A life Changing Experience

The Mandarin
I could feel the indignation in the air when the candle was extinguished. No one made a sound while the envelope crunched and was finally opened. In unison, the group shifted toward our leader. We all knew something bad was coming; we just didn’t know what. Some comforted themselves in the silence by making awkward sounds and others were too busy wiping the tears from their eyes to concentrate. I fell into the second category.
It all started at the Bridge Builders leadership program. We came in expecting it, and we got it. The academic program is almost always presented us with new challenges, and since this was our senior retreat, we were expecting nothing less. I went in open-minded, ready to make new friends, and have a swell time. I was pleased with the fact that all of my expectations came true, and now I was ready to go home with a new group of friends and a week-full of vivid memories. The staff pulled our groups into separate rooms for our last activity before the dance. This mood was something new for us bridge builders. It was somber; it was serious. The light flickered from the middle of the room as we took our places in the circle.
The first of fifteen envelopes was opened. We were presented with a story of a simple mandarin man of communist belief and humble lifestyle. He lived atop a mountain with his wife and two children. He was middle-aged and content in his farm-work. After hearing his background, we were confronted with two options: let the Mandarin die in exchange for five hundred years of world peace or let him live without the guarantee of world peace. I could see there was something more to this than meets the eye, so I was surprised when everyone else immediately made the choice to kill off the poor old fellow. There were tears in my eyes, running down my cheeks, soaking my t-shirt. Everyone felt that this was the voice of reason, while I asked, “What of the voice of compassion and humanity?” This question aroused a discussion in which I was soon to be the voice of an insurgent.
I was burning up inside, doing all I could to hold in the screaming. How could they be so cold? What about his wife, his children? Was I wrong to choose one life over many? I thought harder. Does world peace really mean no death? It was all right in front of me. I just needed something to click. And then, it did. We have no say in who dies or doesn’t. Humans are not any kind of god. There is no way to distinguish one life as more significant than another. We all deserve our chance at life and to kill that mandarin would still be murder. I pleaded my point, but the group wasn’t going to falter. The decision was made for a majority vote. Five hands for world peace, two hands for the Mandarin’s life. The candle was blown out and the second of the fifteen envelopes was opened.
That day something changed in me. I found a light in my heart and a flicker of hope for humanity. I had peace in knowing that I could value someone’s life more than my own. It was a feeling of enlightenment that flowed through my heart and through every soul on earth. I loved them all. The content of the second envelope was read. After five hundred years of world peace there were riots from the builds of aggression and hostility. There were wars and murders. It was the polar end of peace out there. And then we were told what we were all scared to hear: Each life was its own flicker of light. Ever since we put out the flame of the mandarin, people began putting each other’s flame out. It was madness. Because of this, no life was valued and no life saved. It could have been the end of the world. It can still be the end of the world if we extinguish our own neighbor’s flame. I found my candle that day and I found that I have a power and a calling to protect all the other candles out there. Perhaps there is no one else that can better personify the mystery of life, than we as humans. We never found out was in the remaining thirteen envelopes.