Recently I have finished reading two very different books, but gleaned a bit of the same truth from both of them. The first was the children’s classic The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame. I had never read it, even though it was published in 1908 and, therefore, was surely available when I was a child. As I read the rollicking adventures of Mole, Rat, Toad, and Badger, I was amazed that it is labeled a children’s book. The vocabulary is much too adult for younger children who love talking animals, and older children would probably prefer the antics to be performed by some children contemporary in age to themselves, instead of by animals rowing boats and driving motorcars and carrying on routs against weasels and stouts.
The second book, the Pulitzer prize-winning novel Gilead by Marilynne Robinson, published in 2004, weaves the story of an aging minister’s life, as he is writing his memories in the form of a rambling letter to be read by his son when he grows up. Because the father grew up in the same town, indeed the same house, as they continue to live in during the years of his ministry, the town earns the titular claim as the character to know. The old minister, in recounting his life, comes to grips with his own grudges, his own errors, his own sins. As he does so, we the readers vicariously find ourselves confronting our own issues that are so similar to his.
The bit of common truth I found in the two stories is how very long it takes us human beings to come to terms with our own failings and turn from them. Frog possesses an extremely high view of himself, considering himself the most accomplished of all creatures. He sees himself as well-liked by everyone and knows himself to be the best of company. When others come to his rescue not only to help him escape from jail but also to help him evade the police who would recapture him, he begins to tell himself—and others—that he was the mastermind who brought about the daring escapade. At the very end of the saga, when his friends Mole, Rat, and Badger have rescued him and restored him to his ancestral home, he is repentant of all the trouble he has caused because of his pride and his entitlement. He finally realizes that he needs to be a different frog, a humble frog, one who is worthy of his father’s name.
Rev. John Ames may not be the wild exaggerator of his own worth, but he has lived his life with a sense of rightness in himself. Being a faithful servant of Christ, when he fails to be loving, kind, honest, or understanding, he turns to prayer to bring about the change of attitude that he knows he should have towards his best friend’s son—and his namesake—even though the son has never been worthy of the good will of others. From his childhood to his early adult life, Jack, the friend’s son, has done nothing but bring trouble and disgrace upon the family name. After Jack returns home, Rev. Ames, for his friend’s sake, tries to bring some semblance of kindness to the younger man, but continues to harbor his inner dislike and distrust of him. When Rev. Ames finally comes to the point of forgiving Jack and accepting him, regardless of any reciprocation of the act, he gains a sense of inner peace and true love for Jack.
Pride, our own sense of rightness, our inability to see our own flaws even while we see others’ flaws so easily, our firm grip on our petty beliefs and understandings, however limited, one-sided, or wrong-headed they might be: these are the common lot of man, are they not? We see so easily others’ sins, even while failing to see “the sin that so easily besets us” (Hebrews 12:1). And in this world of ours today, all of us can see sin and injustice and wrong everywhere, regardless of what our belief systems are. Everyone of us can claim to be on the right side of whatever issue we cherish as right and true, even while considering those on the other side as villains.
We could all use a dose of Frog’s capitulation to humility, understanding the rightness of others’ attitudes. And like Rev. Ames, we could all learn to forgive and accept others, even if they fail to reciprocate the forgiveness and acceptance. After all, isn’t that what God, the creator and sustainer of the universe and the redeemer and sustainer of our souls, does for us? Forgives and accepts.
A Myriad of Things 