Recently I heard an interview with Joe Henry, one of my favorite singer/songwriters. Henry said, "Well, we're sort of seduced into thinking that, like, here's life and then there's these bad things that can happen that are like obstacles that just fall into your road. As if the obstacle is not the road, you know?"
I have often fallen prey to that illusion. I've imagined the mishaps, the opposition and the disappointments that appear along life's journey are obstacles to be dealt with, skirted or conquered. When, in reality, the frustrations and failures -- as well as the triumphs and delights -- are built into the textured surface of life's road. They are the road.
When I am successful in keeping that perspective in mind, then I'm less likely to be dismayed or distracted by life's surprises. I'm less likely to seek a detour around whatever seems to be impeding progress toward fulfillment of the goal. Instead, I can embrace the perceived obstacle as an essential part of the journey, regarding the impediment as simply an item of interest -- not a barrier.
A few weeks ago, the podcast This American Life profiled a young man named Daniel Kish whose eyes were removed when he was a baby because of cancer. Yet, remarkably, Daniel, in a sense, can actually see. He practices what scientists call echolocation. It's a kind of sonar, like bats use. Using his tongue, Daniel makes a series of clicking noise that bounce off objects in his physical environment. In his brain, Daniel receives a sonic representation of the location of the world that surrounds him. He can distinguish between trees, cars, people and walls. He can tell the difference between vegetation that is closely packed or sparse. And he can ride a bicycle -- as well as climb rocks, ride horses and find his way around unfamiliar places.
No one taught Daniel this skill. He picked it up on his own as a child -- intuitively understanding the clicks he made with his tongue provided him with vital information about the world around him. While Daniel has developed his talent to an extraordinary level, he doesn't believe more blind people can't get around as he does because they don't use echolocation. He says they don't get around because the expectations of what the blind are capable of doing are too low.
From the beginning, Daniel's mother allowed him to be the adventurous boy he was -- climbing, exploring, searching and allowing him to fall and crash into things. When he wrecked his bicycle because he rode too fast down a hill, she bought him another one. She refused to treat him like he was blind. She raised him as if he could see. And Daniel, clicking his way around the world, refused to let his blindness get in the way of living his life boldly.
Eventually, he decided he would dedicate his life to trying to liberate blind children. As president of World Access for the Blind -- an organization aimed at facilitating "the self-directed achievement of people with all forms of blindness" -- Daniel and his group have taught echolocation to more than 500 blind children around the globe. Beyond that, Daniel has provided an example to us all that what we think of as a barrier might be no obstacle at all.
In the gospel of Matthew, Jesus says, "And if one blind person guides another, both fall into a pit." If Jesus had met Daniel Kish, he might not have been so pessimistic about the prospect of the blind leading the blind.
Daniel's attitude reminds me of the closing refrain from one of Joe Henry's songs:
So light no lamp when the sun comes low
Pull the dark close to your face
Shadows fear covers you like clothes
But likewise so does love and grace.
NAN Religion on 03/14/2015