I'm leavin on a jet plane...

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

- Robert Frost (1874-1963)

I doubt that any of us are strangers to this classical poem. We have heard it many times growing up. It has become a classic because virtually every reader can relate to the experience of being at a crossroads in life. The poem meant something for me in middle school when I first read it. It took on more meaning in high school as I struggled to decide what university I would attend. Again, the poem meant something different as I wrestled with the idea of either going to medical school or fulfilling my dream and becoming a police officer. I admit the poem wasn’t exactly on my mind as I struggled with the decisions: to leave the criminal investigation division to go back to patrol, to leave the police department, to begin working for the Church, to leave my comfortable life for seminary, to accept or reject certain offers on my house that remained on the market for fifteen months.

No, I can’t say that I always referred to classical poetry when I made a decision. As I grew older I began to learn methods of discernment and how to bring my major decisions before God in prayer. I learned to wrestle with my decisions until I reached a sense of peace that my course of action was in line with God’s will. As much as I have grown in my discernment abilities, there have been, and still are times, when I simply pick a path and get to walking. As I walk down the strange and unfamiliar path I sometimes second-guess myself. I begin to worry. I realize that this path is overgrown (lack of travelers) and at times the path is full of thorns and thickets that scratch and cut as you walk through them. Sometimes the path less traveled is not to be glorified as the path of an independent thinker who is willing to be counter-cultural and has a great sense of adventure as Frost describes in his poem.

More often than not, when I find myself on an unfamiliar path these days, I am reminded of something that I learned in my philosophy studies. In his work De Caelo (On Heaven) (I,5), Aristotle states, “The least initial deviation from the truth is multiplied later a thousandfold.” Less you panic because I am quoting a pagan philosopher, I offer you St. Thomas Aquinas’ version in De Ente et Essentia (On Being and Essence), as he states “a little error in the beginning leads to a great one in the end.” While these two quotes have all sorts of implications for our need to properly form our moral consciences and seek out Truth in all that we do, I will try to restrict their implications to the discussion at hand. With both of these quotes in mind, how does Frost even begin to take a single step down one of the two paths? What if he is wrong? What then? What if he does not realize the small mistake he made in the beginning that leads him to a great error in the end? What if the decision he is making ruins the rest of his life? What if the decision he makes in not God’s will?

Can you hear the fear in these questions? Can you hear the lack of trust in the providence of God? Let me very reverently say that I not only hear them, but I have felt them. Less you be quick to judge me, I think I can safely say that we all have. It doesn’t make us unfaithful Christians. It makes us human. So, how then do we ever make some of those life changing decisions, big and small, with some sort of confidence? I offer you the following analogy that was partially given to me by my spiritual director this past summer. I have added to it and have made it my own but I simply trimmed back the branches. The planted seed came from him:

Have you ever been sitting on a plane prior to leaving the gate and looked out the window? There are all sorts of people in jump suits that are working frantically at their various tasks in order to prepare the plane for its flight. Some are providing the fuel. Others are loading food and beverages. Still others are loading baggage onto the plane. Amidst all these people who complete their jobs with such ease that you know it has become routine for them, there is one man or woman who walks among them that sticks out like a sore thumb. The man (I am going to use the masculine gender from here on for ease of writing. I do not mean to exclude females from this position) is wearing a starched white shirt and a tie. He carefully walks around the plane somewhat oblivious to those around him. He checks out every piece of the plane to make sure that all is in proper working condition and the plane is ready to fly. He may pull on the wing, wiggle the flaps, or kick the tires. He goes through a checklist that is by no means routine. He makes sure that everything is where it is supposed to be or else the plane never leaves the ground. There is nothing that will cause this man to skip parts of his list and assume that all is okay. He is diligent in his efforts because he knows that “a little error in the beginning leads to a great one in the end.”

By now you have probably assumed that I am talking about the pilot of the plane. While that assumption will work, I am actually talking about the co-pilot. Usually, it is the co-pilot who does the walk around. The point of the analogy is that the co-pilot always makes sure that things are in order before the plane takes off. If he finds a problem, he calls someone else who is more qualified to fix it. If he doesn’t find a problem, he tells the pilot it is time for both of them to fly the plane together. Now, for the sake of the analogy put yourself in the role of the co-pilot. The decision to fly is any one of the minor or major decisions that you are faced with in your everyday life. Let’s fill in the rest of the roles to wrap this up.

We all know what the baggage is that has been loaded onto our plane for us to carry. Sometimes the bags that have been checked are our own and we have put them ourselves. Other times the bags belong to someone else and yet we are still asked to carry them. So far I have not yet mentioned the passengers although they play an important role. We all have passengers in our lives that fly with us. They may be friends, family, parishioners, or complete strangers. The point is, that as the co-pilot, we make our decisions the best we can based upon our assessment of the situation. Our assessment is informed, however, by our education, past experience, and prayer. We realize that we are under the guidance and teaching of the pilot (perhaps God, perhaps our priest), we fly the plane. Notice that I did not say anything about the emotional condition of the passengers. Sure there are some on the plane that are afraid to fly. There are some on the plane who become anxious at the slightest bit of turbulence. There are some who question your ability to spot a problem with the plane’s mechanics. There are some who will complain not matter how smooth the flight is. There are some who fail to pay attention to the many signs that tell them prior to getting on the plane where the flight is headed and yet they get on the plane thinking that they can insist upon it going to some other place. There are those who sit in first class and others that sit in coach. However the safe arrival of all of them is equally our concern. There are even some who may have intentions of bringing the plane down altogether. However, and most importantly, there are those who walk by the cockpit after the plane has landed, smile, and say, “Thanks for the nice flight. I look forward to flying with you again.”

One more thing, the co-pilot doesn’t fly alone. Not only does he fly with someone in the left-hand seat, but he consults his charts (Scripture), air-traffic controllers and ground handlers (Spiritual Directors and wise friends), weather reports (let’s hope he has a better weatherman than we do), but perhaps most importantly, the experience of the pilots and co-pilots who have gone before him on other flights. While sometimes we may choose the path less traveled, it is important to listen to those who have gone down the path before. They make us aware of cross winds, weather systems in our path, wind shear, etc. Some of those people may just be other pilots who are now your passengers. Listen to them. Take their guidance, but in the end, the decision is yours. You must choose to fly the plane. You must trust your walk-around of the situation and fly to the best of your abilities. There comes a time when you close the cockpit door so that you can concentrate on flying the plane. But remember, that door has to open again at some point and you will have to face your passengers. My point is, you can’t let their anxiety keep you from flying the plane or else no one ever moves. You have to choose: fly or don’t fly. As a wise man and a dear loved one used to say, “The choice is yours, choose well.”

As for me:

All my bags are packed. I’m ready to go.
I’m standin’ here outside your door…

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go….

Sing it with me!

Pax tecum,
Tom