Meekness

I once tried out one of my Dad's ideas on a Christian I respected, suggesting degrees of helpfulness described actions better than "good" or "bad". I was firmly put in my place and told the Bible was very clear that actions were either good or evil. Ok, wanting clarity is good; but at the expense of truth?

The world is as it is, regardless of how we view it. I have shared accommodation with bishops and beggars; been bullied and beaten, robbed and ridiculed. But among the many thousands of people I have known, I have never come across one that wasn't doing what they thought was best at the time. (Admittedly, sometimes it was only their best that was considered. And often their actions hurt others. But even when this was known it was not as real to them as the benefits they imagined.) The idea that there are "evil" people out there whose sole purpose in life is to harm us simply doesn't square with the facts.

My Dad used to talk in terms of circles: our horizons for care and action. The circle in the middle holds me, myself and I. Around it are the people close to us, either through daily contact, blood or relationships. Then there are those we live amongst; the people "like us" who live "around here", but we don't actually know. Further out are our city/county, country, race and so forth.

People like Nelson Mandela or Mahatma Gandhi work within wide horizons, but it is more usual for our care to not extend much beyond our families. The scandal of politicians or religious figures having extra-marital affairs is said to be because they have been caught lying. That may be true. However, I think the problem is their apparent care has been revealed as fake. They try to act in a wide arena, but if their circle of care doesn't even include their own partner, how can it extend to us?

Acting with Care

So what is "care"? It can masquerade as being interested, but that's just nosiness. It sometimes knows best how someone else should live, but that's just arrogance. Even worrying about people can be manipulativeness if you let them know. However, true care is known by its fruit. It produces possibilities, not constraints. It encourages growth, not compliance. It gives opportunity and freedom rather than proclaiming some moral code, even "for their own good".

Care always seeks the best for the other whatever it may cost. It cannot help but accept the other, yet it is more than simply unconditional positive regard. Care implies an embracing, an involvement where the other is granted power over us because what they do matters. It implies attention. For example, a home that is "cared for" has had time and work willingly spent on it. So with people.

Authentic care can be thought of as the eyes of the soul. Just as we need vision to move safely in the world, we need the sensitivity that caring brings when acting among people. Of course, our care is often patchy. We can do things with good intentions that turn out to be unwelcome. But those on the receiving end can easily tell whether the care is genuine, and such mistakes are not hard to forgive.

On the other hand, acting outside our horizon of care, we are like a monster truck oblivious of the traffic: an accident waiting to happen. Some personal motivation, unrelated to our field of activity, drives us on. Powerful actions have powerful consequences and care-less actions are almost certain to cause trouble.

Sure, the results can be good. But even the good is meager, minimal and mechanistic compared with the abundance born of care. It is like comparing the effectiveness of well-meaning bureaucracy with the natural ability of love to heal, grow and bring joy. Years ago there was a saying, "If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." We are part of the solution when working within our ability to care. Work outside our ability to care and we are part of the problem.

Yachts and Motor-boats

Dynamic people are respected. There is pressure on us to be doing, and to be doing good. Also, we see problems all the time and are tempted to rush in and fix them. Where those actions are guided by genuine care, we may make small mistakes but the main things generally work out well. However, where such care is not the guiding principle, the action still has a motivating force. It has a direction and power that is very likely to cut across the needs of others because it simply doesn't see them.

Good action is like a sailing boat: it get where it is going by co-operating with the wind and waves, accepting there are some directions it cannot take. In contrast, a motor boat forces its way straight there, powering through whatever seas are in its path.

We need sensitivity to recognise the limits inherent in co-operation, and grace to submit to them. The "motor-boat" approach has neither, so it cannot tell when action is ok and when it is not. The co-operative "sailing boat" way is not only safer, it is sustainable. Just as motor-boats need fuel, proactive behaviour requires an external source of power, too.

Its not that "motor boat" action is inherently bad, just that it provides the opportunity for badness, along with temptation to use short cuts with questionable merit. When, in the Lord's prayer, we say "Lead us not into temptation" we are asking for the "sailing-boat" rather than the "motor-boat" way.

Meekness

If this concentric circles idea is right, there are two sources of trouble. The first is that all horizons are necessarily limited. The second is that bad things happen when we act outside our horizon of care.

The ripple effect of actions in a complex world means wrong-doing is inescapable. We stand at a specific point within the social landscape, with an horizon beyond which we cannot act and another beyond which we cannot see. No matter how high a position we choose, there will always be issues we cannot perceive and actions beyond our ability.

One consequence is that it is best to maintain an humble attitude, keeping in mind that others around us may be able to see or reach further. Thomas Merton defined humility as being content to eat ordinary sliced white bread from the supermarket, just like everybody else. This acceptance that we are nothing special might be seen as an acceptance of both our horizon of care, and its limitedness.

The answer to the second source of trouble is meekness. Humility and meekness are often confused. Where humility relates to perception, meekness concerns how we behave. It involves accepting our horizon of action and its limitedness. As we have seen, confining our actions within our horizon of care is a good thing. This is meekness.

Avoiding the temptation to "make our mark in the world" is possibly one of the most powerful decisions we can make. In willingly limiting our sphere of activity to those who already know us, we are already co-operating, acting the "sailing-boat" way. The "motor-boat" way of forthright action is self-destructive, so ultimately can have no future. Only the "sailing-boat" way is sustainable enough to win in the end. Jesus put it like this:

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
    for they will inherit the earth.

The Fruit Tree

(Dedicated to my father, Peter Willmot. He told us part of this story when we were small, although he never saw how it turned out in the end. Despite knowing what is written here, he allowed us to endure that mandatory inoculation against Christianity known as Sunday School.)

Jesus said, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. I tell you the truth, unless an ear of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds."

John 12:23,24 (NIV)

Many of the trees in the orchard bore good fruit, but one was especially fine. The rest merely fed on the soil's nutrients, but this tree absorbed all the dross and waste and rubbish that lay on the earth; transforming it into the most fabulously scented, lucious fruit imaginable. As well as being good to eat, the fruit seemed to have healing, life-giving properties.

Word spread and the orchard people worried so many visitors might damage their tree. Wanting to share their blessing (but seeing "a little regulation was needed here") guardians were comissioned to ensure the tree continued bearing fruit. They agreed the best way to protect the tree and honour its specialness was to build a walled garden around it.

Time passed and the tree continued to bear fruit. Some noticed the fruit were smaller than they remembered. Others thought their fathers might have exaggerated when describing the scent. Its fruit had been rationed for a long time, so it was already a commonplace that no-one could actually live on it like the stories claimed. But one thing they did comment on: while other trees in the orchard grew old and died, this one merely grew tougher.

To help new generations of Guardians, the Lore of the Tree was Written. Each generation of pilgrims came and gazed upon The Tree. "Eating from the Tree" was now a sacred ritual. The Guardians did their best to ferilise the garden and feed the tree, but it was not enough. Each century the tree looked a little more bowed, knarled and lifeless. Each crop tending to be a little smaller, a little paler than before.

Meanwhile the land was prospering. Businesses were thriving and the people were healthier and wealthier than ever. Children who once might have looked in wonder at the lucious fruit, now passed it by, favouring brighter attractions. The Guardians blamed "progress" for leading the children astray. But the walled garden was, in fact, shabby and old; the tree was struggling and the fruit nothing to write home about.

Something had to be done. The tree was once a fresh, lively green. So the Guardians painted it a fresh, lively green colour. They researched stories of the Early Fruit and hung pictures of fruit in the branches. This attracted some interest and the Guardians recognised that the "party buzz" was good — the community echoed something of the Old Tree As It Once Was, so they encouraged lively meetings and mutual support. Things were looking up.

But inevitably, the children growing up in this new-born community wanted to taste the fruit for themselves. And of course they were not fooled. Their parents might have their vision clouded by dreamy memories, but they saw quite clearly that this decrepid, half-starved fruit tree was worse than the other trees, not better. They tasted the fruit and it was dry, not life-giving. The branches were so brittle they needed propping up. The bark required continual protection from insects that knew this tree had had its day. And trained eyes were needed to make out tiny fruit, only fit for "ceremonial eating" now.

The Guardians were perplexed. For centuries they had never failed to keep the soil around the Tree pure. They had been diligent in protecting it from all the dross, waste and rubbish that lay on the earth outside the walled garden. With their children turning their back on The Tree, the Guardians' job was clearly now only hospice care. It was just a matter of time. Eventually there were only two Guardians left and they agreed on a fitting end. With care, they uprooted the tree and buried it near the rubbish heap at the back of the orchard where few people ever went. They covered it with earth, said a few words, and laid it to rest.

That winter there was no Tree, but there was no-one to miss it either. As spring came, life went on as it always did. Children were born as the elderly passed away, and businesses thrived amidst the usual troubles. Some got sick, others were poor, but the indomitable spirit of the people meant they largely overcame their trials; as they had been doing for centuries. Near the rubbish heap, where the old tree's roots were buried, the ground was full of all the dross and waste and the rubbish that lay on the earth. Nobody recognised the shoots that first appeared, but they were the brightest, gentle green.

Acceptance

The Parable of the Cyclist is about enlightenment. I don't care for that term; like being "born again", abuse has obscured the meaning it was intended to have. One of the reasons for these difficulties is that the transcendence they are pointing to is beyond language of any kind; like trying to express the scent of a flower using pen and ink.

The most explicit description I've ever come across is Martin Heidegger's analysis of Being and Time. To achieve that precision he needed to more or less invent his own language. Very good for those of us who can grasp hermeneutic phenomenology, but (as Jesus knew) most of us get more out of stories.

Us and Them

At a forum of onlineClarity.co.uk there has recently been an interesting discussion about New Age shops. As often happens, the discussion polarised according to those who were sympathetic to new agers and those who were not. That is, those who had approached to topic by feeling from the inside (the "us" view) versus those who were treating the topic with rational objectivity (it was about "them").

The tendency for this distinction to become a division is understandable. Knowing who are like us and those who are not (them) avoids misunderstandings. It is the good work of our protector mind (ego) keeping us from disillusionment and pain. After all, expecting people who are not like us to behave as if they are, can only lead to disappointment, right? It is the first step down the slippery slope toward being a cynical old fart.

Well that's true, if the ego is all we have. The "everyone is us" view is only possible when we are in contact, at least partly, with the universal mind (spirit); the source of power to forgive without limit, to tolerate abuse without retaliation, and the endless outpouring of healing that can restore damaged or hopeless situations.

So do we have to reject rational thinkers that divide the world into us and them? NO! Eckhart Tolle points out that the only way to maintain contact with spirit is for there to be no blocks. These express themselves emotionally as resentment, intellectually as judgement. So rejecting those who divide the world (unlike us?) is the surest way to lose any maturity we have. Does that mean we have to tolerate the imprecision of fuzzy thinking or people who cause trouble through poor judgement? NO! "Toleration" is merely the polite disguise of resentment. We have to embrace them with enthusiasm and accept them with love, just as we love and accept ourselves!

Disgusted? The Parable of the Cyclist was for you. Read it again. The stabilizers are the constructs/understandings our ego mind makes as we "make sense" things.

Making Sense

There are two places where the boy is without stabilisers: before he is able to ride, and after he has learned to ride skilfully. The thoughts we have about things are scaffolding our ego mind uses to support us -- to help us live. But these are no more than crutches, helping us through the transition time between birth and maturity. They are part of our growing up, but we are supposed to grow out of the habit of trying to "make sense" of things. (If you know the Tarot, look at where the Swords end up.)

Those of us who are good at "making sense" of the world don't like that very much, hence Avoiding Bethel. Even though the gateway is open and stepping into it is simple, we prefer the "riches" we have, even though in real terms that choice keeps us poor. Our ego mind shies away from the simplicity of the present moment. For we can only simply be by laying down our precious understanding.

Does this mean we have to abandon rationality? Only if that is where you live; if it is important to you, your "riches". Like the stabilisers, if you are depending on them, they are getting in the way, preventing you from learning how to live. For the only way we can live is in the present moment, and thoughts are at best no more than constructions about it.

It is like looking at a window; the ego (protector mind) looks at the pane of glass where our spirit (universal mind) looks through it. Looking beyond doesn't mean we no longer distinguish things or lose our powers of reasoning. We can still understand what is and think concerning what we see there. But the discernment loses the edge given it by our protector mind; there is no longer the need to judge what is good (us) and what is not (them).

The same acceptance that enables us to abide in the present moment dissolves ego centred distinctions. We no longer need the "sense" we made that propped us up. We realise that life is actually more fluid (and more fun) without over thinking things. And we are happy to let our stabilisers go.