MYSTERY AND MISERY

Parker Palmer is a writer that blesses me. He shares honestly about his life and faith. In his book, "Let Your Life Speak" he shares his deep and profound struggle with depression. His depression disconnected him from himself, his feelings, his faith, his friends. He felt isolated.

He writes about some of the things that didn't help. One was when someone would say, "I know exactly how you feel. . . ." He said that he didn't hear anything beyond that because he knew that the person was peddling falsehood.  No one can know the mystery of the depth of another person. This desire to over-identify with another just made him feel more isolated.

Then Parker says, "One of the hardest things we must do sometimes is to be present to another person’s pain without trying to ‘fix’ it, to simply stand respectfully at the edge of that person’s mystery and misery."

How true it is. "Simply stand respectfully at the edge of that person's mystery and misery." The deeper in pain a person goes, the more mystery they discover. They can share that mystery only in fragments. We who stand with them can only glimpse the misery, the mystery. We can only receive those glimpses as gifts.

Maybe the best we can do for each other is to stay close and respect the borders between ourselves and them, thus honoring their unique and mysterious experience of life. It may not sound like much, but respecting another person in their misery might be the most important gift they can receive.

HEALTHY POVERTY

I am re-reading Annie Dillard’s wonderful book, “Pilgrim at  Tinker Creek.”  She spent several years exploring the world around her cabin on Tinker Creek in southern Virginia. She shares a story of when she was 6 years old, growing up in Pittsburg.  She used to take a penny of her own and hid it for someone else to find.  She would put it in a crack in the side walk or at the root of a tree.  She would then take a piece of chalk and draw arrows from both directions with words, ‘Surprise ahead", or "Money this way.”  She never stayed around to see if anyone ever picked them up.

As she explored the details of life and death in the world around her little cabin, she thought about that 6 year old little girl.  She said, “I’ve been thinking about seeing.  There are  lots of things to see, unwrapped gifts and free surprises.  The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside from a generous hand.  But--and this is the point--who gets excited by a mere penny?  If you follow one arrow, if you crouch motionless on a bank to watch a tremulous ripple trill on the water and are rewarded by the sight of a muskrat kit paddling from its den, will you count that sight a chip of copper only, and go your rueful way?  It is dire poverty indeed when a [person] is so malnourished and fatigued that [she or] he won’t stoop to pick up a penny.  But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days.  It is that simple.  What you see is what you get.” (14-15)

I have been thinking these days about how to create a healthy poverty of spirit so that I will notice, stop and pick up those shiny pennies and cherish my days.

SIGNS OF HOPE

Sometimes, when we are vulnerable and our eyes see, we discover gifts that opens our heart to hope. Saturday morning Deb and I went to our church in downtown Indianapolis to deliver some invitations to guests of our food bank. The  invitation was for our Easter morning breakfast which many of our friends from the street share with us.

As I stood and chatted with some of our hosts and some of our guests, I was reminded why I believe deeply in the church. There were 75 people shopping at our produce tables which had been supplied by Indianapolis Fruit (thanks to Deb's son, Collin Miller, who helped us connect with that wonderful resource for feeding the hungry). They then went into the market and shopped for canned goods that had been provided by members of Central and the Gleaners Food Bank. People come to the church for all kinds of nourishment.

And gathered with our guests were 20 adults and children who hosted the gathering, helping, visiting, providing coffee and cake while an orderly process of shopping was followed. While some waited, they went into the Thrift Shop where many purchased essential items of clothing for a small fee. Throughout the lower level of the church, ministry and community was happening.

Now I am not naive. I know that this is simply a small bandage on the wounds of our society where more people live on the edge of existence while a few expand their wealth beyond any description of decency. I know that a more just system of sharing the world's resource is absolutely essential not only for the survival of civilization but also for the fulfilling of God's desire for shalom. (And I have to say that I am glad that I am part of a congregation where people are gathering to act for justice for janitors, for those who need reliable public transit, for those who are excluded by laws from marrying the people they love.)

But, in the interim time before a more just society can emerge, I am glad to be part of community who does what we can to keep people from falling off the edge. My heart ached with hope as I shared that Saturday morning communion. I am thankful for small signs of God's love that I get to see.

SPIRITUAL PLIGRIMAGE: GOING HOME

When you leave home (or home leaves you) to take a journey of self-discovery, you discover new strengths and dimensions of yourself among strangers and in threatening spaces. This journey can be exciting, scary, lonely and exhilarating. It is a gift of possible insight and new hope. It is a time of wandering, tasting, seeing, listening and feeling.

But, at some point, the pilgrimage comes to an end and you go home. You return to familiar door that has welcomed you time and time again after you have been away. There at home are the familiar people who said good-bye in the not too distant past, who adapted to life without you while you were gone, and who are here to greet you as you return.

But, odds are, they are  not the same as they were when you left. They have had experiences that you didn't share in. They learned that they could do some of the things they had always counted on you to do. They didn't see you every day, but created an image of you  in their thoughts as they imagined you on your pilgrimage. And they don't look the same to you because you see differently.  You have new eyes to see dimensions of them that you might know have seen before.

And when you get home, you realize that you have changed too. You have been influenced by the road. The sights and sounds have increased your awareness of new things. You see your home differently because you have seen other homes along the way.  Your home might seem more tired that you remembered.  Or it may seem warmer and safer than you thought. The treasures of your own home, once hidden under the covers of familiarity, become clearer.

So, when you have opportunity to leave home and discover new dimensions of yourself, return to your familiar spaces blessed with new sight and new life. 

SPIRITUAL PILGRIMAGE: COLLECTING TREASURES

When we leave home and begin our journey to the sacred future, we discover that we have to grieve the loss of home and open ourselves to a world where we can't rely as much on the way things were done at home as we have to rely on strangers to help us find our way. Thus we discover strangers who help reveal new dimensions of ourselves to our own self-understanding.

But, when we are out on the road to that unknown future, we also have the opportunity to discover some internal strengths that we didn't know we had. When I was in an important transition in my life and the familiar people and roles were not available to me, I had to try to survive in new ways. Before the changes occurred in my life, roughing it was staying in a Motel 6 rather than a Holiday Inn. But, as I was making my way around the country discovering my new sense of self, I traveled with a tent and a cook stove. I learned to sleep on the beach under the stars and cook a great cup of coffee over a fire.

In traveling outside my familiar spaces, I discovered that I had not only the capacity to survive on much less, but that I liked the feeling of strength and freedom which that discovery offered. In the wilderness of the soul, I discovered treasures within my own make-up that I had never seen before. The familiar things that I had surrounded myself with had insulated me not only from having to adapt to the discomfort of traveling light, but also insulated me from the treasures within myself that I discovered in the discomfort.

So, as you journey through life and occasionally leave home, or when home somehow leaves you out in the cold, see what you might pick up on the road. See what strengths you might have that you never knew you had. Those discoveries can enrich your life when you return home. They can enable you to live with less fear because you know strengths you may not have known before.