Let me sow Love
When violent shocks become a routine feature of daily life—intensified online in an already polarized, anxious and overstimulated society—I can feel powerless, and so, try to protect myself. I am so tempted to close my eyes, to shut down, and I feel my heart deaden.
This is not a homily. But a note to self.
I can tell you that violence rocks me at my core. And demonizing others shatters—hearts and minds—setting off alarm bells in my spirit.
However, here’s some good news: We are not at the mercy, we do have choices.
My friends, let us begin here: How do we move forward in a world where fear and dread are real?
How do we honor our better angels, and lower the anxiety temperature?
My prayer this week: How can I sow love and be an instrument of peace? And in what ways—however small—can I be a purveyor of charity, goodwill and mercy?
So. Pull up a chair, it is story time. Let us not run or hide from sadness, or the rawness. And let us not give way to anger or bitterness. We need stories to embrace the invitation to be more human and fully alive, with the permission to repair and heal the small world where we live. Yes.
I love the Sufi story about a man who is so good that the angels ask God to give him the gift of miracles. God wisely tells them to ask him if that is what he would wish. So, the angels visit this good man, and offer him first the gift of healing by hands, then the gift of conversion by souls, and lastly the gift of virtue.
He refuses them all. They insist that he choose a gift or they will choose one for him.
“Very well,” he replies. “I ask that I may do a great deal of good without ever knowing it.”
The story ends this way: The angels are perplexed. They take counsel and resolve upon the following plan: every time the man’s shadow falls behind him it will have the power to cure disease, soothe pain, and comfort sorrow. As he walks, behind him his shadow makes arid paths green, causes withered plants to bloom, gives clear water to dried-up brooks, fresh color to pale children, and joy to unhappy men and women.
The man simply goes about his daily life diffusing virtue as the stars diffuse light, and the flowers scent, without ever being aware of it. The people respecting his humility follow him silently, never speaking to him about his miracles. Soon they even forgot his name and call him “the Holy Shadow.”
Today, how do we spill light in our broken world?
My heart is smiling big here, because I love this story’s affirmation that there can be freedom from the ego’s constraint; of some kind of prerequisite for power or position or applause.
A reminder of what is possible in a world where we know that despair or bitterness or cynicism cannot win. Why? Because our identity is not at stake here. The light within already tells us, assures us, who (and whose) we are.
And no, I certainly cannot relate to the “so good” part of the story. But I do resonate with the notion that the bountiful gifts of life—love, compassion, wisdom, joy, courage, creativity and presence—happen when they spill from real and authentic (and yes, wounded and broken) lives.
And the permission to “just be”, to let the light spill, is lost in the shuffle.
The message ingrained from the religion of my youth—the endeavor to be “super-spiritual”—was unequivocal, and I see it playing out in our world today: Be on the right team or get worked up about being on the wrong team. There is us. There is them. Don’t be like them.
But here’s the deal: Jesus’ life and ministry were a complete contradiction to that paradigm. He specifically looked for those left out, for the poor, the outcast, the widow, the orphan, those excluded. Because he wanted to tell them all; there’s a place at the table for you. There’s a place at the table for everyone.
(When people ask me my theology and only need one sentence, I tell them, I’d rather be excluded for who I include, than included for who I exclude.)
This is important: this story is not about an assignment or an obligation. It’s permission to give way to what is already inside. (“Oz didn’t give nothing to the Tin Man that he didn’t already have,” is playing in my head. Followed by Bruce singing, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.”)
What makes you come alive? The question itself, is a paradigm shift. That even in places of pain and anxiety and rawness and uncertainty, we have the capacity to spill light. We can be Holy Shadows; a life not beholden to the narrative of fear, anxiety, or performance. Holy Shadow gives voice to all that is life giving; to dignity, to liberation and empowerment, to imagination and healing.
Here’s the deal: I believe that every one of us casts a holy shadow..
In a world where there is fear and anxiety, we need holy shadows, as they repair and heal.
In a world where people are marginalized and left out, we need holy shadows.
In a world where people have forgotten that they are loved and cared for, we need holy shadows.
In a world where distraction keeps us from being at home in our own skin, we need holy shadows.
And for this week, let this be our prayer.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi (Prayer for Peace)
Enjoy it here with Sarah McLachlan.
Quote for our week… “But let us—with our beating hearts—rise to this moment. Let us care, nurture, and nourish one another. Let us choose authentic humanity, because authentic humanity wins every time.” Maria Shriver
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Today’s Photo Credit: “Terry, This morning on the way to Lauds… I took this photo…I did not see the cross inside the shimmering moon, but there it was/is.” Photo from the Trappistine Monastery in the Redwoods, Whitethorn, CA, taken by Ziggy RendlerBregman, sent by Sister Judy Carle RSM… Thank you Ziggy and Sr. Judy… Thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com
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Letters that do my heart good…
–My son, Ryan, is mentally and physically handicapped (rare chromosome disorder). The summer we played Buddy Ball (his little sister was his buddy) was the most fun. Such joy on everyone’s faces. Theresa
–Thank you for sharing the story about Bob Foster… it gave me pause of the good kind. Del
–I love your inspiration to start my day and have forwarded them to others. Hope they have signed up. Blessings! Sister Norberta
–Dear Terry, I love starting my day with you. My Dad was a minister in Bethlehem, PA. Each summer we packed up and drove to a rustic cabin on the river in New Hampshire. We fished. We swam… pumped water and lit kerosene lamps at night. It was So peaceful and the sounds of bells on goats’ necks across the river and the breeze in the tall fir trees… these were God’s lullaby day and night for our family. Such pleasure that would be for today… After running running and meeting deadlines and the sounds of revved up engines and other blaring noises… touching through new friends and “touching” parents and brothers in a new and wonderful relationship. Thank you! Karen
–I love the Buddy Ball story! You touched my heart! This gives me time to pause and reflect and write down inspirations that touches my heart, then write these down in my journal… I am very grateful to you, Terry, for allowing me to continue on receiving these thought-provoking inspirations! With a grateful heart! S. Jolisa Lazaro, SND
