"kindness matters…."

"In the end,
only kindness matters..."

What we behold -- what we focus on, and call another's attention to -- matters. Yesterday I was overwhelmed by the volume of unkindness I was observing on Facebook.  Sarcastic jokes, cynicism, and outright mean-spiritedness in posts, shared links, and comments. It seemed as if there was a moratorium on basic human kindness. Jewell's "Hands," came to the rescue again.

Over and over again that one line, "in the end, only kindness matters," flooded my heart. How many times have I been saved by its reminder.  Even when I've felt justified in rebutting something posted that I believed was untrue or unwarranted, I have been led to ask myself, "Is what you are thinking of doing kind?" If it's not, then I know I will regret it.  Kindness -- doing unto others as we would have them do unto us -- always wins the day.

And yet, there seems to be an unwritten rule that if we believe someone has made a mistake, done something regrettable, or admitted a wrong, we have every right to call attention to it, publish remarks about it, and repost the negative opinions of experts, pundits, or journalists.

But isn't this just what Jesus addresses when the woman who was "caught in the very act" is brought to him for judgment and eventual stoning. At first he tries to stay out of the verbal and punitive fray. When asked to weigh in on the moral wrongness of her mistakes, he stoops down and writes in the dust. But when pushed to respond, he says, "He who is without sin among you, cast the first stone."

He doesn't say, "He he who has never committed this particular sin, cast the first stone." But any sin.  It's so easy to see sin in terms of a hierarchy of offense. As long as we think someone else's offense is worse than our own, we seem to feel fully justified in calling attention to it.  But isn't this act of publishing of someone's failings, the same as casting a stone at them.

And isn't this what the Master absolutely refuses to do. Even after everyone who has felt the condemnation of his own conscience leaves the square without casting a stone at the woman, Jesus himself assures her, "Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more." Go, and no longer feel separate from God's love, direction, protection, guidance, discipline, and care.

I have made mistakes in my life. And I have felt the stones of harsh criticism and cold disdain hit me squarely between my shoulder blades. I have known the sorrow of feeling misunderstood and judged for my mistakes. Those were lonely days.  But, I have also heard the invitation to cozy up with the jeering crowd, take aim, and toss a stone or two myself. And I have to tell you, nothing is more sickening than hearing the thud of gossip against the back of someone's reputation or peace-of-mind.

The stone lifted - and cast - is heavy. It weighs down the heart of the one who lifts and throws it. And don't be fooled. Just because our modern stones don't break bones, it doesn't mean that they don't break hearts.

Yesterday I saw something posted about a public figure that was so cruel and ugly, it -- quite literally -- made me nauseous. It was shocking to me that anyone would want to publicly attach themselves to unkindness. And sadly, it was posted by someone I respect and care deeply about. I was baffled -- it seemed incompressible to me.  I just couldn't understand why. I contacted my friend, who said, "well, it was based on something that actually did happen." 

Ah yes, "caught in the very act."

Well,  if "caught in the very act," wasn't enough justification for Jesus to join in throwing stones -- why has it become so for us? Do we think that we are contributing to the public good by calling attention to someone's failings? I am sure that the crowd in the public square that day, thought they were protecting the sanctity of their community values by stoning the adulteress and setting a public example. But Jesus didn't buy it, so why should we?

Do we think it makes us look clever, well-informed, or wise to remind the world of another's mistakes or failings? Is it okay because these people are just symbols to us -- symbols of culture, society, government, commerce? It reminds me of the young man on trial for the attempted murder of a classmate.  He said that he'd learned all about shooting-to-kill in a video game.  And that because the characters aren't real, it doesn't really hurt them. He said that after a few moments, they just get up and the game continues.

But, this is not a game. Our public figures, celebrities, the community member we watch from a distance, and then stone for their mistakes and faltering steps -- are real people. They have feelings, and families, and friendships.

Aren't we better than the self-righteous crowd in the square - standing with stone in hand. Just because someone has been "caught in the very act," doesn't mean we can't be true to who we are and respond with respect, humanity, kindness, and grace.  We have the right to our spiritual integrity -- our focus on good, our contribution to healing, and to blessing "even our enemies."  Another's behavior doesn't justify our retreat into a mob mentality of casting aspersions or stones.

When we carry those stones around in our hearts -- they weigh us down. Put them down.  Instead, let's seek out - and call attention to - the good in humanity. Let's focus on something worthy of our time, energy and devotion. 

You know, I don't believe I have ever decided to not be-friend, vote for, or welcome into my heart someone because I had read, or heard, a negative item of news or gossip about them. I can't imagine you have either.

Let's follow Jesus.  Let's refuse to get caught up in a season of stoning.  Let's turn our attention to the enduring, the good, and the true in ourselves and others. Let's appreciate what is beautiful, honest and humane in society, and watch it appreciate -- grow in value -- before our eyes. This is putting on the mantle of kindness.

And in the end, only kindness matters.

offered with Love,

Kate

"I will open my hands..."

"I will open my hands,
will open my heart..."

Sara Groves' "Open My Hands," sets just the right tone for this post.

We'd just gotten home from dropping our youngest daughters off at the boarding school in Colorado they'd be attending through the end of high school. It had been 16 hours of driving through Colorado, Kansas, and finally Missouri. Although it was close to midnight, we weren't tired and decided to unpack the car.

I was carrying a large basket of linens up the front steps, when it seemed as if every joint in my hands, feet, legs, and arms just seized. The slightest movement was agonizing. I made it to our bedroom before dropping the basket.

I knew that pain. I'd been crippled by it for months -- some years earlier -- when the girls were toddlers. I'd found my freedom through prayer-based treatment, and had gratefully testified to that healing in an earlier article titled, "No Time for Arthritis," for The Christian Science Sentinel. That healing had felt so complete.  I knew I needed to be very quiet and listen.

As I sat on the edge of the bed with my hands in my lap -- unable to grasp even a book without weakness and pain -- I remembered the title of that article: "No Time for Arthritis." It came from a conversation I'd had with my mother - who'd been a young widow with eight children. When I asked her if she'd ever experienced the same symptoms (of what I'd been told was a hereditary disease) she said, "Honey, I just didn't have time for that."

That day, I'd claimed for myself that I didn't have time for "it" either. I was a young mother with three daughters, a busy practice, and countless volunteer commitments. I didn't have time for it either. And that was the beginning of a change in my thought and my body that resulted in complete freedom.

So what was this all about -- almost fifteen years later? As I let that question sift deeply into my heart, this line from a hymn came gently,  like a dove lighting on my heart:

"Here grasp with firmer hand
the eternal grace..." 

Immediately One of my favorite definitions of the word "grace" joined it:

"The unearned,
and unmerited,
favor of God." 

I got it. I'd somehow thought my freedom from the crippling symptoms of a debilitating disease were tied into my motherhood, my prayer-based work, my volunteer activities. I thought I didn't have time for "it," because I was doing the right thing, praying the right prayer, thinking the right thought. I somehow thought that God was rewarding my good thinking and behavior, with freedom. But where was grace in that. Did I think that prayer, mindfulness, and good works were the means to an end -- and that end was healing?

I re-centered my heart on the fact that I didn't pray to earn my Father's favor, I prayed because I loved God -- with all my being -- and loved time spent in communion with Him. I thought about Him because I loved Him. I did everything I did, because I loved Him. That was enough. That was the be all, and end all -- of all.

If I thought that I was free because I had small children to care for, where did that leave me when our youngest children left home. God loved me more than to leave me thinking that freedom was conditional. He loved me unconditionally. He loves all of us with amazing grace. I needed to accept this fact. And I did. I quietly finished unpacking, and went to bed resting soundly on this profound spiritual fact.

When I woke the next morning I was free -- truly free. Free to grasp, here and now:

"the eternal grace..." 

For me, grace is all about God. To "grow in grace" is to have a deeper understanding of Him. Of God. God, faithful to His name as Love. God, faithful to His nature as unconditional, impartial, and universal law. God unchanging in His favor. God loving His children, not because of our deserving, but because that is what a Father does. And me, I am His grateful daughter.

and I share this, with gratitude,

Kate

"kindness matters..."

"In the end
only kindness matters.
I will get down on my knees,
and I will pray..."

Jewel's beautiful anthem, "Hands" has a profound effect on me. For over a decade, this line: 

"in the end, 

only kindness matters," 

has been a touchstone, time and again.

This week film reviewer, Roger Ebert, passed on. I found myself weeping when I heard the news. I love this man.  I trusted his filter.  I loved his courage, his generosity, his candor.

He could make me laugh one moment, and then leave me speechless the next.  He was a deeply spiritual man with a profound insights about humanity.  His statement on the importance of kindness -- in thought, word, and deed -- has been close to my heart since the first time I read it:

"Kindness covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do.

To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out."

I can't think of a more perfect way to sum up his contribution to the human collective.  I am so happy that Roger was "here" long enough to discover the power of this truth, live it, and share it with us by word and example.

For me, kindness is at the heart of The Golden Rule. Jesus is recorded as having urged:

"Whatsoever ye would 

that men should do to you,

do ye even so to them."

A "rule" which appears -- in some form -- in the doctrines and teachings of almost all major religions and philosophical movements.

There are so many issues facing the human family today. But when I look at each of them through the lens of kindness I am at peace. There is such serenity in making our life choices based on what is most kind. When facing questions like: Do I help a stranger, judge another person's personal choices, cast my vote in a particular direction?

For me, sifting those decisions through the filter of kindness always brings greater clarity and confidence. It has helped me to separate good judgment -- in how I think and act myself -- from judging others.

John Lennon once wrote,

"You may say that I'm a dreamer. 

But I'm not the only one..." 

Tonight I am grateful to know that I have had the privilege of living in this world at the same time as Roger Ebert.   A man whose politics could be summed up in one word, "kindness."

Because in the end, only kindness matters...

offered with Love,

Kate