Come and find the quiet centre
in the crowded life we lead,
find the room for hope to enter,
find the frame where we are freed:
clear the chaos and the clutter,
clear our eyes, that we can see
all the things that really matter,
be at peace, and simply be.
This is a verse from one of my favourite hymns, as simple as it is. It speaks to me about the importance of setting our priorities in the midst of the demands of life. If we are prayerful and open -- a focus of this Lenten season -- God will inform our decision-making and purpose.
I thought of this hymn when I read Oliver Sacks piece in the New York Times yesterday. Sacks is the award-winning physician, a neurologist, who has chronicled his fascinating work in a number of books. The film Awakenings which starred Robin Williams is about Sacks. http://www.nytimes.com/2015/02/19/opinion/oliver-sacks-on-learning-he-has-terminal-cancer.html
Sacks, a robust and creative 81-year-old, has learned that he has terminal cancer and his time may be short. In the piece he offers
Over the last few days, I have been able to see my life as from a great altitude, as a sort of landscape, and with a deepening sense of the connection of all its parts. This does not mean I am finished with life. On the contrary, I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight.
This will involve audacity, clarity and plain speaking; trying to straighten my accounts with the world. But there will be time, too, for some fun (and even some silliness, as well). feel a sudden clear focus and perspective. There is no time for anything inessential. I must focus on myself, my work and my friends...I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return...
Reflections such as this one are a poignant invitation to all of us to realize our mortality and to "get real" about the days we have been given. The traditional words for the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday are "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." I don't use these words, and they are hardly cheery, yet they are so honest, even for those of us who believe in a resurrection promise.
Comments?
I was digging through my Bible last night (since I'm on this plan to read the entire thing during Lent) and a piece of paper fell out. It was from the Silence discussion group you led some time ago. It started off with the words from that hymn. I thought to myself, "Ah, that must be one of David's favourites". Strange that now, today, I read that it is. It's also one of mine.
ReplyDeleteI think that it is hard in our lives to always see what is important. We must behave both as though we will always be here and as though our departure is upon us. It's a tough balance. Lent is probably a good time to examine our "busy-ness" and see what we really need to keep.
Well said, Jennifer - you should become a minister! ;-) David, I was relieved with the approach you took in our Ash Wednesday service - so hopeful... and so God-Love affirming !
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