Vaguely Worried (Vaguely Worried)

I was recently told a short parable that touches on a number of spiritual concepts: faith; surrender; and the blessing of peace in this sometimes dangerous, always unpredictable world. That sounds like a lot to chew on, I know, but bear with me……

There is a herd of gazelle on the Serengeti Plain doing what gazelle do -- grazing lazily in the late afternoon breeze framed against a brilliant Serengeti sunset. Suddenly, a leopard leaps from the brush and pounces on one of the herd, wrestling her to the ground in a cloud of dust. The herd scatters as hunter and hunted struggle, and the gazelle inevitably succumbs. She goes limp and is dragged back into the brush. Eventually, the herd reassembles and resumes grazing -- all except one. Let’s call him Oliver.

“Did you see that?” Oliver shrieks. “My God, it was terrible! How can you eat at a time like this?” The other gazelle largely ignore him, offering only an occasional doe-eyed glance. “We have to do something,” Oliver persists. “Hire security, build a fort, something…”

And on and on until an older gazelle finally suggests he calm himself. “It’s a beautiful evening, Oliver,” Elder Gazelle points out. “Take a breath. Enjoy the moment.”

Oliver is incensed. “What planet are you from? That lunatic will be back. He’ll bring friends. Any one of us could be next, and you want me to ‘enjoy the moment’?”

“Carry on, then” sighs Elder. “But we are gazelle. Stuff happens. That’s life on the Serengeti, brother, and all your worrying will just give you bad dreams and indigestion. We are powerless. Me, I choose to accept the will of the Universe -- whatever that may be -- and enjoy this splendid moment”…

Don’t you just want to smack that Elder Gazelle with a two-by-four?

I was brought up on a different allegorical curriculum with more pragmatic (and considerably more paranoid) messages. In “The Three Little Pigs” the two brothers who spend their days ‘enjoying the moment’ almost end up in the wolf’s belly. It is the industrious brother, the vigilant one preparing against the worst-case scenario, who saves their collective bacon. And Red Riding Hood -- a naive, carefree child sent on a dangerous mission of mercy through the woods without a flashlight, a shotgun or even a cell phone. If the woodchopper hadn’t stopped by just when he did… well, I shudder to think what might have happened. Other wisdom imparted included saving for a rainy day, keeping my powder dry, making hay while the sun shines, not counting my chickens, and never using the telephone during a thunder storm – all of which appeals to my logic but undercuts my desire to live in faith.

Someone once told me: “You’re either in fear, or you’re in faith.” That seems true enough, but do I have a choice in the matter? Maybe that’s just how I am built. I do worry, and I am often afraid, mostly of future events, real or imagined. Especially imagined. I have the dubious talent of being able to transform any unpleasant possibility into a probability, and then into a done deal long before all the evidence is in. And, of course, the scenarios I manufacture are so far-fetched, so incredibly dire they would give anyone nightmares. The time spent sweating in anticipation of what might – no, what will -- happen is pure, self-inflicted misery. Needless to say, I do not enjoy those moments.

What a blessing it would be to have Elder Gazelle’s unflappable faith that allows him to surrender his will and accept any possibility without the anguish of anticipation. Maybe that is true peace? I wonder, can that quality be acquired through practice? Experience? Prayer? Maybe a little of each. Surely, it is a gift worth seeking.

In the meantime, I do see Oliver’s point and remain... vaguely worried.

POWERLESS (Vaguely Worried)

If you consider an ant’s journey at ground level, its progress seems anything but straight and true. A zig here, a zag there. Up, around, and over. Nearly any obstacle larger than a grain of sand may alter its course. There are distractions – a pool of water, a morsel of food, another insect. And there are critical decisions to be made: should I drop the bacon bit and go back for the Frito? Am I strong enough to carry the entire chip back to the colony by myself? Do I want to spend my life trying? Will my friends make fun of me if I fail? Maybe I should ask for help. Does anyone else even like Fritos?

But from a different vantage point -- perhaps six feet above the ground – we get a more complete and truer perspective on the ant’s journey as it maneuvers through its universe. From this calm and dispassionate overview, its path seems just about a straight line.

As I meander through life making choices, struggling with both daily minutia and what seem in the moment to be life-altering decisions -- zigging here, zagging there – I am constantly seeking those rare moments of transcendent perspective. Because when I am able to step back from the immediate struggle and take a 10,000 foot view of my path, it becomes clear that every decision I have ever wrestled with, whether it turned out good or bad -- everything that happened to me or that I caused to happen -- every inconsequential or monumental event of my life connects perfectly to form a straight line to where I am now. And where I am supposed to be.

BECAUSE I SAID SO (Vaguely Worried)

It is an awkward and precarious thing to talk to a child about a loving God as his consciousness evolves to include an awareness of world events. I cannot pinpoint the moment with my own kids, but there is one, I am sure, when a 7AM radio newscast on the way to school about a suicide bombing, tsunami or school massacre is not just background noise. There is a moment, I am sure, when every child of a certain age focuses on the words and processes the reality of what is being reported.

When I walk into the kitchen and find one of my perfect innocents transfixed by some horrific photo on the cover of the newspaper, I rarely have the stomach for a discussion. Reality is so complicated – the history and circumstances that led to that terrible moment in time when the photographer snapped the picture. The best I can do is reassure my kids (and myself) that the universe is a fundamentally good place. God loves us all, and when we seek His grace in our daily lives we can know peace, no matter what is happening in the world, with us or to others. Sounds good, yes?

"So, why does he let so many people get killed? Doesn’t he love them?"

And here’s where it gets complicated for one and all -- that disconnect between what my child understands as love, and how ‘our loving Father’ could let such horrors take place in His universe. At times like this, I wish I were a Bible jockey, but that is not the case. I might even wish to call in Ed Milkovich (a fellow parishioner), who delivered such a brilliantly useful sermon in mid-May. Without those options, I rely mostly on what I believe and what I can wrap my mind around: that God created a perfect world for us and is available when we seek Him. But He is not a puppeteer, does not interfere or take sides – not in war, Nature or politics (and certainly not in sporting events).

Jesus showed us by word and example how He would have us live. And, no, hurting other people, for any reason, is not something Jesus endorsed. But we have free will, which is a good-news-bad-news sort of thing. Our job is to try to make the right choices (and we do know right from wrong, instinctually, because God is in us whether we acknowledge Him or not), to love one another, be of service, and embrace everything glorious that God provides.

"Because the Bible says so? "

Mostly because I’m the daddy, and I say so.