The Fair and the Foul

"Fair is foul, and foul is fair."

These six words from the first scene of Shakespeare's Macbeth are an English teacher's dream, embodying no fewer than four literary devices! Perhaps more important than providing fodder for the perfect test question is the fact that this one line summarizes what could be considered one of the main themes of this disturbing drama:  things are not always what they seem.

As the lazy days of summer come to an end for me as a teacher, this idea has become clear to me lately through some unlikely circumstances.  The concept of dichotomy has shaken me to the core as I've considered things that can be both good and bad.  So much great literature - and so many amazing true stories - are great because of the tragic beauty that is only revealed when the good and bad are juxtaposed.  The hero that wouldn't be quite as heroic if it weren't for the villain.  The wedding wouldn't be as romantic if it weren't for the pre-wedding angst experienced by the bride and groom.  I try to explain this to my students when they want to know why we can't just read "happy stories."  Whatever that means...

So, in keeping with the Bard's theme (one also presented by many other great writers, including the greatest Writer of them all), here are a few of my reflections on things that are both "fair" and "foul."


RAIN 

We've had a rainy summer in Alabama this year.  This definitely has its pros and cons!  I love the feeling of being inside on a rainy afternoon with nowhere to go - the air conditioner running, the air outside displaying a greenish tint, tree branches bowed with water hitting the front porch roof, sodden crepe myrtle blossoms fluttering to the patio.  Those moments mean there is no pressure to take anyone to the pool or park or to work in the yard and a feeling of safety and comfort pervades as the thunder rumbles in the distance.  If the rain continues on through the night, sleep is blissful.

However, being out and getting caught in that same rainstorm is a whole 'nother story (as we say in the south)!  Depending on the age of any accompanying children, possession of rain gear, the severity of the rainstorm and the location at which we are caught unaware, momentary - or even sustained - chaos can definitely accompany the rain, not to mention muddy floors, and in our case (because our basement sometimes leaks during torrential downpours), an evening of wet-vac fun!  On a more global scale, rainstorms can be catastrophic as opposed to just inconvenient, bringing floods and lightning strikes, ruining crops, or causing mudslides.

So we take the good and the bad of the rain.  The ruination and the rainbows.  "[R]ain falls on the just and the unjust"  (Matthew 5:45).  Literally and metaphorically, this truth is displayed. As residents of planet earth, we must have actual rain in order for our lives to be sustained.  But sometimes the rain comes at the most inopportune times (wedding days, photo shoots, outdoor barbecues, beach outings).  We must have it.  Across the globe, it is both prayed for and desperately prayed against.  Similarly, we also need the metaphorical rain in order to most fully enjoy the sunshiny, rainbow moments.


STUFF

Yes, I know my super-informative heading may overwhelm with its philosophical depth (sarcasm font needed here)  . . . but I believe that we can all agree that the "things" of this world can be mixed blessings.  As middle-class Americans, we set our goals and get our diplomas and do our "thing" so we can buy the next "thing."  And some of those things are great.  I sure am thankful for my electric appliances and comfy mattress and cell phone.  In the summer in Alabama, I am especially grateful for air conditioning!  There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting our child to have nice clothes, a snazzy bike, or an X-box; or for moms to want some lovely-smelling lotion, a stand mixer, or a new pair of earrings.

What trips us up sometimes is the striving for the newer, the better, the faster and the containers to put them in (jewelry armoire, anyone?) and what color we should paint the walls that the containers are pushed up against.  We are so proud of the curtains and bedspreads and tchotchkes and garages and condos and houses that that have more bathrooms than residents and we spend much time decorating, rearranging, and cleaning all of them.  Interestingly, the current "simplify" movement seems to be a backlash against all this stuff, with people purging their homes of hundreds of items so that there is not so much to clean and organize and move from place to place.  I think there is wisdom in this.  Sometimes stuff is comforting, though.  Grandma's china evokes good memories.  Full bookshelves impart knowledge and provide an entertaining escape.  Toys occupy energetic hands and stimulate growing brains.  So much balance is needed on this one because the good and the bad of stuff is almost a daily challenge.  As a die-hard yard sale and thrift store shopper, I have to hold myself to the "one bag out for every bag in" rule or else we'd be overrun!

Stuff that can seem innocuous can become an infestation that destroys and causes us to chase after a substitute comfort that will never truly satisfy.  Without moral boundaries (or with a willingness to ignore them), the innocuous can become horrible.  Lady Macbeth thought that once her husband succumbed to his ambition, all would be well, but of course, it was not.  The ambition fueled selfishness which fueled more horrible deeds, and she herself conceded that "nought's had, all's spent, [...] our desire is got without content." All she and the king had left was overwhelming guilt and regret.  Every time I teach this play, my students discuss the concept of "going after your dreams" and what they are willing to give up to get what they think they want.  That discussion always makes me think about my stuff and the contrast of blessing and curse that it can bring.  And I try to remember those lessons, although I certainly succumb to the striving more often than not.


LOSS

Divorce.  Death.  Adultery.  Broken friendships. The death of a dream.  Debilitating sickness.  Dishonesty.  Unemployment.  Crushing debt.  Rebellion.

Bad, bad, and more bad, right?  On the outset, yes.  In our human eyes and hearts, absolutely.  But the more I experience these or witness others do so, the more I learn that a grace-and-gospel viewpoint concerning loss is the one that I must consider, elusive as it may be.  And I must admit that sometimes this seems humanly impossible and I only see "in a mirror darkly" and always will.

So what's the upside of loss?  Sometimes we can see it.  The loss of one job can eventually lead to a better job.  A rebellious teen can drive parents to their knees and eventually result in a beautiful reconciliation (even years later).  But sometimes we cannot see it.  We just can't.  And that can frustrate and destroy faith and cause bitterness.  I am there more often than I want to admit and it is not a pretty place.

In 1984, my paternal grandfather was killed under horrific circumstances due to his own sin.  My family was devastated.  I was confused and sad and embarrassed and worried that I'd get kicked off the cheerleading squad.  At fourteen, I couldn't see God's hand in this story at all - not in my father's anger or in my grandmother's loss or in my disillusionment.  And at forty-four, I sometimes still find it hard to see.  But his hand is there.  It has helped me eventually understand that grace is not found in a "good family name" or in being a member "in good standing" of a local church.  For a while, because of my grandfather's sin, I felt that God's hand on me meant avoiding a long list of corrupting activities and subsequently judging those who didn't avoid them.  That was the path of holiness he wanted, right?  Perhaps in some circumstances.  But I was on that path for the wrong reasons.

More recently, I have experienced the loss of some precious summer days due to sickness (not debilitating, but definitely inconvenient and frustrating), as well as the death of a couple of dreams I've held onto.  I do not yet see how God is going to redeem these losses, but I must hold tight to his promise that he will.  I have to.  Otherwise all I have to depend on is my own human understanding and that gets me nowhere fast.  God knows this and he loves me anyway.  He watches my striving and my sullenness and my silly complaining and he draws me closer and calls me Daughter and he tells me to be still.

And that is the beauty of loss - all we can gain when strivings cease.  When worldly pleasures - even the American-dream-wrapped ones - are forsaken.  When our finagling stops and our resting in his provision begins.  Grace is greater than we can even imagine.  We only see a tiny corner of it and still declare it amazing.

The fact that grace is needed is a bad thing.  That it exists and is extended to all who believe in Jesus' redemptive work is the best thing.  Grace is the ultimate dichotomy, requiring the ugly to show its infinite beauty.