Life is a web of intrigue

 

"Laws are like spider’s webs: if some poor weak creature come [sic] up against them, it is caught; but a bigger one can break through and get away." Solon of Athens (ca. 640 BCE)

The season of the spiders is upon us. The weather’s turned chilly, so creepy crawly things are making their way inside to take up residence. If I can catch them, I try to put them outside first; after all, it isn’t their fault they’re coming in out of the weather. We all do that!

I used to be deathly afraid of spiders. I still remember putting on my shoes for school one morning eons ago, and just as I picked up one of my tennies, this huge hairy scary spider leapt out of it, up onto the tongue, seemingly wondering just what I thought I was doing disturbing their home. It gave me such a fright that I still, to this day, shake my shoes out before putting them on.

As I recall I let out a very unmanly scream (I think I was about ten or twelve years old), flung the shoe away at something approaching light speed, and discovered that spiders are somewhat like china. You know, you have a set of china sitting on a table, and if you whip the tablecloth away quickly enough, the china stays put. Well, so did the spider.

Fortunately, by then my arms and legs had become cartoonish wheels, making a whirling dervish of their owner, and by the time I slowed down enough to avoid coming totally apart at the seams, the spider had made its way from this human twister, to finding a new, dark, and quiet place in which to go spin itself a fresh web.

I’m less frightened of spiders now. I exercise due care and caution around them, but I still experience a jolt of adrenaline when I find myself walking through a web strung between a couple of bushes or trees outside. 

But rather than freezing in terror, I find myself looking at the intricacies of those arachnid belay lines and wonder to myself, “How on earth did they get this web strung horizontally between two trees, that many feet apart? Do they lick their little paws, hold them up to test the wind, and let fly with a web when the wind is going their way? Do they stick one end of the web to a branch and go all Tarzan, yodeling from one tree to the next?” 

I guess it doesn’t matter, but it’s asking questions that intrigue me these days. I think we often underestimate the importance of questions. When we’re children, we’re curious about the world. We touch, feel, and taste everything within reach and learn quite quickly what hurts, tastes, or smells yucky. As we get older, we ask fewer questions. That’s too bad. 

I ask questions more and more in my dotage. Some are quite challenging, like why did I go into the kitchen or out to the garage. Others simply spark my curiosity about life, and nature, and why things are the way they are.

Questions no longer frighten me. As a student, I was always afraid I’d get answers wrong. Sometimes my fear was well-founded. But life isn’t about having all the right answers, but asking the right questions, and working together to find our way forward. We need not fear the questions, nor need we fear the answers. We only have to trust that the answers will reveal themselves if we keep our eyes and ears open.

In the end, it is enough to delight in the intricacies of nature, and marvel at the world around us. Just watch out for webs, though. It’s the season of the spiders here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Ensuring Domestic Tranquility

"Half of the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important." T.S. Eliot

I would love to think I am an observant person, but I know I am not. At least not by nature. I can pay attention when I want to. I am punctilious when it comes to finances and balancing my checkbook. I once had a parishioner who was a retired banker. 

He said, “When I worked at the bank, every teller had to balance out at the end of the day to the penny. Now if they’re within ten bucks, they’re satisfied.” 

It drove him nuts. It would bug me no end, too. It isn’t that I am perfect. Far from it. But if there is an error, I like to know where it is. I don’t mind correcting mistakes, and am always perplexed by folks who cannot admit to their own errors or limitations. There’s nothing wrong with being human.

Being human means we don’t know everything. I sometimes mis-speak. I sometimes lose my place. I was covering for our priest last Sunday while he was away, and as I was engaged in conducting the Mass, I lost my place. I’ve been doing this for forty years, but suddenly, my mind wandered for a split second as I elevated either the bread or the wine, and as I set it back on the altar, closing my eyes whilst reverencing God, I found myself lost in the mystery of it all. 

I opened my eyes and that etch-a-sketch I call my brain was blank! I looked at the altar missal and couldn’t remember if I had lifted the bread or the wine. I couldn’t remember if I had been reciting the prayer from the left or the right hand page or from which paragraph I’d been working, or where on the page I’d been reading!  I was flummoxed, baffled, and bewildered.

Bewildered. What a wonderful word. I was lost in the wilds of our worship. I was also thoroughly embarrassed to have this many years of experience and to find myself so lost in the liturgy, even if only for a moment. Swallowing my pride, I simply picked up where I’m sure I left off, and “got ‘er done, dude” as the Duke might have phrased it.

Life goes on. I don’t know of anyone who wants to see perfection in their neighbor. Those who act perfect are truly acting. Those who look so sharp or lovely on the outside are often just as goofed up on the inside as the rest of us mere mortals. 

Humility isn’t about being “less than,” of course. It is about being “right sized” (as a friend explains it). Maybe I can’t do everything, but I can do something. I can’t do everything perfectly, but I can do what I can do to the best of my ability. Humility, it is said, is not about mediocrity. It is somewhat ironic that both pride and humility, properly understood, are about feeling good with the results of what one has done. We don’t want to confuse pride with arrogance, nor do we want to confuse humility with worthlessness. 

Sometimes people wonder what God’s plan for them is. I’ll admit I don’t belong to that school of thought. I don’t believe God has a specific plan written up for each and every one of us. I don’t believe God works that way. I believe God is sometimes absolutely shocked by some of the things we say and do to one another. 

I do not believe God witnesses domestic abuse, children and teachers shot and killed in school, hostages murdered by terrorists, and assorted acts of genocide, famine, and warfare taking place across this globe, and then responding, “Right on time. I love it when a plan comes together.”

What I do believe is that we are created in the image of the Divine, called to love and care for one another and the planet we inhabit, and work to relieve suffering, ensure domestic tranquility, strive for justice, and leave the earth a better place than when we arrived. IF there is a “God’s plan,” then I would suggest that might be it.

Of course, that’s just my humble opinion here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)