Maybe (Maybe Not)

A
rabbi and I once engaged in a friendly intellectual hockey match trying to choose a single word to summarize human wisdom. He submitted a Hebrew term—
timshel.
It’s found in the oldest story in our common literature—in Genesis—the book of beginnings.

After being expelled from the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve had two sons. The elder was called Cain. He was the first man born outside of paradise.

In time Cain grew up and cultivated his land and brought the first fruits as an offering to God. The offering was rejected. Jehovah explained to Cain that he was tangled up with evil—it lurked around his door. “But,” Jehovah said, “you may triumph over evil and have abundant life.”

That’s a crucial sentence—the last thing Jehovah says to Cain.

“You
may
triumph over evil and have abundant life.”

The critical word is the second one, the verb—
may.

Timshel
in Hebrew.

This term has vexed scholars and theologians for a long time. It sits in the middle of a passage considered one of the five most difficult in the Scriptures to translate and understand. In context it has varied meanings, especially in this interchange between Jehovah and Cain.

Timshel
has been interpreted to mean “you shall”—that’s an order, a command.
Timshel
has been interpreted to mean “you will”—which implies predestination.
Timshel
has even been interpreted to mean “you cannot,” which suggests hopeless dependence. All these interpretations define a relationship with God that leaves little freedom.

My friend the rabbi feels that the practical meaning of that passage of Scripture concerns vitality—meaning “Don’t be dead,” or “Don’t be a passive victim—be active—be alive.” He reads it as good advice: There is this problem with evil—you really
should
deal with it.

Carry that one step further—if you
should
, then you
may.

To interpret
timshel
to mean “
you may”
is to use a word that implies the possibility of choice. This is not a matter of theological hairsplitting. I think a strong case can be made that human beings have at least acted
as if
“you may” was the correct interpretation—acting
as if
our destiny is in our hands.

Whatever we may think or believe, what we have
done
is our story.

You don’t need to be a theologian or belong to any particular religious group to enter this discussion, but you do come down somewhere on this issue of what’s possible in your life by how you in fact go about your life. You live this truth, one way or another.

In modern English,
timshel
means “it may be,” or, simply, “maybe.”

Maybe. There’s our word.

The wisest answer to ultimate questions.

A word pointing at open doors and wide horizons.

I do not believe that the meaning of life is a puzzle to be solved.

Life is. I am. Anything might happen.

And I believe I
may
invest my life with meaning.

The uncertainty is a blessing in disguise.

If I were absolutely certain about all things, I would spend my life in anxious misery, fearful of losing my way. But since everything and anything are always possible, the miraculous is always nearby and wonders shall never, ever cease.

I believe that human freedom may be stated in one term, which serves as a little brick propping open the door of existence: Maybe.

S
uppose that everything going on in your head in twenty-four hours could be accurately recorded on videotape. Your night dreams and daytime fantasies, conversations with yourself and appeals to the gods, the music and memories that float about, and all the loony trivia that ricochets around in your mind.

Suppose all this material could be played in a theater—with multiple screens and a multitrack sound system. A pretty sensational show, I’d guess. MTV, X-rated video, Science Fiction Theater, Harlequin Romances, CD-ROM, and the
National Enquirer
combined couldn’t compete with what goes on behind the closed door of the secret side of our minds.

The operative word here is
“secret.”

Public
lives are lived out on the job and in the
marketplace, where certain rules, conventions, laws, and social customs keep most of us in line.

Private
lives are lived out in the presence of family, friends, and neighbors who must be considered and respected, even though the rules and proscriptions are looser than what’s allowed in public.

But in our
secret
lives, inside our own heads, almost anything goes.

We alone are answerable for what we think and do when nobody else is around or involved. Categories of “fact” and “fiction” are irrelevant in here. Are dreams true? Is what you imagine accurate?

Inside these tight boundaries of flesh and bone is a borderless jungle in which clearings exist. In these open spaces, there may be an amusement park, a zoo, a circus, a library, a museum, a theater, or a landscape stranger than Mars.