Silent Cheer

Cars were lined up for miles, others pulled onto the median and on the sidewalks lining the route of the Tibetan monks. It was a scene unlike any I’ve ever seen. Thousands of people gathering in frigid temperature to see these pilgrims on their way to Washington. Then came the greatest surprise: silence. Despite the countless people lining their route, it was quiet - like a cathedral, temple, or other sacred space. (Yes, some felt the need to speak to friends on their phones (on speaker mode) but they were the exception.)

I walked alongside the monks and tried to make sense of all that was going on. I thought about their decision to make such a journey, thought about the overwhelming response, and I listened to the silence. Like a good book, movie or sermon, I’ve been thinking about the experience ever since.

The size of the crowd revealed how starving people are. For what, I am not sure. The monks were walking for peace, so maybe it’s peace they’re hungry for.

The monks were just a bunch of guys walking a really long way with nothing but their shoes and clothes. Maybe people came to witness and celebrate such simplicity, or maybe they came to honor their faith.

I’m not sure what they plan to do when they reach our nation’s capital, but maybe the journey is as much a statement as what will be said or done when they arrive. Maybe people came to support the monks’ wisdom in knowing a long walk might speak to someone, might turn a heart or two in a new direction.

But it was the silence that said the most. In a world where those who lead seem to only shout, they didn’t speak. In a world where we are told to run, they walked. In a world of possessions, they carried nothing. In a world of division, they brought people together, if only for a brief moment.

The cynic in me thinks such a walk is not enough to change the world, but maybe it is. At least they’re doing something, I said to myself, and that gave me hope. In fact, I think it gave a lot of people hope. So much so, we wanted to stand and cheer, but silence was a better way to cheer.

Diving In

As a woman spoke of the dark patch of life she was walking through, as she described the way she was spiraling through all the things wrong in her life, I thought of the wonderful, pivotal scene in Frank Capra’s film It’s a Wonderful Life when George Baily is leaning over the railing of the bridge, overwhelmed with his troubles, and asking God for help. For those familiar with the movie, you know Clarence (the angel) then falls into the fridged water below taking George from his overwhelming problems to helping the man below. The scene taught me that the best way to rise from my problems is to think about someone else.

I can host a pity party better than Martha Stewart can host a dinner. I can invite every single woe and set the table for a long and sumptuous evening of despair. On some sick level my soul likes it. My guilt and shame love company, and yet I’ve come to know how dangerous it can be.

I remember a time, however, when I was struggling mightily and came across someone whose problems made mine pale in comparison. Like a switch, my concern for him caused me to awaken and focus not on me and my problems but him and his. Changing my focus and doing what I could to sit beside him changed me in profound and life-giving ways. Like George, I forgot my problems and dove into the water.

As we begin a new year, may we all look beyond ourselves and see those around us who are struggling. May we be lifted from the dangers of thinking only of ourselves and dive into the water below where others could really use our help.

Something tells me, it will save us both.

Packed Bags

Her bags were packed.

A new adventure awaited this world traveler. She was ready to go. That is, until her doctor told her she had stage 4 cancer. Within weeks, she was gone. Hauntingly, I was sitting in the church waiting for her funeral to begin on the day she had been scheduled to set sail. I couldn’t help but think she still set sail but this time on a voyage unlike any other - the one each of us will eventually make.

It’s one thing to say we’ll sail beyond the horizons of our lives, and another to live our lives grounded in that truth. We don’t live with our bags packed. We say unnecessary things and don’t say the things that matter. We spend our time and attention on things that will never fit in our bags, things that we’ll need to leave behind. As a famous pastor puts it, our lives are “temporary assignments,” and to see them as such changes our aspirations, relationships, and purposes.

I’ve reached the stage of life when there are more days behind me than ahead. Like my friend, I know there’s a great journey ahead. Remembering that, living in and through that, is bound to change the way I make my way through this temporary journey. The image of my friend’s bags packed sitting by the door is all the inspiration I need for a new year.

She was ready. I want to be ready. I have whatever time left to pack my spiritual bags. I need to prepare to go from one voyage to another, one adventure to another, one life to another.