Matches Struck In the Dark
A young man came through my cash register lane the other day. I work in a grocery store. He was wearing a bandana, repurposed as a mask, bandit style, that said simply “This too shall pass.” I felt my soul nourished and I felt grounded. I said thank you, speaking around the plexiglass barrier. His reply was mostly unintelligible, owing to how my hearing disability is compounded these days with all the muffled words and no reading of lips.
I wondered why it was so moving to me. I’ve seen the phrase plenty of times, so it wasn’t a new idea. Even though I was once a seminarian who took Old Testament Hebrew, I thought for a long time it was from the book of Isaiah. Those words actually are nowhere in the Bible, though, of its origins, there are many stories.
One such notion is that it was employed in a speech by Abraham Lincoln before he became president: “It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: ‘And this, too, shall pass away.’ “
Wherever it is from, the message is impermanence, whether of viruses, governments, good times, bad times, our very lives. Wisdom teachings aren’t less true because they are common. They can just lose their impact from constant use.
But I think what struck me the most about it was how apolitical it was. A piece of cloth had been used for a silent and timeless message. I thought of the story about the three workers.
A man came across three masons who were working at chipping chunks of granite from large blocks. The first seemed unhappy at his job, chipping away and frequently looking at his watch. When the man asked what it was that he was doing, the first mason responded, rather curtly, “I’m hammering this stupid rock, and I can’t wait ’til 5 when I can go home.”
A second mason, seemingly more interested in his work, was hammering diligently and when asked what it was that he was doing, answered, “Well, I’m molding this block of rock so that it can be used with others to construct a wall. It’s not bad work, but I’ll sure be glad when it’s done.”
A third mason was hammering at his block fervently, taking time to stand back and admire his work. He chipped off small pieces until he was satisfied that it was the best he could do. When he was questioned about his work he stopped, gazed skyward and proudly proclaimed, “I…am building a cathedral!”
Three men, three different attitudes, all doing the same job.
One might say, one mask requirement, many different attitudes. If you’ve watched The Shawshank Redemption, you may remember the scene where the narrator (Morgan Freeman) is speaking about Andy’s higher purpose, even though in prison. “Prison time is slow time. So you do what you can to keep going. Some fellas collect stamps. Others build matchstick houses. Andy built a library.”
This young man didn’t just wear the mask because he felt he should, to protect others. He also gave us a gift.
Context is everything. I don’t expect wisdom to come walking up to the register, though maybe I should. Virginia Woolf spoke to this. “What is the meaning of life? . . . The great revelation . . . never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark.”
