GONE FISHING

By John Santosuosso

      From the time I started kindergarten through the second grade I had a walk to school of approximately one mile. Except in the very worst of weather my friends and I did not dread this. In fact we loved it, kicking leaves, or throwing snowballs, and inventing games along the way. As I would make my way from Allen Lane, after a rather brief time, Stokes Avenue would come into view. From there it was a strait shot all the way to the Frank M. North Elementary School in Collingswood, New Jersey. For the most part the houses that lined our path had a certain sameness about them. Most, dating from 1900 to 1940, were two story, and some had traces of a late Victorian style. We walked by without giving them a single thought, unless it was the home of someone we knew. However, there was one home that almost always caused me to pause if only for a moment. Set back from the street a greater distance than most, it had a large front yard, with a creek running diagonally across it! That creek held me in some sort of childhood wonder, and I said to myself someday I am going to own a house just like this one.

      As is often the case with childhood dreams, this one did not come true. But there was to be a consolation prize!  When we moved into our present home around 2001, Janet knowing of my love of homes by streams, from one we knew in Gainesville, contracted to have a backyard pond with two little waterfalls constructed for me. After completion we went to a pet store and bought ten ordinary goldfish and comets for twenty-five cents apiece to stock it. We would never have to buy pond fish again. They took to their new home, well, like fish take to water! They were happy. I was overcome with joy!

For twenty-three years most days my fish and I had a ritual. In the morning they would all swim down to one corner of the pond and wait for me to dispense breakfast. In the evening dinner would be served, and sometimes they would actually line-up in anticipation of receiving it! But there was more. Especially if we had an evening or late afternoon rainstorm, after dark the frogs would show up, and their screeching and hollering sounded like you were in the middle of a forest. A few days later we would have a new crop of tadpoles and eventually a backyard full of tiny "froglets." On rare occasions a large bull frog might show up and let everybody know who was king of the pond. Can you actually love some of God's "least of these," a pond full of fish and frogs? Yes you can.

Sadly, the years pass by, and with age things that once were no problem at all to accomplish become difficult, and could even in some cases be potentially dangerous. By April of this year, I found I could no longer maintain our beloved fish pond. Our landscapers found new homes for our fish, and our backyard pond has been transformed into a very attractive sitting area with a firepit, and surrounded with beautiful plants. It is a lovely, peaceful setting, but my relationship with my fish is permanently broken. Our final morning together I quietly fed them breakfast, but then had to retreat into the house while they were removed and transported to their impressive new homes. and our backyard was once again transformed.

      Over the years God's "least of these" not only gave me joy, but they taught me much. They caused me to recall what my seminary philosophy professor Sam Keen tried to teach us many years ago. The creation is filled with wonder. You do not have to figure it all out. Just rejoice in the splendor of it all . . . and take care of it. Was that not the heart of the Genesis story of Adam and Eve? Do we respect life, all life? The real theme of the story of Jonah, that is usually overlooked while people debate what a whale can swallow, is that God loves even those whom we cannot. The great German philosopher Immanuel Kant claimed that within every soul there dwells moral law, and because of that potential for good, everyone has the potential to be salvaged by God's unlimited love. A fish in a backyard pond can remind you, respect life, all life (and if this summer you visit a National Park may this ex-Park ranger say please don't be a touron!).

      There is something else my fish helped teach me. It is a difficult lesson, one of the most difficult we must learn on our journey. We enter into relationships. They can be very beautiful, sustaining, uplifting, and yet every relationship we ever entered into, no matter how dear, how precious, will someday be broken. That happens in countless ways. Friends move away, divorce, illness, and of course death. There may be memories, hopefully good ones, but that is all. Hopefully, knowing this it causes us to do something critically important, namely live in the present, for that is all we have. This is not a call to irresponsibility. Rather it is just the opposite. We can of course learn from our past, and prudent people prepare for the future, but living and loving must be done now, if they are to be done at all. There is an old country song that says, "Yesterday is gone, and tomorrow may never be mine." If you need to remind someone that you love them, the time to do that is now. If you need to forgive or ask for forgiveness, the time to do that is now. If you need to work on your dream, the time to do that is now. If you need to say thank you to someone, the time to do that is now.

      I am certainly not a big fan of the book of Revelation, and believe it has down through the centuries probably been misused more times than properly interpreted. However, it does promise that God through Jesus Christ intends to make all things new, and where there are tears He will wipe them away. As Christians we have the hope that in the fulness of time good relationships will be restored. Until that time, my friends, walk in love, for perfect love can cast out all fear.

      "The least of these" have many things to teach us.