A Very, Very, Very Dangerous World

Years ago we were having dinner with friends who we were just getting to know (and with whom we've since lost contact). He shared with me that he worked for the State Department. "Oh," I said, "and what do you do at the State Department?"

A serious look came over his face. "If you told me," I asked, "would you have to kill me?"

"Yes, pretty much," he replied. "But I can tell you this: I work on bio-terrorism and you're very, very, very glad I'm doing my job."

I must have looked stunned since, after all, I was stunned. Seeing my face he added sympathetically, "We live in a very, very, very dangerous world."

The bombings in Boston and the fertilizer plant explosion in West, Texas were this weeks shocking reminders of that truth. While we all long for safety for ourselves and our loved ones, safety is an illusion that can vanish in a flash. Life is fragile and there are no guarantees. Wealth can be an insulator, but bombs, tornadoes, and earthquakes know no socioeconomic limits.

Given that this is true, we have three choices.

First, we can acknowledge its truth and then go our and live as if we don't know it. We can convince ourselves of a pretend world of personal peace and security. It's expensive to do that, but it will probably work for a while as long as we carefully ignore the constant reminders that it's a sham. I think I need more reality than this option offers.

Second, we can despair, collapsing into cynicism. If the world's going to Hell, then why bother? We learn to expect the worst from others (and from ourselves) and trust no one. I've met people like this. Their lives are joyless and they feel compelled to share their wealth of misery with others. That's not the person I want to become.

Third, we can attach ourselves to some higher purpose, something that transcends this dangerous and all too sad world. The goal is not to pretend the dangers and sadness don't exist, but to see beyond them with hope and trust.

As many have observed, one of the most inspiring scenes of the past week was that of men and women in Boston, knowing that there must have been injuries, running toward the explosions in order to help. Neither false optimism nor dark cynicism produces that kind of spontaneous action. It takes hope and trust and the belief that in this sad and dangerous world, I can make a difference.