Daily Dose (Sept 30 – Oct 3)
TUESDAY SEPT 30 —
This morning I woke to a notice that Sabbath Moment did not get posted or delivered. Apparently, I pushed the wrong button last night. My lack of tech skills—or lack of attention—rose to the surface. And set off flashing lights in my mind.
That explains the late Sabbath Moment delivery. And for those wondering (and for the emails that have asked) yes, you did receive two Sabbath Moments this morning. Go figure, I pushed the wrong button twice. My apologies for the kerfuffle.
And all of this before my first cup of coffee.
And then, I read the news, my heart literally shaken by the four shootings yesterday, including a Michigan church. A vivid—and heart-rending—picture of the devastation of violence.
And a reminder that whatever weight we consign to the wee snafus that can unravel us (say, our tech worries), they don’t hold a candle.
Which all brings us back to our topic for the week:
Today, in a world where pain and calamity are real, I can be a witness.
Today, in a world where more than ever, we need to remember we are walking one another home, we can be a witness.
As a witness, I choose to pay attention—bringing my whole heart and self to the present moment.
I choose to be a witness to God’s Mercy and Grace.
And in such moments of heartache, I have the courage to hold a hand the needs to be held. Where kindness and compassion and the gift of sanctuary make a difference. And change lives.
What does this look like? My mind goes to the story from The Gospel of John, a conversation a day or so after the feeding of the 5000. (Which was really the feeding of fifteen thousand, since they only counted the men. But I digress…)
So. Some followers of Jesus want to have a “discussion” about this “miracle” and need an explanation. I get that. If ever we were to witness a miracle, we’d like to explain it. Or maybe even bottle it.
But this miracle – essentially, being fed to full-ness with the bread of life – is not a cerebral exercise or a case study.
Would you like to know the ingredients of Jesus’ miracle?
Sit down…
Break bread…
Give thanks…
Feed one another…
Yes. Be a witness—as we bring our whole heart and self to this moment.
And, I’m wondering… could this miracle happen, even today?
Because the miracle has nothing to do with our faith, or our willpower, or our competency or togetherness, I believe the answer is yes.
I was raised in a religious environment that taught me otherwise. It told me that I was being weighed and measured by my faith and togetherness. And because of that, I needed to eradicate my messiness (and to quash my untidiness or grief or sadness).
I now believe differently.
I now know that we find and express acceptance, love, grace (the place where we can be fully human) and restoration, in our messy, imperfect, and fully thorny selves. Yes, in the days where all does not go according to Hoyle.
In other words: We can embrace this life—without any need to photoshop it.
Remember Pinocchio, who, while pondering himself, founders in confusion about his self-worth. Finally, he turns to his maker Gepetto and in a pleading way says, “Pappa, I am not sure who I am. But if I’m all right with you, then I guess I’m all right with me.”
To be human is to be vulnerable. And from that vulnerability, we risk. We are witnesses. We feed one another. We hold a hand.
I am capable of being wounded and downcast and sad… which also means that I am capable of being kind and generous and present.
And in such moments of heartache, I have the courage to ask for a hand to hold.
WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 1 — Physician Richard Selzer describes a scene in a hospital room after he had performed surgery on a young woman’s face: I stand by the bed where the young woman lies, her face, postoperative; her mouth twisted in palsy, clownish. A tiny twig of the facial nerve, one of the muscles of her mouth, has been severed. She will be that way from now on. I had followed with religious fervor the curve of her flesh, I promise you that. Nevertheless, to remove the tumor in her cheek, I had cut this little nerve. Her young husband is in the room. He stands on the opposite side of the bed, and together they seem to be in a world all their own in the evening lamplight; isolated from me, private.
Who are they? I ask myself… he and this wry mouth I have made, who gaze at and touch each other so generously.
The young woman speaks.
“Will my mouth always be like this?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, “it will. It is because the nerve was cut.”
She nods and is silent.
But the young man smiles. “I like it,” he says, “it’s kind of cute.”
All at once I know who he is. I understand, and I lower my gaze. One is not bold in an encounter with the divine. Unmindful, he bends to kiss her crooked mouth, and I am so close I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate to her; to show her that their kiss still works.
Selzer’s story shows us the power of being a “witness”. I see you. You matter. I will do what I can to be present, and in being present, make a difference.
In yesterday’s Sabbath Moment I mentioned the recent shootings. And how sometimes, with the violence in the news, it’s as if my heart, literally, stops. And I know that religious platitudes don’t work for me anymore.
But here’s my confession. If I give in to the mental exhaustion (of being overwhelmed), I begin to believe (and internalize) that empathy can be overwhelmed, compassion—and being a witness—can seem helpless, suffering can be too much to comprehend, and the level of public quarrel too much to absorb. Mercy. Bottom line: I forget that the kiss still works. For every single one of us.
And I take heart in John Lewis’ reminder, “Do not get lost in a sea of despair. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Our struggle is not the struggle of a day, a week, a month, or a year, it is the struggle of a lifetime. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.”
THURSDAY OCTOBER 2 — This week, our invitation: to be a witness. To be present, and let grace and healing and kind-heartedness—“This little light of mine”—spill.
And we can do this because, in the life-giving words of John Lewis, “Every human personality is something sacred, something special. We don’t have a right, as another person or as a nation, to destroy that spark of divinity, that spark of humanity, that is made and created in the image of God.”
It is no surprise that I am frequently drawn to the story of the good Samaritan. And I like Thomas Merton’s take, “Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody’s business. What we are asked to do is to love.”
Which is another way of saying, “We are asked to be a witness.”
So. Let us carry with us Viktor Frankl’s helpful reframing, “The question can no longer be ‘What can I expect from life?’ but can now only be ‘What does life expect of me?’ What task in life is waiting for me?” (Yes, to the invitation to be a witness, even and especially in a catawampus world)
Here’s the deal: “The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people. But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers, and lovers of every kind.” David Orr
I choose to be a witness.
I choose to be a peacemaker.
I choose to be a bridge-builder.
“Here’s to the bridge-builders, the hand-holders, the light-bringers, those extraordinary souls wrapped in ordinary lives who quietly weave threads of humanity into an inhumane world. They are the unsung heroes in a world at war with itself. They are the whisperers of hope that peace is possible. Look for them in this present darkness. Light your candle with their flame. And then go. Build bridges. Hold hands. Bring light to a dark and desperate world. Be the hero you are looking for. Peace is possible. It begins with us.” L.R. Knost
And I took heart is this from Narayan Helen Liebenson (in The Magnanimous Hear). “In the presence of sadness and fear, I encourage you to look for kindness and love. I don’t mean trying to make ourselves feel loving but recognizing that, in the midst of the pain, love is also present. This is because love is always present. If we focus on fear and become overwhelmed by it, all we see is more fear; fear has center stage. If we deliberately look for love, love is discovered… We are not concocting anything with these investigations. We are just seeing more clearly what is in fact already there. Because love is our true nature, we will experience love if we open to the presence of love. Maybe it’s just a drop of love, not necessarily angels trumpeting, but a drop. That drop is enough to shift perspective.” (And thank you to Joyce Rupp for posting this selection.)
I’m writing this, now back home in Port Ludlow, WA. Welcomed home by a few hefty rainstorms. Welcome to the Pacific Northwest. I was fortunate to be invited to the Bay Area for a Port Wine Fest: a Festival of Portuguese Wine, with my friend Bill McNabb, so heartily enjoyed some of my favorite wines, a welcome respite.
FRIDAY OCTOBER 3 — There are some days when our best laid plans (you know, our optimistic script and detailed list), shall we say, “take the day off”. Now, a day wrestling with derailed travel plans and hour-long conversations with customer service…
I’m guessing it is a test, just to see how well we are wired emotionally. And on those days—well, today for me—I’m grateful for the gift of a nap, a wee bit of time in the garden, and a glass of wine while watching the clouds scroll through the sky.
And now, sitting down to write Sabbath Moment, it hits me that our theme this week—the invitation to be a witness—is linked to the gift of hope in our world.
Here’s the deal: We do live in the real world, where many choices, and behaviors go off the rails, and real people pay the price.
A real world, where pain and cruelty and anguish are very real, and where the gift of hope has a mighty and restorative healing power.
And, speaking of witnesses and hope, Jane Goodall—UN Messenger of Peace and world-renowned ethologist, conservationist, and humanitarian—died yesterday. And I was grateful for a column from José Andrés today, “She was a very positive person to be around,” José said, “and she didn’t think hope is wishful thinking, she thought it was about action.”
“I see us as a species,” Jane told me on a podcast we did together, José goes on, “which is at the mouth of a very long, very dark tunnel. And right at the end, there’s a star shining, and that’s hope. But we can’t sit at the mouth of the tunnel and wonder when that star will come! No, we have to roll up our sleeves and we have to crawl under, climb over, work our way around all the obstacles that lie between us and the star.”
And on my flight yesterday, I watched—with a grateful spirit—the movie August Rush: “Sometimes the world tries to knock it out of you. But I believe in music the way that some people believe in fairy tales. I like to imagine that what I hear came from my mother and father. Maybe the notes I hear, are the same ones they heard, the night they met. Maybe that’s how they found each other. Maybe that’s how they’ll find me. I believe that once upon a time, long ago, they heard the music and followed it.”
My friends, let us continue to be witnesses for the gifts of light, and music, and hope.
John O’Donohue does my heart good. “Despite all the darkness, human hope is based on the instinct that at the deepest level of reality some intimate kindness holds sway. This is the heart of blessing. To believe in blessing is to believe that our being here, our very presence in the world, is itself the first gift, the primal blessing. As Rilke says: Hier zu sein ist so viel — to be here is immense.”
As a Michigan boy, Autumn was my favorite. And the leaves and colors. And the cool evenings. I hope wherever you are, you can savor the gift of the leaf color pageant. My Oh My.
Prayer for our week…
Eternal Spirit, Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver,
Source of all that is and that shall be,
Father and Mother of us all,
Loving God, in whom is heaven:
The hallowing of your name echo through the universe!
The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the world!
Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!
Your commonwealth of peace and freedom sustain our hope and come on earth.
With the bread we need for today, feed us.
In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.
In times of temptation and test, strengthen us.
From trials too great to endure, spare us.
From the grip of all that is evil, free us.
For you reign in the glory of the power that is love, now and for ever.
Amen.
New Zealand Prayer Book
Photo… “One more, the gift of nature, from Glendale, Ohio,” Faith Lang… Thank you Faith… and thank you for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com
Prayer for our week…
Eternal Spirit, Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver,
Source of all that is and that shall be,
Father and Mother of us all,
Loving God, in whom is heaven:
The hallowing of your name echo through the universe!
The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the world!
Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!
Your commonwealth of peace and freedom sustain our hope and come on earth.
With the bread we need for today, feed us.
In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.
In times of temptation and test, strengthen us.
From trials too great to endure, spare us.
From the grip of all that is evil, free us.
For you reign in the glory of the power that is love, now and for ever.
Amen.
New Zealand Prayer Book
Photo… “One more, the gift of nature, from Glendale, Ohio,” Faith Lang… Thank you Faith… and thank you for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com
