Why?

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Unfortunately, the worst of times is often what we remember most. And it is in these times that a certain question always seems to reappear:

Why do bad things happen?

Or perhaps, we should rephrase it: “Why does God allow bad things to happen?”

Many people have tried to answer this. It’s a hard one for sure. But we’re not God. Maybe we wish we were, since we would never allow such a thing to happen to other people.

I suppose that no man can answer it as we would like it. But there may be answers out there—as long as we are willing to consider the arguments.

First, there are those events that are caused by man . . . the Holocaust, the Boston bombing, 9/11, Segregation, cruel torture, etc. In some ways this kind of event is easier to “explain away.” Man has free will. And he chose to use that free will to hurt others.

But then, why do we have/need free will? Wouldn’t it be better to just have man always choose the good? Then evil wouldn’t have a chance.

But would it really? We make choices every day—we choose to get up, we choose to get a glass of milk, we choose to sing while washing the dishes . . . our life is filled with choices. If there was no free will, we could not make any of these choices—regardless of how “good” or “bad” they were. And thus man would be no more than a robot—never thinking for himself, never doing anything for himself—in fact, man would cease to be human. Our intellect and our free will distinguish us from the other creatures of the earth. And yes, while these creatures are great, man has an even greater gift. That gift is freedom—the freedom to choose.

We could continue to philosophize on the same question, but to prevent our heads from spinning further, let’s move on to the next question: Why does God allow natural disasters to happen? Or disease? The Black Plague, the tsunami in Japan, Hurricane Katrina, the tornados in Oklahoma . . . we all know man can’t control the weather . . .

Here is one possible explanation.

The first has to do with science. If the world is made a certain way, and molecules and air patterns and water and all that has to follow the laws of nature have to work in a certain way, then it just makes sense why such natural disasters—or diseases—have to happen. Right?

However, this explanation doesn’t satisfy everyone. There are two other explanations. Neither, however, is particularly satisfactory and thus not very popular.

a)       “Do you think God is punishing us?”

b)       “It happened as a result of the Fall.”

The first is saying that the natural disaster occurred as a result of God’s just or unjust judgment. The second is saying that all bad things happen because of Adam and Eve’s sin a long time ago. Both explanations sound harsh if not downright unfair.

The first explanation was believed by many people for a long time. Now, it is doubtful that God directly causes hurricanes and tornados to hit cities and towns because he wants to punish people for their sins or try to “teach them a lesson.” Perhaps he does have some reason for allowing it, but that reason probably has a lot more to do with his loving people and not hating them. There’s no point in believing in a hateful God, especially if it’s not true.

The second explanation does sound a bit harsh, so let’s break it down. Let’s just say that God does allow natural disasters to happen as a result of “the Fall.” Well, you say, why can’t he just not allow these things to happen? He’s God, isn’t he? He can do whatever he wants!

But can he? God gave Adam and Eve a choice. As a result of their choice, there is evil in the world. It’s not that God necessarily wants that evil; it’s just that by the very nature of Adam and Eve’s sin, the evil—women’s labor pains, diseases, natural disasters—all that entered in with it. So, really, it’s Adam and Eve’s fault, not God’s. (And don’t forget that they were human too!)

So, if there’s any way to answer the most timeless question in history, than here was just a humble attempt. Five years later, now that your head is spinning. But then again, be glad that you have a head that can spin, because if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be human. And then you wouldn’t be you. And that would be the real tragedy.

You're a Keen One, Mr. Finch

Oh my gosh. Can you believe Chaslie? It’s ridiculous how much she complains about stuff. Like every little thing.

Oh I know. Did you hear what she said to me? She was complaining about how Sara always stacks the boxes the wrong way. I was like: who cares how the boxes are stacked? You’re not our boss anyway. So quit telling Sara what to do.

Geez, I wish she wouldn’t act like that.

I know. It’s just so frustrating. We shouldn’t have to deal with her complaining all the time.

No, we shouldn’t.

~

No, you shouldn’t. Alas, how many times in our school or in our workplace are we dealing with the most frustrating people? Your classmate keeps begging notes off of you because he hasn’t been taking any. Your boss keeps snapping at you for forgetting to put cheese on that burger for the third time. He already lost it last week when the soda machine broke—and it wasn’t even anyone’s fault. Your co-worker glares at you because you accidently bumped into her on the way to take the next customer. Yes, some people are just like that. And we, unfortunately, have to deal with it.

“Atticus!!!”

When you call your own father by his first name—and a rather unusual name at that—it’s not hard to believe that you didn’t really have a mother growing up. But if you’ve got to only have one parent, Atticus may as well be it.

Equality is one of the most important themes in To Kill a Mockingbird. Atticus Finch, father, lawyer, neighbor, and upstanding citizen of a little Alabama town, decides to defend an African man in court against false allegations of rape. As a result, he is criticized, verbally attacked, and very nearly physically hurt—just for trying to defend the truth.

“You know the truth, and the truth is this: some Negroes lie, some Negroes are immoral, some Negro men are not to be trusted around women—black or white. But this is a truth that applies to the human race and to no particular race of men. There is not a person in this courtroom has never told a lie, who has never done an immoral thing, and there is no man living who has never looked upon a woman with desire.”

Atticus sees the African Tom Robinson as a human being equal to any other human being in that room. And he bravely defends Tom’s innocence against what are clearly ridiculous accusations of abuse. As a result, countless readers have come to love this character for his integrity.

So Atticus Finch is a great guy. What does he have to do with my boss? Or a classmate? I treat everyone equally.

But do we?

Those people we have to deal with at school, in the workplace, in our family—are they equal to us?

Sure, we are cordial, courteous, friendly even. It’s not like we tell them what we think of them. So what do we think of them?

Just like us, Atticus is also forced to deal with difficult people who not only disagree with him but are even willing to openly hurt him. Bob Ewell falsely accuses Tom in the first place, and then threatens Atticus for wanting to defend him. Walter Cunningham, a family friend, takes part in a neighborhood mob that tries to bully Atticus into backing down on his stance. Cranky old Mrs. DuBose shouts insults at people who pass her porch and openly criticizes Atticus for defending Tom.

Atticus doesn’t agree with these people. He’ll stand by Tom no matter what. But nor will he play their game and think of them the way they think of him.

Yes, they do malicious things to him and to Tom. They hold onto ideas that are incorrect and downright wrong. But they’re still people. And Atticus understands that.

“He [Walter Cunningham] might have hurt me a little . . .  but son, you’ll understand folks a little better when you’re older.  A mob’s always made up of people, no matter what.  Mr. Cunningham was part of a mob last night, but he was still a man.  Every mob in every little Southern town is always made up of people you know . . . a gang of wild animals can be stopped, simply because they’re still human.”

It’s OK to get frustrated with people who annoy us. It’s understandable if someone rubs us the wrong way. Are their actions wrong? Their beliefs? Perhaps.  But Bob Ewell is still a father. Walter Cunningham is still a man. And Mrs. DuBose, despite her rude comments and incorrect beliefs, still manages to do some good when she achieves victory over her long-time morphine addiction.

Maybe we don’t have to deal with mobs. Maybe there’s no one spitting tobacco in our face. But difficulties happen everywhere. And underneath every flaw, every snap, every failure, there’s a person. We all deserve to be treated like one.

The Wimp

“He’s not weak, you know.”

“What?”

“Valuing life is not weakness. And disregarding it is not strength.”

                                               

                                                            ~ Mirage, “The Incredibles”

The big guns in Transformers. The massive muscles on Thor. This is the picture Hollywood paints for us. And our modern world responds to it gladly.

The fact is that we’re obsessed with appearances. The strong one takes out the most bad guys in five minutes while causing three buildings to blow up. The weak one doesn’t. Probably he spends more time whining than fighting.

“Frodo is such a wimp!”

Despite his status as chief “hero” in the Lord of the Rings, Frodo Baggins often fails to be in the list of favorite LOTR characters. Aragorn, Boromir, Gandalf and Sam are often much more praised for their daring acts and engaging personalities. And not without reason! Their personal and even physical qualities deserve them praise and recognition. Yet these same people wish to belittle Frodo while championing their own hero. Why is that?

Frodo certainly looks like a wimp on the outside. He even acts like one—at least, sometimes. He drops his sword.  He nearly puts the Ring on in front of a Nazgul and the rest of the world, forcing his best friend to save him. But these instances are not in the book. And even in the films, it seems unfair to base Frodo’s character solely on these less than desirable moments. What about his admirable qualities? Maybe he doesn’t have any. At least, not any obvious ones.

Maybe people don’t like him because he can’t incapacitate ringwraiths wielding a torch and a sword. Or because he doesn’t fight a giant spider with a fierce and admirable loyalty. Why, he can’t even climb up Mount Doom without help. He’s a weakling.

At least, that’s what it looks like. But what is weakness? And what is strength? Webster’s online dictionary contains many definitions for the latter. The first states that strength is: “the quality or state of being strong: capacity for exertion or endurance.” The second states that it is the: “power to resist force: solidity, toughness.”  

The capacity for exertion or endurance—against what? The power to resist force—of what?

Strength is required when one faces any obstacle. The larger the obstacle, the more strength it requires. The most powerful enemy in Middle-earth is contained in one tiny gold Ring. And Frodo must fight it. Not with a sword. With his will.

Sure, he makes mistakes like anyone else. He gives into temptation; he snaps when he doesn’t wish to. He needs both physical and emotional help. But despite every obstacle, he keeps going.

By the time he reaches Mordor, Frodo has traveled miles from home, lost his mentor, said good-bye to his friends, and experienced the treachery of his traveling companion. He is filthy, dehydrated and malnourished. He bears a weight around his neck that bores into his skin. And still he must resist an unbearable temptation. Now, at the foot of Mount Doom, he cannot even stand to climb the mountain.

And so he crawls. The hero of the Lord of the Rings is forced to crawl on his hands and knees to save the world.

It is perfectly natural to judge someone on his or her appearance. However, the ease of this judgment does not mean our feelings are correct. Sometimes we need, to quote Rafiki in “The Lion King 1 ½”, to “Look beyond what you see,” and see the strength inside that may appear small and weak on the outside. Perhaps Pippin says it best when Faramir meditates that his older brother Boromir was always the strong one. “I think you do have strength,” he maintains, “of a different kind.”

So while the basketball star may have the strength to score more points, his ability to make a basket may require less effort than the crippled boy’s ability to stand.  The pretty girl with the lyrical voice has no more reason to want friends than the autistic girl. And though the dying woman can barely even sit up, her attempt at cheerfulness in the midst of breast cancer makes her a greater warrior than the woman who trains for Olympic gold.

These are the men and women who fight the real battle. They are the heroes of our time.

“The road must be trod, but it will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom will carry us far upon it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.”

                        ~ Elrond, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

http://payingattentiontothesky.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/frodo.jpg

Quid est Veritas?

The beautiful princess strides fearlessly up the center aisle towards the monarchs of the distant land. She hails from a nation extremely removed from the bustling and proud British Empire; yet this seventeenth-century American Indian speaks the language of these foreigners with ease and clarity. . . .

Unfortunately, the second Pocahontas movie that Disney made can never compare to Disney’s original “Pocahontas.” The enchanting music, rich landscapes, and even compelling story from the first film captivated many hearts and won thousands of fans—despite all its historical inaccuracies and a few overly-dramatic scenes. Although I think “Pocahontas II” succeeded as one of the better Disney sequels, it lacks the scope and overall charm of the first film. At the same time, a particular scene from this lesser sequel continues to stick out in my memory. It is one of the final scenes in the movie, when Pocahontas comes before the King and Queen to defend herself and her people. She has just escaped from prison after King James threw her in jail for having insulted him the night before at a fancy dinner. Naturally, the “evil” Radcliffe had set the whole thing up to begin with, and Pocahontas has returned before the King and Queen to set things right for both cultures. Surrounded by a crowd of suspicious men, the comical and cartoonish King James quizzically asks the princess: “Why do you speak out when so many doubt you?” The camera offers a close-up of the young American Indian’s face: “Because I speak the Truth.”

Truth. What is it? Does it exist? With so many different religions and scientific breakthroughs it would seem that one could never pin down anything that can certainly be said to be “true.” Only the very basic concepts of “2 + 2 = 4” and the Law of Gravity’s “what goes up must come down” seem to have enough weight to settle the doubt of so many people. Yet surely mankind must know that there is more truth to life than the laws of mathematics and physics. After all, most of us know that murder is wrong no matter what form it takes. Stealing, cheating, and any other crime involving the harm of one person to another has been condemned by most modern principalities. Even the institution of slavery exists in a lot fewer places than it has in the past. So yes, we know that certain things people do are just plain wrong.

But how do we know these things? It is because someone told us? Surely we don’t believe that murder is wrong just because it’s the “popular” opinion of the day. So maybe we got this knowledge from somewhere else. Maybe we believe that cheating on another person is wrong because we know it is wrong. Something in us tells us that it is. Something in our gut.

It has been said that we will recognize Truth when we see it. Of course, it does seem that one’s conscience can be formed incorrectly about certain issues—freeing the slaves, for example, was certainly not a popular opinion among otherwise upstanding citizens. Yet with the right arguments, the right influences, and the right circumstances, even the most tangled minds can come to agree with the most basic laws of morality.

So in the end, it would seem that even the cartoon Disney Pocahontas from the second film may have something to teach us—that Truth does exist. And it’s our job to spread it to the world.