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Ascending To Love In Spite Of Myself
By gartenfische | March 27, 2008
In the book Silence by Shusaku Endo, there is an unlikeable, quivering character—a cowardly fellow—who keeps asking, Is it fair that I was born weak and not strong? Is it fair to judge me harshly when I can’t help who I am?
While he was an entirely distasteful character, I could not help empathizing with him. Could he help it?
Can I help my character defects?
In Ascent to Love, Ruth Burrows assures us that “natural weakness and defect of temperament” are “no obstacle to union with God.” If they were, God would be unjust—and we know that God is not unjust. But until I read Silence and Ascent to Love, I hadn’t consciously considered the matter. In fact, I harbored a subconscious notion otherwise, evidenced by the fact that when I read her words, I felt a wash of relief. Thank God. How we torture ourselves sometimes over things we can’t help. Note to self: Trust more! Worry less.
And: If God does not reject us for these defects, how dare we reject one another? It becomes clear, yet again, that judging others is a sin. How do we know what they can help, and what they cannot help? Why do we ever think we can decide?
And then I found this at Mike’s blog:
When we dismiss people out of hand because of their apparent woundedness, we stunt their lives by ignoring their gifts, which are often buried in their wounds.
We all are bruised reeds, whether our bruises are visible or not. The compassionate life is the life in which we believe that strength is hidden in weakness and that true community is a fellowship of the weak.
-Henri Nouwen
What a treasure Henri Nouwen was (and is). Our gifts are often buried in our wounds! Yes. For instance, my particular woundedness has often led to over-sensitivity, but I also know that this means I relate more readily to others’ suffering than I may have otherwise. Because of how I have been wounded, it is important to me to be careful in my speech and actions.
And judging. Judging others harshly is not an innate behavior, it is learned. I thought I was not a very judgmental person. Honestly, compared to most of my family, I am not. But I am not to compare myself to my family, but to how I ought to be. (And yes, the statement about my family is yet another judgment.) God has been showing me how critical I really am. These are the insights that John of the Cross says are great gifts to us from God, and they are the ones I don’t like to see but know I must. It seems the ugly stains must be brought into the light before they can be washed away.
Ruth Burrows writes: “Our neighbour’s character, affairs, behaviour are not proper subjects for our diversion and amusement. People who want to live for God must not entertain themselves maliciously with the lives of others.” Sometimes we are not entertaining ourselves, or so we think, we are simply observing and remarking on reality. Supposedly. But, as Burrows observes, “Such inner, let alone articulated, gossip is never without some malice and it derives from wanting the exaltation of our own ego.” Mmm hmm.
Here is a powerful and eye-opening prayer I learned from Jan. When I find myself judging someone, I pray, Bless him, oh God, and change me. Eye-opening because I end up praying it far more often than I expected. My heart desperately needs cleansing.
As Jesus said: In everything, do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets. (Mt 7:12)
Jan posted a beautiful list of Golden Rule sayings from the world’s religions. These include:
From Judaism
What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbour. This is the whole Torah; all the rest is commentary.
(Hillel, Talmud, Shabbat 31a)
From Hinduism
This is the sum of duty: do not do to others what would cause pain if done to you.
(Mahabharata 5:1517)
From Buddhism
Treat not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.
(Udana-Varga 5.18)
See the entire list, it is beautiful and profound.
Topics: God, Christianity |
March 27th, 2008 at 4:59 pm
You know I really loved both the blog posts at Jan’s and at Mike’s that you refer to.
This is so wise and so deep. I am very judgmental, although I like to think of myself as otherwise.
It is to catch myself and then just- stop. Not judge another and also not judge myself for the judgment.
Detachment does not come easily to me.
Thank you Gartenfische!
March 28th, 2008 at 8:45 am
Fran, Thank you for a thoughtful comment, as always. Yes, it is very difficult to detach, especially when we’re already hooked (to use a Pema Chodron term). I do find that the mental training that comes from daily meditation practice, though, helps with that a lot—because it trains the mind to detach from a thought and return to the breath (or a word—whatever). The practice of letting go again and again does impact my ability to let go during daily life. Not that it’s become easy! Far from it.
March 29th, 2008 at 12:55 pm
So few people that I know have ever read “Silence.” I read it about ten years ago and found it so profound and disturbing that I haven’t read it again. This may get me to!
“Bless them, change me” has been a transformational prayer in my life, even though it is often hard to even utter.
Thank you, dear one.
March 30th, 2008 at 12:23 pm
Jan, I read it because you mentioned it!
And thank YOU, you help me in so many ways. Much love.
March 31st, 2008 at 8:25 am
“When we dismiss people out of hand because of their apparent woundedness, we stunt their lives by ignoring their gifts, which are often buried in their wounds.”
I love this quote. It reminds me of the story of how when Sharon Salzberg was told to teach, she was surprised — because she was afraid she wouldn’t be a good teacher. But her teacher told her she will be a good teacher — because she has known loss. Her wounds offer her that great and wonderful gift of empathy with someone else’s pain.
Our wounds are often where our greatest gifts are hidden. Thank you for posting this.
March 31st, 2008 at 12:50 pm
D.O., Thank you for your insightful comment. I remember reading that Salzberg story—how I love her!
Sometimes, we would like to be rid of all our wounds, to have not suffered at all, but then we would not be whole, and we would not have these gifts that have grown out of our wounds.