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Well, last night was not quiet. I only had one call but it lasted for about two and a half hours. Oy. Today I spoke to a patient who feels entirely out of control, powerless and helpless and stripped of his decisions. Of course, that's just about everyone in the hospital. That's just part of being there, unable to move freely or care for yourself. Still, this guy was either feeling it more acutely or he was just that much more eloquent. As often happens, his current situation translated into his feelings about God...which, in this case, was rather disturbing. He said that he felt like a cockroach. "Cockroaches know nothing, except that when the light goes on the death rate goes up. When it's dark, it's safe. That's all they know. I am a cockroach. I know nothing about God, about what God is doing or why. All I know is when the light is on or off." He also said that trying to understand God is pointless. "We have as much chance of understanding God as a mouse has of understanding Shakespeare." I like that one better, if only for the mental image of a mouse trying to do table work at the first rehearsal of Twelfth Night. In a sense I suppose he's right; there's no comprehending God. Theology (God study) makes an effort to at least understand how we interact with God, but even that falls woefully short of the reality. Ultimately, God is a mystery too big for us. We creatures can only accept, or rail against that fact. Neither action will change anything. The disturbing part of his metaphor was his choice of images...cockroaches get stepped on, mice will never understand Shakespeare. (Nor will most seventh graders, but that's another entry.) But God isn't a cosmic foot, squashing bugs he doesn't care about. On the contrary, God does invite us to know her. We may never succeed in this life, but then we won't really succeed in knowing one another, either. That doesn't mean we stop trying, or disengage. All of life is a quest for relationship, reaching out toward what we perceive in one another, groping in the dark, missing, trying again and occasionally brushing up against the solid form of another person...or God. |
