I had a recent trip out of town. It was a pleasant trip to a place I very much
like to visit. Since I was traveling for
an organization I represent, it was not going to cost me much, except the time
I would spend away from campus and from my friends. I always miss that, but the trade-off is not
bad. I get to meet new people and,
maybe, see some old friends. So off I
went.
I like being in different cities. Each city has its own characteristics. Often there is a different offering of
restaurants---sometimes with local ethnic fare.
I like experimenting with different options. It is on trips like this, I realize again how
very provincial my growing up on an Indiana farm really was. I don’t lament that, but I am grateful that I
have begun to experience a much bigger world.
I am not sure we can understand and appreciate just how big and diverse
God’s world is until we travel a bit. I
have been fortunate.
One of the things planned for the end of my trip was a
scheduled appointment with a person that is a relatively new friend. I met him fairly recently at a conference on
Thomas Merton, my favorite monk of last century. Anyone who shares an interest in Merton is
someone I would enjoy seeing and engaging in some conversation. Merton is such a fascinating figure, I am
always intrigued how any particular person found and is attracted to
Merton. George and I were scheduled to
meet at a hotel and have some coffee. I
was glad to see him walk into the lobby and head with me to the restaurant for
some coffee.
George and I have very different backgrounds, which I find,
begins to enrich our new friendship. I
am an Indiana farm boy; he is a New York City guy. I am a life-long Quaker and he is
Jewish. He has an accent, as all New
Yorkers do! And he laughs at my Midwestern
way of speaking. We both have found our
way into Merton’s life and spirituality, so there was much to talk about.
As the conversation began to unfold, I became aware of the
twin themes of travel and travail. I had
traveled some hours to be in the city and to arrange the meeting with
George. He had traveled two hours to
make our visit possible. We both wanted
this to happen and we made it happen.
But throughout our conversation, I began to be aware of another
dimension of travel. Sometimes travel is
not willingly taken up.
Sometimes travel is forced.
I mentioned that George is Jewish.
During our conversation, he mentioned some of the work he is doing
around the Holocaust. When we talked
about the Holocaust, we underscored how often the Jews were rounded
up---against their will---and put on trains for the forced trip to a
concentration camp. I can’t imagine what
it would be like to be forced on to a train and head for what I would know
would be my sure death. Talk about
travail---an unfortunate situation or lousy experience. Travail can be a painful circumstance, which
surely the Holocaust would be.
I am not sure those of us who are not Jews can fully
appreciate what being Jewish means with the Holocaust a part of our Jewish
story. This would be the same for those
of us who are not African-American with the slavery thing as part of our Black
History. I can claim to know “about it,”
but in no way can I claim to know “it.”
The same goes for all the individual travails of our particular
lives. I have my own travails and so
does everyone else who has lived some amount of time.
Travail is part of the human experience. Live long enough and you, too, will
experience some travail. But it occurred to me. There is the inevitable travail of being
human---some hardships along the way, perhaps some cancer and inevitably death
for us all. And there is the inflicted
travail that humans do to other humans.
Here we have the Holocaust, slavery, wars, murders, etc.
This is where the conversation between George and me
focused. Essential to the spiritual life
is the call to justice and peacemaking.
Merton knew and did this. So did
Martin Luther King, Jr. and a whole host of others. Any one of us spiritual people also needs to
sign on to this kind of work.
We are called to alleviate people from their travails. If we cannot alleviate their travails, then
we need to join them in the midst of travail.
There may not be a Holocaust on the same scale as WW II, but terrorism
is a modern version of travail. We know
well about the terrorism appearing on the news.
What is less visible is the terrorism people are perpetuating on in
quieter ways. I see parents yelling at
their young child. I see the rich
getting richer and the poor being consigned to a quiet form of travail.
George and I solved no world problem. But we did vow to keep working in our own
little corner to alleviate the travail we see.
In some cases Merton’s word or example might be helpful. Sometimes it might be my word or
example. It could be yours, too. I was grateful for my trip, for George and
our new resolve to do an old thing: build the kingdom.
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