“The question from agnosticism Is, ‘Who turned on the lights?’ The question from faith is, ‘Whatever for?’”——-Annie DillardA despairing cynic might answer that second question, “not so much.” Insert here the now familiar axiomatic summation of fatalism, “Life’s a bitch and then you die.”
I might indulge a bowlful of cynicism from time to time, but it’s poured from a box of disappointment rather than despair. The truth is I’m daily animated by the conviction that the question is endlessly provocative and stirringly promising even if we never arrive at a completely satisfying answer. It represents the existential hunger that keeps us searching for the next nourishing morsel of insight.
“Whatever for,” indeed.
For a certain strain of Christianity the Shorter Westminster Catechism answers the question, What is the chief end of man” with the conviction, “to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.” I’ll go out on a limb here and speculate that it’s the chief end of woman as well. It’s a good biblical answer, but I’m not sure how much further down the road that gets us. What, after all, does this “glorification” look like every morning as I shake off the sleep, open my door and step through with an urge to justify my inhalations?
We continually try out options.
Self-actualization.
Rigid compliance to religious rules.
Piety.
Profit.
Indulgence.
“Growth.”
“America First.”
And countless others, each with its own allure.
But reading the list reminds me of a Q & A session some of us had in college with a well-known preacher. “What do you think of ‘speaking in tongues,’” one of us asked. After a moment’s thought he responded, “it’s sort of like spiritual masturbation. You get all worked up, you feel real good, but then you’ve got nothing to show for it.”
Culturally speaking, we have elevated the enjoyment of "nothing enduring to show for it" into an art form. It's our own little take on collective “motivational masturbation."
Even then, I suppose, there can be some value in our perennial trials and errors. I think it was Parker Palmer from whom I heard the story of a desperate hiker lost in the woods who came upon another traveling in the opposite direction. “Please, sir, do you know the way out of these woods.”
“No,” he replied. “But I can steer you away from a hundred others that only lead farther in.”
If we are paying attention at all — and keeping track — we are developing an extensive and useful inventory of existential dead ends. Surely we can do better, which is why we keep trying.
I can’t help but believe that the path we keep assiduously avoiding actually holds the greatest promise. It isn’t the path of bumper stickers, self-congratulatory billboards or hats, but rather the one of wonder-filled appreciation and discovery. Nature daily, seasonally, annually teaches her students the essential value of mutually beneficial relationships. It’s not merely an oddity that some trees are tall while others are short; it’s essential. It’s more than interesting that there are so many varieties of apple trees. If the trees are ever to bear fruit a community of the same species is useless. A different variety is necessary. Every part of nature has a irreplaceable part to play — a unique gift to give. This isn’t gushy fluff talk. This is the way the system works, and why, when pieces are taken away, it doesn’t. I don't quite understand why taking this path along with the rest of creation looks so scary, but I'm increasingly convinced we had better get over our fear. We are, quite pragmatically and literally, each other's life blood.
Perhaps that is part of the reason the lights were turned on: to enable us all to better see the gifts we bring to each other -- us Christians and Muslims and Jews and other variously believing and unbelieving; us men and women, old and young; us Americans and Iraqis, Russians, Mexicans, Koreans and more; the "us" that is all of us -- gifts the exchange on which...
... our very lives depend.
