Whites of our eyes.

“Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes, “ the American commander William Prescott shouted at Bunker Hill, reminding his troops to wait until the enemy was close enough to ensure a good chance of hitting their targets.

From the other side of the quotation, it spoke of the fact that, at some point, the enemy would need to rise and climb the hill. Despite their fears, they would need to draw close and engage with the enemy, so close others could see the whites of their eyes.

Although the moment is tucked safely away in history, I wonder when the last time something, or someone, saw the whites of our eyes? No, we are not down behind barricades at Bunker Hill. No, we are not being called to rise above our fears and climb that famous hill, nor face colonial enemies. We are not being asked to let them see the whites of our eyes, but, then again, maybe that’s exactly what we are being called to do daily.

In my own reflection, I can see countless examples of times when I’ve stayed huddled behind various kinds of barricades. Knowing there was a cause or purpose for which I needed to fight, I’ve played it safe and let others do the work. So, too, I’ve risen, if only to be seen and admired for standing, but succumbing to my fears and not climbing the hill.  Too often, I have refused to get close enough for one to see the whites of my eyes.

How about you?

When was the last time you gave up a weekend of rest and relaxation to help build a house for a deserving family?

When was the last time you moved beyond what was safe and easy and moved the decimal point of a contribution?

When did your business focus on something courageous or risky rather than safe?

When did you go sit with someone deep in grief, rather than bake another chicken casserole?

When did you get up and face your cancer diagnosis and then use your struggle to help others?

When was the last time you gave voice to an opposing view, knowing it would be unpopular or make others uncomfortable?

When did you stand close enough to a friend to point out his or her wayward ways?

When was the last time you stood up for someone after they made a mistake while others feasted on the scandal?

Each represents an opportunity to rise, climb a hill, and get close. The question is: what will we do when the opportunity to get close arrises? Will we hide behind barricades by saying we can’t make a difference, or rise and make the difference we can? Will we let others do the work because we are so busy, or will we get busy working with others? Will we keep others (and life itself) at a safe distance, or will we get close, so close they can see the whites of our eyes?

Original Art

Rabbi Zusya, when he was an old man, said: “In the coming world, they will not ask me: “Why were you not Moses?” They will ask me: “Why were you not Zusya?” *

Ever since I was young, I've loved being surrounded by art. Looking here and seeing one painting, and there another, has long fed my (A.D.D.) soul. To this day, my home and office are filled with art. “Nothing has changed,” I recently thought, until noticing one important change. I no longer own any prints, only original works of art.

I share this not to judge or put down those who own and enjoy prints, but, for me, I grew more and more interested in works of art that are one of a kind. To gaze at a painting of which I know there are no others lifts its value somehow, and I do not mean monetarily. It hangs on my wall as a unique piece, saying what only it can say.

I increasingly feel the same way about people. I have long believed that we are created unique works of art, but I remember trying very hard to be anything but. In high school (and beyond), I wore what others wore, used expressions common to my friends, and behaved as they did so I wouldn't stick out. It made me feel safe and offered a temporary sense of belonging. Looking back, I can see I was trying to be a print rather than an original work of art.

Later, when I graduated from college and began a career, I quickly headed to Brooks Brothers to buy suits and shoes to look like others. I even began wearing suspenders (which would have been fine if I worked at a private equity firm and not the public television station). Had I needed glasses, I'm sure I would have bought tortoise shell glasses and maybe even put mousse in my hair to complete the façade!

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I was desperate to be a print . . . one like others, rather than one of a kind. I denied strengths and hid limitations, but those are the very brushstrokes (pun intended) with which I've been painted. Looking back, I can see how much energy I spent trying to be a print.

Maybe it’s the stage of life I’m in, or my longing for deeper water, but I feel we are all called to be the people we were created to be, and say what only we can say. We are all endowed with strengths and limitations, just as we have stories of success and failure. Why not claim them all? Why not share them with others? Instead of looking and seeing what others do, say, or possess, we should look within, discover, or rediscover, what is uniquely us, and then offer ourselves for all to see and know. When framed in grace, all that we are becomes a wonderful work of art.

Yes, I know some around us might roll their eyes or question such self-exposure, but I have no doubt the one who created us in the first place will dance and celebrate that we are finally being the one of a kind works of art we were created to be. 

* From Parker Palmer's book Let Your Life Speak.

SOOOOOOOOO much!

“How much does Mommy love you? SOOOOOOOO much!” she says, as she stretches her arms as wide as possible. Her son giggles in the high chair as he eats his mush, even though he’s seen her do it countless times. *

In a school chapel in the mountains, there’s a stained glass window in front depicting Jesus as a child. His arms are spread wide, and I couldn’t help but imagine him doing as the mother did: “How much does God love you? SOOOOOOOO much!”

I know such a thought is beneath our desired theological sophistication, but it may be the only theology that matters. After all the books are read, scripture quoted, and sermons given, it may come down to this basic, but profound, truth.

*     When we are caught up in a recent or past mistake,

·      When we feel our careers are falling apart,

·      When we think we are our careers.

·      When our families don’t look or act like the dream we once held,

·      When the difference between what we say and what we do overwhelms,

 ·      When we play it safe because we don’t believe God has our back,

·      When we don’t play it safe because we want people to notice or like us,

·      When our bank account is low,

·      When our bank account is full, but we’re empty

·      When a friend or spouse disappoints,

·      When someone we know announces he or she is gay,

     When there’s a party and we’re not invited,

·      When others expect us to pick up the check,

·      When we look for happiness in all the wrong places,

We need to remember the lesson of the mother, the picture in the chapel, and ask the only question that matters: “How much does God love us?”

SOOOOOOOOOOOOO much!

* I must confess, I can’t remember my mother ever doing this, but have seen her arms stretched wide throughout my life, even when it was hard for her to do so.