I’ve been reflecting on the project we are asked to describe as emerging from this Pilgrimage, in each of our journeys.
Right at the beginning, St. David’s injunction to “do the little things” spoke to me, and I ramped up my response to every need I encountered, feeling glad still to be useful in retirement.
But I was disturbed by a sense that one unifying thread was missing…though constantly aware of the importance of responding to the inner divine imperative, in preference to external goal-setting.
I can’t say I’m now doing anything other than the little things which present themselves as opportunities: I’m resisting the egoistic drive to pioneer some grand new initiative and produce impressive results within a defined timeframe.
But there are so very many little things that the art seems to be in listening, and prioritising to optimise the application of my capacity and skill.
Today I visited the Henri Nouwen blog and accessed the first of a series of talks addressing the issues we’ve been looking at, over these months – such wisdom! The speaker quoted from a poem entitled “Slow work”, composed by a Unitarian minister, Rev. Elizabeth Stevens, following the recent mid-term elections in the USA. It puts things perfectly, for me:
“Oh, my dear ones.
I know you were hoping
For a once-and-done.
For an earthquake,
A tidal wave.
Hoping that if we gave it our all,
A single push would be enough.
That after this, we could
Sink
Back into complacency,
Back into the comfort of our privilege.
I confess, in the secret corners of my heart,
I wanted to believe it could be that easy
That justice would emerge as from an egg
Fully grown
Not with wet down and weak wings…
But beloveds,
We are chipping away at a mountain,
Not a boulder.
Calcified structures
Created to oppress,
Control,
Kill.
2000 years of this stupid idea
That some are more worthy,
Some deserve power by virtue of who they are.
Erosion is slow work, sweethearts.
Celebrate the progress
The triumphs.
Celebrate also the heartbreaking almosts.
Breathe.
Rest for a time.
Then get up and turn again toward kindness,
Toward your neighbor in need,
Toward those who are still trapped in the stone.
Tell them, “I won’t give up.”
Tell them, “I am with you.”
Tell them, “For you, I will learn to eat rocks.”
“For you, I will keep chewing, keep grinding,
Until the mountain crumbles to dust.”
5 comments
Hazel, as always, I really appreciate and resonate with your thoughts. Especially the sentence about egoistic drive for creating something new and producing results … it is so hard for a little worker bee like me to acknowledge that a meaningful, generous, reconciling life can be composed of more than measurable “outputs” (or maybe even none at all???).
Little worker bees are potential saviours of our planet, Katrine – provided we work together!!!
Jer keeps talking about the slow work of reconciling, and it’s a level of patience that we have to B R E A T H E through, eh? I admire the awareness of the gifts we receive from listening…and slowing down…and the honesty around ‘catching myself’ as not doing it. It is a constant challenge for me. Thank you for your reflection.
…..a bit like labour pains eh Andrea?!
The human heartbeat has 5 separate actions in what we call a single beat. The first 4 actions are just that – actions, electrical impulses, contractions etc. The 5th part of the wave form is exactly the opposite – the heart rests. What actually triggers the action of the heart is that resting phase and, when the heart is in a rhythm that doesn’t allow it to pump blood effectively, the defibrillator shock that is applied to it sends it into that resting state so that this will trigger normal function to resume at the next wave. This is a perfect metaphor for the church’s ‘ordinary time’, in which we find ourselves from Pentecost right through to Advent: symbolised by the liturgical colour green, this is a time when we grow not through the celebration of major festivals or the privations of penitential seasons but by the everyday celebration of Word and Sacrament, the constants of our faith. It also seems to be a metaphor for where you are finding yourself: in the small things. God has managed to bless you with the insight to realise that even the most fertile ground must rest sometimes if it is to nourish further crops and that you are no different. Enjoy the small things! Enjoy the everyday! You will spring forth from this refreshed and with new focus, I am sure. A very happy Ordinary Time to you!