It’s 2020! I guess no one should be surprised. With the disruption of COVID, shut downs, multiple hurricanes, out-of-control fires and unrest in our streets, who could have expected anything other than the post-Presidential election chaos we are now embroiled in? Partisanship, denigration, systemic racism, systematic corruption, fear, division, and a growing lack of trust in each other and our governing institutions has permeated our national discourse and our psyche. An insipid cloud of hate seems to hang over our precious country obscuring the healing light of peace and love. We seem to be anything but united states.
Thank God my internet was out this morning. Forced from the 24-hour media wall of words that feed our biases, I was able to spend some time perusing my past Inspirations. I found this story from 2014 and thought it an appropriate timely revival. I believe it holds the antidote to our current addiction with who is the appropriate one to turn to in our search to find one who can lead and heal our divided country. The answer is as old as scripture.
Some years back, two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift they’d ever had, but it had quickly grown to epic proportions. They had grown up together and during the ensuing forty years they had been inseparable. They farmed side by side. They were the best of friends.
But now, the anger between them had grown to such a size that not only would they not speak to one another, they both plotted constantly about how each might make the other even more miserable. It was such a turnabout from the times of their youth when they were best buddies all the way into their adulthood, where they had shared farm machinery and implements, and traded labor and goods generously whenever either were in need.
But, as quickly as day turns to night, their enduring affection and collaboration had shattered. If their haze of discord and enmity could be momentarily lifted, each would likely have to admit that neither could recall exactly what was the initial small misunderstanding that began this escalation into their now major rancor. What did remain as constant in their memories as the stars that shine on a clear night was that their unremembered initial disagreement ultimately exploded into an exchange of loud, bitter and hurtful words that brought on years of silence, hatred, and overflowing mutual resentment.
One early morning there was a knock on one of the brother’s door. That brother, named John, was somewhat startled that a visitor would come calling at this time, so he only partially opened the door peering into dawn’s awakening light to ascertain who might be there. What he saw both startled and calmed him. Standing in the doorway was a stranger who, though not old and of above average height and build, was somewhat bent in stature. His strong arms seemed strained somehow as they fell awkwardly by his side. He had feint signs of scars around his forehead that presumably continued under his hairline. His appearance surely was disquieting to John, yet there was an aura about him that he found immediately soothing and peaceful. That was especially true of his eyes. As he looked into them, John found himself immediately comfortable with the man despite his rough looking exterior. His initial impression was that this fellow must have suffered grievously at some point in his life, perhaps in our Iraq or Afghanistan wars. But, those thoughts were fleeting. It was his eyes that captivated John’s attention. They were mesmerizing! He opened the door fully and now noticed the stranger was carrying a carpenter’s toolbox. With an uncontrollable smile, John asked, “Can I help you, Sir?”
“I’m looking for a bit of work,” the stranger replied. “Perhaps you might have a few small jobs, or even a large one, around your farm that I might help you with?”
Again drawn in by the man’s trusting eyes, John responded, “Yes, I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm down yonder. That’s my neighbor, in fact, it’s my younger brother. Just last week there was just a meadow that separated our two properties. But then, he took his bulldozer to the river levee and now there is a creek between us. Well, I know he did this to spite me, but I want to go him one better! You see that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me a wall—an eight foot high fence—so I won’t have to see his face or his place anymore. Are you up to showing that rascal what a tall fence looks like and how quickly it can be built?”
The carpenter smiled and his enchanting eyes locked onto John’s. Pausing for a moment, he then answered in his soothingly silent voice, “I understand your situation. Show me to the nails and the posthole digger and I’ll rightly do a job that I know will remedy your plight and please you finely.”
John couldn’t quite fathom the dynamic attractiveness of this total stranger. How, in addition to his eyes, his soothing words and voice were so calming and instantly emitted trust. He found it irresistible to respond anyway but positively to anything he said. He smiled and nodded his head and replied to the stranger, “Well, good! I have to go to town to pick up farm supplies and conduct other business, so I’ll be gone the entire day. I’ll be back around sunset and see how you’ve progressed. If you’ve finished the fence, we’ll settle up then. Does that work for you?”
“Surely it will,” the stranger answered. “I’m here to make old things new for you.” Hearing him, but not really understanding his words, John ignored the comment and continued walking to his truck.
The sun was now well up and the air was already steamy. It was going to be a scorcher of a day John thought. As he opened the door of his truck and glanced back at the stranger, he saw that he had already removed his shirt as he gathered up his tool box to begin his labor. Seeing him shirtless, John was startled by the many scars that crisscrossed the stranger’s back. He wondered as he had when he first saw him what in the world had this man been through? Then, much the same as when he looked into his eyes, a glowing aura seemed to emanate from each of the scars, and, similarly as it was with his stare, John also felt that same sense of peace envelope him. He shook his head, closed his truck door, and drove off with thoughts of confused wonderment crowding his consciousness.
Around sunset when John returned to his farm, he noted that the carpenter was putting away all of his tools. Then, glancing at the creek line, his eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.
There was no fence there at all. Instead, what he saw was a remarkably well constructed bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other. Although John couldn’t help but marvel at its craftsmanship, especially in the short time in which it had been built, what really shook him to his core was that his younger brother was walking across the bridge with his hands outstretched. John quickly exited his truck and ran onto the bridge.
The brothers met at the halfway point. The younger brother then exclaimed, “You’re quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I have done and said to hurt and damage you! As I watched your magnificent craftsman build it all through the day, I thought of how foolish I have been over all these years building nothing but ill will that served only to separate us. Your willingness to build this bridge to unite us, despite my disparagement of word and deed has touched me deeply. I am so sorry, my brother. I truly love you and wish nothing more now than for us to make amends. With tears flowing down his cheeks, he added, “Will you forgive me for the sins I committed against you, Brother?
The tears were now falling from both brothers. John embraced his younger brother and with each mutual sob, they washed away the years of hatred that had consumed their lives. Finally, they separated and both looked to the carpenter. He had hoisted his toolbox onto his shoulder and was walking toward the dirt road that led away from the farm.
“Wait!” John shouted, “My friend, where are you going? I haven’t paid you for your wonderful work, and there’s many more projects that both myself and my brother could use your talent to complete. Please stay!
The carpenter paused and turned to them. He smiled and those glowing eyes were shining even brighter than the fading sun. “You owe me nothing,” he said. “You hired me to build a fence and, as you can readily see, I didn’t build it. As such, you owe me nothing, and, although I’d love to stay, my task here is finished and I must now be on my way, for I have many more bridges to build.”
“But, I don’t even know your name!” exclaimed John.
“My name,” the stranger replied, “Well, I’ve been called by many names by many folks over the years, but the one I kind of favor is Rakhma.”
“What a strange name,” John answered, “How’d you come by it, Rakhma?”
The carpenter was now getting farther away and, in the darkening sky, he actually appeared to be fading from sight. His answer, though soft as the evening breeze, was clearly heard by both of the brothers. It was as if he were standing right next to both of them though they were clearly losing sight of him.
“My Father gave it to me, friends. ‘Rakhma’ means love in Aramaic, the language of the land of my birth.” He then said, “I’m sure we will meet up again someday. Until then, may the Peace I brought you this day remain with you always!”
And then he was gone.
Finally, brothers and sisters, rejoice. Aim for restoration, comfort one another, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. – 2 Corinthians 13:11
Have an AWE-full Weekend!
William “Bill” Bacque