Wrestle

One of my favorite Bible passages is Genesis 32: 22-32.  I am not a a big Bible quoter as anyone who knows me well can tell, but this passage has held some sort of mythic significance for me over the last few years of my life.  This is the one where Jacob, on his way back from Canaan, encounters an angel of God, or in some readings God godself.  Like a good maniac, Jacob decides that he needs to wrestle this celestial creature in order to obtain a blessing, and in the process is renamed "Israel," meaning "one who struggles with God."

Why do I like this?  Because most days I would like God to appear in front of me, in some sort of awesomely amazing and beautiful physical form, so that I might punch him right in the mouth.  it's not an angry sort of thing, I don't hate God, but I sure would like to go a few rounds, get some good punches in, wrestle a bit, leave my mark.  Hell, we could even grab a beer after the whole thing is over and done with, maybe have a good laugh about it.

Am I crazy?  Absolutely!  But that has more to do with a number of other factors besides this odd desire.  In fact, the only reason I have such a bizarre desire is that it would be a clear, physical manifestation of my relationship not only with God, but with myself, with all of you, with my fears.  Everything is like a giant struggle that I just want to wrestle with. (Melodramatic?  Quite possibly, but it does make for a better read, no?)

This isn't to say that all of life is awful and needing confrontation.  But take today for example.  Behind the house where I live, there is an orchard.  It doesn't have any fences surrounding it.  Kids walk through on their way to school, wild dogs play and poop all over it, and homeless drunks congregate in small circles for afternoon tea parties (kind of).

I have a thing with homeless people.  I find it impossible to walk past someone who calls out to me.  It's a problem, really.  Living in the Bronx, I could barely get to the store and back in under an hour because I would stop and talk to anyone who asked for money or just said hello.  I don't always give money, and since moving to South Dakota, adopting a limited budget, and hearing from countless people not to hand out money, I don't really give out change anymore.  I do, however, lend as much time as people ask for, and try to give of myself as much as possible to the people I encounter.  In the book from which I am learning the Lakota language, I read this morning that the only real thing we are able to give to other people is ourselves and time.

So as I walked through the orchard today, a group of people sitting in a circle drinking called me over.  They asked for money, and I said I had none to give, but offered to give them some lunch and smokes that I had laying around.  I left, went back to the house, and started putting together some little sandwiches, bag of popcorn, and some Teddy Grahams.  I went back and passed out the goods, deciding to sit and listen, try and talk to them if I could (maybe even convince them to stop leaving so much trash around the backyard - long shot, but what the hell).

Was some of it incoherent?  Yeah.  Was it childish, naive, maybe even a little stupid to think that I was really making a difference?  Probably.  Do I feel taken advantage of sometimes, taken for granted?  Yeah.

But I don't know what else to do.  As I sit there and listen to them talk about all the people who just walk by and ignore them, they say thank you for stopping.  They say thank you for coming back, "cause we sure as shit didn't think you were going to."  They try and explain to me bits and pieces of their culture, their language.  They invite me to ceremonies they hold, tell me I'm welcome.  I can start to see some of the initial skepticism melt away.  They explain how the drinking is a relief from all the stresses they hold in life.  Do I think that is an acceptable way of dealing with problems?  No, I certainly do not.  But that won't stop me from hearing it out, let them speak their piece.

Where does the wrestling come in?  The whole damn day.  How much am I supposed to give today?  How the hell am I supposed to keep this up?  How much can I really give before it's too much?  And honestly, most days, rather than an answer to any of these questions, I'd just like to punch God right in the mouth and let it go so I can get back to loving the best I know how.  I know God's big enough to take it, I guess the same way God knows I'm big enough to handle the challenges laid out before me.