Sid picks up a part of the deck of cards, flipping them over to expose a Queen.
“You and me.” Uncle Pete, with set jaw, gives Sid a solemn nod.
“Cut for deal,” says Uncle Francis as they exchanged chairs.
But what if that’s just an argument of the rational? There are so many things in the world without rational explanations … especially among people. So what if the spiritual religious stuff is the underlying truth … the sober alcoholics, his eternal illustration. Find God or die drinking. There has to be some truth to the God idea, there just has to be … the Bible isn’t the only source. His sister, or Jack, where a personal understanding of God and the spiritual doesn’t require any religion. And see where religious people are right, he remembers from the Big Book.
Sid feels like he’s on stage, about to start an important speech, all eyes on him. He focuses, looks up, smiles, and casually asks “Whose bid?” as he rapidly rearranges his cards.
###
His eyes won’t stay closed no matter how he struggles for a little extra dreamtime. Reality sets in; a sleeping bag on Jamie’s living room floor. In the night, the sultan rides further along, to another valley, where the local king has a huge palace, even grander than the sultan’s. The people along the road look exhausted, distraught, dressed in rags, yet trudging off from their hovels to work every day, not just to upkeep the king’s castle, but there’s a new wing, another expansion. The king rides by in an elegant carriage, with a haughty look, his nose held high. His two sons ride along on horses, one drinking from a hidden flask, the other a youthful mimic of his father.
Sid rolls over, hearing rustling noises laughing their way down the stairs. Uncle Francis snores peacefully on the couch. A man who works and plays hard sleeps well. The farmer king who twice led his card forces to victory in last night’s Kaiser encounters. Royal conquest at its peak.
He grabs his bag, heading for a shower ahead of the impending lineup. The house springs to life, as the children lead a chaotic charge down the stairs; a screaming advance to awaken any straggling adults considering resistance.
Feeling refreshed, he wanders to the dining room table. Becoming Rich in Christ he reads the pamphlet title. Not so long ago, he would have read no more. But the little voice is there now, driving its little wedge into the crack. A deacon, the pamphlet names him, will preach on riches and address questions later.
Ephesians 2:4-7. A letter from Paul to the Ephesians. Sid skims for what he can paraphrase into his own words. God has a lot of mercy, Paul says, and loves people a lot. Sid struggles with that … but he can sort of go along. Even people who are spiritually dead can be given grace. The wealth of His favor, Paul says, is shown by His kindness. Sid pauses, scratching the back of his head … now that’s a little much.
The absolute lack of kindness in his life races through his mind, round and round just below where he scratches. Chasing fast after it, the chaotic life of Uncle Harry, the abrupt life of Ksandra, the many who come to AA yet rush back to the bottle … any on a long, long list. What kindness? Deep sigh. Here in the pamphlet, Paul says, rich grace can be found through Jesus Christ. Well AA says, for relief from serious drinking, beyond the reach of any human power, God could and would if He were sought. The damnedest thing. He can pick the thing apart all he wants, he can cry for himself and the people on the list, but his strongest evidence for God haunts him. Paul must be telling the truth in some way or another. Maybe wealth does avail itself through God’s Grace. For what investor will ever totally understand the whole marketplace?
The pamphlet, joining the race below the itchy spot, goes on to tell him he has been gifted immensely with richness in Christ, that he has hidden treasures ready for use. That treasure word slows the whirlwind. The concept of hidden treasures sort of floats around AA, though not in those words. But looking for direction from a Higher Power and making amends for the nasty things an alcoholic has done directly results in the better … the treasure of relief for someone who’s had it crappy.
People have been saved through the price of Jesus’ crucifixion. Sid sighs deeply, shaking his head. Cum’on, six thousand were crucified along the Apian Way, sacrificing themselves for the freedom of slavery under Spartacus. As valiant men die in any struggle for justice. But the voice has its way, driving the wedge a little deeper into the crack. OK, he rolls his eyes, but thinks … portfolios, more than one mutual fund, more than one investment strategy. Jo has stocks in Buddha, Jack has his AA sponsees. The returns are the same, averted from tumultuous lives by the Way for Jo, the Twelfth Step for Jack. Whatever. So Jesus and Christianity can be one investment option, one way of seeking out the same marketplace … why not. For all mutual funds tout themselves as the best or even the only way to go. So, OK, salvation through Jesus’ death could be the returns for those who bought his mutual and this Christian option would be listed, available to anyone. The mind storm abates; he rubs his head, and then rests his chin on his hand on the table.
The kids chase each other around, to the fridge for milk, the cupboard for Choc-O-Puffs. Right into the day, like those kids humming with the jet engine on Amy’s plane. Living free in the moment, the freedom of the sandbox. Better sand pail and shovel than a brick of gold. What would a kid do with a gold block in the sandbox but stub a toe?
###
They gather together, with even Uncle Francis dressed in his Sunday best for morning mass. Dividing into car pools, Jamie and her family come in Sid’s van. Jamie points the direction of the church and they are off.
“There’s another scripture you should hear.” Jamie picks up where the rat-a-tat cards interrupted. “Revelations 3:18, I just looked it up last night. A warning to those who think they have all they need because they have become rich. I advise you to buy from me gold made pure in fire so you can be truly rich … it goes like that. Sounds like advice on the purchase of spiritual gold … the way you talk.”
“Oh really?” Sid tunes in to every word. “And isn’t fire often meant to symbolize the spiritual, like the Holy Spirit?” he says. “So the spiritual purifies this kind of gold.”
“That’s the way I would see it, Sid.”
###
The spire of St Mary’s reaches high above the houses, the parking lot stretching out beneath bare tree limbs. Bigger crowd for the later mass, says Jamie’s husband.
They enter into dimmer lighting, the whiff of candles and varnished pews, to find seats together. Mary looks down on them through blissful statue eyes. Choir tones become words, words set the tone and the word is spoken by the deacon in the homily.
The deacon is quite forthcoming, challenging the congregation as to why they live in abject spiritual poverty. Silence. He goes on, calling each of them a billionaire, stressing the spirit of Christ that indwells their hearts. Many don’t know they are rich, his voice rings out, behaving like the spiritually impoverished. Now that, Sid can believe, through simple observation. The deacon reads, and then explains, the Ephesians passage, and how it clearly reveals to them they are unbelievably rich because of God’s Grace. He points out the evidence that God is unlimited, and all of His wealth He makes available to them. Unlimited. If a truly limitless investment exists, why are spiritual portfolios so small? The congregation rises to go forward for communion, accompanied by the word of songs. More words, more songs, then choir tones as the mass comes to a close.
In the basement, the deacon revives his sermon, using the visual aid of a poster, listing riches available through God’s Grace. Sid, having glanced over the list, can see it wouldn’t compete well with the billboards. Nothing is at all tangible, no material equity. Indescribable joy, heartfelt peace, contentment at depth, wisdom, knowledge of truth, spiritual freedom...
The deacon switches to a personal voice. He talks of his earlier life, how he lacked this Grace of God, the source of all riches, because of his lack of faith and, God forbid, his selfishness. Faith may be a hard thing to quantify, Sid thinks, but not selfishness. Selfishness fits into mar
ket theory quite well. If a person wants to invest in the spiritual market, they need to squeeze that camel’s butt through the needle. Like the young wealthy guy, they have to give it up and get poor for a while. Investments, and selfish or selfless acts, come out in the numbers of any financial statement.
He drives Jamie’s family back to the house, not budging out of the van.
“Come on in Sid. Easter dinner.”
“Ahh, I gotta get back to the city today.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He pulls away, and his stomach heaves a deep sigh of relief, as its nightmare of burst point dissipates.
The bible sure instructs people to take direction from Jesus’ stories to get returns on the heavenly treasure. Another investment option a spiritual person might choose. But what do most people base their choices on, Sid has always wondered. By tradition a lot it seems, influenced by human nature, developed over long periods of time. No thinking involved it seems. The church, long in forming its tradition, still teaches the same basic lessons now as long ago; the bible is not a new publication. The tradition of seeking wealth security, then comfort, then slopping over into decadence, for self only, or maybe family, goes back at least to the castle, maybe to the cave. Security within from danger without.
A new tradition of spiritual wealth would have a serious struggle, yet maybe some are leading the way. People change, at least some drunks do, but only when they really need to. AA as a whole has changed over the last few decades, younger and younger people coming, more women coming. Something is happening. Could there be a growing investment group interested by choice in the high-risk ventures of the non-tangible spiritual world? Are more making the choice, not so much with death as the alternative, but because it just looks like a good idea? Or are the younger just more observant?
A Mirchuk reunion looms on next summer’s horizon. Now that could be a place to watch and listen again. Sid can look for what investments family members will have made since the last one. And maybe some stories will come out of portfolio reviews, tales revealing lifetime returns. Auntie Lola, Uncle Nick … Ksandra, whatever really happened to Ksandra?
It’s going to be a long drive, so Sid looks for peace in the hum of the highway.
Chapter 15
“Come on you piece of …” Sid gives the mouse a violent jerk that would have broken the neck of any live rodent. Of course a live one would have sunk its teeth into his finger, but could a flesh wound cause more grief than this? The blinking cursor on the screen smirks, knowing it hides the digital network delays that now stifle access to the web records he seeks.
He cannot get over the discovery of the day. This day of all days.
He finally throws the mouse against the wall in disgust and stomps off to pack more travel bags. OK, he has to focus. Two pairs of jeans, a warm jacket – you never know what the weather will be like up at Sahiya. He’ll be outside the hall some of the time at the second reunion, and now it’s early September. Indian summer can be just as hot as July. Just as cold as November too.
Why doesn’t Jack call back he laments further, cursing his friend. Sid left three messages with his AA compatriot earlier that evening, and now it’s getting late. He needs to connect at a spiritual level, just as much as he needs to share the excitement of what he has come upon.
He throws T-shirts and underwear into his duffel bag, then a toothbrush and a razor as an afterthought. He has to be at the airport by early morning; Saskatoon again instead of Calgary, some things never change, but some do, ‘cause Andy will be there this time with Auntie Lola.
What a chaotic afternoon! It all started off as a regular day, laid back work on a Friday. A guy can relax some from the urban stress and even do a bit of internet snooping. The afternoon brought a thrilling moment when Sid stumbled upon a new survey. Scientific data addressing almost exactly the same question haunting Sid. What could beat statistics run on real questions asked to real people? Like how much you give away and why you give it away. Now he needs to know the answers and he needs to know faster than his net connection allows.
Sid throws his bags up against the door and walks back to his laptop. The cursor leers at him again, before flashing faster and faster, as if it will explode. Then the download finishes and he finally has the report. So far as he knows, it’s a first-of-its-kind survey, something Statistics Canada is running for God knows what reason. Maybe God does have a reason. God’s idea or not, it’s a blessing for Sid.
Sid sits to read, loosing himself in the results of a study of people, their volunteering and donating habits and motivations causing them to invest in the spiritual market. He’s deep into the read when the phone rings. It’s Jack. Finally.
“Man, you won’t believe what I found.” Sid speaks fast.
“Yah?”
“Stats Can ran a survey on giving and volunteering. They asked thousands of people how much money they give away, and then the coolest thing is, they asked them why they do it. All across the country! So they have a representative sample – you know, stats, nineteen times out of twenty it’s the truth.”
“Oh.”
“It gives me so many answers. Not everything, but a lot.”
“Like they ask how big is your spiritual bank roll?”
“Yah, right Jack! Actually, yes and no, not in those terms. The trends are there. Not just hearsay, not just what people talk about. There’s no question about it, religious people give more than the non-religious. And the more religious they are, the more they give. So they have to be investing in the treasure in heaven. That’s gotta be it.”
“Giving is an investment in God. Right?”
“Makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean when you work hard for your money and there’s so many things at Wal-Mart you could buy, like for yourself, OK maybe for your family but you choose to give some of that cash to help other people you don’t even know – that’s getting your self out of the way and doing God’s will.”
“Yah.” Jack yawns. “How do they know how religious a person is?”
“How often they go to church. Then a double-check question is how religious they feel, like you know, very, somewhat, not very, that questionnaire stuff. Either way, the more religious ones buy more stocks in the generosity market.
There’s another amazing pattern besides the religious giving more. There’s this little group of people that give the most. They call it the Parreti principle, the eighty-twenty rule. Twenty percent of the people give eighty percent of what’s given. There’s no explanation for that.”
“Really? So most people don’t give much. Just a little.”
“Very little.”
“How little?”
“Well, you know the Christian thing about tithing. That means ten percent; a tithe is ten percent of what you have. No one comes anywhere close to ten percent, not even the religious people. Even the very religious only give three or four percent.”
“What about AA? We’re not religious, but we’re spiritual. How much do we give?”
“They ask the question, you know, if you’re in AA or not. But there’s nothing on AA as a group and how much they give. Too small a group for stats.”
“Too bad. How could a guy find out?”
“Gotta do our own survey, Jack. Ask the same questions only to AA’s. Do some original research.”
“Your own survey, Sid, not our.”
“Yah, well … yah maybe.”
“What about that last thing you were all excited about. That new religion. What’s it called, Bah hi?”
“Baha’i? Well, that is quite the thing. Like I told you, they are starting a whole new world religion. They say they’re just like Christianity, not just Catholic or Protestant, but Christianity as a whole, not just Shiite or Sunni, but Islam altogether or Buddhism.”
“Yah. Quite the idea.”
“Not only that, they say the Second Coming already happened. The fifth Buddha and the twelfth Imam. They say they fulfill the prophes
ies of all religions.”
“That’s quite a claim.”
“You would think a brand new religion would have an impact on peoples’ behaviour. Like the first century Christians.”
“They shared everything, didn’t they. Even while they were being persecuted by the Romans.”
“That’s what I read. The Baha’is claim there’s a spiritual solution to economic problems. They say their religion will spread around the world – which it already has, but spread pretty thin – and it’ll eliminate wealth disparity. Like they’ll share their possessions in some way or other.”
“So, are the Baha’i in the survey?”
“Well they ask what your religion is and there’s a blank for Other. But there’re so few of them, the sample must be too small, just like AA. I really wonder how inspired they are to give.”
“More research for you.”
“Yah.”
“So you have some new material to think about.”
“And the second Mirchuk reunion starts tomorrow. I’m not gonna get much sleep; I gotta leave real early in the morning.”
“Your Uncle Harry gonna be there?”
“Last I heard he’s still sober. Hope so.”
“Yah. Hey Sid, I gotta get some sleep myself.”
“Talk to you.”
Sid scrolls down to the appendices, searching for any detail to help him understand. Researching the facts, the trends, the possibilities, as a truly serious investor must. Then his eyes refuse to cooperate any further, and he stumbles off to crawl under the covers.
Fatigue guides him swiftly away from the daytime world, and the sultan appears at the swirling dream-entrance. The sultan is riding slowly up a winding trail, through the mountains, seeking out the hovel of the monk. White beard flowing in the breeze, the mystic sits on his perch, looking out over the valleys below, gazing through a view of the ages. The sultan dismounts, presenting a gift cup of gold. The monk hands the cup back, looks deep into the sultan’s eyes, waves out at the mountains and starts to speak …
Chapter 16
Sid’s eyes spring open as a large truck whizzes past. He knows this secondary so well he could probably drive it in his sleep – but not really he reminds himself. The revelations and insights of the survey report kept him glued to the screen way too long into the early morning.