It occurs to me…

I was thinking of blessings, being a blessing to others, after reading from Rachel Remen’s My Grandfather’s Blessings:

“Sometimes life’s power shines through us even when we do not notice.  We become a blessing to others then, simply by being as we are.”

In our active world it becomes easy to believe that we must, in response, DO something.  In support of that one only need think of the popularity of Nike’s three-word advertising hit – “Just do it.”  Indeed, when some tragedy befalls a friend or loved one, the initial response is often “What can I do?”

In this I am reminded of the story of Job.  After all the tragedy befalls Job early in the story, his three friends head over.  Later in the story, they render their advice of mixed value (though it serves its purpose in the story).  But their initial reaction is perhaps the most significant.  On seeing Job’s plight for themselves they don’t “DO” anything as we think of it.  They don’t bring a casserole.  Rather, “they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights.  No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.”

Sure, doing things for others can be, most often is, a good thing.  But it is easy to forget that often, the purest and most beneficial way too “do it” is simply showing up – being there and “being as we are.”

There is so much in Martin Luther King Jr’s “I Have a Dream” speech that we forget portions of it.  Listening to it today this stood out:

“Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.  Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.  Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.”

That bears repeating some 56 years later because it is timeless:  “Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive….  Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.”

“And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living.  And when he had spent it all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want.”  Luke 11:13-14

This short passage from the Prodigal Son parable contains two of my favorite phrases in the Bible.  For reasons I can’t explain other than to say it seems both poetic and efficient (two traits that don’t often interact in writing), I have always liked “wasted his substance on riotous living.”  Any reader is free to and can easily conjure up vivid images of what that “riotous living” looks like – no further description is needed.  Many have in fact painted their depiction of such – just undertake an image search of “riotous living” and you’ll see them.

I also like the phrase “and he began to be in want.”  Again, a subtle phrase full of meaning.  Subtle because while we can all appreciate being “in want,” the reader is allowed to fill in the blank.  What is the younger son “in want” of?  More “riotous living?”  More money and things (that didn’t serve him so well to this point)?  Food (it would appear so from the following verses)?  A place to stay?  A bus ticket home?

That is, of course, the power of the parable.  It provides just enough facts so as to allow us to connect that story to our own story, and allows us to fill in the blanks to connect them – and us — into a single story.

From Rachel Remen, My Grandfather’s Blessings:

“We avoid suffering only at the great cost of distancing ourselves from life.  In order to live fully we may need to look deeply and respectfully at our own suffering and at the suffering of others.  In the depths of every wound we have survived is the strength we need to live.  The wisdom our wounds can offer is a place of refuge.  Finding this is not for the faint of heart.  But then, neither is life.”

This of course, seems to defy the human inclination.  No one wants to see the photos of emaciated children with saucer-sized eyes gazing at us as we listen (or don’t) to the requests for donations.  I don’t like driving by the homeless center on my way home and being reminded of the suffering of those spilling out of the facilities provided.

Oh, I can change the channel on the TV or take another route home, but the suffering is there nonetheless.  The stark reality is that we can never hide from suffering – it is just part of life.  While the type, degree, and frequencies vary, suffering is a part of all lives.  The question, as Remen points out, is what we do with and about the suffering.  And to repeat her words: “Finding this is not for the faint of heart.  But then, neither is life.”

 

I was listening recently to a podcast interview of Claudia Rankine, an author who writes a lot on racial issues and other issues that divide us.  She does a lot of book tours and speaking, and so is picked up and driven by strangers to and from airports.  On this she noted:

“I am often being driven by people who are not me, and I spend a lot of time thinking about how can I say this so that we can stay in this car together and yet explore the things that I want to explore with you.”

On that line, “how can I say this so that we can stay in this car together,” the interviewer, Krista Tippett noted – “that should be a national motto for us.”  Indeed, thinking on that it occurred to me, literally and figuratively, that we all seem to be driving alone in our cars these days, and when we seek company, it is the company of people who look, think, talk, and act like us.  Often, when we choose to speak in response to others speaking, it takes on a divisive “my way or the highway” tone clearly not geared to the thought that “we can stay in this car together.”

Anyway, I like that thought, the thought of managing conversation “so that we can stay in this car together” and learn something about each other as people, perhaps focusing on what we have in common as opposed to what we don’t.

“Strive for peace with everyone….”  Hebrews 12:14

 

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”  Marcel Proust

It occurs to me that this “having new eyes” is akin to Paul’s statement in Romans 12:2: “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”  It is when we filter observations through the mind/heart/soul that we go beyond seeing.

It seems to be a fairly low risk approach.  I mean, much of what I see with my “current eyes” is pretty disturbing and concerning.  What can I see today through “new eyes,” with a renewed mind?

Cleaning up in my room at home, I came across this from Joan Chittister, which is as fresh and applicable as the first time I read it years ago:

“Life is very short.  To get the most out of it, we must begin to attend to its spiritual dimensions without which life is only half lived.  Holiness is in the Now but we go through lie only half conscious of it, asleep or intent on being someplace other than where we are.  We need to open our eyes and see things as they exist around us. What is valuable and what is not, what enriches and what does not, what is of God and what is not.”

Amen.

From a song by Stephen Kellogg – Prayers:

“Every unkind thing we say leads to our unhappiness.”

To that I might add — Sometimes immediately, sometimes, over time, but indeed, always.  If not them, then us.

 

Photo was one of those “oops” photos taken, I guess, as I have no memory of taking it.  I do know, from my phone, that it was taken in Portland.