Harmony

How wonderful it is, how pleasant, when brethren live together in harmony; for harmony is precious … harmony is refreshing … and the Lord blesses! (Psalm 133).

A couple of weeks ago Barb and I were driving up to Port Townsend to take church services for a priest who is on sabbatical. As we began to cross the Hood Canal Bridge I heard a strange sound coming from the roadway, but I didn’t think much of it as we were on a bridge, and it’s not unusual for a change in road surfaces to create a change in road noises.

When we got off the bridge and continued our way up the highway, there was no change in the sound coming from the road. I began to wonder if we were “throwing a cap” (as it brought back memories of my college days when the only tires I could afford to keep on my car were recaps of dubious quality), but since our tires were virtually brand new with less than a thousand miles on them, I was sure that wasn’t the problem, so I pulled over to the side of the road.

I got out to take a look and discovered that the road shield beneath the engine had fallen down and was being pushed beneath the car much like a snow shovel! It was hanging from two straps at the back, and I had no way to get to them to see how to release or remove them. My visual acuity is so poor these days that I was unable to pull focus no matter how I bobbed my head or adjusted my glasses.

I climbed out from beneath the car and muttered (more to myself than to any divine presence), “Oh God, what are we going to do now.”

I know; as a priest I really should have pressed my hands together, devoutly lifted my eyes up unto the heavens, and uttered a prayer with plenty of these and thous and reminders of just how much the good Lord (ahem) owes me in all humility, but I didn’t.

I stood there feeling helpless, hopeless, and wondering what to do.

As I pondered our situation, an old beat-up ’72 International pickup truck pulled over to the side of the road directly in front of our car. Two young men jumped out and asked if we needed help. Shocked that ANYONE would stop to help fellow motorists in this day and age of cell-phones and Triple-A, I thanked them for stopping and pointed out the problem.

I confessed I had no tools, and it turns out neither did the Samaritans; but one of them crawled under the car for a quick look and said all we needed was a flat-head screwdriver. Neither of us had even that most basic tool, but that didn’t cause my new-found friends any concern. The driver pulled a set of cheap dime-store fingernail clippers out of his pocket, extended the nail file, climbed back under the car, and thirty seconds later came out: Mission Accomplished.



The shield was free, and we were free to continue on our journey.

I think I’ve gained an insight into what the psalmist means when he writes, “How wonderful it is, how pleasant, when brethren live together in harmony; for harmony is precious …”

The events that took place on the road that day were exactly the sort of thing one expects to find in the kingdom of heaven. They are the routine; they are the rule; and we find they take place far more often than we otherwise would expect. It is the basic goodness of humans and strangers that makes life, for the most part, pleasant and harmonious.

It is the acrimony of our politicians and the evil (at home and abroad) we hear reported on newscasts that are the exception; it is they that distort our view of the human capacity for kindness.

We thanked our saviors for their help and they declined the token of appreciation we offered them. We didn’t even get their names, these anonymous angels of mercy.

I believe God was truly present on that highway, and I’m convinced God drives around heaven in an old beat-up ’72 International pickup truck. At least that’s what I’ve got to say this week in this, our world.