Keep the Car Running
April 10, 2011
Kids can grasp it. When they’re playing a soccer game and someone uses their hands, they instinctively shout, “HEY! That’s not fair!” They feel cheated, lied to, betrayed. Isn’t there someone who can stop this? Isn’t there someone who can step in and right the wrong? But the act is done. The cheating already happened. And any adjustment by an outside force does nothing to change the fact that the act was unfair to begin with, and short of lopping off people’s arms, there’s nothing to be done to stop people using them.
Often, the adults will calm the situation, and then dispense the sage advice, “Life isn’t fair.”
Because it isn’t. It may occasionally be good. Sometimes it sucks. Other times it just is. But whatever it is, it isn’t fair. Maybe Lent should lead me to reflect upon the space this opens up. In the unfairness there is room for love and for grace to heal. Maybe. It’s only space. It is full of possibility. Love could win. Grace could heal. Or it couldn’t. Maybe that’s what Lent’s about. I don’t know. All I know is that April 10 viscerally reminds me that life isn’t fair.
Arcade Fire are singing about the end of the world, but they could very well be singing about the end of a life. “They don’t know where, and they don’t know when it’s coming.” They seem to come to the same conclusion I come to: May as well keep going; I’m still here.
I miss you, Mark.
this made my sunday morning. thank you.