Choices

There isn’t a right answer.
There just isn’t …
But you have to choose.
It’s all we have—that little rudder
that we employ in the midst
of all the eddies and rapids,
the current that pulls us
inexorably toward the sea.
The fact that you are swept along
by the river is no excuse.
Watch where you are going.
Lean in toward what you love.
When in doubt, tell the truth.

–Lynn Ungar

I have a love-hate relationship with choice. I never want to lose that precious freedom and yet I, also, feel its burden by times. As I’ve moved through time in my life, I recognize that I have been privileged to have the luxury of choice about so many things, and that choice is illusive for many. Sometimes because of socio-economics, sometimes because of age or loss of capacity, sometimes because of the sheer limitations of time and place – circumstances over which we have no control.

The pandemic has made me realize more and more, that choice really is a luxury item. I have the freedom to make choices about whether to shop on line or go the store, whether to work from home or the office, to choose what to have for dinner, what to watch on Netflix. I can choose what task to tackle first today, whether to meet someone in person or connect by video conference, whether or not to wear PJ’s all day. These are simple, ordinary, mundane but precious choices that I have the freedom to make.

For over two years now we have been making choices as individuals and as a community about how and when to gather. People are included, and others to excluded. We decide what are reasonable risks to take, and assess how do we keep one another safe and sane. We have had to reappraise what it means to be an inclusive community.

And of course, we are learning that choices root in perceptions.

How is it that we look at the same thing and see it so differently? And sometimes when someone helps us with the context or gives us the frame in which the mysterious becomes “ah yes,” or the nonsensical becomes “but of course” or “I get it.”

But there are other times when we look at the same situation, the same set of facts, the same incident, the same words, and we perceive them completely differently. Depending on our perception, we make very different responses.

We see it in this parable attributed to Jesus of Nazareth …

3 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish. 4 Or those eighteen on whom the tower in Siloam fell and killed them: do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others who lived in Jerusalem? 5 No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.”

6 And he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came seeking fruit on it and found none.

The owner of the land sees a fig tree that is unproductive, taking up valuable space in the vineyard and concludes that it is dead and needs to be cut down and dug out.  The gardener looks at the same tree and sees potential.

He doesn’t see a dead tree but rather he sees one that might still be capable of producing figs.  He isn’t sure yet.  He might come to the same view as the owner but the gardener wants to give the tree more time before he decides.  Interestingly, he doesn’t intend to just walk away and see what happens next year.  If the potential he imagines is there for this tree, it requires something from him.  He doesn’t expect it to happen all on its own. If there is any possibility that he right and the fig tree can be productive if it is given more time, he knows that potential he sees needs to be cultivated.  The story doesn’t tell us who is right.  It doesn’t tell us how things turned out.  It leaves us with the impression that perhaps the tree will be given a chance to live into the potential the gardener envisions for it.

How is it that we look at the same thing and see such different things?  I learned this again and again practicing law. Why was it that those who supposedly witnessed the same event, the same collision or crime saw completely different things and described what they saw in ways that inevitable led you to wonder if it really was the same incident that they witnessed.  We know this in our relationships.  We often hear it from children who supposedly grew up in the same family but remember the same events differently or have diametrically opposed memories of the same parents, the same history.  We know it in every human exchange. Whether it is a conversation, an experience, an argument, a presentation … how is it that we see and hear completely different things.

We know this as a society.  We look at the same event and we see it completely differently. We know this a spiritual community.  Some see potential where others see nothing but loss.  Some feel support where others feel abandoned.  Some find deep meaning in particular words or rituals that others find barriers or emptiness.  Some see faithfulness and integrity in the same set of events where others see injustice and a failure to listen. Some interpret a word to mean one thing where another hears the same word to mean something different.

The owner and the gardener see things differently from their vested interests.  For the owner, his economic interests are the operative lens through which he views the tree.  It seems simple enough.  If it hasn’t yielded any income for him in the last 3 years, he is ready to see it as dead and plant something productive in its place.  For the gardener, his skill and efforts are the operative lens through which he views the tree. Perhaps the tree’s failure to thrive is somehow an indictment on his work and so he wants to see potential in the tree.  To give the tree another chance is to give himself another chance to make things different.

Without the benefit of hindsight … not knowing how it will turn out … there’s a choice to be made. And maybe the choice is not between a right and wrong … but really what would be lost in giving it another chance? Maybe it will confirm the owner’s verdict … or maybe it will thrive and validate the gardener’s hope …

The poet helps us in the midst of ambiguity …

Lean in toward what you love … When in doubt do the most loving thing … that’s all we can … and it is enough

-Nancy Steeves