Casablanca is a personal metaphor
of finding courage and the ability to cope
as I participate in The Divine Narrative,
a story that is larger than my own.
Ours is a transient world; a world defined by loss; a corrupt world "groaning for reconciliation." We might experience involuntary loss through circumstances such as financial hardship, illness, or the loss of a beloved; and, we might experience loss as consequence of our own choosing including either poor choices or intentional, noble self-sacrifice. Being rooted and grounded in that which is transcendent, true, and timeless allows us to have both the courage to take risks and the ability to cope with loss.
1942's black and white cinema classic, Casablanca, opens with an animated map of the Mediterranean and a voice-over narrator establishing the geopolitical context for the film:
With the coming of the Second World War, many eyes in imprisoned Europe turned hopefully, or desperately, toward the freedom of the Americas. Lisbon became the great embarkation point. But, not everybody could get to Lisbon directly, and so a tortuous, roundabout refugee trail sprang up--Paris to Marseilles...across the Mediterranean to Oran...then by train, or auto, or foot across the rim of Africa, to Casablanca in French Morocco. Here, the fortunate ones through money, or influence, or luck, might obtain exit visas and scurry to Lisbon; and from Lisbon, to the New World. But the others wait in Casablanca...and wait...and wait...and wait.
The film tells the story of Rick Blaine, a cynical American expatriate living in Casablanca, Morocco; Victor Laszlo, a Czech resistance fighter; Ilsa Lund, the woman both men loved; and two--not three--letters of transit.
I suppose I've watched Casablanca upwards of fifty times. It's perfection. The script. The direction. The cinematography. The actors. But, oh, the ending. When Rick--conscious of a higher calling; one that is transcendent, true, and timeless--stuns Ilsa, denying both his desire and the opportunity for her to remain in Casablanca:
You're getting on that plane with Victor where you belong...You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it...Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of your life...We'll always have Paris...Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world...Here's looking at you, kid.
Casablanca is an inspiring story of self-sacrifice and redemption, of a man who rediscovers that which is transcendent, true, and timeless. I can suffer loss, either voluntarily or not so much, if my story is connected to, what author Daniel Taylor describes as, "a replacement story of overwhelming power."
Contemplate those relationships and things in your life that are transcendent and true and timeless--that root and ground you against loss. Who are they? What are they? They might include the divine, scripture, a conviction of faith or conscience, an enduring relationship, a place, even a memory.
Have you ever suffered an involuntary loss and found refuge in that which roots and grounds you? Have you ever been empowered to make an intentional self-sacrifice by that which roots and grounds you?
How might you seek to fill and to fortify your life with the transcendent over the common, the true over the superficial, the enduring over the transient?
Consider...There are levels of transcendent and true and timeless...The more deeply we love, the more important it is that we are rooted and grounded at the deepest of levels: transcendent and true and timeless...And, of course, the more deeply we are rooted and grounded, the more deeply we can both love and lose and live...Might there be a relationship between fear and being rooted and grounded?
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