I was driving north, up the main highway. As I came down the hill into town, traffic slowed to a standstill. The truck ahead of me turned on its four-way flashers. 

            Something was happening, but I couldn’t see what. 

            I peered through the gap between the vehicles ahead of me. 

            And I saw a woman, walking backwards across the four lanes of traffic, beckoning to something or someone with her hands, encouraging them to come on. 

            Then I saw what she was encouraging. A pair of geese. Canada geese. Big birds. When they spread their wings and hiss, they can be terrifying. 

            But these two waddled along following the woman. And right behind them came a pair of goslings, balls of fluff on toothpick legs.

            And finally, behind them all, came a man pushing a bicycle, making sure no one got left behind. Or run over.

            The whole cortege reached the far sidewalk. The geese vanished into the park. The man and woman gave each other high-fives, and went their separate ways. Traffic rolled again. 

The kingdom of trust

            And as I too drove on, it occurred to me that I had just seen a parable enacted, a parable of the way the world could be, and should be. 

            Jesus didn’t have Canada Geese or four-lane highways to talk about in his parables. But I think he would have described that scene as a sample of the kingdom of God. 

            The goslings trusted their parents enough to follow them into a totally foreign environment. The geese trusted the woman enough to follow her across the highway. The woman trusted the drivers enough to believe that no impatient driver would run her down. 

            And it worked. 

            For that couple of minutes, no one roared over the sidewalk to save a few seconds. No one honked angrily. No one brandished middle-finger salutes. Everyone got where they were going, at most a couple of minutes late. 

            It’s a parable of the “kingdom” because all our relationships depend on trust. Every day, we commit hundreds of little acts of trust. So many, in fact, that we don’t even think of them as acts of trust — we take them for granted. 

            I trust that my breakfast cereal is safe to eat. That an oncoming driver will not suddenly swerve into my lane. That the radio news is not fabricated fiction. That the cash register at the grocery store will add my bill accurately. That the tree will stay upright, the bridge will hold, the sky will not fall.

            At least, not today. 

The reminders we need

            If I couldn’t trust these incidents, I’d be paralyzed. Afraid of everything. A nervous wreck, a human Chicken Little. 

            Trust keeps our society, our civilization, even our world, running smoothly. 

            We exist in a vast, universal, web of relationships. We are, in a sense, the sum of our relationships. When we can no longer trust those relationships, we lose a huge part of what we are. We are reduced to being an individual playing solitaire. 

            That’s why breaches of trust are so serious. 

            And that’s why little incidents that remind us how much trust matters, matter. Even if they bring traffic to a standstill. 

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Copyright © 2017 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.

            To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca

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YOUR TURN

Last week’s column went out in two parts – the main article and then your letters, later. I got responses to both mailings. So many, in fact, that I have to leave out quite a few of your comments. 

Isabel Gibson simply said, “Thanks for putting a human scale to blood donations.”

Leslie Fraser wrote as the Chair of the Blood Donor Committee for his Masonic District in Ontario: As a 110+ donor myself I hope that someone in need has benefitted from my donations.I would like your permission to read your well-articulated (as always) message on the occasion of some of my travels over the coming year.”

            JT: Permission granted, of course. 

Several of you commented on your own experiences of giving blood. 

            Sylvia McTavish, for example: “I became a regular blood donor back in the days when there were 2 clinics a year in Kelowna. My ambition was to give 100 units but I did not make it.” Sylvia mentioned some medical problems “and then the Red Cross fiasco, interfered with my goal, but it did not prevent me from volunteering my time to help at the clinics. I have never had a transfusion, but my sister had many as she had leukemia and her life and the lives of many depended on those who gave their blood willingly. So to those of you who have never donated, do so, it is painless and easy. And if you cannot donate blood, donate your time; most clinics need help. Ask them and see what you can do.”

“I donated blood for over 50 years,” commented a regular reader who preferred anonymity this time. “I have forgotten what my last pin waso but these serving cookies and juice were always impressed! And gave me some more chocolate cookies.  To rebuild my strength.

            “After open heart surgery to replace a faulty valve I was born with, I required daily doses of blood thinner.  Now I can’t donate blood any more, sad to say.

            “But I still encourage people to donate.”

Dick Best went further in his encouragement: “Having donated something over 3 gallons (I lost track years ago) I am unable to donate due to certain prescribed medicines I am taking. So, I ask: is there someone reading Jim's columns, who is not a donor to date, who will agree to donate in my place?It's pretty simple, has very little danger attached to it, and takes less than 2 hours -- quite possibly less than one --several times a year. If you accept this request, please let me know, through Jim, that you have done so.”

            JT: To anyone willing to become a regular donor, I will forward your information to Dick.

Jack Driedger gave another example of the need for donations: “During the fifties, my father entered a hospital for the first time for an appendectomy. Shortly after entering the hospital, the appendix ruptured. This led to complications resulting in a 9-month stay in the hospital during which he had 30 blood transfusions. My father lived another 29 years so he celebrated his 91st  birthday.”

Helen Arnott wondered, “how much [Joan’s] immunoglobulin transfusions cost. About 20 years ago my husband was offered the same intervention, but for a totally different diagnosis. It was to cost $10,000 per treatment in those days. He refused the treatment and died a few days later. I used to wonder if he refused it because of the cost, but I think he likely couldn’t tolerate the idea of never getting well and decided to die instead. Tough decision.”

            JT: Joan says the cost is now down under $3000 per transfusion. Fully covered by Canadian medicare, fortunately.

Doug Giles responded to the letters about how to respond to a tragedy: “I remember in my first year of ministry while arranging the funeral. I said to the widow, ‘If there’s anything I can do just ask.’ Through her tears she replied, ‘What is it you can do?’ I had no reply.

            “I’m retired now but over my 25 years as a pastor I’ve found the best response is often one’s simple presence. I don’t mean sitting around like you’re mute but, as you say, platitudes are definitely nothelpful. Also, not everyone grieves in the same way. Some people appreciate a hug, some don’t. Some people need to cry, some don’t. I have since found that normal conversation is permissible and genuine empathy is never out of place.”

And several more of you responded to my self-diagnosis of mild vertigo. Rachel Prichard suggested, I hope you will find a physiotherapist who treats vertigo. As a former PT I successfully treated many people with vertigo for the last 15 or so years of my career. Not all PTs treat this, so do your research.”

            JT: My doctor offered the same recommendation, should the vertigo return.

Frank Martens picked up on my previous column’s advice on how to respond to illness or loss: “OK, so what do we say to you? ‘I know just how you feel’? Actually, I do know how you feel, having gone through the phase when I used to get sea-sick while in the Navy. Nowadays, they just give you a few pills and it goes away – but believe me, Jim, it comes back when you least expect it.”

Isabel Gibson asked, rather gleefully, I thought, “Oh, oh, can I be the first unqualified diagnostician? Not to make light of your vertigo -- it's nasty -- but I do wonder whether it's BPPV: benign paroxysmal positional vertigo. Something about little crystals in the inner ear getting stuck where they shouldn't be. [JT: My doctor concurred.]

            “I've had it a few times and hope it's what you have, too. Because it IS benign and relatively easily/quickly corrected.”

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PSALM PARAPHRASES

I looked up my paraphrases of Psalm 104:24-34 – both of them – and didn’t like them. They reflect a view I used to hold, of God as an external being out there somewhere, a kind of super puppeteer in heaven pulling the strings of life down here on earth. 

            So this is new – not a verse by verse paraphrase but an attempt to re-think the underlying message of Psalm 104. 

I am relationship.

My DNA weaves the twisted threads of thousands before me.

I am a mirror, reflecting interaction with everyone I have ever met.

How then can I claim to stand alone?

to be master of my own ship?

Life may end; relationships do not.

I still see my father, poring over his papers;

my mother, tending seedlings in her garden;

my son, hoisting his backpack to his shoulders. 

I am them, and they are me. 

My relationships transcend time and place.

With every breath, I draw into my lungs

the exhalations of all living things that have preceded me.

Just as those who live after me will inhale my breath,

Someday. 

Today, 

this instant,

has already slid into the past; 

as soon as I name it, it is already gone.

My life is a permeable membrane,

a fulcrum for past and future.

I am at once what was, and what will be.

I am eternal life, right now.

And I am grateful for that gift.

For paraphrases of mostof the psalms used by the Revised Common Lectionary, you can order my book Everyday Psalmsfrom Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.

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TECHNICAL STUFF

If you want to comment on something, send a message directly to me, jimt@quixotic.ca.

            To subscribe or unsubscribe, send an e-mail message to jimt@quixotic.ca. Or you can subscribe electronically by sending a blank e-mail (no message or subject line) to softedges-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca. Similarly, you can un-subscribe at softedges-unsubscribe@lists.quixotic.ca.

            I write a second column each Sunday called Sharp Edges, which tends to be somewhat more cutting about social and justice issues. To sign up for Sharp Edges, write to me directly, jimt@quixotic.ca, or send a note to sharpedges-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca

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PROMOTION STUFF

To use the links in this section, you’ll have to insert the necessary symbols.

            Ralph Milton ’s latest project is called “Sing Hallelujah” -- the world’s first video hymnal. It consists of 100 popular hymns, both new and old, on five DVDs that can be played using a standard DVD player and TV screen, for use in congregations who lack skilled musicians to play piano or organ. More details at wwwDOTsinghallelujahDOTca

            Ralph’s HymnSight webpage is still up, http://wwwDOThymnsightDOTca, with a vast gallery of photos you can use to enhance the appearance of the visual images you project for liturgical use (prayers, responses, hymn verses, etc.)

            Wayne Irwin's “Churchweb Canada,”an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. <http://wwwDOTchurchwebcanadaDOTca>

            I recommend Isabel Gibson’s thoughtful and well-written blog, wwwDOTtraditionaliconoclastDOTcom

            Alva Wood’s satiric stories about incompetent bureaucrats and prejudiced attitudes in a small town -- not particularly religious, but fun; alvawoodATgmailDOTcom to get onto her mailing list.

            Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony”-- ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’sreaders. Write him at tomwatsoATgmailDOTcom or twatsonATsentexDOTnet