Enough
May 26, 2008
Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset
about many things, but only one thing is
needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and
it will not be taken away from her.
Jesus
He who knows he has enough is rich.
Lao-tzu
People travel to wonder at the height of
mountains, at the huge waves in the sea, at
the long courses of rivers, at the vast
compass of the ocean, at the circular motion
of the stars; and they pass themselves by
without wondering. Saint
Augustine
Lady Elaine Fairchilde is the mischief
maker
in Mr. Roger's Neighborhood.
Lady Elaine is not a pretty puppet. To be fair, well. . .let us just say she is particularly beauty-challenged.
In one episode, Lady Elaine was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She said without hesitation, 'I want to be a princess.'
They asked, 'Oh. What will you do?'
'I'll bring all my friends over and they can tell me how pretty I am.'
They asked, 'Then what will you do?'
She said, 'I'll say thank you.'
'Then what will you do?'
She thought, 'Hmmm. I'll have to get more friends and bring them in to tell me how pretty I am.'
'Then what?'
'I'll say thank you.'
'Then what?'
'I'll guess I'll have to get more friends and bring them in to tell me how pretty I am.'
At some point in our life we learn that there are never enough people to tell us how pretty we are (or how thin, or how famous, or how successful, or how indispensable). With our relentless pursuit of affirmation, we end up forfeiting our identity to the whims of public opinion. Carly Simon nailed it in "The Girl You Think You See."
Tell me who you long for
In your secret dreams
Go on and tell me who you wish I was
Instead of me
I'm not necessarily
The girl you think you see
Whoever you want is exactly who
I'm more than willing to be
Who cares what I might be for real
Underneath my games
I'll let you chose from a thousand faces
And a thousand names
This is no surprise in a world inundated by means of the bombardment of more. I tried to buy a new phone the other day. I was offered the latest model that would allow me to watch movies on my phone. I asked, "Do you have a model that just takes phone calls?" His response, "Why would you want just that?"
The system is rigged to confirm that more is never enough.
While there is something about these additions (whatever is newer, faster, more improved or in vogue) that appear to take care of something (or fill a need), here's what I know: The pull and tug serves to separate me from the present. From this moment. From myself.
Phillip Gulley, in his book Porch Tales, wrote a childhood memory about his family's house. The house they fell in love with was red. Red was not a typical color back in the day. He remembers the Realtor suggesting that they paint the house a pleasant neutral color, so it would be easier to sell when they moved.
Gulley muses, "We hadn't even moved in, and we're being told how to sell the house."
A man once asked the Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh what it is that monks actually do.
"We walk and we sit and we eat," Hanh replied.
"Is that all?"
"Yes, but when we walk, we know we are walking, and when we sit, we know we are sitting, and when we eat, we know we are eating."
Where is this place. . .
where we do not need to give in to what if?
Or, if only?
Or, I'll need more friends to tell me how pretty I am?
Where is this place, where we let go of our fear of losing, and of our neurotic striving after what we hope to gain?
God rested, not because he was tired. God rested to celebrate, to savor, to delight in, to play, to revel in the creation. God rested and declared it holy. To say, it is good. It is very good. In that rest, God is affirming that there is nothing to prove. We are invited to enter that rest. Sabbath is the invitation to rest from the tyranny of pursuit. From that rest, we can live, work, give, relate from acceptance, rather than for acceptance. And it is enough.
Outside my study window on this May afternoon, birds gather at our feeder, goldfinch, purple finch, nuthatch, towhee and thrush. Below our cats sit, helpless and hopeful. On our pond a mallard pair drifts, still indifferent to our invitation that they build their home here. The first rose to bloom in my garden this year, Penelope, is apricot tinted and smells of cloves. The Japanese maple is bowed from last night's rain and the droplets on the leaves glisten in the morning sun. Zach is waiting (not so patiently) for me to finish this column, so that we can begin the third inning of our game of baseball.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Jesus, Gospel of Matthew
Lady Elaine is not a pretty puppet. To be fair, well. . .let us just say she is particularly beauty-challenged.
In one episode, Lady Elaine was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She said without hesitation, 'I want to be a princess.'
They asked, 'Oh. What will you do?'
'I'll bring all my friends over and they can tell me how pretty I am.'
They asked, 'Then what will you do?'
She said, 'I'll say thank you.'
'Then what will you do?'
She thought, 'Hmmm. I'll have to get more friends and bring them in to tell me how pretty I am.'
'Then what?'
'I'll say thank you.'
'Then what?'
'I'll guess I'll have to get more friends and bring them in to tell me how pretty I am.'
At some point in our life we learn that there are never enough people to tell us how pretty we are (or how thin, or how famous, or how successful, or how indispensable). With our relentless pursuit of affirmation, we end up forfeiting our identity to the whims of public opinion. Carly Simon nailed it in "The Girl You Think You See."
Tell me who you long for
In your secret dreams
Go on and tell me who you wish I was
Instead of me
I'm not necessarily
The girl you think you see
Whoever you want is exactly who
I'm more than willing to be
Who cares what I might be for real
Underneath my games
I'll let you chose from a thousand faces
And a thousand names
This is no surprise in a world inundated by means of the bombardment of more. I tried to buy a new phone the other day. I was offered the latest model that would allow me to watch movies on my phone. I asked, "Do you have a model that just takes phone calls?" His response, "Why would you want just that?"
The system is rigged to confirm that more is never enough.
While there is something about these additions (whatever is newer, faster, more improved or in vogue) that appear to take care of something (or fill a need), here's what I know: The pull and tug serves to separate me from the present. From this moment. From myself.
Phillip Gulley, in his book Porch Tales, wrote a childhood memory about his family's house. The house they fell in love with was red. Red was not a typical color back in the day. He remembers the Realtor suggesting that they paint the house a pleasant neutral color, so it would be easier to sell when they moved.
Gulley muses, "We hadn't even moved in, and we're being told how to sell the house."
A man once asked the Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh what it is that monks actually do.
"We walk and we sit and we eat," Hanh replied.
"Is that all?"
"Yes, but when we walk, we know we are walking, and when we sit, we know we are sitting, and when we eat, we know we are eating."
Where is this place. . .
where we do not need to give in to what if?
Or, if only?
Or, I'll need more friends to tell me how pretty I am?
Where is this place, where we let go of our fear of losing, and of our neurotic striving after what we hope to gain?
God rested, not because he was tired. God rested to celebrate, to savor, to delight in, to play, to revel in the creation. God rested and declared it holy. To say, it is good. It is very good. In that rest, God is affirming that there is nothing to prove. We are invited to enter that rest. Sabbath is the invitation to rest from the tyranny of pursuit. From that rest, we can live, work, give, relate from acceptance, rather than for acceptance. And it is enough.
Outside my study window on this May afternoon, birds gather at our feeder, goldfinch, purple finch, nuthatch, towhee and thrush. Below our cats sit, helpless and hopeful. On our pond a mallard pair drifts, still indifferent to our invitation that they build their home here. The first rose to bloom in my garden this year, Penelope, is apricot tinted and smells of cloves. The Japanese maple is bowed from last night's rain and the droplets on the leaves glisten in the morning sun. Zach is waiting (not so patiently) for me to finish this column, so that we can begin the third inning of our game of baseball.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Jesus, Gospel of Matthew
Poems / Prayers
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Wendell Berry
In the beginning, O God
When the firm earth emerged from the waters of life
You saw that it was good.
The fertile ground was moist
The seed was strong
And earths' profusion of colour and sent was born.
Awaken my senses this day
To the goodness that still stems from Eden.
Awaken my senses
To the goodness that can still spring forth
In me and in all that has life.
Celtic Benediction
Peace,
Terry Hershey
