I’ll
admit it.  I haven’t been thinking much about the long game.   I’m
very much in the present and the near future… the time frame
between NOW and the “end” of the pandemic (whatever that means)
and maybe the first few weeks to months afterwards.  Part of this is
the depth of unknowing – what will life look like “after”?
What does “after” mean?  When will “after” come, and how?

But
also, I think I haven’t been thinking about the long game because the
present and the near future are overwhelming and I sort of forgot
that there IS a long game.  That is, until I read the Psalm and it
felt like standing in a big field in the middle of no where watching
the stars come out at night.  (I forgot about that too.  There are
too many lights in the city, and travel is too hard with a pandemic
and a baby.)

The
Psalmist says to God, “For a thousand years in your sight are like
yesterday when it is past, or like a watch in the night.”  And it
is perspective, like seeing how SMALL we are in comparison to the
night sky, except in this case even better because the time warp
we’ve been in since March (or longer) is put in perspective too.

This
too shall pass.

It
is incomprehensibly bad, and incredibly hard, and not to be
trivialized.

But,
this too shall pass.

There
still IS a long game out there, and God is still playing it.

That
helps me breathe a little deeper.

God
is still working on the kin-dom, because God never stops working on
the kin-dom.  Despite all the intersecting crises of this moment, God
keeps working towards a world of abundance, of fair distribution, of
love.  And God WILL WIN, no matter the set back.

In
the midst of this remembering to breathe a little deeper and take
some of my fears for the moment and remember that God is playing a
long game, Jenna  posted this image on Facebook of my very favorite
place on earth.

This
image also helps me feel the way the Psalm does, with “For a
thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, or
like a watch in the night.”  It puts my fears, as well as my
frustrations and my hopes, into context.  There is so much beauty and
there is so much peace, EVEN NOW.

The
Gospel also serves as a much needed reminder speaking into these
difficult days.  The teaching here isn’t unique to Jesus, or to
Christianity.  Rather it is near universal in the world’s religions.
You may know the story of two great Rabbis, Shammai and Hillel in the
century before Jesus:

One famous account in the
Talmud (Shabbat 31a) tells about a gentile who wanted to convert to
Judaism. This happened not infrequently, and this individual stated
that he would accept Judaism only if a rabbi would teach him the
entire Torah while he, the prospective convert, stood on one foot.
First he went to Shammai, who, insulted by this ridiculous request,
threw him out of the house. The man did not give up and went to
Hillel. This gentle sage accepted the challenge, and said:

“What
is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the whole
Torah; the rest is the explanation of this—go and study it!”¹

This
is the key to a life of faith then:  Love.

Nothing
more or less.

Nothing
complicated.

Love.

Loving
God and neighbors.  We can break it down, or expound on it, but in
the end it is just love.  There is plenty of commentary on what it
means, which is good because it is more challenging than it sounds.

One
piece of commentary that has been most meaningful to me comes from
the Buddhist tradition.  From Buddhism, have learned that
loving-kindness flows from compassion, and compassion HAS TO start
with yourself.  Then it can flow to a loved one, and then loved ones,
and then known ones, and then unknown ones.

Because
most people I know, myself included, aren’t actually all that good at
self-compassion, THIS is my suggestion for you this week:  once every
day find a way you can be more compassionate to yourself, that is to
treat yourself with loving-kindness.

As
this may seem strange, let me make it a bit more concrete:

  If
your self-narrative says, “Self, you are so lazy, there is so much
to do, get up and DO IT” self compassion may sound like, “Self,
you seem warn down.  Clearly you need a few moments before anything
else is asked of you.  What might make those moments more
refreshing?”

or…

 If
your self-narrative says, “Self, you were really mean to that
person you spoke to, you are a failure at basic human dignity.”
self-compassion may sound like, “Self, that went really poorly
didn’t it?  I know I meant to do better, and I didn’t.  Let’s look at
what went wrong, and see if we can find a turning point for next
time.”

or….

 If
your self-narrative says, “Self, for pete’s sake, stop doom
scrolling!  What is wrong with you, you know better!” self
compassion may sound like, “Self, it is a scary time and I know you
are looking for answers and hope.  However, refreshing the news or
scrolling social media doesn’t have it, does it.  It would be nice to
feel like there is more control in the world, but alas, my power is
only so big.  What do I have control over that I could substitute?
Hydration?  Taking a  nap?  Deep breathes?  A walk?  Let’s find
another way to respond to anxiety that helps more!”

That
sort of thing.  This week, I hope you will do this once a day!  And,
if you are superbly good at this (wow!  Go you!) then you can try
having compassion for ONE other loved one a day too.

It
is funny, but loving our neighbors starts with loving ourselves.  And
compassion for the world starts with letting God’s compassion reign
in our hearts.

So,
dear ones, go and love.

Amen

1 https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/689306/jewish/On-One-Foot.htm

October 25, 2020