Tuesday, August 10, 2010

In Excess of Survival


There once was a man named Job. He was a good man and over the years, accumulated everything that mattered to him as well as to most of us -- family, financial security, health -- until one day the roof caved in and through no fault of his own, he lost it all. His friends commiserated with him, saying "Life has dealt more harshly with you than one should have to bear -- curse God and die." I don't know whether they wearied of witnessing his spectacle or of hearing his lament, but it's easy to talk about death when it's not at your doorstep. Job refuses and asserts he will continue to trust, no matter what.

I'm thinking about Job this morning because I've finished The Road and I think I know why the father refuses to give up on living and why he insists on the same from his son. It's because you never know what may be coming next. "We have to keep going," he says, on almost every page. He's not a merciless taskmaster, they rest when they can, often when the son wishes. But he's a determined one and he reminds himself it's because his son will die without him. And that is true.

There are times when the father wishes he was already dead because there is neither rhyme nor reason to go on except that this is what they must do. It's wet and they need to camp; they're hungry and have to find food; they're in danger and he must protect his son. It doesn't make sense and when they nearly despair of going further, they discover an oasis that almost seems as though it was left, just for them, by an unseen and unknown traveler who knew they'd come this way.
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Life does that to us. Leaves provision when none is expected and where many fail to look. We believe we're starving and perhaps we are, but one does not always live by bread alone. McCarthy tells us it's more than the life of his son, it's the charge given him by his wife to care for their son. He gave his word and in the darkness his words and the spectre of his wife come back to haunt him. What are we doing this for? asks his son. I don't know, he replies, but we have to keep going.

Ultimate meaning and purpose are unclear, but dying is not an option. The father tells his son I don't know what we'll find when we get to the coast, but we have to get there. It's an answer to the age-old question of why we're here. We may not know why, all we know is we are, and what we do in the meantime has significance because we're alive and that's sufficient reason to keep going.

The hope McCarthy describes is not the namby-pamby, pie in the sky by and by kind that whispers sweet nothings in your ear because it's impotent to deliver the goods. I'm not sure his characters ever use the word. But throughout the story they retain the belief that they're the "good guys" and like physicians, have sworn to do no harm. However they come out by the end of the road, they're coming out clean.

Integrity and fulfilling one's moral obligations are recurring themes in McCarthy's books and in The Road he declares they have an importance in excess of survival at any cost. What appears as weakness has unmeasurable strength. We may feel as though we've been thrown into an unpredictable and meaningless chaos where dog-eat-dog is the rule because resources are limited and anyone who believes otherwise is a fool. The Road tells us there are better ways to live and those who choose them will not be disappointed.


(Creative Commons image entitled "The Road" by petar_c via Flickr)

5 comments:

  1. Are we not in truth what we think rather than what we do? Are my thoughts, drug induced or not, any less valid of me than yours of you, lucidly claimed.

    Does good intent resulting in evil absolve it? Christology not withstanding.

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  2. Good questions. I think we are both what we think as well as what we do, since cognition or at least some kind of cortical functioning (emotion, for example) usually precedes action. Consequently, I'm responsible at two levels. As you know, I tend to think that who we are has the most profound influence on behavior but even the "best thoughts" or best of intentions can go awry. Does good intent absolve the evil? I don't think it erases it, if that's what you mean, because once an act is carried out, it becomes a part of history. What's done is done. But understanding the motivation can lead more easily to forgiveness and reconciliation, and in that sense, we could use the term absolution. We've all done things with the best of intentions only to end up wishing we'd done otherwise, the outcome being not what we expected. I'm certainly not omniscient, I can tell you that for sure. :-)

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  3. There are two other themes I noticed in the book, both of which I liked very much but didn't mention here. The first is the father's inclination to "go and see," that is, to venture into an unknown place. The second is his willingness to "watch and wait," to see if something unfolds. At the same time, there were at least two occasions where he ought to have listened to his son because "going and seeing" placed them in danger, but that's the risk one takes. Anyway, those are the other themes that impressed me in the book.

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  4. Hey, I like your new Blog also, great change!
    Your story sounds very interesting.....
    Mention of Job a man who struggled beyond all odds, and suceeded because he never gave up on his faith in God.
    I have been attending lectures involving the Dead Sea Scrolles,providing wonderful legitimate historical proof of Bible truth....
    Thank God we have Him to lean on, unlike the man and his son in the story, trying to cope alone.
    Bless you heaps.

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  5. Crystal:

    Thank you! I'm glad you like the new look! It's growing on me, too, as time goes along. :-)

    And thanks for mentioning the aloneness of the father and son in the story. That's something I wanted to pursue but more in a comment. There is a deep spirituality in The Road that I found surprising and haven't quite figured out. It may take a second reading and then I'll write about it. But there's this sense in which father and son have gotten to the point where it's not reasonable to talk about God as "high up and far away," but rather as intensely imminent. Like I say, I haven't got it figured out yet and McCarthy is an enigmatic writer at times, but I'd welcome any thoughts other readers have to offer because I find him intriguing at this point. Thanks for getting the gears turning! :-)

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