Terry Hershey

In This Issue:

• Inner Rebel
• New Audio & Video
• Terry Hershey Podcast
• Poems
• Words to Live By
• Sabbath Moment

FEATURE ARTICLE
by Terry Hershey

Inner Rebel

 

It was like a religious ceremony which had lost all meaning, but at which they still wore their best clothes.
Graham Greene, The Power and The Glory

This tension stimulated the gland of entertainment in me and I found myself in the role of master of revels, the evening fool, with cards in my sleeves and a ready joke for every interval of silence. I hated myself in this role, yet I was incapable of refusing the performance.
Pat Conroy, Prince of Tides

Edward: What's your name?
Vivian: What do you want it to be?
From Pretty Woman

Who are you dancing for?
A Chorus Line

I'm still working on my life, just like it's out of town, and when I get it fixed, I'll bring it in.
Bob Fosse

Each one of us is in danger of not being the unique and untransferable self that he is.
Jose Ortega Y Gasset

I feel a tension within me. I have only a limited number of years left for active ministry. Why not use them well? Yet one word spoken with a pure heart is worth thousands spoken in a state of spiritual turmoil. Time given to inner renewal is never wasted. God is not in a hurry.
Henri Nouwen

Are you willing to be loved for being this you?
John Bradshaw

Watching an infomercial the other night (I know, you must be wondering whether I actually have a life), one testimonial made me sit up and take notice. Said one besotted consumer, This has let me be the person I always wanted to be. Because I deserved a better life.

What is this? A program to earn thousands of dollars a month on some secret real estate formula. I thought about calling the 800 number. Why? Because I, too, deserve a better life! But pouting and kvetching doesn't become me, so I decided to write about the inner rebel.

The undeniable truth? There are times when we are no longer who we thought we were going to be. Not to worry. . .there is an endless parade of people “ ads, commentators, preachers, tv shows “ who reenforce the bamboozlement. . .each of them trying to tell us who we are.
It's not very subtle.
What they all have in common is this: Who I am now, is not enough. This life isn't enough. I need another life. Preferably a different life.
There's always something else we need, or should buy. It subconsciously becomes a part of almost every conversation. Just last week, on the phone with a representative from the company handling my (dial-up) internet connection.

Can you get cable? she asked.

No, I answer.

Can you get DSL? she asked.

No, I answer.

Do you have a satellite dish, she asked.

No, I answer.

Silence. Wow, she said with empathy. I feel sorry for you.

Watching the TV baseball playoff game (Go Detroit Tigers!), there was an ad for a new Native American Casino near Seattle. The ad invites me to visit, because there, at the Casino, I am told, I will Rediscover the Real Washington. Oh. Now that is news. The real world is in a Casino. . .In the meantime, in my unreal Washington, outside my study window, a full moon hangs in the southern sky, and the chill in the autumn air heralds a changing season, the night air now smelling of leaves and the burning wood from fireplaces.

It is all fuel for the race. We live as hurried-multitasking-market conscious-consumers. And the race always wins. So now we have high school kids on anti-anxiety and anti-depression drugs just to get an edge.

Why? Because we can never get enough of what we don't need.

When (we) were born, (we) were allowed to enjoy the solid, nutritious food of life“namely, work, play, fun, laughter, the company of people, the pleasure of the senses and the mind. (We) were given a taste for the drug called approval, appreciation, attention. . .having a taste for these drugs, we became addicted and began to dread losing them.
“A.S. Neill

By my count, there are too many folk claiming to know God who fuel the fire. I watched a TV preacher talk about God's will as if our lives are paint by number, and asked, Are you sure (emphasis on SURRRRE) you are in God's will today? A fear fueled introspection that leads to an even more hurried lifestyle doing whatever I can to buy God's forgiveness.

To go against the flow of such messages requires that we become, literally, a rebel. Like Ellen Meloy's brother, who was expelled from Sunday School for coloring Jesus' face purple. Apparently, Jesus face can't be purple. Who knew?

There's a simple test. If the voices (from culture, Madison Avenue, religious gurus, self-help teachers, or concerned onlookers) leach the awe, wonder, joyfulness, playfulness and generosity from your life, it is pure snake oil. Have no part of it. The end result is disheartenment, discouragement, a loss of focus, and a frenzied lifestyle accumulating whatever it is we're supposed to need to get back in the good graces of public opinion.

We could benefit from the wisdom and council of Thomas Merton, who argued that There is a pervasive form of contemporary violence (and that is) activism and overwork....The rush and pressure of modern life are a form of violence. . .To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything, is to succumb to violence. The frenzy of our activism neutralizes our work for peace. It destroys our inner capacity for peace. It destroys the fruitfulness of our won work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful.

So where do we go? What is the alternative? Where do we find this fuel for a sense of self? I need to ask myself the same question I ask anyone who seeks my opinion about any of life's conundrums: Where do you hear the voice of Grace? Seriously. And when did you hear it last? Are you willing to be loved for being this you?

Watched two movies this past week. One, a Harrison Ford movie from 1991, Regarding Henry, about a genuine-SOB-lawyer, who is shot in a random accident. After, he is not the same, mentally, physically, or spiritually. During his rehabilitation, he has a friendship with Bradley, his physical therapist. I thought I could go back to my life, but I don't like who I was Bradley. . .I don't fit in.

Bradley, I got bad knees. Football, wrecked ˜em both playing college football. Man, that was my life. What else was there. NO jack shit. . .safety hit me. . .game over, my life was over. . .ask me if I mind having bad knees. No way. I had to find a life. Don't listen to nobody trying to tell you who you are.

The other, Jet Li's new movie, Fearless. Huo Juanjia is the son of a great fighter who refuses to teach his son to fight. But Huo learns on his own, and wins. With each win, the taste of victory and pride co-mingle. He grows up with an unquenched anger. His solution to appease his need? To fight. His friend asks him why. When is enough? How many people do you need to defeat?

Ah yes. . .You can truly never get enough of what you don't need.

Fame and pride made a lethal combination. His life unravels after he kills a rival“out of revenge, and with no remorse, over what turns out to be a false accusation. A disciple of this rival takes his own revenge killing Huo's mother and daughter. How does one stop any cycle of violence?

Huo is ashamed and grieving. The movie downshifts, Huo spends time wandering, rescued by a grandmother and her blind granddaughter, nursed back to health“and to life“in their isolated village. In one poignant scene, Huo is working in the fields planting rice. He is fueled by a need to compete with his coworkers. A need to finish first, and his work motions are manic.

The wind freshens, a breeze blows, the leaves rustle. His coworkers (in fact, all the workers in the village) stop what they are doing.

They stop.

They stand.

They close their eyes.

They feel the breeze on their faces. They inhale. They find refreshment. Huo looks at their behavior, puzzled. His pace, his requirement to win at all costs blinds him to both his need and the remedy. (Like the German story about the man chopping wood with a blunt ax. He works exhausted, too tired to stop in order to sharpen his axe.)

Does this sound familiar? I can relate. . .to the need to impress, to be driven to achieve, all-the-while fueled by fear. I measure myself as a competitor. A consumer. I require something to justify my existence. . .stuff or things or winning or some experience.

Sitting at a restaurant patio (where I am writing this), the sun is warm on my arms. The wind freshens. Palm branches in the trees nearby sway. I close my eyes. I smell the salt air. I feel the cool breeze on my warm skin. I breathe deeply. For this moment, it is enough.

I know a man here on Vashon Island who is skilled at making musical instruments. He made an extraordinary classical guitar. The guitar made beautiful music. Another man saw and heard the guitar, and offered the craftsman $3000 to make another one like it. The craftsman turned down the offer, saying, Thank you, but I've already made the one I wanted to make. For this moment, it is enough.

Another friend sent this article from The Charlotte Observer. Doris Gibson of Huntersville can't see well enough to drive a car, but she can plant tomatoes. She can't see well enough to read the newspaper without a magnifier. But she can tend angel's trumpets. Though half her sight is gone to macular degeneration, Gibson is still an enthusiastic gardener of flowers and vegetables. It's hobby and therapy. Hobby because it keeps her busy, focused on what's happening, even if that means looking at the beauty of a scarlet hibiscus or a lily through a lighted magnifier. Therapy because it shows she can do something really well, like growing good tomatoes and angels' trumpets. Her gardening keeps her looking forward to the next day. She is 85. For this moment, it is enough.

At one of my conferences this past month, I spoke with a 90-year-old woman. I love my life, my ministry, she told me. What is it you do that gives you such joy? I asked her (thinking, isn't it enough at 90 to operate the TV remote?) Oh, she told me, I go visit people in the old folks home. For this moment, it is enough.

With Grace, we embrace the life we have. This moment. Or series of moments. Or undercurrent. With Grace, we make a difference with this life.

This little light of mine. I'm going to let it shine...

When Jesus said, you are the light of the world, he did not say (borrowing from Wayne Muller), let your light shine only if you grew up in a loving, supportive, two-parent biological family and had no sorrow in your life. . .or if you were never violated or harmed, or if you never had illness or grief.

There will always be someone who wants us to choose a label for our identity, you know, I'm co-dependent or dysfunctional or an addict or high-powered or successful or. . ., and every single one of them is limiting. Why not simply, I am the light of the world.

Today, I am walking the paths in my autumn garden. The garden carries a sense of resignation. As if it, like the rest of us, is giving in to the inevitable, cooler weather on the way. My roses, yet with blooms, bow, deferential, weighted with dew. In the house I hear music. My son, Zach, is playing The Band, and dancing. . .I laugh out loud.

Awareness plus gratitude places you squarely in this world. The Sacrament of the Present Moment. And. . .For this moment, it is enough.

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