The basic story line is of a little boy who appears to be slightly "off" (he mentions in the movie he was tested for Aspergers but the results were "inconclusive") who lost his father in 9/11. About a year after his death, the boy (Oscar) finds a key in his father's closet. Since his relationship with his father was historically one of exploration and creativity, Oscar believes that this key will open up something that his father "wants (him) to know". Oscar sets out on a methodical and unwavering search for the lock to the key and he meets a number of people along with way and conquers a number of his fears in the process.
There were numerous parts in the movie that held layer upon layer of significance, but today I want to focus on a scene between Oscar and his mother (played by Sandra Bullock). Oscar always connected more deeply with his father, and after his death, he finds it even more difficult to connect with her. In the scene, Oscar is raging at his mother because he thinks she "doesn't understand" and "won't ever" understand why he simply HAS TO find where the key fits. The mother, consumed with grief but trying to paint a picture of reality to her son, finally fires back with, "It won't make sense because it just DOESN'T make sense. It doesn't make sense why someone flew a plane into that building. It doesn't make sense why your father was taken. No matter how hard you look to find out why, you won't find it completely because it. just. doesn't. make. sense."
Oscar falls to the ground sobbing and continues to believe his mother just simply doesn't get it. And in that moment I realized that I have been Oscar (metaphorically) so many times in my life. We are in a culture that is desperate to make sense of our suffering. We are desperate to understand the "why" behind the "what", as if knowing the reason will somehow validate the experience. But, for me, my obsession with understanding the why in it's entirety was just another way to control an uncontrollable world.
This logic can spread to a number of different areas. Religion, for example, can be a way to follow rules in order to somehow manage our lives and keep things in control. I remember when I actually believed that if I could just "obey" God enough, I would be "protected" from the hurt, pain and sickness in this world. This type of obsessive compulsive obedience was just yet another way for me to be the one in control of my life. My faulty belief was this: Obey God's commands = safety. But that just isn't the case. As a mentor of mine says, "Sometimes we just get caught up in the web of a broken world." Suffering happens. Pain is inevitable. And no amount of obedience to a Higher Power can change the fact that the world is not perfect.
And so Oscar reminded me of this: If I'm constantly trying to understand and "make sense" of my reality, I'm failing to truly live in it. To truly engage life, we must accept it as imperfect.
To truly engage life, we must accept it as imperfect.
We must accept that people die, relationships break and health is not always controllable. Don't get me wrong, I am a FIRM believer in the power of redemption. It's just as real as the suffering, if not more real. But if the redemption doesn't come in the timing and the way I expect it, I am learning to practice the art of acceptance. The times when life doesn't make sense, I take as an opportunity to remember the fact that I am human and limited in my understanding. I am constantly reminding my analytical self that not everything needs to be dissected. To truly dissect something, we have to take the life out of it (think: science and dissections). The beauty of humanity is that some things are a mystery.
There is much more to discuss regarding the movie, so I'm going to divide it into parts. Next topic will relate to God's presence even when we think He's absent.
If you get a chance, check out the trailer for the movie.
