Life Lessons

I’m listening to my “melancholy” playlist in my Itunes right now, and “Let it Be” is the message from the Beatles to my broken heart. The crazy thing is that I actually nearly cried tonight. For the first time in ages, the floodgates almost opened up for something other than a cheesy chick-flick.

Am I shallow? I’ve seen a lot of things in my life. 911, the war in Iraq, hurricane Katrina, on and on, and I’ve never shed a tear. But I don’t think shallow is quite fair, although maybe I’m just unwilling to be that honest with myself. I actually think I’m suffering heartbreak at the hands of one of the last remaining attachments in my life.

Allow me to explain. I’ve spent the better part of two years detaching from everything in this temporal life, playing the role of the good little Buddhist. Self: let it go. National identity: let it go. Political identity: kick it out. Religious identity: it’s really surface and it’s really to maintain the family identity that I’m unwilling to buck.

If I may be honest, I’m not really scared about Hispanics or Blacks becoming the majority racial group in the U.S. Good for them. Good for us. Hooray if a Black man, or a Woman becomes the next president. I’ll be excited, because those things are all great for humanity. Beyond that, they’re great for the universe, and that’s who I really am.

You know what, though? I’m also just me. I’m also all of the things that I’ve chosen not to detach from. Buddha, if he was indeed preaching detachment, missed out on something very real, and very, very right. Life without suffering isn’t really life at all. Maybe he knew that. Maybe he knew that once a man or woman reaches a point of complete, or nearly complete detachment, here at long last, they would find that suffering is not something we need to escape, but rather, something to embrace. Is that not the message of the cross? The story of the Christ is one of a man so in love with, and attached to his people that he suffers supremely for their sake and at their very hands.

Sorry, I don’t mean to get too heavy-handed, but I’m having a bit of a Siddhartha moment right now. As I write that, I know it’s a joke that’s being played on me, because I don’t have the guts to really be an ascetic. So I live my asceticism in little doses, and vicariously through the lives of friends who are truly willing to give up the good things of life in search of truth and peace. But in all fairness, and in my spoiled American way, I’ve tried asceticism. I’ve also tried the same scaredy-cat version of excess, but in the end it’s the middle way that seems Right.

To love deeply because I choose to, that is Love, after all. I could detach from my family, remove myself from my career, my friends, my country, my identity in every way, but I’m not going to. I’d much rather soak the suffering in with open arms. Even though in some cases it will literally be a lifetime of suffering, and waiting with bated breath for those few seconds of bliss that will mean eternity to me and to those that shared that same suffering for so long.

To those of you who don’t “get” sports, who don’t understand why there’s so much fuss over a ball and a bunch of “jocks” on a playing field, at least know this: Buddha and Jesus didn’t teach me this lesson tonight. Tonight, my savior is a football team. In a few months, my savior will again be a baseball team that hasn’t won the big one in 100 years. Like I asked earlier, shallow? Silly maybe? I don’t know. To get so close, and yet remain so very far from those fleeting moments of perfection, that’s a lesson I don’t see myself ever realizing so personally from any sermon I’ll hear, any Sunday-School class, or any book I’ll ever read.

This is for every man, woman or child who has waited their entire life to see the Cubs get back to the World Series, and bring the Pennant back to the Windy City. This is for everyone who almost shed a tear when the Bears lost the Superbowl tonight. Heck, this is even for everyone who never gave up on the Red Sox.

Or, maybe you never gave up on something that actually “matters,” and you’re rolling your eyes at my callousness. Maybe you waited through the hard times in a marriage for a few fleeting moments of perfection decades after that glorious “I Do.” You could be holding out hope for a family member in a time of catastrophe, or a brother who has been fighting alcoholism, drug addiction, and altogether stupid decision-making for as long as you can remember. Or maybe you’re bearing the weight of a deep, dark secret, and just waiting for that glorious moment when you can scream it out from the podium to 50,000 pairs of ears, “THE WAIT IS OVER!” And the weight is lifted.

Don’t give up. Learn a lesson from the city of Chicago, and the fans of its favorite teams. Even if the Cubs carry a losing record into 2040, the Blackhawks never lift the cup, and The Bears never see a Superbowl again in all my life, I’ll save a seat for you in the bleachers. For at least tonight, try on our “Broad Shoulders” and see how they suit you. You don’t have to wear them alone. We don’t let go of hope. Don’t you