Nevermind the Source

I recently spent the day in Grand Junction, where Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, a poet I’ve know of for close to a decade, was giving an afternoon workshop followed by a reading that evening. The subject of the workshop was Rumi, a 12^th century Islamic mystic, whose poems can turn our beliefs and perceptions on their heads—much like Christ’s teachings. One of the poems we discussed closed with the couplet: Take sips of this pure wine being poured./Don’t mind that you’ve been given a dirty cup. (Coleman Barks translation)

All but one of the poems Rosemerry read that evening came from the same collection. Before starting, she told the story of how that collection had come about. A fellow poet approached her about doing a collection for a publishing house he’d just started. However, she was going through a tumultuous time, and didn’t feel up to doing so. Nonetheless, he patiently persisted, which wound up helping Rosemerry out of her dark forest.

“One of the most important things can we do,” Rosemerry said, “is to shine a light for one another.”

While I don’t think hindsight is truly 20/20, things do often seem clearer after the fact. And we frequently don’t initially recognize the assistance we’re being offered because it’s coming from an unexpected source: say pure wine in a dirty glass. Likewise, I think we often discount the times we’ve shone a light upon someone’s murky path, (or we choose not to help even though we want to), because we’re too focused on our perceived “dirtiness,” rather than the purity of our offerings.

The bumper sticker does have it right: “We’re all alone in this, together.”

Judge Not

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” …If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it. 1 Corinthians 12:21, 26 NRSV

I’ve had trouble with this passage from the very first time I heard it; and each time, since. Perhaps Paul wasn’t as clear-headed in picking a metaphor as he should have been. Of course the body can continue in the absence of certain parts: eyes, ears, limbs, digits, even organs such as the gall bladder, appendix, a kidney or a lung, or with only part of the liver, or just half the brain. But take away, say, the heart, and unless there’s a machine, the body goes, too. Between the hand and the head, which is dispensable and which is indispensable?

However, even though the body can still manage, even thrive, without certain parts, it nonetheless does suffer. For instance, I’m still capable and functional with only half my hearing (ears), but things would be easier, simpler, and better if I had the whole, rather than the half.

In my other blog, I recently mentioned coming across a blogpost by Christie Aschwanden, discussing the envy she felt toward another writer, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer; and how this feeling turned out to be mutual. Comparing ourselves with others is a steep and oil-slicked slope. In my blogpost, I mentioned some of the reasons I, too, envy Rosemerry. However, it turned out one of my reasons is based on a false assumption, thus negating it. (Not that each of the other reasons aren’t also suspect.)

We’re told to, “Judge not,” which we typically take to mean that we’re not to be harsh in determining how another person should behave, act, etc. But I don’t think it’s a limited thing. Just maybe, it’s across the board. We’re also not to judge others as being better, more valuable than we are. You know, love our neighbor as ourself.

Maybe judging/comparing/valuing spiritual gifts is another area where God’s ways are not ours: They're all equal