Liturgies

Love and Fear (Michael Leunig)

There are only two feelings                  Love and Fear

There are only two languages              Love and Fear

There are only two activities                Love and Fear

There are only two motives, two procedures, two frameworks, two results

Love and Fear                                             Love and Fear

Life has lately challenged me to reflect on many things, with love and fear being prominent themes – especially when pain comes to visit.  We all know, and are visited by pain at different times in our life.  It’s a universal experience.  Paradoxically, it’s also a very individual and lonely one, as we all feel pain in our own unique ways.

For most of us the instinctive response to pain is FEAR, linked to an attempt to make our pain GO AWAY.  Sometimes that is exactly what is required. Like a small child exploring her world who grabs something HOT and is prompted by pain to let it go.

Often though our pain is of a different nature, and in our attempts to chase it away, we end up doing ourselves more harm than good.   When we’re consistently like my brother’s small childhood friend who would run helter skelter for home crying loudly for his mum whenever play didn’t go his way; or a former neighbour who was a prolific home brewer and drank what he called his amber nectar from early morning until late at night; or those young ones (and even some more chronologically gifted ones) who disappear into their virtual worlds of choice, as we try to  diminish or distract ourselves from our pain and fear, we run a risk of falling into a hole that becomes increasingly hard to clamber out of.

A Buddhist story provides us with lessons for life using the image of a hole in the street.

“I walk down the street.  There is a deep hole. I fall in.  I am lost... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.   It takes forever to find a way out.

I walk down the same street.  There is a deep hole.  I pretend I don't see it.  I fall in again. I can't believe it.  But, it isn't my fault and it still takes me a long time to get out.

I walk down the same street.  There is a deep hole. I see it is there.  I still fall in. It's a habit. My eyes are open.  I know where I am and that it is my fault. I get out immediately.

I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole.  I walk around it.

I walk down another street.”

Like the character in this story we need to learn to walk down another street – to respond to our pain in a way driven by love not fear.  The first step in this challenging task is to get to know our pain and fear so we don’t keep falling into the same old hole over and over again.  Pain wearies us and fear is a powerful adversary, which may pounce like a hungry tiger, or quietly and stealthily grow stronger until we buckle under the pressure.

Before we find another street on which to walk, we need to be aware of how our fear controls us so we can be calm and still when it arrives.  So we can acknowledge it’s presence saying, “Ahh… here you are again” and wait quietly, observing and learning as we remind ourselves that this is what it is, and it too will pass.

Uncovering what Michael White (an Australian Psychotherapist) calls the ‘fierce friends’ our fear bring with it (worry, self-doubt and criticism… to name just a few) will help us prepare for their visits.  Then we can stop feeding them and making them stronger with our undivided attention.  Instead we can say “Stop, enough.  I have a different focus now.”

Then we’ll be ready to walk down that other street by recognising that when pain comes, it is an invitation to care for ourselves gently and to respond in ways driven by love.  These are the times to allow love’s “loyal legions” (kindness, generosity, courage and hope) into our hearts and minds.  To deal with our pain in ways that ultimately make us stronger.

As David Benner teaches us “It is not the fact of being loved that is life changing.  It is the experience of allowing ourselves to be loved”.  When we’re willing to love ourselves, and are open to and accepting of being loved by others, we become more whole, are more connected and experience greater wellness and peace.

The story of the hole reminds us that finding another street is no quick and easy task.  We may search long and hard and feel as if we’re making no progress, but this may be because we’re not noticing small changes along the way.

I once worked with a young man in considerable pain following the break-up of a relationship with a woman he believed to be his soulmate.  Through the months I saw him he often spoke of giving up hope.  Then one day he arrived appearing lighter in spirit and explained “You kept telling me that things would change and recently I realised I was waiting for a big lightbulb moment and feeling really disappointed this hadn’t happened.  I also realised that little changes have been happening all the along the way and that I am starting to feel better.

In order to find our new street we, like this young man we need to keep taking one small step after another and somehow maintain hope, especially when life hurts.  As Emily Dickinson encourages us with her beautiful poem

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops at all

Homily - St Mary’s in Exile – September 2016