Surf's up! We were down on the beach, enjoying our family vacation to the full. Camped along the sand were other sunseekers, from most of the countries of western Europe.

Next to us happened to be a German family. I don't hold with national stereotypes, but they were organized! I mean they had everything you'd ever need. While we had a couple of towels and a beach ball, they had beach mat, high-tech parasol, gigantic cool-box, comfortable recliners, and every game you could dream of. It would have taken a truck to have delivered it all (probably a Mercedes...)

We stretched out in the warmth of the sun. Now this was the life! I idly watched the surfers out in the breakers doing their stuff. Fun, fun, fun as the Beach Boys would have said. The thrill of seeing them catch a wave and swoop shorewards in poetic motion...

Anyway, back to all us shore-bound hedonists (look it up!). A couple playing some excellent beach-ball with those wooden paddles. Some bronzed boys making some huge sand-project like an extensive archaeological dig. Girls paddling, sun-tan oil flying, buckets and spades and kites and bats and balls and... Everywhere people having fun.

Except for our German neighbours who were playing chess. Not that I have anything against such an intellectual exercise, it just seemed an odd kind of beach activity. But then it takes all sorts...

Then it happened. The forces of nature struck. The beach had an odd shape as I think back. The sand rose gently from the shore like normal. But then it dipped down before rising once more. And we all we sitting in the dip. So when that fateful breaker came crashing over the beach, it rushed upon us like a tidal wave. Chaos!

People ran everywhere. Parasols upside-down, floating on what was now a small lake. Towels soaked, bags water-logged, cameras desperately rescued. Picnics up-turned, books abandoned, and sun-tan oil bottles bobbing merrily up and down. And yes (since you ask), having retrieved our now rather wet possessions, it was vaguely amusing.

Except for our German neighbours who seemed to take a dim view of such a disturbance of their ordered life-style. As if the wave should have given advance warning of its intentions. In barely-disguised annoyance they collected up their things. And then they noticed the chessboard.

All the pieces had been washed off and were either floating or lying half-buried in the sand at the (new) tide-line. Frantically they set to work to find all the precious parts of the set. Kings and queens were found quite easily. And most of the other major pieces, I think. A knight was tracked down under the cool-box. An errant bishop lodged in an abandoned swimsuit. A rook had taken flight with the parasol. But the pawns were another matter. Scattered to the four corners of the earth, I don't think they did find them all (and of course, we did help).

A parable of life? Yes--and in many ways. The unexpected nature of life itself--the more so when all seemed calm and tranquil, lazing in the sun. The mad activity of everybody affected, looking for all the world like an upset ant-hill. The belief that we have everything we need in all we possess. The foolishness of not paying attention to the rising tide (of evil--maybe!). The dramatic end to all the fun and games, and the rapid need to save the essentials.
But more than any of this, I saw the parable of the washed-out chessboard. Like a miniature world, the pieces act out their parts. Knight takes pawn, bishop takes knight, queen check-mates king. In all its small pettiness this game that we control reflects the way we seem to live--until the tidal wave of rolling history rushes in and washes us all away. And in the end-time rescue, what do we seek to save?

For we are not in the end the pawns but the game-players. We are the ones who exercise our choices. We plan and devise strategies and follow our ambitions. We move piece after piece, plotting and scheming. And in our intense involvement in the game we play we fail to notice the warning signs, and the onrushing waves.

Surf's up. Time's up. Are your priorities in "loving the world" or living eternally?

Where are you on life's beach?

© Jonathan Gallagher