Changing the Questions
May 05, 2008
Our whole business therefore in this life,
is to restore to health the eyes of the heart
whereby God may be seen. St.
Augustine
What is honored will be cultivated
there. Plato
During her three-month visit to Jerusalem,
Natalie Goldberg writes about her Israeli
landlady, a woman in her fifties. The
woman called a repairman to fix her broken
TV. It took the repairman four visits to fix
the screen.
"But you knew even before he came the first time what was wrong," Natalie told her. "He could have brought the correct tube and fixed it immediately."
The landlady looked at her in astonishment. "Yes but then we couldn't have had a relationship, sat and drunk tea and discussed the progress of the repairs. "
Of course, Goldberg writes, the goal was not to fix the machine but to have a relationship.
How do we measure?
I do know this: if my measurements are predicated on public opinion or achievement at the expense of removing myself from this present moment, then I am missing the gifts of life.
It begins when I pay attention. Like the little boy who said to his mom, "Momma, momma, listen to me, but this time with your eyes!"
"We teach children how to measure and how to weigh," Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote, "We fail to teach them how to revere, how to sense wonder and awe."
As adults, we think of measurement as a skill set. Even with Sabbath moments, when I have spent the afternoon in my garden, I am prone to ask, "What did I achieve? What did I accomplish? Was it successful?"
I need permission to change the questions.
Have you read The Little Prince?
If I have told you these details about the asteroid, and made a note of its number for you, it is on account of the grown-ups and their ways. When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters.
They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like?
What games does he love best?
Does he collect butterflies?"
Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?"
Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him.
If you were to say to the grown-ups: "I saw a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof," they would not be able to get any idea of that house at all.
You would have to say to them: "I saw a house that cost $ 20,000." Then they would exclaim: "Oh, what a pretty house that is!"
Visiting Joshua Tree National Park, children are given a guide with suggestions for enjoying the park. One of them says, "Find an oasis. In silence, spend ten minutes there. Ask yourself these questions: What did I hear? What did I see? What did I notice that surprised me?"
"But you knew even before he came the first time what was wrong," Natalie told her. "He could have brought the correct tube and fixed it immediately."
The landlady looked at her in astonishment. "Yes but then we couldn't have had a relationship, sat and drunk tea and discussed the progress of the repairs. "
Of course, Goldberg writes, the goal was not to fix the machine but to have a relationship.
How do we measure?
I do know this: if my measurements are predicated on public opinion or achievement at the expense of removing myself from this present moment, then I am missing the gifts of life.
It begins when I pay attention. Like the little boy who said to his mom, "Momma, momma, listen to me, but this time with your eyes!"
"We teach children how to measure and how to weigh," Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote, "We fail to teach them how to revere, how to sense wonder and awe."
As adults, we think of measurement as a skill set. Even with Sabbath moments, when I have spent the afternoon in my garden, I am prone to ask, "What did I achieve? What did I accomplish? Was it successful?"
I need permission to change the questions.
Have you read The Little Prince?
If I have told you these details about the asteroid, and made a note of its number for you, it is on account of the grown-ups and their ways. When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters.
They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like?
What games does he love best?
Does he collect butterflies?"
Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?"
Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him.
If you were to say to the grown-ups: "I saw a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof," they would not be able to get any idea of that house at all.
You would have to say to them: "I saw a house that cost $ 20,000." Then they would exclaim: "Oh, what a pretty house that is!"
Visiting Joshua Tree National Park, children are given a guide with suggestions for enjoying the park. One of them says, "Find an oasis. In silence, spend ten minutes there. Ask yourself these questions: What did I hear? What did I see? What did I notice that surprised me?"
Poems / Prayers
Of course I am jealous
We bless the earth with each step we take.
And the firmament too needs our touch:
someday your tenderness
will read it.
Look how the birds climb some invisible staircase
and lay their hands upon Him.
Of course I am jealous,
When I too cannot do that.
The seas waited long to sing. Not until we leaped out laughing
was their birth of us
complete.
"Tell me about your heart," my every word says.
Speak to me as if we both lay wounded
in a field and are gazing
in wonder
as our spirits
rise.
St. Francis of Assisi
Blessed are You, O Lord our God,
Wellspring of all that is.
You are the sea on which we float,
You are the wind that fills our sails,
You are the storm that buffets us,
You are the calm that brings us peace.
Open our ears to hear Your word,
Open our eyes to see Your beauty,
Open our hearts to be warmed by Your love.
Free us from our lonely prisons of fear and selfishness,
And make us over, day by day, into bearers of Your peace.
Amen.
Richard Rosenberg
Peace,
Terry Hershey
