Daily Dose (October 27 – 30)
TUESDAY OCTOBER 27 —
Empathy matters.
Compassion matters.
And community backbone matters.
“Human history is a history not only of cruelty,” Howard Zinn reminds us, “but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction. And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.”
Yes. This week, stories about kindness and courage in small ways. Stories—regardless of when they happened—that we can carry with us today.
Like newborn babies dressed in red cardigan sweaters and sneakers.
The news photograph on my screen—from 2019—makes me smile big. And I can tell you this; whatever is weighing me down can wait. This keeps my hope alive.
Photos can be cathartic. And transformative. They can illuminate the human condition (both our best, and our worst, moments).
What gives images power? There is an invitation attached: “You are invited to care.” And they show us what kind of people we want to be, and become.
Any time a new baby enters the world it’s “a good day in the neighborhood,” but on November 13th, 2019, UPMC Magee-Womens Hospital in Pittsburgh, took things a good bit further, in honor of World Kindness Day. The local radio station WQED declared the day “Cardigan Day,” to honor Fred Rogers, one of their own. (“Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” was filmed at the WQED studios and the show celebrated its 50th anniversary that year.)
Joanne Rogers (Fred’s wife, age 91) visited the newborns in red cardigans. One reader posted, “The picture of Mrs. Rogers in the doorway looking at all those babies with her hands clasped. Well, I lost it. This old woman in a little town in Canada felt her heart grow.”
It made my heart grow too. To be rejuvenated by the ripples from people and places, where joy and kindness, and empathy and small gestures of grace, spill. There is power here, to remind us that our heart still absorbs goodness. Necessary in a world that feels more and more cynical.
“Be soft,” Iain Thomas invites us. “Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.”
And did you know that November is National Family Care Givers month? I say to all involved in that ministry and service; “Thank you for the work you do”.
No one is on this journey alone. We can let go of our need to go it alone. We’re all just walking one another home. (Thank you Ram Dass)
WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 28 —
Stories about kindness and courage in small ways—regardless of when they happened—can carry with us today.
These reminders of graciousness, keeps us in touch with another life-giving truth: We are, literally, repairers of the world. It is from Jewish tradition that we learn our job title; “Tikkun olam”.
Tikkun—to repair the soil of the world with nutrients: kindness, a balm of generosity, a capacity to accommodate fragility, and a softness of spirit. What Eve Ensler called, “The daily subtle simple gathering of kindness.”
Working to heal—Tikkun olam—isn’t only for the spiritually or intellectually inclined.
Working to heal is in our DNA. As children of our creator, we are healers. In kindness, we affirm dignity. In empathy, we see value and build connections. With compassion and justice, we right wrongs and create sanctuaries.
And I know this more than ever: In the world we live in, I believe in the necessity, and healing power, of sanctuary—fueled by empathy and compassion.
Here’s the deal:
Empathy matters.
Compassion matters.
And community backbone matters.
When I forget, I live from scarcity. And when I live from scarcity, I lose my mooring. I clutch, and I blame. However, when I live from the sufficiency of my DNA, the world does not make me hate. I trust my heart, and any assumed scarcity (of kindness and compassion) does not get to say how the story ends.
And when people live from that DNA (the power of ordinary and gentle acts of kindness, even in the face of disagreement), the stories give our heart (and world) hope.
There will be days when we forget. When we lose hope.
On those days… “In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” Albert Schweitzer
Mr. Rogers lived Tikkun olam.
I invite you to watch the clip of his acceptance speech for a Lifetime achievement Emmy award. This is what he said, to an audience that lives in a cynical and skeptical world, “So many people have helped me to come here to this night. Some of you are here, some are far away and some are even in Heaven. All of us have special ones who loved us into being. Would you just take, along with me, 10 seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are, those who cared about you and wanted what was best for you in life.”
Who are your people?
Who remind you that today is a good day to work to heal?
So. Today is a good day to be vulnerable, to being transformed.
To right a wrong. To forgive (beginning with myself).
To embrace. To offer a hand, or a kind word. Or both.
I am so grateful you are a part of Sabbath Moment. And I am so sorry about the kerfuffle’s in recent SMs with symbols showing up randomly, and chaotically. We’ve been working this week, trying to tackle the tech issues that are at the root. Please let me know if your email is still muddled. Onward together.
Thank you, my friends, for being a part of Sabbath Moment. I am grateful for the community. If you know anyone who would enjoy, and benefit from Sabbath Moment, please invite your friend to join us.
THURSDAY OCTOBER 29 —
Empathy matters.
Compassion matters.
And community backbone matters.
Let is not forget that “Tenderness is the path of choice for the strongest, most courageous men and women. Tenderness is not weakness; it is fortitude. It is the path of solidarity, the path of humility,” as Pope Francis reminded us.
And I take a deep breath and smile big.
When you have a chance, watch the movie, “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.” Each time I watch it, I gratefully let the tears flow.
Tom Hanks plays Mr. Rogers and his relationship with Esquire writer Tom Junod.
More and more, I am so grateful for every opportunity to remember that I need not be afraid of living with a soft heart. That empathy and compassion matter. And they spill to the world around us.
Speaking of soft and courageous hearts, Mr. Rogers is one of my heroes. And I love to hear his reminder to children (and to the child in us), “let them know that each one of us is precious.”
These are not easy words to internalize in a hard world where we keep everything, and everyone, at bay.
But when we see with our heart, we know that, regardless of our differences, we are on this journey together.
I love the gospel story of the Good Samaritan. He stopped for the man in ditch. Why? Because he knew what it was like to be wounded too.
You see, once we are open…
…to having our stereotypes contradicted,
…to giving up our expectations and demands,
…to embracing our brokenness—and our soft heart,
…we find “There is a light in this world, a healing spirit more powerful than any darkness we may encounter.” (Mother Teresa)
Okay, on to our invitation to a paradigm shift. We have a new way to see the world.
When we see with our heart, we are grounded, vulnerable and authentic.
Meaning, we are conscious—present—no longer numbed (by distraction, or elucidation or the addition of whatever it is that we need for the life we needed to “earn” or who we need to impress).
Okay, my homily today:
One. From a soft heart, compassion and empathy win.
For starters, when we see with our heart we don’t give in to fear.
And Two. A soft heart can hold life’s brokenness and pain, and not be undone by it.
“To remain soft in a world that punishes tenderness is a choice few dare to make. It is saying, ‘I will not become someone I am not to survive.’ Life will knock us down, and it will demand that we harden ourselves just to keep walking. Yet those who refuse to armor up understand that authenticity is not weakness, it is power. Softness is courage incarnate. It is the willow bending in the storm, the phoenix burning to ash only to rise anew.
Yet, in such a tough and hurtful place, you need to remember who you are. You need to continue to spread passion and an essence of goodness, despite the under appreciation and maltreatment you receive. I want you to know that there is nothing wrong or bad about being softhearted. In fact, hold the remembrance that being kind and sincere makes you unique.”
(Thank you Obnews.co—Staying Soft Is a Choice of Radical Authenticity)
I am on my way to Albuquerque, New Mexico, looking forward to spending some retreat time with a group New Mexico Certified Lay Ministers (United Methodist Church).
FRIDAY OCTOBER 30 —
I am writing this at Norbertine Abbey, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I’m with a group of Certified Lay Ministers (United Methodist Church). Our time together is gathering stories from my book, Soul Gardening. And tonight, one of the stories I shared brought back a wonderful memory.
While I sit on the back deck, the sun sets over the Kitsap Peninsula (the expanse of land west of Seattle and Puget Sound). The sky, as if batter poured from a pitcher, turns an effluence of slate blue and vermilion. Spires of hemlock are backlit and silhouetted like hand puppets on an immense screen. I stand for some unknown reason, singing, “Jeremiah was a bullfrog. Was a good friend of mine. I never understood a single word he said, But I helped him a-drink his wine. And he always had some mighty fine wine…” at the top of my lungs, and do a little boogie with my black Lab, Conroy, who hasn’t the foggiest idea what’s come over me but is a sucker for a party and plays along, nonetheless.
I let the moment melt around me before I gain my composure and give myself some sort of reality check: a quiz requiring justification for what I’m feeling and why. And then it hits me. I can’t tell a soul about my dance at twilight without coming face-to-face with who I was pretending not to be and the energy it required to maintain that image.
When I lived in Southern California, I spent three days a month at a Benedictine monastery out in the high desert. It was my periodic trek to a place where I could slow down long enough to pay attention. Truth is, I wanted to learn how to be alone with myself and like it, because I wasn’t very good at that. And, I wanted to learn how to be alone with God and like it, because I wasn’t very good at that, either.
On one visit, a friend asked one of the monks, “What exactly do you do here?”
“We pray,” the monk replied simply.
“No, really,” my friend persisted. “I mean besides that. What do you really do?”
“It is enough just to pray,” the monk told my friend.
“It is enough,” I tell my dog standing on the deck absorbing the summer sky, “just to boogie.” Just to boogie under the inexplicable marbled canopy of dusk. Just to feel your lungs swell and your heart flutter. Just to cheer the sun as it sets and not give a damn about some need to fight back the tears, standing spellbound in the salty prism for twilight rainbows.
The permission to embrace this moment.
This day.
To hear, and boogie to, the music of sufficiency and grace.
And speaking of grace, let us not forget:
Empathy matters.
Compassion matters.
And community backbone matters.
Prayer (poem) for our week…
Learn by little the desire for all things
which perhaps is not desire at all
but undying love which perhaps
is not love at all but gratitude
for the being of all things which
perhaps is not gratitude at all
but the maker’s joy in what is made,
the joy in which we come to rest.
Wendell Berry
Photo… “Hi Terry, Today’s message is so appropriate for me today and brings me such affirmation for the pilgrimage that I am on the last 6 days. Started in Lourdes France and participate in the candlelight procession and spending time at the Grotto and seeing the place where Mary appeared to Bernadette. Such a beautiful experience. Then going to Utah Beach where my dad landed on D-day being so grateful for the men who landed so our world would be free of the fears of tyranny. It took special men to fight in WWII. And finally going to see St Theresa the Little Flower and seeing, reading and listening to the words of this young girl. I was also refreshed when I saw her parents were also Saints. Man blessings a really good time to refresh myself on this pilgrimage.” Deacon Larry Somrack
