocutors may not respond positively. I have often read where the saints lamented the fact that Christians do not love God and neighbor the way others love their passionate commitments. How distressingly true!
