The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.

Although the first half of this story began to confuse me and wonder what the point is, the ending makes it worth the questioning and detailed descriptions. The picture is of a beautiful, radiant, quaint, and charming city called Omelas.

"The air of morning was so clear that the snow still crowning the Eighteen Peaks burned with white gold fire across the miles of sunlit air, under the dark blue of the sky. There was just enough wind to make the banners that marked the racecourse snap and flutter now and then. In the silence of the broad green meadows one could hear the music winding through the city streets, farther and nearer and ever approaching, a cheerful faint sweetness of the air that from time to time trembled and gathered together and broke out into the great joyous clanging of the bells."

This quote shows why I just love how Ursula K. Leguin uses beautiful wording and imagery to explain the reality and happenings of this place called Omelas. Air, we know, is already clear; but seeing it written makes a profound statement. The imagery of snow as "white gold fire" feels almost ironic, yet it is stunning. Even the wind blows at just the right pace. The meadows create a silence. Music winds through the streets as if it had its own mind, feet, purpose.

This story is partly about joy. Many, maybe most, of the people who live here understand joy. And I think the people who don't are "the ones who walk away from Omelas." Why else would they leave? Omelas has no army to stir up joy from others' loss. The joy is true, right, "content." The people who understand their freedom embrace life for the sake of that one helpless, lost, necessarily neglected child. This is my favorite part of the functioning of Omelas. Its people take to heart that their interaction with happiness does not come from themselves. It reminds me of our lives as Christians; without Christ and His humanly unfair sacrifice, we would not know such joy, peace, and purpose. He, like this child, became the One for the all. But we move on. We accept His place . . . humbly, gratefully, continually. "Their tears at the bitter injustice dry when they begin to perceive the terrible justice of reality and to accept it."

Maybe the ones who leave leave because they don't understand the sacrifice. People don't leave before seeing the "wretched" child. They leave after they cannot bear his or her condition. Maybe they feel the guilt that Omelas cannot have, and it drives them away. Perhaps they believe they'll find a better way to accept happiness. What is keeping them from accepting this reality? What makes them think they will be satisfied with another way? For some reason they cannot put enough trust in the truth of what is right in front of them, so they "walk ahead into the darkness." Is it going to be better? Or worse?