Dearest Rachel –
When we go walking in the woods every week, Lars will almost always ask me about three things in my life, only one of which has much change from week to week. That fluctuating one is my weight, although it’s less so at the moment, since I’ve given up most of what I could – full-bag snacking, fried foods (for the most part), three meals a day – in order to drop from where I was to where I am. He’ll also inquire as to whether I’ve found anyone in terms of dating – I think my online misadventures make for interesting stories, and I can’t say I blame him for his curiosity – although there’s been precious little to report to him, as you well know.
But the final question has to do with whether I’ve been reading any good books lately. And while I hate to disappoint him in that area, I have to admit that it’s been an awful long time since I’ve bothered with picking up a physical book and actually paging through it. Not that I don’t read anything, mind you; I go through probably dozens of short articles (about the length of this and other letters – it’s probably where I’ve picked up the idea of how long to make these things, in fact) in the course of a given day. I doubt that’s what he has in mind, even as it’s a lot to take in, on an aggregate basis.
I don’t often talk about them with you here, since they usually revolve around current events and politics, both of which will cease to be important even for me in short order. You’ll hear a few things now and again, when they get too big to ignore – and of course, this whole preoccupation with artificial intelligence stemmed from one such article after another that I decided to look into that much further (although at this point, what was barely a glimmer of “in the future we will be able to get computers to create things for us” when you were around has morphed into “computers are throwing even artists out of work after stealing their works that they put up to be viewed for free on the internet”). It’s the sort of thing we would talk about face-to-face, but by and large, it doesn’t seem important enough to tell you about, given where you are now.
That said, there was a story embedded in one of these articles recently that has stuck with me, and may until the day I join you (as it probably should). It involved a rabbi and his disciple, each of whom had an apple before them as a light meal. The disciple said a quick prayer over his apple, but upon opening his eyes and preparing to tuck in, he realized that his master still had his head bowed, and set the apple down to wait for his master to finish. As seconds ticked by and turned to minutes, the young man kept looking at his apple longingly, growing more and more impatient with the passage of time. It was all he could do to keep from snatching up his apple and biting into it with a satisfying ‘crunch,’ even if it did disturb the old man in the midst of his prayer.
Somehow, with a tremendous effort of will, he managed to refrain himself until the old rabbi lifted up his head and peered at his student with a wry smile. He nodded to indicate to his pupil that he could start in on his snack, which he did with obvious enthusiasm.
The wise old rabbi, however, simply held his own apple in his folded hands as he watched his disciple eat, smiling indulgently the whole time. At some point, the young man realized both that his master had yet to begin eating, and moreover, he was observing him intently. With this understanding dawning on him, he slowed down and eventually stopped eating as well, slightly abashed at his impertinence.
It was at this point the old rabbi spoke up. “Do you know the difference between the two of us, my son?”
The young man self-consciously wiped the juice from his chin, and shook his head.
“Of course not,” the rabbi’s smile widened ever so slightly, before growing serious again. “You see, you bless the Lord in order to obtain permission to have your apple. I have my apple in order to have an opportunity to bless the Lord.” At which point, he proceeded to pick up the apple and take his first healthy bite of it, slowly savoring it as he chewed.
I have to admit, that’s an attitude I don’t think I’ve ever heard of before – and I most certainly have never held. Indeed, I’ve never considered how relatable the student’s attitude toward prayer – at least, the mealtime prayer, as well as the prayer of dismissal for something like the men’s Bible study or the like – is to my life. More often than not, I pray in order to gain permission to proceed with something that I’m already about to do (and in fairness, the Lord certainly isn’t about to object to); it’s never crossed my mind to prepare to do or have something for the express purpose to call upon the Lord.
Maybe it’s because, if prayer is simply a matter of having a conversation with Him, why do I need an excuse?
But of course, I don’t come to Him without having some reason to do so. Nor, I suppose do most who engage in prayer. And as much as one might dismiss the old rabbi’s words as sanctimonious braggadocio, a case of literally being holier-than-thou, the fact that the concept and attitude even crossed his mind puts him leagues ahead of me, even if he didn’t really consider his meal an excuse to bless the Lord (as if he needed one). He at least thought this way, even if his spirit might not have been capable of truly exercising itself so.
Which brings us to today, and the fact that we’re flying out in the next few hours. I’m not even consistent about praying for ‘traveling mercies’ – the vacation equivalent of praying before a meal. Indeed, I’m more likely to tell you about our situation, and close with a request for you to watch over us and wish us luck. A dispassionate observer might conclude that I’m treating you like my own personal patron saint.
Of course, I know better than that; after all, I don’t believe in ‘saints’ as several denominations of Christianity treat them. For one, there’s the question of how any body of humans, revered and pious thought they may be, have any right or even ability to peer into any person’s soul, and know that they are right with God? That understanding is between the person and God Himself, and is not revealed to any other. However, we think of sainthood as belonging to anyone who comes to God, with the understanding that only Jesus is the source of salvation, and accepting the gift He offers to let us into heaven, without any merit of our own (because if we could get ourselves into heaven, why should He have had to go to the cross?). Of course, the gratitude for such an immeasurable gift ought to produce noticeable righteousness in the one who has been so favored, but none of that would be sufficient to enter heaven – let alone intercede with God on behalf of those of us left behind on earth. On the contrary, God has no need of such gatekeepers, as He wants us all to reach out and speak to Him directly… whether we have an excuse to do so or not, which has now only just occurred to me.
As for my sign off to you, it’s not meant as a prayer to you by any means, but I’ll confess that it’s more than a mere catchphrase, either. I really would wish for you to be able to see what was going on with me, and be able to read these letters. And I acknowledge that I need all the luck I can get from day-to-day. But I know that you’re in no position to give that to me, nor am I in any position to order you around toward that end.
I’ve said before that I don’t know how time works on your side is. For all I know, the thief on the cross has been unaware of how many days have passed since he was told that “today” he would see Christ in paradise, and at some point, he, you and everyone who has passed on will rise at a single moment in the future yet to come to do just that. However, you and he and everybody else might already be experiencing that moment and beyond, having slipped the bonds of time as we understand it here on earth. So from my perspective, I might just be calling out to you in your seemingly eternal slumber, where you’re no more capable of seeing any of this than if I whispered to you as you slept in our bed.
But I could use the reminder, even as I ask the Lord to watch over us today and keep us safe, that I should come to Him more often, just to extend my thanks and blessing, humble and useless as it is – because how can a human bless the Almighty God? Isn’t that just peak impertinence? And yet, this is something He wants from us – for no particular reason. In fact, it’s that much better when I do so, rather than only coming to Him when I want something (even something He’s only willing to give, but is eager to give it); it’s giving Him something that He wants from me, rather than the other way around.
So I ask you to be that reminder as we head out, in part by asking you to keep that eye upon us, and by asking you to wish us luck. Because, as I keep saying – and you know all too well – we need it.
Letters to Rachel 