When the Gentleness Between You Hardens
When no true word can be said, or heard,
And you mirror each other in the script of hurt,
When even the silence has become raw and torn,
May you hear again an echo of your first music.
-John O’Donohue
When I relayed my latest fantastic sports metaphor to my spouse, he said, “Karyn. This has gone too far! You’ve got to be stopped.” I took this as a grand compliment.
Last week we joyfully cheered a pre-season game between the Portland Trailblazers and the Ratiopharm Ulm. In my understanding, this had everything to do with obtaining more sports metaphor fodder and less to do with Paul’s intense excitement that a German Bundesliga team would very randomly compete in our city for a pre-season game with $1 tickets (+fees).
I came away from the game with some good snacks, a new Portland t-shirt, and having cheered for both teams, but with no new metaphors in tow.
Thus, you all get a break this week (but only this week).
However, instead of the lighthearted competition of a sport, the topic weighing on many of our minds is the far more serious matter of the election.
Many in Oregon and Washington received their mail-in ballots this week. Combing through candidates and ballot measures is both an exciting reminder of the empowering way that each of our voices makes an impact in our community, and also can be quite anxiety-inducing.
As we near Election Day, it feels like we are bracing for impact (no matter what we expect the outcome of the Presidential election to be). Heads down, hands around our necks, chest to our knees: bracing for disappointment, bracing for violence, bracing for a sort of political uncertainty that is not new to the world but that does not feel like it belongs here.
Just as it would be if our whole nation were jumbled together on the same flight, bracing, we are in this together. We cannot look at any celebration or any disaster on the horizon and think, “Well, that doesn’t affect this part of the plane.” The front of the plane can’t fly without the back; the cockpit cannot operate without its engines; you need both the beverage service and the lavatory.
Some days, this is as heartening as it is terrifying. It is terrifying to hear and receive words that, as John O’Donohue writes, “mirror the script of hurt,” and to know that they are on the plane with us for the whole dang flight. And, it is so very heartening to know that this journey we are on, this anxiety, this bracing, this drive to stand for justice, this yearning for the world to know peace, this call to compassion, this too is something that we share. In these things, our voices are not alone.
We don’t know what will happen on November 5th, or the confusing week that will follow, or the time between Election Night and the Inauguration. What we do know is that whatever takes place, we must draw our circle wider now. Now (as it has long been) is the time to build bridges, to make connections, to demonstrate care and garner trust. We will need the strong bonds of compassion when turbulence hits.
What will not happen after the election is a retreat into our turtle shells. Our witness is too important for that. And again, that’s not how a shared plane ride works: putting on your eye mask and headphones doesn’t change the trajectory of the plane you’re on!
Instead, we’ll continue to find our people. Not just the people who think or operate exactly like you or I, but the amazing number of people who are willing to stand for justice, who yearn for peace, who are called to compassion.
In times of discord, our “we” cannot get smaller. Our “we” must only get bigger, to include more people who are committed to supporting the humanity and dignity of their neighbor. This does not negate our differences or mean that we can’t loudly proclaim what we believe; this simply means that when we do so, it must be in a way that builds bridges, makes connections, and empowers more voices to be heard.
I was recently gifted John O’Donohue’s lovely book, To Bless the Space Between Us. I hadn’t been able to locate my copy since the move. The book could not come at a better time.
Early in the book he writes a blessing “For Love in a Time of Conflict” :
When the gentleness between you hardens
And you fall out of your belonging with each other,
May the depths you have reached hold you still.
When no true word can be said, or heard,
And you mirror each other in the script of hurt,
When even the silence has become raw and torn,
May you hear again an echo of your first music.
When the weave of affection starts to unravel
And anger begins to sear the ground between you,
Before this weather of grief invites
The black seed of bitterness to find root,
May your souls come to kiss.
Now is the time for one of you to be gracious,
To allow a kindness beyond thought and hurt,
Reach out with sure hands
To take the chalice of your love,
And carry it carefully through this echoless waste
Until this winter pilgrimage leads you
Toward the gateway to spring.
May it be so, my friends.
Love,
Pastor Karyn
