My husband has lots of handy little sayings that cut through the wordiness. One that is on my mind this morning is: “Some people are like concrete—all mixed up and firmly set.” In my younger days, I thought the concrete could be loosened up, and the person could get things sorted out in their minds. But I have realized that some people like being like concrete and have no desire to have the concrete replaced with truth, logic, facts, or anything other than what has already hardened in their hearts and minds. The more I contemplate this, the more I think it is about being risk-averse.
As is my tendency, I got a little behind on my read-the-Bible-in-a-year program, so I have been playing catch-up for the past two or three weeks. I read four days worth every day, and more some days if I find myself on a roll. This turns out to be a good thing because there is more continuity to the story, which is in this case, a very intense story. I am on the part where the Hebrews have been behaving very badly for a very long time and are about to be thoroughly wrecked by the Babylonians. It would be an understatement to say those people were like concrete.
I have had people ask me what I am getting out of this Bible reading, and that answer could fill a book. But one thing I get out of it is a framework for thinking. Even if a person is not interested in the faith or religion aspect, the Bible still provides lots of food for thought. One of the main things the Hebrews had done to get themselves in trouble was to start adopting the religions of the people around them. It seemed to kind creep up on them, like most things do—allow a little statue here, a little ritual there, consult a sorceress a couple of times, and over a few hundred years, they were full-blown pagans who were burning their children alive. Why did they even get started down that path? I think it was risk-aversion.
To be a person of faith takes….you know, faith. To be honest, life takes faith. We like to think there are concrete things in the world that are permanent, unchangeable, safe, but that is an illusion. I was watching something about 9/11 last night, and it hit me that no one thought about the towers collapsing because in the 115-ish years since the first skyscraper was built, one had never even come close to collapsing. They knew the people above the fires were likely not going to survive, but they never thought about the buildings collapsing. No amount of steel, concrete, and engineering was enough to make those structures permanent.
So what do you do when you look around and see there is nothing solid to hold onto? It is an uncomfortable feeling I was reminded of yesterday when I got to traverse San Saba County from north to south in a helicopter. It is a strange feeling to be dangling in the sky in a little plexiglass bubble. I got a firm grip on the edge of where the door should have been just to make me feel a bit safer; then I said a quick prayer and leaned on my faith. I think this is how the concrete gets in the head—the person feels like they are dangling and shifting around in the uncertainty that is life and they cannot find anything to get hold of to make them feel safe. So they latch onto one idea, one way of thinking. And they let it harden up, so it becomes something concrete to shield them from the shiftiness of life. Of course, that is an illusion and does absolutely nothing to remove risk or uncertainty. What it does do is remove options and choices, which makes some people feel snug and safe, I suppose, while it makes others feel blocked-in and claustrophobic.
Some things are certain in my life like laundry, taxes, bills, and dog hair, so I suppose I should leave off with the philosophical and get on with the work. I always welcome your thoughts—SpringCreekArtsGuild@gmail.com