The Lucky Duck

For many of us thankfulness lies at the heart of our daily lives. It is the feeling that overwhelms me much of the time. The more I know about the various journeys of this world’s people, the more I realize that in a variety of ways I stand near the top of the food chain. I have more to eat and drink than is good for me. (Every noon someone else has cooked and served a beautiful meal—and then does the dishes.) What is more, around here are ten supermarkets, and within a ten-minute drive, there are twenty restaurants including three McDonald’s.

I have a roof over my head but if is too dark under it there are twenty switches by which I can brighten things up. I even have a light in my Kindle so I can read at any time and in any place. If it is too cold I have a switch to solve that problem, and another one if it is too warm. I could change clothes twenty times—or more—without wearing the same thing twice.

Not only is there a medical doctor nearby, there are a hundred of them, six I regularly see—and two nurses five minutes away. And I have already lived twice as long as most of those who have inhabited this planet.

A car takes me anywhere I want to go, and if that destination is too distant there are trains and planes I have taken to the far reaches of the earth.

I have books galore, nearby libraries, and the machine on this desk that can unlock almost any information I need. I have a precious wife, an extended family and scores of friends.

And all this just scratched the surface of my blessings. I could go on ad infinitum and not run out of things for which I am thankful. All this is also true of the three hundred or so others who live in this intentional community. While we all still may grumble about this and that, we know we are a very blessed people, and we say so. “And isn't your life extremely flat With nothing whatever to grumble at?” (from Gilbert and Sullivan’s Princess Ida). Every day one of our residents stands at a mic in our communal dining room and recites a list of things for which we all give thanks. I am overwhelmed daily by these beautiful expressions. As Thanksgiving Day approaches I recognize again that blessings have been a dominant reality of my life.

But I have a confession to make. In the seventeen years we have lived here I have never offered this noontime prayer. Let me tell you why. It is not that I am ungrateful, but I have a very deeply planted feeling that I just cannot call all I have “blessings.” What do I make of a world in which I am probably part of the upper 10%? I doubt that many who read these columns are that far from it. And the truth is we want to keep it that way. I know I do.

Pause-This morning, after working on this column for an hour, I had an appointment with a doctor about a medical issue I have been facing. In the waiting room there were three genetically disabled adults, a blind women and half a dozen other obviously very poor individuals. When we travel to the Los Angeles Philharmonic concerts, we pass scores of people on the sidewalks or living in tents. I cannot turn on my newly purchased smart TV without seeing the homeless starving children of the world, huddled with their families.

So I cannot take the mic and thank God for all the blessings God has heaped on me. Why am I so blessed? It is not because I am good, or have earned it. I hear regularly the reason is that God is good, and loves me. If I am blessed, God must be the blesser. But that answer only identifies a very unjust God. There is an old camp love song that says in the second verse: He picked you out from all the rest, because He knew I loved you best. I cannot believe that God has singled me out from all (or most of) the rest because He loves me best. I will deal with the question of a just God at another time, but today I have only to ask WHY ME?

I have spent years struggling with that issue. When I wrote an autobiographical sketch for my family I titled it “THE LUCKY DUCK.” Might it be that it is not that I am blessed, but that I am lucky? It is not that God loves me more than others, but that in a very long series of tosses my coin has consistently come down “heads.”

When I have offered this explanation to friends and colleagues, they remind me that the inequality in the world is my fault as is the fault of all of history’s “haves” for not sharing. Of course that is at least partly true. So I have regularly given away much more than a simple tithe, as long I have known that I had plenty left. I know that if I am blessed it s that I may be a blessing. But even that answer does not really address my dilemma. In addition, I have spent much of my life seeking ways to change the way society works. But the larger issue persists. Unfairness dominates life!

So I still sense that “lucky” is much closer to my reality than is “blessed.” Perhaps the word “fortunate” dodges both horns of my dilemma. What do you think?