A homeless man rouses himself from his
cardboard box on Manhattan’s lower East Side to the sounds of dockworkers
slinging fish off the early morning catch. Early rising ensures good
eating. He rummages through the dumpsters
behind the tourist restaurants. Left
over garlic bread. Some pasta. Even cheesecake. The bottles and cans he stuffs into his shopping
cart for some cash later. The sun is
just breaking through the fog and he sees a lottery ticket flash in the
sun. He picks it up and stuffs into his
pocket. Its past noon when he remembers
the lottery ticket and holds it up to the lotto numbers in the paper he
found. The first number matches, then
the second, the third, can this be happening, the fourth and, could it be, the
fifth, all match! His eyesight isn’t so
good and he wants to be sure. Things
like this don’t happen to him. But it is
a winner. $20, $50 who knows? He finds a store to cash it.
Later that day he is squinting into the
bright lights of the New York stations, this newest of media darlings will now
receive $243,000 a year for the next
twenty years. A chic looking woman in a
leather mini-skirt shoves a microphone into his face “How do you feel?” she
asks. He stares back, dazed, she smells
nice. It had been a very long time since
anyone had asked him that question. A
very long time indeed. (Adapted from What’s
so Amazing About Grace? By Phillip Yancy, 1996)
When I first heard this story from the
Christian author Phillip Yancy I recalled smirking a bit. How nice, how Hollywood, how wonderful for
this guy, he certainly deserved it. But
the poignancy of the story hit home a little deeper when I found out that this
man, suffering from paranoid schizophrenia and the aftermath of the Vietnam
War, actually used most his money to help fund the Coalition for the Homeless
in New York. Finding the ticket was gift, using the money to save the world was
miraculous.
I write often about grace, the
unexpected gifts of life that seem to beckons us on to daring rectitude. I named my blog facing grace, as well as my
upcoming title; because I believe we need to stop excusing this good fortune as
good luck, accept it as an unbidden call for a new presence in our life. People
who use their wealth or good fortune to make the lives of others better are
called by a more cynical world as foolish.
Generosity is so often mistaken for careless wealth. And while it is true that some will take
advantage of that generosity, far more benefit from it than we realize.
We pass by the festivals of light, Christmas,
Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Solstice. This is a time of the year that brings out the
best and the worst, the hope and the despair. I have heard from many about the
despair they are feeling in this season in particular, with the state of the
world, our country, our worries for the planet, those at risk, even how we will
be able to talk to each other over economic and racial divides. There is a lot
of despair out here… and a lot of hope. My message is to realize the
gift of being present in that hope. Because regardless of how we worry, none of
that worry is going to change the world. What will change the world is being
able first to find comfort in our families, our friends, this congregation and
then to respond with compassion to those who are suffering now and in the
future. In other words, there is a gift in being present, especially now when
are days seem so dark; to be present in the light, and to act with compassion
out of that presence. Yes, the world is in bad shape, but it does us no good to
see ourselves at the mercy of forces beyond our control. We must start with
where we are, now, here in this moment.
On a street corner in New York city a
wild eyed man with the look of desperation is carrying a sign up and down Fifth
Avenue which reads “Repent, Jesus is
coming, the End is Near”. People walk
around him and gaze uncomfortably
perhaps thinking about the state of their own immortal souls. Then on the opposite side of the street is a
small Buddhist Monk smiling with another sign “Be Happy Now. Buddha already here.”
I commend to you this teaching. Buddha
already here. Part of my own spiritual practice is a deep meditation on loving
kindness. After ten minutes of breathing I repeat silently “May peace come to
the ones I love, may peace come to the ones I know, may peace come to those I
have met briefly, may peace come to those I consider my enemies.” And then I
breath in and out and repeat the mantra again. That is the gift of presence I
bring to myself.
The fact is we do everything but live in
the moment. Anxiety and fear about the past and the future is the very nature
of the suffering that makes us human.
What would it be like if we could remember to simply live here in the
now?
People live as if the present moment as
if it were a problem, an obstacle that
people actively live disliking the present moment. I can understand that if you are in pain, but
not in the imagination of pain. Some
people actively live disliking the “isness” of the present moment and that is
their habitual state of consciousness.
When you realize that the now is all there is – your entire life
consists of the now – any emotion you feel, every experience you have happens
in the now. And yet we seem to spend our
entire lives living in anything but the now.
The now is some abstract thing to most of us, when in fact it is the
only reality we really have.
That is the gift of presence. The
comfort of knowing that at this moment, I am here, I am warm even while I am
fill in the blank…nervous, happy, sad, you name it. And then with that presence
opening your heart up to accepting that and moving on. I think we get caught up
in the “what ifs”. What if I can’t pay my bills? What if my kids need extra
care? What if minorities are put in even more danger? What if I die? (well,
yes, you will die but probably not today). Holding as much of the present as
possible will help you deal with the future. Keep that in mind as we go through
these days of advent in preparation for the light to come.
Two weeks ago I had the honor of moderating a panel of local leaders in Norwalk on the issue of white privilege sponsored by the NAACP and the Norwalk City Human Relations Commission. The panel included a white Quaker, an African American Pastor, our own Bob Welsh, and three youth of color from a local high school. I asked them some leading questions about race and privilege and the conversation deepened at times feeling uncomfortable for the panelists and the audience. When I took questions and comments from the floor, that feeling of uneasiness deepened more. Anger and pain from some at being shut out of their rights and questions of power and privilege swirled around the room. It was challenging for many of us who were there to hear that pain. It was a challenge to manage it, I can tell you. But as I was moderating this I remembered my practice to be present with what was happening. To not take it personally or to shut these emotions down. There was a deeper truth, a gift of being heard that was before us all.
That night after I went home, I remember
telling Francis how exhausting that was. And she, in her usual wisdom, said
“but for you, that exhaustion will pass, for many of those folks, that struggle
goes on every day. We did more to open up the flood gates of despair then we
may know.” She was right of course, that evening was a gift of presence. Amidst
the struggle and the hurt there were moments of deep humanity. I felt it and
others did as well.
Your entire life consists of the present
moment, there never has been anything but now.
We spend almost all of our time thinking, worrying, reliving the past or
worrying, imagining and fearing the future.
But the future never arrives as the future, it only arrives in the now,
the present moment.
The other day I found myself thinking
about Robin Williams who won an Oscar for his part in Good Will Hunting
portraying a psychologist counseling a brilliant but troubled young man while
himself deeply grieving the loss of his wife and his very state of being. Ironically, Williams believe until late in
his life to live in the now. He began
his career doing improv and
standup. That is living in the now. As Robin Williams once said “The tragedy of
life is not death but what dies inside us while we live”. Mr. Williams’ failing, his dying inside, was
to imagine his future as a has been. Not
living in the present of his adoring fans and his warmth but the past of
success measured against the failure of his ailing body and career. Yes, he had depression. Lots of people do. But he also had Lewy body disease which mimics
Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s. The fear of his future became his present. But its
only when you fail to recognize the gifts of the present that you lose your
orientation.
So, as you go about your days ahead, consider another kind of gift this holiday season. Consider the
gift of your undivided presence to the ones you love or even to yourself.
And there is the irony isn’t it? The only experience that really counts is the
now. The rest is all in our heads, a
drug far worse than reality.
As John Pine sang it:
Blow up your TV. Throw away your paper,
move to the country, find a little home.
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of
peaches, Try to find Jesus, all on your own. Or as my teacher Bo Lozoff once
wrote me, “Human Life is Very Deep, Our
Dominant Lifestyle is not.”
With Grace and Grit, John
