Young Adult
In case you’ve never seen it, “The Amazing Race” is a reality TV show in which teams of two race around the globe. In each city they visit, they must complete challenges before crossing that city’s finish line and continuing on their way. The challenges are intended to be physically and mentally challenging while also being a mini-introduction to the culture of the city.
Ryan Ferguson and his best friend, Dusty Harris, were contestants on Season 33 of “The Amazing Race.” When Ryan was a teenager, he was convicted of a murder he did not commit and spent almost a decade in prison. The most impressive thing I’ve ever seen on “The Amazing Race” was not a feat of strength or mental acuity. It was the quietly dazzling display of his character.
Throughout the season, I noticed little ways that he was different. He cared about the game but was less caught up in the daily stress of it; his perspective was broader. That difference was especially noticeable when the four remaining teams were in Thessaloniki, Greece. At an ancient hilltop theater, they were given a challenge in which they had to find a clue on the bottom of one rock among thousands. The only way to find it was by flipping over one rock at a time. Only one of the two team members could do the actual searching, so Dusty spent hours flipping over rocks while Ryan watched helplessly from the side. All of the teams found it difficult and demoralizing, but all the other teams completed the challenge and Dusty was left, the only one still flipping rocks. He was angry and discouraged and he had reason to be.
On most legs of the race, the last team to cross the city finish line is eliminated from the competition, and they were now hours behind all the others. After encouragement and reminders to not let the challenge get to him, Ryan told Dusty to stop, take a breath and enjoy the views of Greece. They climbed the nearby stairs to an overlook and allowed themselves to take in the beauty of the present moment. Then Dusty went on turning over rocks with a renewed determination and finally found the clue.
Taking time to pause and enjoy the reality of the moment was beautiful, and it had a beautiful additional payoff. It turned out to be one of the few non-elimination legs of the race. Dusty was so sure that they were already defeated that there was no room for anything else in his mind. Ryan was able to see beyond the stress of the competition and be present to the reality of being on a spectacular hilltop in Greece. It turned out that not only was he right to keep that perspective, they were even able to stay in the race.
It’s incredibly easy for me to let myself be consumed by anxiety. Left to my own devices, I’m almost always Dusty. And it’s very understandable to be Dusty — especially if it happens to be after hours of apparently pointless work. There are lots of very real difficulties and sources of stress in our lives. It’s OK to be angry, it’s OK to grieve, it’s OK to take stock of the problems I face. But I’ve learned there will always be problems to face. If I can’t learn to see and enjoy the good in the midst of the difficult, I’ll never have time to notice the good at all. I’ll spend my life being anxious about ultimately minor setbacks and miss the gifts that are all around me. That’s why I aspire to be more like Ryan, to be someone whose perspective and hope are resilient.
This is one of the things I love about books and movies and TV shows. A good story refreshes my perspective. It reminds me that there’s more to my story, too — that obstacles can be overcome, that dragons can be defeated. It also reminds me that my story is good and that in the context of the big picture, the difficult parts sometimes even make the whole story more beautiful. That kind of perspective is easy for me to lose in the daily grind, the moments that can feel as futile and frustrating as endlessly flipping rocks. But as Catholics, the big-picture story that we have to refocus on is one that we know to have a happy ending. We don’t know all the twists and turns that go with our part in the story, but we know that victory is already won. We can trust that hope is worth it. Because our hope is in Jesus, and he has already won.
Following a victorious king doesn’t mean that we just sit back and do nothing. The only way that Dusty and Ryan would have failed would have been if they had given up — just stopped trying and walked away. No matter how long they took, they still would have stayed in the race. Giving up was the only path to defeat.
We see something similar in the Gospel, in the difference between St. Peter and Judas. Both Judas and St. Peter got lost in the distress and confusion of seeing the Messiah fail to assert earthly power. Both of them betrayed Jesus. One of them gave into despair and cut himself off from mercy. The other remained open and was not only forgiven, he was made the first pope.
Victory is not dependent on us, but our participation in that victory does depend on our willingness to actively let God be the one in control. We make use of whatever human means we have, but at the end of the day, our hope has to remain in Jesus. Whether it be global events out of our control or our daily failures to live up to who we want to be, human power will always eventually fall short. But we can go on, trusting in the one who loves us.
