In Praise of pessimism

"The pessimist sees the glass half empty; the optimist sees it as half full." Over the years this aphorism has been slung at me from the pulpit, from my mother's lips and various and sundry other optimistic sources to the point where I began to believe it. Now, being pessimistic by nature and not knowing how to see life from the "half full" perspective, this created all sorts of angst in my psyche. It's kind of like that other great story, "The Emperor's New Clothes." One's perspective dictates one's beliefs. No matter at what angle I observe the glass, I still see the empty half, not the full half. Then, yesterday it came to me: Pessimism is really the best way to view the world. And, just to justify myself and release all you fellow pessimists from that strait jacket imposed on us by all those cheery optimists, I'd like to explain my bright (or should I say "dreary") insight. My genealogy is replete with pessimists. Take my father, for example. At age 84, he says things like, "Well, Improbably won't be around next year at Christmas," or "I'm doing pretty well for an old man," or "I saw caskets on sale last week at Costco, maybe I should go buy two and put them in the workshop attic so you kids don't have to worry about that detail when the time comes." At 84, this may not be too surprising, but he has said things like this since I was six years old. He came by it quite naturally too. His mother, when taking care of us kids, would diligently inquire every morning "Have you had your bowel movement today?" You see, her pessimism was based on the wee bit of medical training she had had and somehow it either consisted mainly on the health benefits of regularity or that is the only part that stuck. Now at age six, I barely knew what my bowel was, much less if it had moved today, so the only thing that stuck in my memory was the question and the pessimistic concept of its not working every day at a very predictable interval. It's no better on my mother's side. My maternal grandmother, I have come to believe, was the original model for Chicken Little. The sky fell at her house at least twice a day, accompanied by extraordinarily well practiced hand wringing (I always thought that hand-wringing was a novelist's over-dramatization. It's not.) She could out-wail a Middle-eastern hired mourner and, I'm convinced, her hands had a well-worn sheen to them from their constant self-polishing. Anyway, you get the idea that by nature and nurture I am a deep-dyed pessimist. My own pessimism takes the form of things like: "Well, this is probably the plane that will be blown out of the sky by a terrorist-may as well resign myself to it before we take off," or "Here is the corner of 112th and market again today; It's probably the day I'll get run over. Would it be better to die or suffer all that pain for so long in the healing process?" or It doesn't matter how I invest my retirement; I know we will have a depression just before I retire and wipe it all out anyway." You get the picture. So, now, back to this great insight. I would like to rewrite that all-too-famous aphorism: "The optimist sees the glass half full; the pessimist sees it half empty-but Oh my! There is still water in the glass! Isn't a wonderful surprise!" Let me put it in terms of my own life: On Takeoff, I say:" Well, this is probably the plane that will be blown out of the sky by a terrorist." But the wonderful thing is that, when we land, I can say "Well, now it didn't happen-I prepared for it, was all ready for it to happen, but here I am safe and sound on the ground again and all in one piece-What a nice surprise!" Or, "Here is the corner of 112th and market again." Oh! I made it across safely!" In the 1960s we all fell in love with the archetypal optimist Pollyanna. Now if she had been a pessimist, the accident that laid her up and mad her so depressed and we all held our breath, fearing that depression would do her in. Now if she had been a pessimist, she would have been expecting it and, when she wasn't killed, she would have had the great joy of the survivor. She wouldn't have spent all that time wondering why things didn't turn out just the way she thought they should have to little girls who were so perkily optimistic. So, pessimists, arise! Take up your rightful place in the world; claim your heritage of the pleasure of unexpected treasure of found wealth. Let us band together against the optimists and say, "We are the ones who see reality and rejoice to see the next sunrise." We, the surprised should look for and find that joy that comes only in the unexpected pleasure of a blessing unsought. In other words, we, the pessimists of the world are the ones who can truly appreciate God's grace-we expect the worst and find, to our delight, that He gives us something so far out of our expectation that we laugh and dance and shout to the hilltops-the optimist just says, "I knew it all along." Rejoice you optimists, revel in the ultimate surprise-a Gift, unexpected optimistic, unsought is given to you this day. You'll find Him in the stable on the edge of town---which is just where a pessimist would expect to find Him. 12 23 07