Anticipating a balance

There is discussion at dinner about whether the world is broken. And I chime in almost immediately that our particular world—that which is gathered around a table for a community meal—wants for nothing. I acknowledge, however, that our community harmony, our relaxed state of sharing a meal, would not be possible if we were, say, in Iraq.

M. has spent the summer in the Artic Circle among the Native Americans. In a village of 150, she says that there is great beauty and evil. The evil is in the greed and the power aspired to by feuding families. She says that she has never felt closer to God than at the edge of the world. She was never lonely there, as she is here, amidst the comfort and the comfortable.

My eyes tear up in unexplained joy and emotion. I am moved by the stunning reality that people gathered around a table of wholesome food freely put forth ideas and concepts that they struggle to understand. It is a gift to have such a conversation, especially in the midst of such brokenness.

It’s an ironic choice, and a bittersweet reality, that causes me to wonder whether the nature of our world is inherent balance. And that if we choose, the brokenness will lead us to an inner wholeness that we can’t quite fathom, yet.

I can only hope that it is so.