April Showers...

It has been raining for three days. There was a note in this morning's post from Nancy, one of the Wise Women who owns the used bookstore. Two books that I had ordered arrived, and were waiting for me. It was just as well, as I felt the need to walk. Cloaked in rain-gear, I stepped out into the wooded green.

Raindrops soon turned into hail. I stretched out my arms and felt the ice. Have you ever listened to the hail storming around you? It's so prayerful and calming. The hail forces you to breathe, and surrender. I thought about the two books I had ordered. One book is an English translation of Wagner's Ring Cycle. The second book is a diary of a young Israeli man who gave his life defending his country. Two heroes---one, mythic, the other, flesh and blood. What does it take to be a hero? In the times of testing, that all of us face in our human lives, would we have the courage to do right in the face of an injustice? Could I be brave like that?

Long, long ago, when I was just a young boy, there was a moment when I was not brave. I was in a summer camp. Uri, was a counselor on an exchange program from Israel. He was kind, soft-spoken, quirky. He and I were alike. I thought of him as my friend. The older boys at the camp were cruel and calculating. Dee, the ring leader, decided he and the other guys in his gang would corner Uri and assault him. I knew of their sadistic plan. I could have warned Uri. But, I was afraid. "If I warn Uri, the guys will beat me up." I justified my cowardice to myself. True to their word, they cornered Uri, and jumped on his back. They took turns punching and kicking him. I watched in horror. But, I did nothing! I allowed this evil to occur. I did nothing. Minutes passed that felt like hours. An alarm was raised. Guards were called. The savages were pulled of Uri. He was bruised, and bloodied. But, he stood tall, as all of us were marched out of the room. I felt so ashamed. I was guilty because I had remained silent just to protect myself. I was no better than that mob of bullies. As I walked past Uri, the Spirit moved me to kiss him on his freckled cheek. In that moment, I had publicly branded myself. Adolescent boys can be criminal in their violence towards one another. In that kiss, I had forever branded myself in their eyes as "sissy", "freak", "traitor". But, I obeyed the prompting of the Spirit, albeit, too late. Uri, looked at me with love in his eyes. He looked at me with love?! I stood there in disbelief. He still thought of me as his friend even though it was utterly clear that I had betrayed him? I searched his eyes. I saw only sincerity. He did not back away from me, nor did he strike me. He only ever looked at me with compassion.

Uri left a few days after the incident. We never heard from him again, except for one post card. He sent it to us from the Art Institute of Chicago where he had gone to study color theory. It read simply, "Hi, guys! Love, Uri." There was no return address. No last name. There was no way of contacting him. The post card was pinned on the bulletin board. I wanted so much to take it down and keep it. But, I was still too afraid. Cowardice can turn us all into ugly monsters.

I often dream that one day I travel to Israel and find Uri, or he finds me. We embrace the way that fathers and sons embrace after a period of long absence. He introduces me to his wife, and children. Then, I turn to him, and say what I have always wanted to say, "I am sorry. Forgive me."

In those moments where we are face to face with social injustice, can we be brave enough to do the right thing? I pray that I have become a better human being who would do the right thing the next time called to the test.

I picked up my books. The Wise Women were clothed in faerie-dress. They huffed and puffed and blew air from their mouths pretending they were Wind, and Storm. They gave me their love, and sent me off with my books packed, and a blessing. The creek roared, water rushing over rocks. I found my way back home.