Ballistic missile fired off sub
“I understand you are married to the most powerful man in the world,” Alex said.
My husband’s face flashed to mind; he teaches third and fourth grade Sunday School.
I laughed. “My husband? I don’t think so.”
English is Alex’s second or third language and we were chatting during a wedding reception in Transylvania. He cocked his head. “He is a commander on a submarine, no? He could blow up the world.”
“Oh, no. It takes two keys. He was never a key wearer. He only operated the reactor.”
My eyes darted across the party scene. The groom’s father actually wore one of the keys necessary to launch a ballistic missile many years ago, but I saw no reason to point that out. Romania still is not a member of NATO.
He shook his head. “My country was targeted.”
“Possibly, but only on a second strike.” I then tried to explain mutual deterence to a thirty-year-old who had grown up in a communist and then formerly-communist country.
He changed the topic once we exhausted nuclear options.
“So you are a Christian,” he asked. “That means you believe the earth was made in six days.”
I laughed again. “Of course not. My son is an astronomer. I know the universe is 13 billion years old.”
Alex stepped back and spoke slowly. “Then I think you are an intelligent Christian.”
Which launched us into a discussion of our very different views about life.
For example, while educated at a Lutheran school, Alex swore he would never trust a priest. “They lied to us and were in the employ of the government. Priests cannot be trusted.”
My heart sank and I grew angry.
How dare men who claimed to follow God distort truth for political ends?
Jesus spoke about millstones being tied around necks and people jumping into the sea.
But you know that.
Alex liked the idea, too, and accepted my apology for the poor way he was treated at the hands of people who should have known better if they ever read the Bible.
I’d only just met this young man, and mine was a delicate question. I wrapped it in hedges and opportunities for him to let it go, but I asked:
“Then how do you judge the difference between right and wrong?”
He bolted upright and stared with wondering eyes. “This is a question I have long pondered in my own mind. I never knew who I could discuss it with.”
What would it be like to grow up in a society where truth was relative and you did not know who to trust? Click to Tweet
What does your worldview tell you about life if there are never any absolutes beyond gravity and breath?
How can you be a powerful man if you don’t know truth? Click to Tweet
Alex’s mother is my age and when she joined us, I asked how her life changed when communism fell and “capitalism came.”
Not as fluent as her son, she still made herself understood.
“Before capitalism, we did not know who we could trust and so we were family focused. You spoke truth to your family and they were the center of your life. You worked your job and then you came home to your family. You grew much of your own food.”
“Now,” she explained, “under capitalism, we work all the time and we have little time for our family. We are not so close anymore.”
I nodded.
“The tomatoes do not have any flavor, either.”
I think about her comment often. The tomatoes I buy in the store are flavorless, too.
Even the most powerful man in my world never wanted to blow up Alex or his family.
He’s more interested in the power that comes from speaking truth–even to third and fourth graders and certainly to young men raised in an uncertain land.
How about you?
How do the tomatoes taste in your world?
Love this one. Wow.