Place love at the center

An elder is speaking to a gathering of children. “In my spirit, there are two fierce tigers: Anger-Hatred and Love-Compassion. And they are fighting to the death.”
A fearful child asks, “Which one will win?”
The elder replies: “The one that I feed the most.”

The movie Crimes of the Heart (based on the Pulitzer Prize winning play written by Beth Henley) is the story about three sisters surviving crisis after crisis in a small Mississippi town. The youngest, Rebecca or ‘Babe,’ finds a sort of solace in an almost comical practice, contorting her body in order to stick her head into the oven. One day, older sister Meg asks exasperated, “Why’d you do it, Babe? Why’d you put your head in the oven?”
Babe, “I don’t know… I’m having a bad day.”
Meg, “Well… we’ve got to find a way to get you through these bad days.”

“Life is difficult,” Scott Peck wrote in The Road Less Traveled.
Yes. And haven’t we all felt near the breaking point—when some part of life begins to unravel or splinter or reduce us thunderstruck. While we never know whether it will be wrapped in tragedy or hurt or discouragement or simply accumulated aggravation, we do know that it will be, somehow, now woven into the fabric of our days.
So. If sticking my head in the oven is not the answer, tell me, what can I do?
Let us pause. And take a deep breath.
And let us begin here: Yes, disruption, disarray, disillusionment and sorrow are real, and each can be a part of our lives.
But here’s the deal: they do not get to say how the story ends.

My favorite scene in the movie Forrest Gump, is one where Jenny (Forrest’s girlfriend for life) stands in front of a dilapidated house. The house represents years of abuse and disappointment from her childhood. As she faces the demons of her past, she begins to pick up rocks and hurl them—with every scrap of her being—towards the house. She is, possibly for the first time, acknowledging years of anger, pain, hatred and fear. She eventually collapses to the ground and Forrest Gump’s simple commentary is this: “Sometimes there just aren’t enough rocks.”
Tell me this… if I get to say how the story ends, how do I move forward?
How do I choose love and compassion and kindness over anger and hatred?
How do I make space for healing and redemption and reconciliation?

I just ordered the book, John Lewis: A life (by David Greenberg)
And I remember my conversation with the sheep when Lewis died in 2020.
“You look sad,” the say to me.
“I am,” I tell the sheep. “A great man died this week. And I miss him.”
“What made him great?” a little one asked.
“He made us better people.”
I like Andrew Young’s take. John Lewis “didn’t convince you by his arguments. He convinced you by his life… He believed what we talk about, and he lived it every day of his life. And he didn’t have a violent streak in his body. And he was always forgiving, always loving, always understanding. And he never made you feel guilty. But he made you feel responsible.”
Growing up, we loved to talk about conversion in our church. Mostly it meant punching my ticket for eternity (staying out of hell). And adherence to a belief system (even if I couldn’t explain it). Here’s what’s interesting. I was never asked how conversion made a difference to my everyday life. I was never asked about the power of transformation.
I was never asked to be converted (through humility, vulnerability and an open heart) to a more profound humanity. To “place love at the center, the center that holds solid as all around it breaks, the solid place that becomes the fort of what is unbreakable in us and the fulcrum of change.” (Dana Brown)
I do like that. Sign me up.
Because here’s the good news; we still have choices available to us…
One… Fear is not the final answer.
I loved the book, Tears of Salt, Dr. Pietro Bartolo’s heartrending story about hundreds of thousands of African and Middle Eastern refugees fleeing civil war and terrorism and hoping to make a new life in Europe. Pietro runs the lone medical clinic on the rocky island of Lampedusa, the first port of call. Unforgettable tales of pain and hope, of those who didn’t make it and those who did. Why keep trying? (As in, to keep trying here against all odds, makes no sense.)
“We can’t, and we won’t, be governed by our fears,” Pietro writes.
Two… We can and do create safe (sanctuary) places.
Sqababsh (meaning Swiftwater People), is the preferred name for Vashon Island’s band of native people. (S’Homamish is another version of the name). They were known for creating safe havens for people seeking refuge from violence.
We can do that. And, we can do that for people we know who live with emotional or spiritual, or even physical harm. Their lives upside down. We’ve got you.
Three… Appeal to our better angels.
John Lewis’ reminder, “Our actions entrench the power of the light on this planet. Every positive thought we pass between us makes room for more light. And if we do more than think, then our actions clear the path for even more light. That is why forgiveness and compassion must become more important principles in public life.” (Across That Bridge: Life Lessons and a Vision for Change)
Today, what am I (are we) going to invest in, with our time, energy, heart and passion?
I have an idea. With our moments and day… Let us serve. Let us stand up. Let us help those who are left out. Let us hug. Let us heal.

This week, Ash Wednesday. And the season of Lent begins. As an affirmation that transformation is real.
Lent is the time to rekindle the heart. If the fruit of faith is charity—Mother Teresa used to say—then the fruit of distrust is apathy and resignation. And this we know: Distrust, apathy and resignation are the demons that deaden and paralyze our soul.
Be gentle with yourself my friends.
And for those fortunate few, this past Saturday night, just after sunset, Saturn, Mercury, Neptune, Venus, Uranus, Jupiter and Mars appeared together in a “parade of planets”. And Mercury, Venus, Mars and Jupiter were all visible to the naked eye. My Oh My.

Prayer for our week…
“Dear God,
May we walk with open hearts and embrace the many selves within us. May we give ourselves grace as we heal, and may we remain open to the love and learnings that can come from the stories we share with one another.
Amen.”
(Maria Shriver)

BULLETIN BOARD

Today’s Photo Credit: “Hi Terry, Lots of snow and frigid cold temps this winter in Cincinnati but what a beautiful sky! Hope you’re doing well. God bless you for your inspiring thoughts each week.” Donna Watts…. Thank you Donna… And thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com 

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Letters that do my heart good…
–Wow, Terry, you really stepped out well and I really appreciate it and the inclusion of the REC video. This is incredible. Thank you so much. It really fits in with what God‘s doing. Stephen
–Terry, Thank you for you. Thank you for living the Gospel Call. Thank you for inviting us to live and celebrate the present so that we can live in the Presence. Bill
–So grateful to see you at Religious Ed Congress last weekend. You’re such an inspiration! I’ve shared some of the notes I took from your talk with my students too. “You are the light of the world.” “I’m glad you’re here.” Just to name a few! I’m also sharing Mister Rogers with my students. Looking forward to reading the books you signed as well. I appreciate your guidance too, with listening to what my heart is speaking because that’s God’s voice. Thank you so much for continuing to shine your light! God bless you always! Jessica
–Grace-filled Morning Terry, My candle fills some darkness until the sun rises and takes over enlightening my world. Colors streak across the tree tops and then the spaces in between are filled with gray clouds. That is OK for I know what can be, will be. “A place for Sanctuary” comes into my morning prayer. A true resting place from all that struggles and fears. Recently, I keep going back to Ram Dass’s quote you have at the end of your prayer “we are all just walking each other home”. In the past I interpreted “walking home” as the end of one’s life. Now I feel drawn to help others to feel “home” in this moment, in this day, at this time. In these days of such fear, degradation and rejection many have lost their feeling of safety. They can no longer be “home” in their world as they know it to be. How can I in this sacrament of Now give them a feeling, a sense of sawubona, a light that for even a moment, that they feel “at home”. “Home” is no longer a distant place, it is more emergent now and desperately needed in this day, in this sacred Now. Thanks for listening Terry. Thank you for my gift of Sanctuary. May you day hold the Joy that come from living a life of What Matters Most. Deb, Boston, MA