Masses
 

Very few things frighten me as much as massive crowds. The packing of people shoulder to shoulder (not the old fashioned kind of the military) but jammed into giant, monstrous stadiums or airplanes (in foreign countries they think nothing of packing 12 in a row), but after the World Cup, and all the shouting and celebrating, where people were no more than ants bumping into each other, crawling over each other, cheering till the beer ran out, and so many of these types of celebrations - that make Mardi gras look like a kids game.

It frightens me because it’s like no one will even know who I am, who you are, why are you there, and are you safe? Are you going to be scrambled, or tossed on the ground as masses just step right on you to get where they want to get, or cheer what they want to cheer, and wait a minute - where in the world are the angels of God? Where am I? Where are you? Do we have no value whatsoever? What have you achieved, good or bad, and even in the bad, have turned something into a good that benefits others around oneself? It, life, isn’t getting any better. It’s getting more massive every day. It’s like a war zone where the innocent is buckled down or trying to escape death or capture or fear of losing everything and everybody or vice versa - and who are you? who am I - does anyone care?

There is no more simplicity in life, it seems. There are a few angels who are able to land on certain surfaces of goodness, to help rescue prostitutes, children abused, youth locked up in prison - where they might seem like identical twins or teams, but really are just dressed exactly alike so they have no identification, or they mean nothing, are nothing, and yet - in someone’s life and heart that prisoner has a cause, a reason, a hope, a possibility of life ever after in the kingdom of God, because we are told, we are promised that we all, each and every one, are children of God and He will take care of us. Do you know how many human species are in this world today?

When I travel, I get in an inward mood, but my nature is to want to reach out and meet and hug and learn and encourage and to know some of the people that cross into my heart, step into my toe, cheer with the same colors and noises as the one near me. It’s an identity thing. We like the same things for a moment and those moments expand and explode and increase like bombs in the sky and suddenly we know each other and back each other and depend on each other to win, to create and escape, to cheer and wear the same color, and yell for the same team, and pray that one doesn’t get trampled before a herd of crazy cattle-like stampedes just getting in and out of a sport, a street, a celebration, a protest, a war, a  cruise (I cannot handle cruses) or a victory dance and does God see us? Does He see us doing anything worthy? anything good? And at any moment, I will be in that realm. Surely God enjoyed this recent World Cup when the star above stars, Lionel Messi of Argentina, turned years of struggle and wins and loses into probably the most enormous and wild and crazy victory dance on the streets of Argentina as well as across the world, as fans screamed Messi Messi Messi. He had become equal to a hand of God.

And in contrast, what moves my soul, just recently, has been watching the Masai men and women in their brightly colored wraps, their tall thin legs resting on a common stick which they use to move their skinny cattle, the massive goats, through the incredible green pastures of Tanzania -  way in the circle of nowhere but where peace reigns and the Masai dominate and wander alone in such greenery and under trees of acacias and wrapping themselves, men and women, in bright colored fabrics, decorating things of metal that drop from their ears, and yet they own the land for as far as one can see, as empty of people as possible, and mostly the feeding ground of their animals. Occasionally they do their famous stiff leap into the air, touch the shoulder of a female prospect, smile, and jest, and celebrate with a barbecued goat which is a real treasure, simple and filling, and which they share with a foreign visitor. And for miles and miles in craters and up mountains, it is their world, the Masai world, which is not invaded by the masses of people efforting to be tourist, hunters, killers, photographers, bumping along in Land rovers of various size, swashing around corners of the dirt roads that climb the mountains up to the top of Ngorongoro Crater which is mostly inhabited by wild animals = wildebeast, buffalo, giraffe, zebra, and so forth - although lions and elephants tend to stay out of the pictures of most tourist longing to get a snapshot of them.

If the amazing grace of life among Masai and animals isn’t sufficient, think, remember that in Tanzania is the site where the Leakey’s discovered (about 1960 when I lived in Tanzania) the remnants of the first human skull. Now they have a brilliant dedication to their work and all the things they found in the soil in that era - and think about it - they found only a few remnants of man, who if not exactly like us today, at least was the basis of creating what we have become. There is a special museum in the middle of a valley of Ngorongoro. And, with that, comes tourism and knowledge about how man became man. Basically, it was simplicity and belief in the origins of man. Of a man.

And when one flashes across centuries and decades into the masses of today - all those who pack in cities and apartments and worse football stadiums, I  have to think twice watching Ted Lasso, sitting alone in a red seat in a giant stadium with thousands and thousands of empty seats - trying to figure out how he could be victorious with his crazy soccer team and bring glory to a small group of players through the cheers and hopes of fans squeezed together having hope and dreams that their team will bring joy to them, thousands of them, as they exit that stadium and get on with their complicated, confusing, good or bad lives. Masses they are.

Does God know each one? I must believe God is the owner, the builder, the soul, and maker of every single person that will sit in that stadium, that will walk the streets of any city, whether they cheer for soccer, or football or basketball or wars and hatred of wars and fill cathedrals to honor royalty or just a common man who was born somewhere and now is dying somewhere, having been one of a billion. Now, probably in the change in the soul of the subject will finally get to see and be pardoned by the great and generous God who is supposed to take care of us, love us, accept us, and gives us a home in the heavens. Do I have to be squashed in a crowd of billions? Or will I be one on one with the God I so love and serve and who, I hope, will open the hearts so I can be with all the family and friends I have loved on earth. Death means I could now rejoice with them among the angels and the saints and be useful to make this tiny earth a better place because it is crunching around the edges. Life is not being the safe and beautiful soul that we need, to better and share and use for making all things for those beside us who have had a tough life and finally gets to know, to feel, to believe about love, be it one or millions. Come together right now, over you, God.

~ Rev

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audrey@audreytaylorgonzalez.com
www.audreytaylorgonzalez.com