Purity’s Time Is Always Now
Annie Dillard, For The Time Being:
There were no formerly heroic times, and there was no formerly pure generation. There is no one here but us chickens, and so it has always been: a people busy and powerful, knowledgeable, ambivalent, important, fearful, and self-aware; a people who scheme, promote, deceive, and conquer; who pray for their loved ones, and long to flee misery and skip death. It is a weakening and discoloring idea, that rustic people knew God personally once upon a time — or even knew selflessness or courage or literature — but that it is too late for us. In fact, the absolute is available to everyone in every age. There never was a more holy age than ours, and never a less. There is no less holiness at this time — as you are reading this — than there was the day the Red Sea parted, or that day in the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, on the fifth day of the month, as Ezekiel was a captive by the river Chebar, when the heavens opened and he saw visions of God… In any instant the sacred may wipe you with its finger. In any instant the bush may flare, your feet may rise, or you may see a bunch of souls in a tree. In any instant you may avail yourself of the power to love your enemies; to accept failure, slander, or the grief of loss; or to endure torture. Purity’s time is always now.
I find that I often have to keep thoughts like these in mind, being the natural pessimist and cynic that I am. And that’s even truer now that I have a child of my own.
My pastor once said that having children is an act of hope, and a defiant one at that, I might add. It is an act that says you believe this world, against all odds, has enough going for it that you’re willing to bring some new helpless life into it, and that their life will be better than yours in the long run.
Yes, they’ll experience bumps along the way, but in any case, life, hope, faith, and love eventually triumph. Cyclones and juntas and earthquakes and rising oil prices and corrupt politicians and terrorists and torturers alike may do their best to tear it all down, but their time is passing and soon, they’ll be little more than a faint memory of a bad dream.