Blessed are the meek
In a world were life feels dismaying, and yes, unnerving, emotional armor is tempting, even consoling. I can tell you that my heart gives way to tears, anger, exasperation. And too often, I do not have the words.
It is no surprise that we easily forget that we still do have the power of choice. We are not “at the mercy of”.
Where to begin? Today, I needed a story to say “no” to the armor, and reconnect with my heart.
GK Chesterton tells the story of a teenage boy granted one wish by a genie. “Do you wish to be huge or tiny?”
We are all swayed by the appeal of being big, strong, and powerful. So, no surprise, the boy chose huge.
The outcome was predictable: in a few hours, the boy was indifferent, uninterested and yes, bored. And more than a wee bit irked. Because of his size, he walked around the world in only a few steps. Scaled the largest mountains. Like any child 30 minutes after the presents are opened, “Is that all there is?”
You see, Chesterton goes on to say, only “tiny people” can celebrate and relish life’s gifts. Because they are engaged. And invested.
This hits me at my core. In a good way.
And yet. Our world worships and venerates power. So, tiny? Really? That flies in the face of our assumptions (and promptings), because we’ve been consumed by the notion that “tiny” can only mean weak, or insufficient, or lacking.
It is paradigm shift time.
Let us listen to Jesus’ reminder, “Blessed are the meek.” (Matthew 5:5)
Blessed are the humble, and the gentle. (One writer referred to meekness as “strength under control”. It is not weakness, it is not cowardice; meekness is a conscious decision to refrain from arrogance, vengeance, or violence.)
“Do you wish to be huge, or tiny?”
Here’s the deal: “Tiny people” have nothing to prove, no score to settle and, blessedly, no one to impress.
Tiny people approach each day, not from power, or the need to dominate, or defeat, but from reverence and respect.
Tiny people notice, and pay attention. They are engaged, invested, and empowered contributors.
Who knew? Humility is a profound strength—the gift of being at home in our own skin, because our contentment and self-worth is not dependent on validation. (I heard someone say, “True humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.”)
Tiny says “yes” to the heart, to both joy and sadness, to both delight and heartache.
Tiny people are fueled by gratitude and the freedom to receive grace, and the freedom to let that grace spill—in places where people are marginalized or unable to be embraced by the gift of mercy.
Tiny people see God incognito in the everyday stuff of life.
Tiny people savor simple pleasures.
Tiny people live in a world soaked in grace, even in a world where pain and hatred are palpable.
Plato’s reminder, “What is honored will be cultivated.”
But somewhere along the way, something gums up the system. In everyone’s life, during life’s low points, our inner fire goes out. In my case, more than once. And I was sure being “tiny” was Not the answer.
Okay, my confession: We go about our merry and hectic way, accumulating and weighing, measuring and posturing, hoping that the balance sheet of life judges us with kindness. Until that one day when you look into the mirror and ask yourself, “Why?” and you decide then and there to set about reclaiming that which has been lost—namely, you. Yes, the tiny you. Humility, embracing that “tiny me”, and living from authenticity. And meekness. And courage.
And in our world full of heartbreak and agony and despair, I am grateful for the two life-giving invitations honored with this story.
One. The permission to live from sufficiency and not scarcity. Fueled by the lure or need to be huge, we live out the Eagles’ song, “Now, it seems to me some fine things, Have been laid upon your table, But you only want the ones that you can’t get.”
Without an agenda, the boy in the story sees and celebrates and savors sufficiency (meaning affluence); treasuring the sacred in the very ordinary and in the wonderfully mundane.
Treasuring the permission to be here now. Yes. The invitation to savor to this day, to be nourished by wonder, delight and awe. And this matters: even if the moment invites sorrow or heartache or grief, we can still bring our whole heart, to honor the life being lived here. Yes, the gift of enough.
It is no surprise that we are tempted by bigger or biggest. We live in a world that “honors” bigger and powerful people, or whatever it means to “win”.
And it is no surprise that we don’t trust small or tiny, sadly hiding or shutting down those parts of our heart that are vulnerable, and soft, and tender.
Two. As long as our culture worships at the altar of bravado and swagger, we live disconnected. When we are afraid to be tiny, or humble or meek, we live paranoid and anxious. I loved a NYT article about Pope Francis, called the “Anti-Strongman.” He wrote that faith is less about the use of power to shape the social order—the stuff of present strongmen and past popes—than about straightforward efforts of kindness and generosity, the gifts that spill from a heart glad to be alive.
Spill, from the tiny.
I do talk about spilling the light, but I know that it is easy to let the bushel baskets of life extinguish the flame. I’ve been asked, “So how do you get rid of these baskets—distractions, expectations, shoulds? What’s the formula?”
That’s just it; I don’t have one. Which is not a good sales technique I admit. But what if we learn the lesson of the boy in the story; that our wealth (our abundance—in relationships, wonder, gratitude, delight) comes when we live, or let spill, what is already inside of each of us—the tiny gifts soaked in grace.
We become a place of inclusion for those marginalized. We spill grace in a tender or healing touch, a life-giving song, a smile, a listening ear, a gentle hand, a gesture of empathy, a kind word, a hand to lift someone up, a compassionate hug.
We are a safe place for those in jeopardy or danger. And a voice that stands up to cruelty and injustice.
Tiny gifts do our heart good. Tiny gifts that make our world a better place.
On Saturday, a good time (on Zoom) with members of the Lutheran Diaconal Association. Our topic? Where are we replenished—emotionally and spiritually hydrated?
And let us continue to remember, and send our hearts, to those now overwhelmed with the toll of war. We pray for peace.
Quote for your week…
“Strong people don’t put others down. They lift them up.” Michael P. Watson
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: “Terry, A breath of Spring after the cold and frost a few weeks back at Dunlawton Sugar Mill Gardens near Daytona, Florida. Reminded me of some of your past thoughts on ‘new beginnings’. Thanks for your time and inspirations!” Tricia Roettker (Cincinnati, Ohio)… Thank you Tricia… And thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to tdh@terryhershey.com
Yes, your gift makes a difference… Donation = Love…
Help make Sabbath Moment possible. I write SM because I want to live with a soft heart; to create a place for sanctuary, empathy, inclusion, compassion and kindness… a space where we are refueled to make a difference. SM remains free.
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POEMS AND PRAYERS
Gracious God,
Thank you for the gift of today.
Refresh me, invite me,
To discover Your presence in each person
That I meet and every event encountered.
Teach me when to speak and when to listen
When to ponder and when to share.
In moments of challenge and decision
Attune my heart to the whisperings
Of Your Wisdom.
As I undertake ordinary and unnoticed
Tasks, gift me with simple joy.
When the day goes well, may I rejoice!
When it grows difficult
Surprise me with new possibilities.
When life is overwhelming
Call me to Sabbath Moments
To restore Your Peace and Harmony.
May my living today
Reveal your goodness.
Amen.
Blessing by Pat Bergen, CSJ
A blessing for learning to delight again
(maybe today could be more than bearable. It could be beautiful.)
Blessed are you, the pragmatic,
You who have run the math and know what adds up—and what doesn’t.
You who have set it all down.
You who don’t hope or dream or plan anymore,
…because what’s the point?
Your world has shrunk.
Pain or grief or fear has sucked up every bit of oxygen from the room
and every ounce of delight has been squeezed from your hands.
Blessed, are you learning to live here,
in this unrecognizable, unnamable place.
Blessed are you who discover that even in the smallness,
our attention might be compressed even more.
You who pull out a magnifying glass
to discover, to notice, to taste, to smell
the small joys and simple pleasures that make a life worth living.
You who wear the fancy blouse because it makes you feel nice
long after you thought your body wasn’t worth decorating.
You who eat the over-the-top meal,
because that is what today can afford.
You, who make the memory, plan the trip,
and snap a picture because we know
that this one wild and precious life might cost us everything.
So why not make it not just bearable—but beautiful?
Amen.
Kate Bowler
Music for the Soul…
New–
Grateful: A Love Song to the World — Empty Hands Music (nimo feat. daniel nahmod)
