An Open Door
Trilogy
Part One
I was on my way out.
"Wait a second," said my mom, catching me at the door. She stood on tiptoe to kiss me on the forehead, then, looking at me with admiration, she declared, "I'm so proud of you! Your last year of school. Life is before you, son."
And I went on my familiar road to school.
After summer vacation, our school yard and the school building looked smaller, as if they shrank -- or maybe they stayed the same, but I grew -- especially those few steps at the main entrance. When it was my first time going up, it seemed like climbing a mountain, and today I could easily jump over all of them at once. I sat down in my class in my usual place and looked through the window. One more year, and I will fly out of here into the free world to be whoever I want!
"Good morning, everyone," said our teacher entering the classroom. He looked at us, trying to recognize those little children we were in the first grade, and shook his head. "Wow, it's hard to imagine how much you grew! This year you are already on your way out."
"Are you going out with us or are you staying?" shouted a guy with the nickname big mouth. "Do you know that there is life outside these four walls?"
Our teacher wasn't surprised; he continued right on.
"Stop talking now, I'm the teacher here, and this year we start a new subject called orientation. In searching for your way in life, it's important to identify a door to enter, so we will start with an essay called 'My future life.' You have a whole hour for this assignment. I suppose you already have some ideas about how it will turn out. As you picture your life in your mind, there is usually an example you want to follow or a certain image you want to resemble. You may not arrive there in one night, but instead gradually. It can be a political figure or any other history maker, a wise man, a warrior, a famous actor, or a religious leader. It will be someone who ignited a fire inside you."
"You mean someone super cool and sexy?" The same guy interrupted him again. "And did you mention that one night will not be enough?"
"You better stop talking and start writing," suggested the teacher.
Big mouth turned to the class as if they were his audience and concluded, "This is a different generation, can't help it! Let us write!"
"Now I demand silence," said the teacher rather patiently and sat down.
And it finally became quiet. I looked at a blank piece of paper in front of me and couldn't come up with anything. Then I looked around; all the others were writing, even the big mouth. I thought, "maybe he was telling the rest of the class what to do, not the teacher?" I wondered why nobody ever dared to stand up to him. He was stirring up trouble in every lesson, it disturbed all of us, but all the others preferred to remain silent. That looked like an agreement, which in turn looked like an approval. Even our teacher, why was he particularly patient and tolerant towards him? Was he afraid of him? I had to admit that I didn't want to confront him either.
I tried to concentrate but couldn't get my thoughts together, and I looked around again and saw everyone caught up in their imagination. By the expression on their faces, I could tell the image they were writing. That girl wants to be a model, and that one dreams of becoming a movie star. That guy would like to be someone of a very high rank in the army. That one wants to be the best football player and another one dreams of discovering something new, and that one wants to be a missionary and travel to many poor countries to preach.
The task was not really that difficult. I needed to find an image to resemble and get a plan. But traveling through that world of images and illusions, I got lost. I didn't want to copy someone else. I felt that if I were to write this essay, I would commit myself to a specific model and become labeled with that stereotype for the rest of my life. I didn't even touch that blank piece of paper as if it presented some contagious disease.
"Your time is up," announced the teacher and got up to collect our essays. When he came to my table, he exclaimed, "Why didn't you write anything? Couldn't you use your imagination?"
"Sorry," I stammered. I couldn't even talk. My mind went blank.
"He hasn't got any imagination, cause his brains are diluted," the big mouth shouted suddenly. Immediately the class's attention was on me. "His brains are swimming in orange juice inside his head! Who will be able to draw all that liquid out of there?" yelled the other guy, who was always the first to copy the big mouth.
"Oh, yea! We need a big bucket to get the job done!" someone else from the crowd answered. They thrust me and started to push me from every side. I heard mocking voices all around me:
"Meager brain!"
"He is lean! Let's beat him up!"
"He is already decaying! Can't you smell it?"
"He is no use anyway; his whole body is atrophied!"
I couldn't handle the stress anymore and thought, "This is it. In one minute, I'll be totally crushed," as I heard the voice of the big mouth saying, "Don't talk to him! He is already knocked out, can't help it!"
Suddenly all became very quiet and looked to him as a guide. The big mouth concluded, "It is forbidden to beat up someone in the school, but not forbidden to tickle," and he left in total silence.
How quickly everything changed, at least on the outside. My classmates didn't look aggressive at all; in fact, no one was even looking in my direction. There seemed to be a silent agreement where secret information was transmitted from one mind to the other.
Without saying a word, I made it to the door. Leaving my classroom, I felt like I stepped out of a show where a precise role was ascribed to everyone, into the real world. I was determined to find my own way.
Part Two
Life should be very different somewhere else. My thoughts started to wander, and soon, following those wandering thoughts, my feet brought me to a train station. It seemed like a world unto itself.
As I walked through the door, I immediately saw a large group of people, all running in the same direction, trying to catch a particular train, which was about to leave. They pushed each other with their elbows, trying to get ahead faster, fearing being left behind. I had just arrived there and couldn't understand what was happening, but seeing their urgency prompted me to go faster, even to the point of starting to run with them. What if I miss something significant? I was not the only one to join that running crowd. I saw others merging from every side. Being a fast runner, I quickly happened to be among the first. It was impossible to stop because I was caught up in the movement of stress. I noticed an old gentleman with a little suitcase only a few steps ahead. He was slowly trying to move in the opposite direction. "This man is weird! He doesn't understand," I thought, and before I knew it, I bumped into him, knocking him off his feet. Trying to help him up was the hardest; we both were pushed and pressed by the running crowd, presenting an obstacle to their movement. "Please don't step on my suitcase!" pleaded the man, but no one was listening. I grabbed his hand, picked up his suitcase from the floor, and pushed my way out of there into freedom.
"Thanks for helping me out," said the stranger, finally gaining his breath back. "And sorry for causing you to miss your train."
"Which train?"
"The one you were trying to catch. Without your help, I would surely be run over and trampled under those feet."
"You're welcome, but I didn't plan to catch a train. I joined the movement maybe for the feeling of something different. I don't exactly understand what happened to me."
"I know exactly what happened to you. Life is the same everywhere!" he answered, placing his suitcase on his knees.
I'd never seen such a suitcase before. It had so many beautiful colorful stickers with flags of different countries!
"Have you been to all those places?" I exclaimed.
"Yes, I traveled and for the same reason. I also once believed that 'grass is greener on the other side,' so at eighteen, I got my passport and traveled around the world to check if people are different elsewhere."
I didn't want to interrupt and silently waited for him to continue.
"The places can be quite different, but the people are exactly the same everywhere. All people suffer from the same contagious disease called anxiety. The state of solicitude seems to be the rule of a game, which everyone agrees to play. Whatever matter of concern it might be -- not being good enough, not being able to make ends meet, being lost, or rejected, missing an opportunity, failure, hunger, sickness, sword -- the list can go on and on, you name it. This nervousness and worry are in the human blood, I guess."
"I would rather be a fish in the sea that swims in water, enjoying its freedom, or a bird that glides so free in the sky." I announced my conclusion.
"I thought of that too, but all animal world is playing exactly the same game. It's stunning how precisely the animals follow its rules! To the details!"
"But how can you understand -- Come on, I know that fish doesn't even speak --"
"You're right about that, but if they could speak -- Imagine dubbing a silent movie."
"Can you tell me more? What are they saying?" I insisted.
He agreed. "I never heard a fish conversation before, but I suppose it should be similar to a human’s; probably something like this:
"I want to swim far away and explore," dreams a little fish. "I will arrive at magnificent coral beaches and see exotic islands!"
"Stop hallucinating, child!" rebuked the other more experienced fish. "Swimming in water only seems fun. Staying alive demands a lot of effort and care. Daily you need to find food and solve many practical problems. And on top of that, you can be swallowed at any minute by a predator. There are too many destructive wild fish nowadays. You cannot make it alone!"
"What should I do then?" asks little fish, all distressed and perturbed. How should I live?"
"The only chance you have is to join a shoal," they tell her. "It is so much easier to swim through life as a group member! The regulars get even more advantages like more shares of the food and a more secure position within the shoal. Make sure you talk and act exactly like everyone else in the group! Learn from our example, and you'll be safe!”
“You may call it different names: a herd for animals, a flock for birds; communities, groups, and organizations for humans."
"You mean they are like us, or we are like them? I've never heard an explanation like that before."
"Who knows, but we behave so much alike. Following anxiety and the fear of missing out, we join large groups only for the feeling of being in, which, in turn, provides security and significance. Everyone in any group has an ascribed role with communication patterns and established values. Every member of a group is aware of those norms; they represent the pulse of the group, teaching all its members to vibrate together. In some cases, they exist in the form of a booklet as written guidelines, and in others are only spoken, but a group cannot survive without them. Those norms describe an appropriate, required behavior for its members."
I wanted to tell him what happened in my school that morning, but he went on.
"You surely already experienced being outside and inside a group. Those norms must be followed precisely by all who want to stay in. Whoever observes them accurately is considered the best, an exemplary member."
"But people cannot all have the same opinion." I was puzzled.
"They don't need their individual opinion anymore; they learn to skip over it. The emphasis changes. They either agree or disagree with the group's opinion, and that choice determines whether they are in or out. What counts the most is their loyalty to the values and regulations of the group. This is the game they love to play."
"Hey! You play a game to win. Does a winner get something?" I felt more and more engaged in the subject.
"Certainly! A winner gets a higher rank in the hierarchy structure, like fish in a shoal. The higher the rank, the more privileges you get in life."
"But people value different things, even different categories."
"Whatever category, whether wealth, power, prestige, recognition and fame, whatever you want to pursue, you pay an entrance fee and start racing from one stage to another. People everywhere are so stressed out to progress in their hierarchical structures. One spurs its horse to gallop faster, and another one pushes on the gas pedal of his automobile, whatever means they got. It can really get chaotic."
"How do they know where to run? Is it also in the blood?" I inquired.
"Usually, each group has an image up front for its members to pattern after. Whoever is considered best of a kind becomes the example. That person represents success, happiness, and fulfillment. Once an optimal standard of a follower gets established, the next step would be to install an incubator in that place and start producing new members as close to the matrix example as possible. Naturally, that example grows into an image that all members are supposed to admire and adhere to. 'You are so great!' they declare. "Be our god! We will follow you and serve you." They raise up a flag and plead their allegiance to it. In that stage, it's only a matter of details: paint a portrait of a chosen image, upgrade norms into dogma and get busy teaching the doctrine.
The world has different images for you to choose from. Each one stands on top of the hierarchy ladder that you're supposed to climb. Once you've chosen an image to resemble, you've entered their game and have to follow."
"I still don't understand what causes such deterioration," I thought aloud. "Not all of the examples are bad ones. In our last summer camp, for example, we had an excellent football coach. He was the coolest guy I've ever met, a pleasure to be around. Others were almost sticking to him; he was the center and the heart of each gathering. He had very special methods of exercising and an exceptional sense of humor. I should have written my essay about him. I even have his picture in my wallet. Would you like to see it?"
"You want to be like him?" asked the man, looking at the photograph.
"Yes!"
He paused and took a deep breath, then responded.
"Good examples are important in every stage of life; each is a spokesman with a message. Each of them opens a door for you to enter, but if you're not watchful, you will miss the most important."
Part Three
"Please tell me more!" I felt like waking up from sleep. “I don't want to miss the most important!"
"Our Creator, the invisible God, He created man in His own image and likeness. This is the purpose of our existence: to get to know Him and reflect His image. Nothing less can give you lasting happiness and fulfillment."
"Wait a second. You've said He is invisible. No one can know what He is like then. How can I resemble something I've never seen?"
"He reveals Himself in the word He spoke, and those who know Him are lighted by His eternal light and shine in this world of darkness."
"I know you're talking about religion," I said and put a mean mask on my face. "I've heard scholars before. They study and research and then interpret the word of God for the rest of us."
"No," he continued without the slightest sign of offense. "Religion isn't the answer; it may only seem like one. It has hierarchy structures of its own. Each different interpretation of Scripture has its norms, images, and judges. In each denomination, people write their commentaries, print them, and spread them among their followers. They, in turn, promote those writings to the level of the Scripture itself and teach you to resemble a portrait they painted. But you don't need to resemble those portraits; you must walk the way for yourself.
I bowed my head and admitted, "I am searching for my own way, but I got lost. And your explanations didn't make it easier for me, sorry."
"Well, it's important to identify the possible traps on the road you're walking. Now let's move on deeper." He picked up his suitcase and asked me,
"Remember how you were so attracted to these colorful flags? Though they are only symbols, like different ideas you adhere to, you can carry an image upon your life, like a sticker on a suitcase. It can make you look bright, intelligent, or important, exactly like an image you choose to resemble.
As I told you, God, our Maker, is invisible, and His image isn't a picture. People can only lead you to conform to a picture or an external form, but God invites you into Himself. As you hear His words and respond to Him, you will perceive the way."
"What do you mean?" I interrupted him. "Give me an example!"
"Sure," he responded. "Abraham would be a good example of this process. He didn't want to conform to the way people around him lived but didn't know another way. He had no image to resemble, no pattern to follow. But he has heard the voice of the Almighty calling him to step out onto an unusual journey into a land of great blessing.
Abraham had to leave behind what he had learned so far and everything familiar to him. He obeyed and started walking on the road he didn't know.
Nobody went that way before him. He had to rely totally on God as His guide.
"I am more of a visual learner," I interrupted again. I would not be able to do that."
"God can create an image in your heart if you open a door for Him to do that.
One night, He took Abraham outside and said, 'Look at the sky and see if you can count the stars. That's how many descendants you will have.' Or, on another occasion, the Almighty pictured Abraham's descendants as the dust of the earth, impossible to count! * Abraham looked upon the world around him, letting God explain the meaning of what he saw. He was taking on God's point of view, connecting to His words, and allowing God to imprint His image inside his heart. Focused on that image, he could walk the road into the promised land of great blessing. But it started on the inside.
It's much easier now." The man opened his little suitcase and got a book out with those words. "The words of God are recorded."
"Oh, we have the Scriptures at home. The book looks just a little different."
"What's inside is much more important," he responded with a smile. "Open it
like a door and follow its lead. These life-giving words will paint His image inside you. You will carry the imprint of God's image upon your heart and walk your original way.
You're not the only one. God is calling many today through His word. True follow-through requires walking the way for yourself, which can be thorny, dark, and dangerous. An example stands as a forerunner in those difficult places and encourages you: 'Come on! You can do it! Trust me; I've been there! It's not the end!' That can make quite a difference in the time of struggle and help you persevere instead of giving up."
I felt like someone switched on a light inside me that compelled me to return to my class. I got up.
"I have to go now; I have to walk the way," I said to the man.
"Let the word of God be a light unto your path and a lamp unto your feet. * Check every day that this light doesn't go out." And he got up as well.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I'm surely older than you, but I didn't finish my road yet. I'm eager to explore what is still unknown to me, like that little fish."
He gently took me by the arm, saying, "Let me walk with you to the door."
* Genesis 15:5
Genesis 13:16