"The 800 Pound Gorilla" by Rev. Barbara Merritt

Not the metaphor: the actual wild mountain gorilla. Biologists estimate that there are fewer than 700 anywhere in the world, living in their natural habitat. One such location is near Goma, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Last weekend my oldest son Rob went with some friends on a guided tour up the jungle trail to observe these gorillas.

This was not a walk in the park. The group was issued machetes to help clear a path up the mountain. After three hours of climbing, they came upon a family of 36 gorillas. The local guide explained that they only had one hour to watch this group of adults, adolescents and small babies.

Rob found it fascinating to observe their behavior and antics. The small ones did silly play, and acrobatics, including falling out of the trees, gracelessly and hilariously. A young adolescent male made a provocative swipe at Rob’s leg. The mothers took tender care of their babies. And the great 800 pound silver-back male, the leader of the tribe, looked at the human watchers suspiciously. At precisely 60 minutes (had someone given the gorilla a digital watch?), the silver back jumped up, slammed his hand on the ground, made three loud barking noises, barred his teeth, and mock-charged the human tourists.

As Rob tells it, the silver-back scared the living daylights out of all the humans. They decided that their viewing time was definitely over, and they started to descend down the mountain. What can we learn from their experience? Clearly, if an 800 lb gorilla is sitting in his own natural “living room” he is not going to remain sitting there forever. Eventually, he’s going to announce his presence, in the strongest possible terms. And you had better be prepared to move, and to move quickly.

Until now, I have always enjoyed the metaphor of the 800 lb gorilla that sits quietly in our midst, as we tiptoe around. Always having been a big fan of denial, I thought this behavior could go on indefinitely. But nature has a way of illustrating what is real, and what really happens.

This has me thinking about three rather large gorillas that have been staring me down, for some time now.

The First Gorilla: I am soon retiring, after 35 years in the parish ministry. While this decision once seemed abstract and distant, I am now down to 6 more Sundays, 3 more sermons (4/25, 5/2, and 5/23), and 3 more memos. Every time I choose a hymn, it is the last time I’ll get to select that one. Each song the choir sings now has to go into my store of memories. Too many people are coming up to me and saying, “This will be your last Easter, your last Monday night seminar, your last Jericho Road meeting.” And while I am currently feeling like the very lamest of ducks, the other, equally compelling truth is that right now, I’m still here! Every Sunday worship service is another chance, not only to repeat our covenant, but to live it. And since, because of ministerial rules, I won’t be able to visit our church again for quite a long time after my retirement, I am newly appreciative of the great privilege that it is, to see and speak with our members. (“This is the day the Lord has made…”) We need to live in the present moment, because that is what is real right now.

The Second Gorilla: My spiritual hope, for years now, has been that I might say to God, “Do with me as you will.” (and mean it). My aspiration is to trust reality, and to surrender completely to that power of love and truth, and the source of our being, that is far greater than my own desire and plans. I fail at this constantly, yet it is still my faith, my hope and my intention.

But have you considered the alternative? The only viable option to surrender, is to scream at the reality you don’t like, “Don’t mess with me!”, or some variation thereof. You can yell, “You can’t do that!” You can argue, “That is not how my life was supposed to go!” Or, “How dare you deliver to my door so much suffering, trouble or hardship!” Shaking our fists at God, or at life and its unfathomable twists and turns, is an ancient and universal response to receiving what we do not want. What the 800 lb gorilla would ask at this point is, “How is this protest of yours working out for you?” Has reality or God or the cosmos ever replied, “Oops. My apologies… I never meant to cause you such unhappiness. I’ll stop immediately!”

It occurs to me that the real people of faith are the atheists, the agnostics, the skeptics and the contrarians, who keep screaming at reality, “Don’t do that!” They say to other people, “Don’t be the way you are.” They address politicians and declare, “Don’t hold the values that you hold.” Despite a 100% fail rate, (reality has never capitulated to their objections and demands) they keep up their protests, their refusals, and their harsh judgments. Now THAT is an indomitable faith. (Those of us who just work for small incremental changes, don’t make so much noise, but our labors may yield a better return.)

Gorilla Number Three: Change always, constantly, in our families, our churches, our workplace and our world. If your life is difficult, and full of anxiety, stick around; it will change. If everything is going beautifully, and smoothly and happily, pay attention; there is trouble ahead. Our assignment on this mysteriously moving planet is to stay agile, awake and responsive. New challenges and new duties lie ahead.

Wherever your personal 800 lb gorillas have taken up residence, treat them with a healthy respect. They are powerful. They will eventually command our full attention. And they will let us know when it is time for us to move forward.


Photo by Rob Merritt.