My dentist convinced me—an electric toothbrush is an important part of practicing good dental stewardship. So I bought the model he sells at a discount from his office. This isn't just your average plug-in-and-brush model; this is a sonic toothbrush, a superior product for the dentally responsible. I opened the packaging when I got home and was surprised to find a four-page manual inside the box. Sonic magic and all, what could possibly be so complex about operating a toothbrush, I began to wonder nervously. Bracing myself for a complicated lesson in oral technology, I sat down to read. Instructions for operating the brush took up a few sentences, of course: Set it up on the sink. Plug it in. Turn it on. Turn it off. The remaining three pages were taken up with what the manufacturer calls "the brushing experience." Were they kidding me with this? Alas, they were very serious. Apparently it is of crucial importance that each quadrant of your mouth (did you know your mouth has four quadrants?) receives precisely 30 seconds of brushing. And not only that, once the initial two-minute cycle has been completed, you must start all over and brush the "chewing surfaces" in order to complete the "brushing experience."

The biggest lesson I learned from that manual is this—we in America need to get a life. We have become the world's leading experts at turning the mundane into the major. We trivialize our lives and we trivialize society. We do it when we allow an iota of brain space to be taken up with the details of the Spears-Federline custody battle. We do it when we give an ordinary case of post-holiday, mid-winter doldrums a name like Seasonal Affective Disorder. When we allow ourselves to classify our daily oral hygiene as "an experience," we are adding to the insanity.

A popular women's magazine just published an article on how to pick out a new hairstyle. The article advises us to invest time searching for the right stylist and asking everyone we know for good tips. Then we are advised to gather photos of cuts we like, and to browse the Internet for even more possibilities. The hours are adding up here. Then comes the all-important self-assessment during which we are advised to sit down and really ponder the "emotional factors" in changing our hair. Once we have worked through these complexities, we are advised to schedule a preliminary appointment with a stylist for a mere consultation so that "they agree to your limitations before a single strand is sheared." Then and only then is it wise to make the actual styling appointment.

Is it any wonder we are worried, hassled, harried, and anxious women? If we must "experience" our mouths and perform self-psychotherapy before getting a haircut, how can we possible handle real problems? We can't; today we escape them. And making much of the mundane is a primary escape route. But we are defeating ourselves, and those of us who are Christians are wasting our opportunity to speak and demonstrate some meaning into all this mundane mess.

Just today I came home and found an article waiting in my mailbox. It's about a college student named Ariel who lives in the Dominican Republic, and in the article Ariel's daily routine is recounted: Each morning Ariel's mother leads the family in praise and devotions (6:30am). Ariel brushes his teeth in the back yard (6:50am). Just guessing here, but I think it's unlikely that Ariel is using a sonic toothbrush. Ariel eats breakfast—bread with mayonnaise (7:00am). Ariel then goes to school all day. In the evenings, Ariel returns home from school and then walks 20 minutes along the highway to church, a dangerous practice because robberies and accidents are common (7:00pm). Working by kerosene lamp (Dominicans receive only 12 hours of electrical power a day), he studies (10:00pm). And finally, Ariel thanks God for his mercies before going to bed (11:00pm).

I think we could all profit from a few bread and mayonnaise mornings.

Labels: culture