A very personal reflection based on Luke 21.5-19
When the familial testimony of the shadow-side of my Uncle Sy was revealed, the something else that I beheld and have come to believe is ambiguity. That quality or state of the obscurity – hence, inexplicability or inscrutability – of a something or someone.
Simply stated, life in this world is not simple. Ever. Circumstances, events, and people, in their inherent, inextricable complexity, are not and cannot be always as they seem. Therefore, truth, what is real, what is reliable is more difficult to define and, even when defined, deeper than our immediate and ongoing perception of it.
Uncle Sy wasn’t always and for all the strong, yet gentle man I came to know. He was, as each of us is, a product of his time. And his life’s era of unrelentingly oppressive, societally-authorized-and-accepted discrimination on the basis of color left him broken and embittered. Perhaps it was that he saw me as one into whom he could pour his best-remembered self with his stories of the birth of his dreams; though, for him, stillborn in their constant deferral and denial.
These realities once grasped, however, neither invalidate my experience of Uncle Sy nor could my experience refute the testimony of those who were victims of his violence.
Through the lens of these very personal reflections, I look at the world. A world still reeling from the ever-present, continually-morphing viral pandemic. And an America engulfed in yet another outburst of mass shootings and killings. An America, on this morning following yesterday’s guilty verdict in the trial of former police officer Derek Michael Chauvin for the killing, the murder of George Floyd, a black man, on Memorial Day 2020.
Our responses to these difficulties, tragedies, each and all laden with the ambiguity of people’s inherently wide-ranging and conflicting perspectives, cannot be reduced to simple answers to a variety of serious arguments about good and evil, whether natural or humanmade, individual freewill and communal responsibility, public health and the role of government, law enforcement and accountability, or God’s existence and benevolence and God’s awful absence and silence.
In the immutable face of life’s ambiguity, there are, at least, two primary responses.
One is a path of a cynicism in which we give up wrestling with things as they are, that is, things not always as they seem; which, I think, is one long (or, depending on individual temperament, short) step away from the nihilism in which we believe in little and trust in less.
Another way is a walk of faith that involves a search for a deepening revelation of truth hand-in-hand with a risk-taking high spirit of adventure coupled with a sense of life’s ambiguity and, therefore, a humble admission of our constant state of incomplete knowledge and imperfect wisdom.
This response demands perseverance. The kind of which Jesus speaks: “By your endurance you will gain your souls.”
The Greek word, psychē, rather than soul, is better translated life or self. Hence, by endurance, by a constant or consistent pursuit of truth, we take hold of the promise of the fullness of our own being, our own truth in our concrete experiences of this world.
By endurance, wrestling with ambiguity, that of life and that of our own, we gain our psychē, our very selves.
© 2021 PRA