What If

My brother and sister and I used to ask 'what if's. A 'what if' is a question that is always hypothetical and usually far out. I think we would ask 'what if's because we were trying to figure out our parents, trying to find their boundaries. Mom and Dad would always answer seriously, thoughtfully, as if our 'what if' was the most natural question in world; as if everybody wondered about those things.

"What if the house was on fire? Would we go out into the street in our pajamas?"
("Yes.")
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"What if a bear was chasing you? Would you jump in a river full of piranhas?"
(We don't have piranhas here and anyway bears can swim.")
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On the Oregon coast there's a place where the water has carved a channel into the rocks called "the Devil's Churn". The waves break on the stone with such force that no man or vessel that washes in can survive. When I was a kid there was an overlook on a cliff directly above with only a lifesaver tied to a rope and a sign which read something like, "No jumping to aid people in the water!" It was thrilling to be so close to peril so absolute and final.


"What if I fell in?", I asked my dad, "Would you jump in to save me?"
"No", he answered, "there's no point in both of us dying."

Here's another "what if" question:
What if you were in Europe during the Holocaust and you were lucky enough to be a Gentile? Would you be willing to risk yourself to rescue Jews from the Nazis?

That's not a simple question. Those righteous gentiles that saved Jews not only endangered themselves, but also their families. There were some, not many, not enough, but there were a few. The best known is probably Corrie ten Boom, who together with her family help Jews escape the Nazis in Holland and eventually went with them to concentration camps when they got caught.

I can understand someone answering no to that question and can only wonder at the courage and moral conviction of those that risked, and often sacrificed, their lives and their families for the sake of Jews.

Once we were riding with mom. I asked her, "What if you were driving and on one side of the road there was a little boy and on the other side a dog and you couldn't stop. Who would you run over?"
"I'd run over the dog."
"Why?"
"Because the little boy has a soul and the dog doesn't."
"And if there was a little boy on one side and I was on the other?"
"I'd run over you", she said.
"Why?"
"Because one day I'll see you again in heaven."

I think I remember that because I was taken aback; when you're a kid you want to believe that mom's love is absolute and unconditional. But I learned something about my parents, that there were things they believe in that were/are worth more to them than life itself.

I believe that if my folks had been in Europe during the Holocaust, they would have helped Jews, even at the price of their family. I think that their morals, like those of the heroes that rescued Jews from the darkness of WWII, come from faith. The Torah says of Abraham that "he believed and it was counted him righteousness." (Gen. 15:6) A man can go all the way with his conscience when he believes that the final reckoning will be "up there" and not "down here".

Once on a family visit in Oregon we came once again to the "Devil's Churn". Today there's a railing there. I reminded dad of what he'd said there back then.
He didn't remember. "I suppose I was afraid that if I said that I'd save you, you'd get too close to the edge."
"So, tell me, what if I had fallen in," I asked him, "Would you have jumped in for me?"
He smiled.
"Fortunately, we'll never know."