"The whole congregation…complained against Moses and Aaron in the wilderness….‘If only we had died…in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.’" --Exodus 16:2-3
Humans have been complaining about as long as, well…as long as there has been something or someone to complain about. Take the ancient Israelites. Please! But seriously….
According to the bible story, Israelites were enslaved in Egypt for 400 years until God, with help from Moses and Aaron, freed them. The liberated community fled into the desert to find a new home. So far, so good. But then, seemingly, in little time on that journey, the complaining started and not just complaining but world class kvetching, to use a favorite Yiddish word. The Israelites were so complaint-filled that they told their leaders they’d rather have been enslaved again, back where they came from, even dead (!), for at least in Egypt, their bellies were full.
The whole of the Exodus story is chockful of complaining. We’re hot! We’re cold! We’re out of food! There’s no water! God doesn’t listen to us! Billy took my football! Okay, maybe not that last one but aggrievement does mark our human story.
Because, I guess, to be human is to complain and to complain is to just be human.
Yet, lately in our culture, I think we’ve raised the art and the practice of complaining to a whole new level, especially on social media and in our political life. For example…have you ever read a public neighborhood online forum, ala “Next Door ______”? (Fill in your town or city.)
Spend a few minutes scrolling thereon and it can seem as though the main thing that folks do in “our town USA” is complain. About the neighbors. About town services. About animals. About Amazon trucks. About town meeting. This week I read one complaint by a patron of a local burger joint. He was livid that the restaurant closed five minutes early! The writer upbraided the establishment and even noted how the employees made silly faces at him from behind the locked door. I kid you not.
But then the commenting by commentators on the complaining comment, began and yes, you guessed it, they complained too, about restaurants that had left them unhappy. A local pizza joint. A fast food place. An upscale mall establishment. It was a pile on, a complain-a-thon. Who could top the other by being more miserable and more outraged? And all because someone couldn’t get a late-night burger.
Oh, the horror!
It’s not just locally that some wear resentments like badges of honor. Many candidates for high office are complaint factories too, folks who base their whole “platform” on complaining. About how if they lost, someone must have cheated. About how if they won, someone must have undercounted the votes for them. They complain about the press if the media does not offer fealty to their overblown egos. They complain that their opponents just hate America and want to destroy it.
We are living in an age of grievance politics. Whiny politics and whiny candidates and whiny voters. To win, I guess all you must do is talk about how terrible the other guy or gal is, how corrupt, how perverse, etc., etc.
I am exhausted by all this negativity and complaint. It’s forced me to look at all the ways I fall into the trap of complaint in this life. That person isn’t driving fast enough! They are out of my favorite diet soda at Marketbasket! And how ‘bout those Red Sox!? Patriots?! They stink!
But here’s the truth about chronic complaint and complaining. It’s toxic. It can ruin relationships. Who wants to be around someone who is constantly tearing things down? Not me. Compliant make us see only the bad and not the good. Complaint make us weary and cynical. Complaint is a spiritual killjoy. Do it enough and it will parch your spirit and exhaust those around you.
Except, I suppose, folks who can’t wait to jump on to Facebook or X (can I complain about Twitter’s new name?!) or Next Door to lodge their latest complaint. And our leaders, the one’s addicted to complaint and anger. All aggrievement, all the time. Who can I attack now?
When I fall into the habit of haranguing and harassing, I lose gratitude for the life I live. Which for all my temptation to complain is in fact a good life. I have enough food to eat. A safe and comfortable home. I have wonderful job (most days) that pays me to do good in the world. People to love and who love me. And all through the grace of a generous God, who dares me to look for the good each and every day, share that good with others, and always say, “Thank you!”
Kvetching. Complaining. Whining. Grumbling. Murmuring. Nit-picking.
It’s human nature, heck, my nature, but there is a deep spiritual and communal price to pay for a life built upon grievances. Life’s too short to spend it aggrieved.
Instead, let’s look for the good. Thank God for the good. Leave complaint to others.
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