Do you remember the movie "Walkabout"? I haven't seen it since it first came out 40 years ago, but recently I endeavored to watch it again. As a child it was profoundly stunning and at the same time, terrifying. Yet this time it was just as memorable although in a different manner.
The movie is about two children abandoned in the Australian outback and their eventual rescue by an Aborigine boy who is on his walkabout - his 6 month coming of age initiation into manhood, surviving, or not, by his own skills alone. It is a wonderful movie containing breathtaking landscapes with a deep sociological message as well - far beyond the theme of being lost and getting found.
The unnamed children - all the better to make this a universal epic - are twelve and five years of age. At first the young boy fails to grasp the seriousness of their plight. But after wandering helplessly in the desert, long days scrambling up craggy mountains and down sand dunes, enduring the brutal environment, his "are we there yet?" supplications overwhelm him. He soon tires and surrenders to the elements, only saved by his older sister who persuades him to press on. It is a metaphor for life - a spiritual journey of determination through predicament.
But there comes a point when adversity is too much. Life is arduous, and like the young boy, we desire a respite from its trials. The exhausted pair soon choose to prepare for their end beneath a solitary tree - they have done all they could on their own. They intend to let life take them instead of taking hold of life. It is then that a strange outsider comes to bring salvation.
In today's gospel, the Christ comes to the aid of Peter's mother-in-law in much the same fashion. She is lost in a sickness - perhaps desperately heartbroken for her daughter who has lost her husband to a disparaged, mendicant rabbi. She is healed by this strange outsider, and subsequently, so too are the countless others who are drawn by his magnificent powers. The story could end happily ever after here, but that's not the critical message being conveyed. For the gospel implies that the healing is not where salvation begins. Upon entering new life we are compelled to action. The cure to Peter's mother-in-law's ailment is to get up and serve the rabble who have gathered to gawk. Likewise, Jesus suggests there is more to do. He promptly leaves the scene of his glory, seeking to bring the neighboring towns the miracle cure of a new and better way of life.
He could have stayed in Capurnaum. He was a hero, worshipped and adored for his regenerative acts. But although it is nice to garner praise and admiration, there is no resting on where we've been - for we cannot live in the past - we must press on to the end. Taking Peter's mother-in-law as an example, the gospel tells us that we must get up and serve, continuing beyond the safety and security of our accomplishments. This is the epitome of the boddhisattva's vow.
Walkabout, however, concludes on a less then triumphal hope of salvation. Rather it is the nihilistic longing of a past that continues to dominate our lives. This is not the archetypical "hero's journey." The protagonists may have returned from their mythic adventure, but have failed to grasp, nor can share, the import. The children use the help given to them for their own purposes neglecting those around them - especially their savior - ignoring the larger social concern. It is a bleak commentary on the society at large. But neither can the Aboriginal boy return to his civilization. All remain forever lost in an alien world. In the end we learn that to find the help we need, we must bring it to others.
love, always,
pia
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