Why is it so hard to change direction when we realize we are heading the wrong way? Why is it so hard to ask for directions when we are lost? Why does turning around and turning back feel like admitting defeat?
And what is so horrible about admitting defeat?
The gift of simplicity is also the gift of clarity. If we are headed in the wrong direction, the easiest way to get moving in the right direction is to turn around. But it’s only children and wise elders that seem to be able to do this without reservation. And it’s only children and wise elders that delight in their change of direction, their turning around.
Lord, give me the strength to turn, turn, so I can come round right. And give me wisdom to find delight in it. Amen.
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free,
’tis the gift to come down where we ought to be
and when we find ourselves in the place just right,
’twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain’d, to bow and to bend we willnot be asham‘d.
to turn, turn, shall be our delight,
till by turning, turning we come round right.
[Simple Gifts, traditional Shaker hymn by Joseph Brackett]
Wiping down the tables. Sweeping up the paper scraps. Checking glue sticks and markers to see if they still work. Sweeping the pine needles off the back patios and keeping the chocolate mint plants in check. Wiping a nose, holding the hand of a toddler navigating a step. Such tasks weren’t the main focus of my work as the gardener of the learning library, but they were all necessary elements of the program. Practically anyone could do them, but it fell to Marcia, the children’s librarian, and me. Every summer for many years, Marcia and I returned to these most basic of tasks because they were ways to create a welcoming and engaging space for parents, grandparents, and children of all ages.
When we describe our program, none of these tasks are included. Goals, attendance, the garden-to-story-to-table pieces are highlighted in annual reports for the trustees and the greater library network; these crucial elements remain unrecognized. Perhaps because elements that anyone can do aren’t valued as highly as the elements that require special skills or education – writing curriculum, selecting meaningful stories, noting knowledge and maturity gained by participants.
Perhaps it’s because I’d rather be known for the complex things I accomplish more than the simple. If so, I’ve forgotten a couple of fundamental, spiritual truths:
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free,
’tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
and when we find ourselves in the place just right, ’twill be in the valley of love and delight.Simple Gifts, Traditional Shaker Hymn by Joseph Brackett
If I hadn’t been walking; if I’d hadn’t been walking to church earlier than usual for a meeting; if I had set a different meeting time; if there had been a noisy car passing. But I was walking past Ye Olde Tavern on November 13th at 8:33am, with no cars in sight. For whatever reason, the universe conspired to have me where and when I was that Sunday. When I heard a dull knock on a tree, I looked up.
Pileated Woodpecker
[Birds of New Hampshire & Vermont, by Stan Tekiela; Cambridge, Minnesota: Adventure Publications, 2016, p. 69
In my whole life, I’ve spotted half a dozen of these startlingly large and beautiful woodpeckers – most of the sightings while hiking on wooded mountain trails. Yet, on a typical morning’s walk, in downtown Manchester Center, in the valley between the Green and Taconic mountain ranges, one appears right above my head.
After a few seconds, with a flash of feathers, this amazing moment passed – being in the right place at the right time is no guarantee of an extended visitation. But the moment was long enough for me to see where I was for what it was: a valley of love and delight.
I suspect that if I paid attention, every day would hold a right place/right time experience. Where and when else would such experiences be?
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free,
’tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
’twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain’d, to bow and to bend we will not be asham’d,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
’til by turning, turning we come round right.
Simple Gifts, traditional Shaker hymn by Joseph Brackett
I know I’m where I ought to be, on the road that brings me home, but I can’t see past the rise. Whatever is beyond it is hidden, including home. All I can do is keep walking up the road.
The road and the rise – it’s as good an image for the spiritual life as any.
[To hear Simple Gifts, scroll back to the previous two posts.]
Tis the gift to be simple, tis the gift to be free…
I am free to walk with my face and hair visible – and without an escort. I am free to wear a hijab. I can commune with God and neighbor in a temple, synagogue, mosque, meeting house, or church; I can choose not to worship God. I can drive across the country without documentation beyond a valid license and car registration. I can run for political office. I can vote. All these things are available because I live in a place that offers civil liberties as part of the rule of law. This kind of freedom, this freedom from soul diminishing restrictions, is a rare gift that is too often under-valued or not valued at all by the ones who receive it. It’s in its absence that freedom is seen for its true worth.
There’s another aspect to freedom: what I’m supposed to do with it. Freedom from various things is in the news all the time, but freedom for acting in ways that show love for God, self, and neighbor rarely gets air time. How I use my freedom reveals how I honor the gift that it is.
I doubt there’s a better time to assess just how well I’m doing with my freedom than right now.
Tis the gift to be simple, tis the gift to be free, tis the gift to come down where we ought to be
And when we find ourselves in the place just right, ’twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain’d, to bow and to bend we shall not be asham’d,
To turn, turn will be our delight, ’til by turning, turning we come round right.
Traditional Shaker Hymn, Joseph Brackett, Jr.
Right thought.
Do no harm.
Right Action.
Tell the truth.
Clean up after yourself.
Take care of God’s creation.
The basics of a good life are not particularly complex. Jesus put it this way: Love God, Love Neighbor, Love Self. That’s it: six words that open the door to a beautiful, holy life. Why do we do our best to make it more complex, adding unnecessary and often harmful additions and provisos? If I had to guess, I’d stake my money on another basic truth:
What’s the difference between a want and a need? What is necessary for a life well lived and loved? This question is all wrapped up in a request for daily bread – not daily five course dinner in a mansion, but what is necessary to sustain life and a roof over my head.
This is playing out in a larger sense at the moment, as I decide what to bring to a new (and temporary) home and what to leave behind. I want to bring what will make a fruitful, faithful life possible; I want to leave behind what distracts and hampers that life. I don’t want to waste this opportunity to let go of what is unnecessary and what doesn’t really matter.
Lord, help me discern what daily bread is, and what it is not. And help me pack accordingly. Amen
[For more on this, click Noonday Prayer Service above.]
Wealth offers the appearance of a self-chosen reality. Poor people can be avoided by living in a wealthy neighborhood; we can buy security systems to keep us safe from theft and violence. We can pretend that nothing bad will happen to us because bad things are only supposed to happen to them. But what happens to the larger society happens to everyone within it, even the financially well-insulated. Amos brings a word of judgement -wealth is not a get out of societal ills and community hardship card:
Alas for those who are at ease in Zion, and for those who feel secure on Mount Samaria…for those who lie on beds of ivory, and lounge on their couches…who drink wine from bowls, and anoint themselves with the finest oils, but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph! Amos 6:1a, 4, 5b, NRSV
But the truth insists on breaking in, seeping in through the cracks. True joy and strength are from God, freely given to everyone. They cannot be bought, but they only grow when shared. They connect everyone and everything – for everyone and everything receive life from God. We hole up in our bunkers, we wall ourselves off from our neighbors, at the expense of life itself. Once we figure out that huge truth, those pesky neighbors and the noisy surrounding community are known for what they truly are: blessings. But it takes some trust and some clarity to get to that point – which is what Isaiah is offering:
Surely God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid; for the Lord God is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation. With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. And you will say in that day: ‘Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name, make known his deeds among the nations; proclaim that his name is exalted.’
Sing praises to the Lord, for he has done gloriously; let this be known in all the earth. Shout aloud and sing for joy, O royal Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel. Isaiah 12:2-6, NRSV
Wealth doesn’t bring security or peace – only God can offer that. Wealth just allows us to build a luxury cell to serve out our self-chosen solitary confinement. But is that what we really want to do?
What was good? What was hard? Where did you see God?
They come a bit early to Sunday school, and help me set up the day’s activities while their mother leads the choir. They keep me informed about all the latest happenings in their lives, and on the new toys and books that I’m too old to know about. And they draw. This Sunday, they drew me.
(By Henry Tyler)(By Addy Tyler)
The artistry, and the effort that it took, are wonderful answers to what was good?
The artists, Addy and Henry, are wonderful answers to another of the questions: where did you see God?
Last week, a storm blew in, stayed long enough to down trees and power lines, then headed out. Already high water levels went even higher. A few inches of water and two and a half days without power were the results. The lights and heat returning were among the answers to “what was good” in the storm’s aftermath.
My answer before the storm centered on appreciation for the time to get things buttoned up before the 70+ mile an hour winds arrived – putting away things that might be damaged/do damage if left out, getting the cars off the road, and getting ahead on laundry and baking (just in case.).
The before and after aren’t much of a surprise, are they? But the “what was good” during might be. I was so grateful for the time without power. Life took on a rhythm based on sun and light; appliances and electronics were no longer vying for attention. I woke up well rested, refreshed.
I wouldn’t want to live without electricity as a permanent thing, but for a couple of days in warm enough weather it was blessing more than burden.
What was good? What was hard? Where did you see God?
