The giant insect in the room

I was sick in bed a few days last week and decided to pass the time reading Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis, which is about a man who woke up to find he was a monstrous bug and unable to maneuver himself out of bed to go to work, for I was having the same problem.

My mind wandered from the 1915 novel to present-day cultural connections. I was struck by how similar I am to the protagonist Gregor Samsa, who, though something monstrous had hurled itself into his life, was oddly still focused on keeping his regular routine. A traveling salesman accustomed to waking at 4 a.m. in order to catch the train at 5, he was more concerned about trying to quickly make amends by taking the 7 o’clock train than about stopping to consider the enormity and strangeness of what had happened to him.

In the same way, I thought about how odd it is that our world is falling apart all around us and yet we maintain our little schedules and go on somehow. We have ISIS getting closer by the day, $18 trillion in national debt, 45.5 million Americans on food stamps, dysfunctional schools, and Obamacare, but we soldier on.

And indeed we should. For Christ said:

“We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming, when no one can work” (John 9:4).

And again:

“Who then is the faithful and wise servant, whom his master has set over his household, to give them their food at the proper time? Blessed is that servant whom his master will find so doing when he comes” (Matthew 24:45-46).

And again:

“… why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven” (Acts 1:11).

On the other hand, there is a bit of denial going on as well. A fair amount of whistling in the dark:

“For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage until the day when Noah entered the ark, and they were unaware until the flood came and swept them all away, so will be the coming of the Son of Man” (Matthew 24:38-39).

The parents of Gregor are not so upset that their son has turned into a giant insect as that he will be missing work and a paycheck. Likewise, the immediate response to the Second Coming of Christ in judgment, before the realization of eternal hell sinks in, is a lament over the loss of the great city of Babylon (Sing to the chorus of Frank Sinatra’s “New York New York”):

“‘Alas! Alas! You great city, you mighty city, Babylon!’ … And the merchants of the earth weep and mourn for her, since no one buys their cargo anymore, cargo of gold, silver, jewels, pearls, fine linen, purple cloth, silk, scarlet cloth, all kinds of scented wood, all kinds of articles of ivory, all kinds of articles of costly wood, bronze, iron and marble, cinnamon, spice, incense, myrrh, frankincense, wine, oil, fine flour, wheat, cattle and sheep, horses and chariots, and slaves, that is, human souls” (Revelation 18:10-13).

The drawn-out detail of the list of losses is nothing less than a lingering lament and a grieving one-by-one of the things men loved more dearly than life itself, more dearly than salvation.

We hardly recognize the world anymore, so many things are going wrong at once. We step over the giant elephant (or insect) in the room that clamors for our attention, as if everything were still normal. “What bug?” we say.

But in every age there are discerning ones who know which way the wind is blowing, like “Issachar, men who had understanding of the times, to know what Israel ought to do …” (1 Chronicles 12:32).

Do you know what to do with your day?