The Risk that Rules Our Lives

 There is a song Nat King Cole and later his daughter Natalie Cole used to sing, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."

Over the last few weeks I have met the grim face of Absence. That is the name I have long ago given to that striking phantom Death. A dear friend of mine died. There are a lot of factors that play into this and he had been sick a long time, but now he is absent. Never again will I hear him explain to me how to make the perfect cup of coffee, or what he prefers in origin and grind of the beans, or how he again sent his coffee back because it was too cold. John was a good man, he was a kind man and he brought so much joy to my heart when I saw him on Sunday mornings in the foyer.

I was absent, thousands of kilometers away in Germany, within two days I understood him to have six weeks, two weeks, gone. That was all mum said 'John is gone,' and I didn't even know how to cry. I hoped for a moment that she meant he wasn't in the room with her anymore, that temporal absence that is soon remedied by just walking in to the next room or waiting a few moments for his return. But my soul knew otherwise and I was bewildered.

Here I was knowing two things, John who has wanted to make coffee at my wedding never could; and I was not going to be at his funeral. That's how we think many times, the best way for me to prove my love for a person is to be there on those climatic points in their life history. What I have discovered is that neither are true evidence of love. Love is proof of love, presence and absence are great mediators but they do not prove that our friendship was a success or a failure. The point of John saying he wanted to make the coffee at my wedding was not because that is the only tangible proof that he and Barbara care for me. The point he was making was, Tirzah as she is (a single woman in possession of shifting prospects) is someone I care about and want to be there for on that day.

As I sat up in Switzerland looking from my window up toward the alps I felt my soul slide down, down down. The Psalmist asks diligently, "O'  L-rd, why is my soul downcast within me?" and that same question resonated within me until I was ashamed to feel so deeply so much sorrow amid so much wonder and goodness. Is it right for me to mourn when I am encountered by the glory of G-d's creation?

When I was ten I was very sick and on bed-rest, I had grown very depressed and had already fought with attempting suicide. There was a memory from that time I have of my mother sitting with me on the couch and holding me to her breast and letting me cry. Historically and artistically the mother's bosom is a place of dear and sweet comfort. Likewise amid the beauty of the alps, the warmth of our hosts and the community of the other students I was drawn to G-d's chest by His mighty arms and being in a place of immense comfort I might be immensely comforted.

 Is it really worth it to love people? They die, they leave, they unexpectedly alter. to put it plainly people fail us, they fail our expectations, they fail their own ideals, they fail. Sometimes they reject you, sometimes they insistently smother you. There are people I am instantly loyal to, and people I am instantly repulsed by. The funny thing is that the people I have most wanted to keep I have to keep leaving or be left by. My family, my friends, my infatuations. They will never really know how much they mean to me. It is so easy for me to consider this a universal sentiment because I feel it so naturally, but I wonder if this is because I love people and need people, because I am afraid of being alone. They have helped me understand myself in the least expected ways; and when I am not so preoccupied by my own selfish inquiries, they have taught me about G-d and His nature when I can glimpse it just gently shining through their souls.

Traveling is one of the greatest ways to meet people, it is also one of the most sure ways to say good-bye a great deal more than anyone who never leaves their home town. Why do we love people? because we are created for relationship, with each other and with G-d. That is why it is worth it to invest in people, to admire the diversity and ingenuity of His design in each one. This is how I could befriend a man who has read no more than five books in his life and at once am humbled and amazed that despite all my reading he understands me, my thoughts and my philosophy. And how I could take the time to listen to John speak slowly and diligently and leave the conversation feeling refreshed by his steady wisdom and kind instruction.

Oh, there is so much risk in loving people, there is so much pain in becoming attached. There is bitterness in the fallen state of Man, there is rejection, there are awkward dilemmas, there are splits in the paths and forks in the road. But to treasure them, every one of them is a worthy endeavor. Impossible? yes, but that does not mean it should not be attempted.