Trust and Faith
Every day we commit acts of faith and trust. From the moment we wake up to the sound of our alarm clock, to the last minutes of our day when we take a sleeping pill, we operate within bonds of faith and trust. We assume that we will be woken on time and that the sleeping pill will bring rest but not death. In the morning, when we open the cereal package, we have faith that it will contain nutrients, not poison or maggots. When we step into the elevator we trust that it will give us a safe ride, not entrapment for hours. The Brooklyn Bridge is one of the most dramatic testaments to our faith. The architect of the bridge, the skill of the builders, the strength of its elements and the faithfulness of its maintenance workers, are never considered as we drive over it in total belief that the bridge will hold up forever.
Although all of these things are products of human minds, how strange it is that often we have so little faith in human beings. I cannot recall a period when we had so little trust in each other. And with good reason. Almost every day we hear about innocent victims of con artists. My own sons worry that I, an elderly widow in her nineties, will be seduced by emails that start, CONGRATULATIONS! And proceed to inform me that I have just fallen heir to a sizable estate and in order to obtain it, some simple forms must be filled. All they need to know is my bank account number, social security etc. etc. Not even I, an innocent, blue-eyed believer, would fall for such nonsense. I am very wary of such “identity thieves” and consider a shredder an important piece of my household equipment, but in other respects, I might be labeled naïve.
How sad it is that one always must be “on guard” with others. When a person does an unexpectedly nice thing, I like to assume that it came from a kind heart, not an ulterior motive. Yes, once in a while you get fooled, but rarely. Even at the risk of being called a patsy, isn’t it pleasanter to see the good in others? Will Rogers once said, “I never met a man I didn’t like.” Frankly, I suspect that he was stretching the truth a bit, but who would dare to call that beloved legend a liar?
Many, many years ago, at a summer resort hotel the evening entertainment featured a pair of exhibition ballroom dancers. A fellow guest, a naïve, but wealthy, young man, fell for the woman and told me excitedly, “Guess what? Marie says that in New York next winter, for seventy-five dollars, she will let me take her out for dinner and will teach me how to dance.” I will never forget the joy in Ernie’s face. Months later in New York, Marie’s picture appeared in the tabloids. Apparently her jealous husband shot her when she came home after a night on the town. I never knew if Ernie was part of the story, but I am sure that the scales had fallen from his big, baby blues.
Did that destroy forever his faith in human nature? I hope not.