Kindness

The security guard’s kindness was unexpected, noticeable among the other guards.  Always friendly, willing to lend a hand, open a door, shoo away some cats.  After six months of accrued good will, he took the step and cautiously explained his situation to his ward.  There could be a promotion for him if only he could improve his English.  To his surprise and delight, the ward became a friend and offered lessons.  The guard could only marvel at his good fortune at picking such an agreeable target.  The friend became teacher and invited the guard into his home and confidence.  Lessons were followed by tea and pastries, and the guard always felt like an honored guest.  “Such unwarranted benevolence”, he thought to himself in his own native tongue.  “I wonder how you say that in English.”  Unbeknownst to him, his teacher was spying.  Not for any government, agency, or non-profit organization, but a God intent on overhauling the entire spiritual and moral structure of society.  His orders were to plant seeds of revolution.  War games, the teacher called them.  No one is pure. 

From Ezekiel’s journal, on the passing of his wife

I open my hand and close each finger one by one, and here staring at my fist, I imagine myself as a child, thrilled at the realization that I can make myself… stand.  And then it’s gone, and I’m sick again, wondering if it was that thing inside me, orchestrating my movements.  What happened yesterday, Lord?  You told me not to lament or shed a tear, and I didn’t.  But you know, I tried.  Just to see if I could.  What happened yesterday?

You said you’d harden me, make my forehead harder than flint.  To protect me from what?  Israel?  She was my home, Lord.  My one escape from binding myself in ropes, digging through walls, baking my food in cow dung.  I even had to bargain with you not to use my own feces.  The one person that didn’t think I was completely insane or sent from Satan.  You took my only friend.

I didn’t think you’d do it.  You spared Abraham that.  Where was my ram, Lord?  And then when she was gone, in spite of myself, I groaned meekly.  Why?  Because I fear you, Lord.  I fear you so much that when every fiber of my being ached to say goodbye to my wife, I kept my face rigid.  To disobey you today seemed the most human thing to do.  And I couldn’t do it.  Without choice or conscience, I don’t know what I am.  Is it my will or yours?  It’s been so long I can’t tell anymore.  I’ve known you as my creator, but today… today you’ve shown me what it means to be the created.

And to my dear wife: should I have told you?  Would it have comforted you to know that God was taking your life for a purpose?  If I had the strength to say no to him when he first called, then you might never have gotten sick and we could have had another twenty years.  But I couldn’t very well say no to him, could I?  There I go, rationalizing again. 

I confess I didn’t even protest when he told me.  So deeply have I failed you as a husband, as a man.  I’ve already been shown today what feebleness is my love, and yet I can’t help but beg you.  I cannot express… there is something squeezing the blood out of my heart…   However you may, forgive me.  I am miserable and sorry…