Cheer Leaders!

How wonderful would it be if we have a few dozens of “cheer leaders” in every locality! I am not talking about the professional cheerleaders at every sports stadium, whose duty it is to cheer up competing teams. We do not need such professional cheer leaders, often with limited fittings, so that they can cheer up the audience and the teams, not only by what they do, but also by what they are. But we need cheer leaders in every locality to cheer up every person living in there; we need others to cheer us up, and help us to realize that beyond our personal pain and agony is there a world of joy and happiness, of human communion; that we are all united by the bond of pain and sorrow, happiness and ecstasy.

Maybe it is not possible to have a group of cheer leaders who would go from house to house, spreading cheer in every person they come across. They could help people forget their worries and privation, and help them to smile for a while, make them laugh at something stupid, give them the comfort that they are not alone in their suffering. I feel the world is badly in need of cheer leaders, and I would not be surprised in a few years some people invent a system of artificial cheering up persons and families, and make a thriving business out of it. After all, with the way the world is expanding, there are all the chances that we would need artificial means of cheering us up.

I was told about a very old woman, in her late eighties, in Germany, who would sit at the entrance of the railway station of this small town, and would wish everyone who entered in there. In her old age, she had nothing to offer to the many people who entered there to catch a train to go to their offices, or to their relatives, and all of them entered in there with their load of worries, pain and anxieties. And this senior lady would greet them with a smile, and for a moment the people would forget their worries and wish her the same. This was her mission at the fag end of her journey. But I found this is a wonderful way to spend the last years of one’s journey.

How beautiful it would it would be if all those who are posted at the entrance of corporate houses were trained in the art of cheering up people, so that everyone who entered there would be charged by their cheer and smile; our offices and working places would be more joyful then. What we need today are men and women who feel certain joy deep down their hearts, and would like to transmit to other people, especially those who do not know what joy and happiness in life are. We need such people to occupy our security system. Technology is so advanced that in many places we can manage without security personnel, but no machine or technology can really replace genuine and true cheer leaders.

I have known about a few such cheer leaders, who would take time to voluntarily visit those persons languishing in sick beds, or in old age homes, or in self-imposed exile, in order to spend a few minutes with them; and what a difference their few minutes of stay with them could make. People can change their perspectives and pains within a few minutes, and look at life positively, thanks to the magic that these cheer leaders can make. But these people are those who experience deep down certain joy, and they cannot contain this within themselves, and therefore feel the urge to reach out to others. I wish their spirit spreads all over, and fill all our localities with the cheer that can make us laugh and smile, and take life with a courageous smile.

Through the Rough Weather

At one moment of the interview, I myself felt embarassed for asking the boy something so very touchy, that he was almost in tears. From his early childhood he had lived with his mother, after his father divorced his mother and began to live with his elder brother. He had never met his brother nor his father, until one day in the school library he happened to meet his brother, but did not know that he was his own elder brother. After putting together what he had heard from his mother, he knew that he was his own brother, now living with his father. He had the guts to tell his brother that they were related by blood.

But what he shared after this piece of information was chilling for me. His elder brother had invited him to the house where the former lived with his father. When his father asked his elder brother, who he was, it seems his elder brother told him that he was his friend. Even now, his father does not know anything about him. He lost his mother about ten years ago, and had been living at the mercy of some priests who had adopted him, and brought him up. I felt very sad for the man, whose eyes watered as he narrated bits and pieces of his life story. Even my seeming innocent questions looked very strange to him, and he struggled to answer me.

He is a fine young man, who had a lots of will power to fight against all odds to go ahead with life; he said he had taken special interest in psychology, not so much to help others, but to know about his own background, the psychological limitations he had grown with and how he could find some sort of remedy for them. This is something beautiful in him – the strong determination with which he pursued his studies and completed his undergraduation with first class, and thought of something greater for humanity, a life of commitment and dedication to the service of the wider society. I know he has many other riddles to unravel as he moves forward in life.

If I were in his situation, I wonder if I would have reached as much as he had done; embittered with life, many people attempt to find short cuts to remedy the agonizing situations; it is easy to give up hope in these situations, and luckily there had been some good-hearted priests who had helped him to recover from the loss of his only hope, his mother, who died of cancer at a time when he needed her the most. His lift support had been removed, and he would have felt that he was a lone boat in the midst of the endless sea, unable to find a way. Thank God, now he seems to be aware of where he wants to go, and how he wants to organize his life.

If there is one reason why many of the youth these days are disoriented early in life, it is because they have not seen the hardships of life, and they do not know what it means to find their own way. The families these days do not want the children to get into the waters, because they are afraid that their children might get drowned, and as a result most of them never learn swimming, and when they have to get into waters, it is too late for them to learn swimming, and that is when the fatal accidents might take place. I am happy that this young man has learned swimming through the hard way, and now he is prepared to teach other young men how to swim. And he knows he would be able to teach them better than others, because he knows the nittygritties of this new art.

Noisy Silent Zone

Perhaps the place which is notorious for being the most noisy place on earth is very close to each one of us, and we may not even be aware that we are so easily getting used to this horrendous noise. The noise of course does not hurt us, because we have got used to it, and have even begun to like it. It is the noise of the inner self. Very seldom does this “chatter box” pause during our existence. The only exceptions are the following : children who have not reached the stage of self-realization, people who have no control over what they think and do, the so-called crazy people, the senior citizens who return to their second childhood and forget to listen to the noise.

During the life time, it is impossible for us to really escape from it; even if we do not want it to haunt us, it would still be there around. The noise of the mind is perhaps the most dangerous noise which can hurt not only our bodies, but also our spirits. It can dampen and discourage our spirits, and ultimately we may be turned into mere machines. Very few people on earth really care to take note of this noise, which is fully active even when we are asleep. The greatest of people are those who are able to control these noises, and through them and with them are able to enter into the inner silence of the heart, and that may be the moment of enlightenment.

All of us are easily lost in the noise, and the noises often take advantage of our situation and make us weak and vulnerable. The mind knows our Achilles’ heal, and it strikes just there, and in order to escape from its attack, one needs to go through a sadhana, studying the noisy zone, how it cripples the human spirit, what its real function is, and how one can flee from the crippling effects of the noisy silent zone. Far beyond this noisy zone is the still waters of silence, and anyone who drinks of this waters can hear the sweet melody of the stream, the passing of a gust of wind, and be lost in its wondrous medley of choruses.

Many spiritual gurus and enlightened masters have given us simple ways how we could peer through the noisy zone, and get a peek at the silence zone. Anyone who has tasted even a moment of silence, far beyond the noisy rattles of the mind, would venture to do anything in order to enter into a full communion with silence. We live in a world, where living with noise is considered a perfect way of life. Party floors blast noise, which is often dubbed as music, the person who can make the noisiest sound is considered a master craftsman. Has the world ever produced any master who has tried to make music out of silence?

Now let me come to the point… In the previous blog I had complained that I am not able to listen to others, not only to their words, but also to their pain and suffering, agony and anguish because my ears are stuffed with noises of all sorts, and I can hardly hear them, leave alone listen to them with attention. I wish to listen to them with all my heart, and that would be possible only when I am able to listen to the silent music of my heart; I might like to dance to the music, and invite the whole world to dance with me in the cosmic dance of the gods and goddesses. Then even the whimper of my brother or sister would arouse my feelings and sentiments. I would be so attuned to every movement of the hearts of others, that I would be able to enter into their hearts easily.

How to name it?

Often I hear a complaint that I don’t know how to talk, but very seldom does anyone tell me how I should talk; I have taken for granted that I know how to respond to people, especially when their temper runs high, or when their spirits are low, or when they find it hard to contain themselves, but of late I have heard the complaint that I really don’t know how to talk. Unfortunately often in life we depend on words to express our innermost feelings and sentiments, and this is all the more true if we are to use external media to convey our feelings. Often when talking over telephone, I become so insensitive to the feelings of others that I leave them more pained and hurt than before.

It is possible I have learned the art of meaningful responding, or that I have learnt it all wrong, and it may be hard for me to learn everything from the scratch. I don’t know if this old horse can learn new tricks, but I am ready to give it a try. The problem now is, who will bell the cat. My friends all these years have taken for granted not to hurt me by telling me how I should respond to people when they are in pain, and how my words at those moments were hurting them. It is not that I am entirely blind to the pain my friends go through, but I find helpless to find a way of consoling them. Anything I tell them sound as if I am indifferent to their pain.

When I am hurt by the words of my friends, I do not hesitate to tell them to think twice before they tell something to me, and I may have to take the same advice for myself and put it into practice. At a couple of times, I have tried to practice it, and realized that if I think seriously before speaking, I do not get proper words, and recently one of my friends suggested that if I do not get proper words, it would be better to keep mum, instead of saying something which may only add fuel to the fire. I realize that one of the most dangerous words that I have been using rather casually, not only with my friends, but with all, is “OK”; the irony of my usage is that I use the word OK, even when things are not OK.

Sadly it had taken several years for me to come to this realization, that a so-called innocent word can infuse so much of pain and suffering in others. The expression in itself is harmless and innocuous, but when I began to use it out of context, it had become a dangerous one. It would take me quite a while to find a less dangerous expression to replace OK. If I were to watch carefully how others respond to my pouring out, my sharing and exchange, I would find more meaningful and helpful words and expressions. This brings me to yet another broader area of my interaction with people around. Do I listen sufficiently to others? Especially if they are pouring out their pain and agony to me?

There is yet another important area I need to spend time on; I am so preoccupied with my own feelings and sentiments that I do not pay attention to what others wish to convey to me, or what they want me to take note of. Due to this lack of listening to others, I fail to respond to them positively; though I hear their words, they do not enter into my inner self, and remains only at the level of my head. If only I begin to listen with my heart, then probably I would be in a better position to respond to them meaningfully, without uttering the meaningless OK for each and every sentence of theirs and thus annoy them more and more. But there is something I have to do, in order to listen meaningfully to what others communicate to me.

Trip through Grace History

It is a wonderful experience to go through the Grace History of each one from time to time; unfortunately after the initial stages of formation at religious life, most of us do not revisit our Grace Histories; some of us may be fortunate to revisit them when we attend some sort of refresher courses. But luckily our Grace History continues in wondrous and mysterious ways, sometimes we may not even pause to take stock of the ways how we are led by God. We are sure to find the footprints of God in every Grace History, and therefore every Grace History is sacred, not only to the persons concerned, but to everyone, who believe in God. It is part of the Universal Heritage that we leave for generations after us.

Maybe I should explain what I mean by Grace History. This is a ‘narrative’ of each one’s journey in faith, how we had been led by the powerful hand of God through thick and thin, and to realize that we are safe under his wings, to borrow a phrase from the Psalmist. Thus every one’s life story is a Grace-story, and we can be proud of our stories, with all the joyful and sorrowful moments. If we look at the most important and significant moments of our life’s journey, we will realize that there had always been an invisible, powerful hand protecting us from all the dangers we had been subjected to, by our own follies or by the vile plans of others. Grace History in other words shows us our road map, the path we had trodden, and that gives us strength to walk forward.

I wish we get more opportunities to visit our Grace Histories more often, not necessarily to find fault with the people who make our life miserable, nor to blame ourselves for the opportunities we missed, nor to regret for commissions and omissions. I remember some years ago we had begun in our Province, what was called ‘live-in’ meetings, and these were wonderful moments for us. Similar age-group men met together for a heart-to-heart conversation; as we reviewed our journeys, we realized that many of our paths intersected at several points, and we felt deeply moved by the histories of several of our friends, and that brought us closer to one another.

I remember there were times, when some of our friends were sharing their Grace History they were on the verge of breaking down. Narrating our Grace Histories is also cathartic (remember the Greek notion of Catharsis, meaning purging), and it purges us of the impurities, short-sightedness, and help us to remove the dust out of our bright spots, and let the light shine. However it is painstaking to enter into a serious and sincere narration of our Grace Histories, because it involves our own failures and successes, pain and agonies, joys and ecstasies, the role of self and others in the course of the journey. Therefore my Grace History is a tiny bit of the history of this world, history of humanity.

Often in life, we have a tendency to only look at the dark spots of life, and refuse to take note of the bright spots, the spots which had been giving light to our journey forward. Though the dark spots are integral to our journey, they alone cannot make our journey; the light and the shadows together make our Grace History. The dark spots may show to us our action, and the bright spots the action of God, and that is sure to help us realize that we are led forward according to a divine plan, and not merely by chance, as agnostics and atheists might claim. It is a great consolation to realize that I have a Grace History that I can share with others, and that our histories intersect, helping us to walk forward hand in hand.

Harvesting on Hurts

In the recent days, I have realized how easy it is to hurt someone I love and care for, and often I do it without even realizing what I am doing. These are not just passing moments in the daily chores of a person, but moments which make a deep wound in the hearts of the people concerned, wounds which may take days and months to heal, and in some cases they may be carried on for years. One question which faces me squarely today is this : why can’t I stop hurting the very people I love so much? What is the need for me to keep hurting the very people time and again, and what pleasure do I get by hurting others, especially my dear ones?

It is hard for me to recognize the pain which many of my close friends go through when I hurt them deeply, and luckily very few bounce back to charge me for spoiling their peace of mind. Many of them let the hurt take its own time to heal, and wait patiently till then, in order to relate to me as they used to before I hurt them. I also realize that I don’t hurt anyone deliberately with the intention of wounding them, but probably there is somewhere in a corner of my heart, there is an unresolved hurt feeling, caused by whomever it may be, and I only try to give vent to this quite unconsciously, and without realizing the consequences it may create.

If I look at each day, there are very few days when I had not hurt anyone, and it would be quite revealing to me if I were to keep a notebook to jot down the different persons I had hurt each day, and look at it at the end of each week. This can help me to see the picture in toto. I may also need to do its counterpart: enlist all the persons who had hurt me each day, and to take a good look at the list at the end of the week. If I were to put both these lists side by side, there might be something very revealing to me; often I hurt the very people who unconsciously had hurt me, in the spirit of tit for tat. If this spirit continues, it is sure to create uneasy feelings among friends.

Just like every sound that has been produced and let out in the ‘air’ is never lost, but hovers in the universe, and if our technology improves, we may be able to retrieve the sound back, even after several years, so also every hurt feeling that we exchange is never lost, but is in the two or more persons concerned, and it may revive the old wounds even after several years. Proper conducive atmosphere where these wounds can heal, and a proper attitude in the hearts of all concerned, can make a difference in the lives of the people, in order to reap the maximum harvest out of these growth promoting experiences. But there are many who are just frightened of facing any such situation, and they would only love to avoid them, if they can. In such people, there might be very little chance for facing the challenges of life.

I know it is impossible for me to undo the effects of hurting others by saying ‘sorry’, even if it comes from the heart of the person who hurt me, and the same is also true with me when I hurt another person. I feel sad to realize that sometimes I begin to poke into the past wounds again and again making my friends and dear ones go through untold pain and suffering. Though I would like to say sorry to them all, deep down I know that my asking pardon is useless, unless I resolve not to indulge in such cruel and harsh treatments. As a human person I can only try my best in order to take up the challenge, but I would be quite powerless before an inner demon which is activating me to do such things which I do not wish for myself. If only I can identify this demon and do something about it, I would be a better person relating to people with genuine human concern all of us are endowed with.

Searching for Smiles

One of the lessons which I had learned at the death of one of our friends, 13 years senior to me, is that whatever we do, and wherever we are, could we do something to unburden the others who are weighed down by worries of the world, chased by problems which make them hate life, made to believe that life on earth is not worth living! There are many around us who go through this kind of hide-n-seek game with life each day, without realizing that they are slowly pawning their lives with forces which may one day snatch their lives and hand them over to the angel of death! Just a kind act towards these people can change the way they look at life, and once they realize the beauty of the world and its people, then things can take a positive turn.

Ours is a tortured, battered, mutilated world, which yearns for some respite, and it may sound an insurmountable task for us, but if we all put our shoulders together to look at this world which is groaning with pain and agony, probably we may be able to find a way of relieving her pains. It is not an impossible task; it all depends how each one of us is convinced of his/her personal responsibility to extend healing balm to the neighbor behind or in front of him/her. It is easier to curse darkness rather than lighting the candle, and we all may resort to easy solution, instead of doing our little part to ease the situation. Luckily we do not need to do spectacular works, or need really to sacrifice our lives in order to save the dying humanity. We are not saviors of the world, but we can surely become the angels of kindness and mercy to each one around us.

I become more and more convinced that what we on earth need today are not great scientists who would make the impossible into possible, who would find solutions to all the problems the humanity had been facing down the centuries, who would unravel the mysteries of the universe and find greater avenues for harnessing the resources of the greater earth, who would make us believe that faith in God and human touch can be sacrificed at the altar of self-centeredness. Nor do we require persons who would find a way of feeding every person going hungry to bed each day. We are not looking for spiritual gurus who would make every urban dweller happy and peaceful! If we want to save the world, then all that I am convinced we are called to is : to spread a little bit of human touch.

There is one little way I am confident we can do this : I take a little trouble to go out of my own self to reach out to someone in need, in whatever way I can. It is for me to choose how I am going to reach out to the other! If at the end of the day I can make a person smile, then I can consider my work done. It is not an impossible task. Yesterday after hanging around in our college to arrange for the funeral mass today, one of our friends, offered some fruits for our community. There were mangoes (the look alone was so tempting), grapes and another kind of fruit. As I walked home with a polythene bag in hand, near the park I put the bag down, took out a mango and offered to a girl who had made outside the park her home for the past six months. There was plenty for us, and I was not going to lose much by giving one to her, she also would have the joy of tasting a mango even before it fully entered the markets.

I have realized a secret of what really makes us smile: when we are able to make someone smile, that is sure to bring a natural smile in us. Check it for yourself. I have checked it and it works like a charm. It is like an echo, or a reflection on the mirror; and this can create a ripple effect. My smile can create some one smile too, and it can go on unending. Smiles are becoming too costly in our world; even the best of make-up and ornaments sans genuine smile may be meaningless; but a gentle genuine smile even in the absence of ornaments can make a person really glitter, and that is the secret that we all can become partners in. I can only imagine a situation when the whole world is filled with smiles all around, and it would be like a garden with flowers in full bloom and that is really a joy and feast to our eyes.

Trifling with the Third (SS 09)

Calvary is almost reached, but there is no more energy left in the body, and as I look at your frail body limping step by step with the burden of the cross, you look at your final destination : the hillock which will immortalize you for all generations to come! But when you fall to the ground for the third time, I know you are at the fag end of your journey, and you can stretch it no longer! The good news is that Calvary is just a few feet away, but the bad news is that you may make it only with great difficulty! Not all soldiers are harsh and cruel to you; maybe there was one soldier, who had a little sympathy for you, and he helps you rise up from the ground, and gives his hand to move forward! Not everyone on earth is bad, I know! Thanks to these sympathetic men and women, we still experience humane treatment.

Most often I get annoyed with people who cannot stop their falls; they keep falling endlessly, until there is no more energy left in their bodies. And yet I cannot stop cursing and shouting at them, because I know if only they put a little more effort, they could have prevented the fall, but your third fall demonstrates before my very eyes that even when the spirit is strong, the flesh may still be weak, and sometimes too weak to with-hold! How beautifully the Savior had accepted his third fall; he knows that it is the reign of darkness, and he had nothing more to do than submit to the whims and fancies of the king of darkness. Helplessness and weakness have crippled him to this state!

When I fall on life’s journey again and again, quite often without myself wanting them, I feel terribly depressive and annoying! I cannot understand my own inclinations and vile attractions, some of which seem to have grown as I grew into adulthood! I cannot blame anyone for the state I am in, and I have to accept all that I am and all that I have, wholly and completely, without any ifs and buts. Then actual life is not as simple as that! I cannot complete even a single paragraph of writing without using ifs and buts, conditions have become my favorite, not only in the blogs, but also in life, and I live thanks to the ifs and buts!

I cannot imagine the Savior using ifs and buts, not only in his speech, but also in his life; if that were the case, then my fate would have been quite different. How do I treat a person who has ran out of all his/her resources, and stands before me seeking shelter and security, be it moral, social or spiritual! It may not be easy to seek such a person with a warm smile, and a bouquet, but then what would be the plight of this person if I were to throw him out of my household? Could I ever be so very hard-hearted as to refuse the little what I can possibly give? The earth has been so very kind and generous to receive the Son of Man with her outstretched arms! Would I do the same with the people who come me for help?

There is an innate tendency in me to keep fighting against all odds, even when I know for sure that I am fighting a losing battle; quite often I tell myself that what matters is not so much the success or failure in such a battle, but the fact that I participate in it whole heartedly, that is what really matters. If that be the case, then it would be rather easy to give up when all my resources run dry; but how could I handle the false pride and arrogance which may not permit me to give up fighting, and accept defeat, knowing well I had done my best to fight against the external forces working against me. I realize that embracing defeat in life does not necessarily mean I accept failure and defeat!

After every fall the weight of the cross seems to be increasing manifold, and the weight of the wooden frame seem to be pressing upon him. The will power in him is strong still, and that is the reason why he does not give it up; he puts his foot forward and knows for sure that he may stumble and fall, together with the cross. The determination and the will power that he had made him complete his journey, though with three falls! For a man whose body has been torn apart by the flagellations and crown of thorns, who had been whipped throughout the journey, the scorching sun added insult to injury, and he would still accept it, because it is through this kind of falls and rises that he is to enter into his glory!

I am too frightened of placing myself in your position and imagining the way of the Cross; the very thought of it makes me sweat. But you had warned me much in advance that unless I carry my cross and follow you, I cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven! Even after your third fall, you had the determination to rise up and continue your journey, though with much pain and agony. Often after my fall, I have no strength and energy left in me to rise up and walk further; I wish to give up hope and surrender defeat, but your demonstration of so much of will power pushes me to fix my eyes onto Calvary and keep moving! I remember your words, anyone who has put his hands on the plow and looks back is not worthy of the kingdom! How true you are!

Careful Carrier (SS 05)

It is seldom that I happily reach out to help someone who is in dire need of a helping hand. When I am in need of help, the world can hear my cry, and I fume when the by-passers look at me teasingly and pass by without even saying a word of comfort! But when others are in such a situation, I do exactly what all the others usually do! The species of men and women of the sort as that of Simon the Cyrene is fast disappearing, and who knows after a few decades, such men and women may be unheard of in the world we live. That may be one of the saddest episodes in the history of the universe, and I only hope not to be a witness to such a horrendous reality.

I do have my great regards for this man, who was in a sense forced to help an altogether strange criminal, whom he lent his helping hand rather reluctantly. He might have been an innocent man who looked down upon a criminal, especially a political and religious, and he would have desired not to be part of the blood of such a man, and he might have tried to hide himself from the crowds, but something in the soldiers had made him a helpless victim to help another hapless victim of circumstances. Maybe that is where the similarities between the Savior and the sinful Simon begins, and they may go a long way in helping each other’s crosses.

When someone is dead and lying on the road, there may be thousands who would stand and stare at the person, but might not dare to do even the least they could do – inform the police about the person; each one would only try to wash their hands off, from what had happened to this man on the road. I do not like to dirty my hands for the sake of another person, especially when that person is least known to me; why should I bother about every Tom, Dick and Harry? It is none of my business! But if Simeon were to say that to the Roman soldiers, then the savior would have been more miserable, and helpless than he ever was.

Here is the Good Samaritan, who was ready to walk not only the required distance, but was even prepared to walk all the way to Calvary. I wonder if Simon had ever heard about this wandering preacher, who had been curing the sick, feeding the hungry, and casting out spirits! There is no curiosity in him to meet the man, who gave life to so many people, but out of compulsion he is here to help… the compulsion to help the stranger soon becomes a compulsion in him to walk all the way. If only I can learn a lesson from this rustic Simon, and pass the message on to others, then the world would not lack companions to carry our crosses. There would be too many Simons ready to give a helping hand to anyone in need.

Simon did not mind getting out of his narrow-minded perspective of reality, in order to include the savior in his life journey, and that made so much of difference in his future life. His life would not have been the same after meeting the Messiah; he might not even have realized that by helping the wayfarer, he was not helping the criminal, but the hard core criminal was helping Simon to recover from life what he had lost. As he beheld the cross, the symbol of shame and humiliation, Simon was able to shed all the contempt and shame he had for the criminals and the social outcasts. He had turned a new leaf after his encounter with Jesus, but why is it even after so many retreats and recollections, I am not able to come back to God and one another?

I am much worse than Simon, and I don’t need others to tell me this, or remind me this truth; I cannot move my finger even when I hear the cries of agony of others in need, even when I hear their cries, I pretend not to listen to them, or close my eyes from seeing their pathetic situation. It is here that I become so very inhuman and cruel that I become more ferocious and wicked than the worst criminal the world has ever known. If only I can hear the cry of those in agony around me, and do the least that is possible within my capacity, then I would have many things to be happy and proud about, and the world would look so very beautiful, and I may have many people to be grateful to. I often miss the seed of sanctity buried in listening to the cries of those in pain and agony! Today I seek this seed with sincerity.

How lucky you were to have a stranger who was so very fortunate to have your company, and your healing touch! Those few moments Simon has spent with you, carrying the burden of our sins and offences, those were the most precious moments of this man, who had the rare privilege of accompanying you to Calvary! Today I long to touch and feel you, to carry your cross, but every day when I get so many opportunities to carry the crosses of my companions, my neighbors, my dear ones, how many excuses I make to evade the challenge! I wish I get the guts and the stamina that Simon had to dare to accompany you, not only the requested distance, but all the way to Calvary, because I know that is where my salvation awaits!

Engraving Empathy (Lent 2)

One of the best illustrations to explain empathy is ‘to get into another’s shoes’, and that truly means a lot. When we come to the level of empathy, we cannot be mere spectators, outsiders, who have no direct correlation to the people affected. It is not to shed crocodile tears for the suffering, nor is it to condescend on the people who are less fortunate or unfortunate, as the case may be! It refers to climbing down from one’s pedestal to be one with the affected. The word “coming down” has its own significance in the mystery of salvation, and Tagore in one of his beautiful poems from Gitanjali would hark on this image of “coming down”, when he says, “Such is your love, that you came down for us”.

One of the pre-conditions of expressing empathy is that I first of all give up my pedestal, give up my comfort and security, to take part in the insecurity of the other! I cannot hold on to my own security and yet wish to empathize with a suffering brother or sister. Thus to empathize with another person is not a joke, nor is it a casual act of charity I can do at will. There are very few challenging thing in life than to expressing empathy for a known or unknown brother or sister. Empathy is sure to disturb my social security system, my well-chalked out programs, my relationship with others, my good name and honor; everything may go haywire with empathy, but we shall realize at the end that it is all worth the trouble.

When I come down to get into the shoes of another, I am also soaring up in my listening capacity; from being able to listen to my inner Spirit, I am able to “participate” in the inner silence of the other. Beyond the cry, suffering and pain of the other is the inner silence of each person, and in empathy, I allow myself to mingle with the silence of the other. I am rising to a higher level of sensitivity, and experience of the ever Present, the eternal Now! Thus empathy is not a human act, but a call to participate in the divine confluence of stillness, where all tears and sweat find their culmination; where all pain and suffering find their end.

Let me present yet another image to empathy! It is to wear the color glasses of another; I would be seeing the world with his/her eyes; if the world looks green to him, so should it be for me; if the sun looks yellow for him, so should it be for me too. What happens here is something difficult to grasp: I am giving up my personal liberty, will, memory, understanding, in order to become a passive power, which can to tossed, molded by another. I become powerless before the world, when I put on these color glasses, and it is only I who would be able to realize the immense power of being powerless! After all most of world’s most powerful persons were powerless in one way or the other!

One of the greatest tests that the world would present to me, if I venture to empathize with my brothers and sisters, it is the endurance test for empathy! The wax candle which consumes itself in order to shed light cannot last forever; there is a time frame attached to it! There may be occasions when it may be threatened by the breeze from outside or the air from the ceiling fan, but when it allows itself to burn completely and unconditionally, its duty is done. Every test for empathy is a leap in faith in the eternal Being, who alone is the master of the universe, in whose lap all the worlds find existence. Empathy transports me from the human to the divine world! It is a gateway to eternity!

Engineered Expectations

How I wish the world was behaving exactly I wish it to; and how delighted I would be if all the people around me do exactly what I would want them to! There is a hidden “I” in each one of us, who wishes to assert that s/he is the center of the universe, and that everything should go round her/him. When things do not go according to my calculations, then I feel my world crumble before my very eyes, and I am frightened of facing it. It is painful and agonizing to witness my expectations are thrown into pieces and I am nowhere in the picture. When I expect that the world goes round me, and I do not find the world is nowhere close to me, it is a frightening thing to even imagine, leave alone facing it taking place before my naked eyes.

But this is a predicament that everyone has to go through, and no one may be spared from facing the dreams, aspirations and expectations evaporating into thin air. The superior I in me would always assert that s/he is right, whatever be the case, and I can find the truth factor of this statement, if I observe how I argue with a friend or companion. What is the goal of any argument – to win; but it is not merely to win, but to win OVER the other person. If two parties win in a competition, then there is less joy, than when one party wins and the other loses. Psychologically I feel great when I am able to throw down someone either through reason or by muscle power. And when I am defeated by others, my world shrinks, and is even on the verge of disappearing.

We shall have a thousand and one reasons to blame the whole world around me, and in most of the cases we may even be justified, and there may be many others who would think that our remarks are based on facts. We may have just expectations, and common sense might not prevail in many cases, and we may be left in dark. We may have to live with people who take things for granted, and do not even behave as a human person, and we may be wounded on seeing how such persons treat and respond to us. They can become a real pain in the neck, and we may find ways of either getting round the problem and make life miserable for the person, or not permit the person make our life miserable.

It is not always possible for me to make the other person aware of the kind of harm s/he is creating to me, and on many occasions the person may not even be in a position to respond to my allegations. I should understand that I do not have the pill for the ills of the world; I cannot change the way my companion behaves, which annoys and irritates me. Even if I take courage to explain to him/her that his/her actions hurt me, there are little chances that s/he will take it seriously and do the needful to accommodate me. But just because the other person is not going to buy my views or change the color glasses s/he is wearing, I cannot stop living my life!

Today I would like to ask myself, how many times have I dared to doubt my expectations? Not all of my expectations can be easily justified; if I were to scratch most of my expectations, I may find that they put a lot of demands on the people around me. I become the judge, who determines how others should relate and respond to me. If only I become suspicious of most of my expectations from others, then there would be less reasons for me to get annoyed with them. That would also open new windows, which would remind me constantly that just as I have expectations on others, others too could have similar kind of expectations on me, and do I pause to note their expectations?

Practising the Preaching

It is long since that I realized that what the poor people look up to from the people who have is not so much the material benefits, or money or favors, but a sympathetic, or better still, an empathetic, presence. In their struggles, pain and anxieties, they would like to lean on someone who may not let them down to die. As an educated person with degrees from some of the best known colleges in the country, and with knowledge of English which immediately puts me with the top 25 per cent of the population, I am quite different from the rest of the people of often deal with. The poor cannot even think of coming anywhere close to me, even if they have to struggle hard.

I am quite different from others, and so are many of my friends and companions; we are so very different from the people who work with and for; now there are people who know who we are, and look up to us as great social workers; some know we are people dedicated to God and the service of his people, and therefore treat us with due respect and reverance. But there are also people who would like to consider us as one of them; one of their family members, because of the fact we had left behind our family, parents and relatives. They would like to fill us with the love that we miss, and rejecting their simple love is rejecting the very people we wish to serve.

I had no intention of adopting a family, or allow myself to be adopted by a very poor family, a few kilometers out of the city. In fact, I did not even know that I wanted that way, and even before I could realize what was happening, I had become part of this family. Like Peter and John in the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles, who told he cripple they had neither silver nor gold, but had the power of the risen Lord. But I could not dare say even this, because I was not sure I had that power (or at least I was not aware the power was there all along!). All that I could do is to sit on the mud floor of their house, share their simple meal on a Sunday, and listen to their stories!

There is nothing I could share with them, except my time, and an empathetic heart, and they were more than happy with that. On festive occasions they desired me to share a meal with them, however simple it be, and I was more than happy to do that, because I knew that this is what I have been called to. Is this not part of my "preaching" the Good News? We did not discuss anything spiritual or about God, but the concern I had for my sisters and parents, showed itself through my simple acts of charity. They knew they could not depend on me for anything material, but considered me one of them, and that was a great pleasure for me!

A few days ago, when my sister dropped in to say hello to me here, she asked me if I could purchase an electric iron for her; if I am not mistaken, this is the first time that she asked me something, and I did not hesitate to say that I would. She earns about rupees 4,000 a month, and most of the money goes into maintaining the family, saving a little for the future. She is not a spendthrift, and I had been encouraging her to reduce the financial burden of the parents, and that is what she does. I know it is not the three hundred rupees worth iron which really matters, but that she feels accepted and supported. I feel part of my responsibility as a "preacher" is done!

Tear-jerking

All of us indulge in crying at one time or other; I am not talking about the babies crying for food, or when they lose a game, or when they get a whack from their parents or friends. I am talking about adults shedding tears, in silence, and in public out of overwhelming pain and agony. There are many adults who are not initiated to crying in public, even when their life-supports are snatched from them; when they lose their dearest ones, when they lose all fortunes due to ill-luck. I feel sad for them, because there is no greater catharsis than by shedding the burdens through tears, and no wonder for most of us, it comes so naturally.

Women are said to be more prone to shedding tears, at the slightest excuse, but researches show that men are no less. In some societies, men shedding tears is considered sign of cowardice and unmanly act, and so even when they go through untold agony, they are to retain not only their emotions under control, but also their tears. I wonder how these men are able to suppress all their vital emotions and still be able to go about as if nothing on earth has ever happened in their lives, and I would not be surprised if these people suffer from not only grievous psychological, but also physical ailments. The unexpressed emotions will have to find a suitable outlet in some form or other.

I don't think we all should imitate the Rajasthani women, 'rudali', the hired cry-girls, who are often invited to cry during the death and funeral procession of persons. These are professional women, who can cry convincingly and courageously for a price, as if they had lost their own dear ones. These people probably may have an extra dose of lacrite enzyme which secretes far more tears than most of us. Scientific researches have also shown that there is no better way to clean the eyes than by shedding tears; there cannot be a better eye drops to “cleanse” the eyes, than the tears of one's own eyes.

Many of the Indian films are often dubbed as 'tear-jerkers', and if that be the case with popular films, then probably the Bengali films might win the first prize for tear-jerking. Every ten to fifteen minutes, the audience are presented with a crying scene, which may impel the audience to join the crying hero or heroine. But such films do faithfully what the Greek tragedies, and to a certain extent Shakespearean tragedies too, had done, to provide scope for catharsis, purging of one's emotions, so that at the end of the play the audience is able to go home with a sigh of relief, that all that happened on stage were only imaginary.

Another great consolation for those who find it hard to control tears, even at ripe old age; I understand for women it comes more naturally, but for the men it may require some effort. The consoling factor is that the Gospels say that even Jesus shed tears; though John makes that pithy sentence about Jesus weeping for his friend Lazarus (And Jesus wept! Jn 11:35), Jesus is also described to have shed tears for Jerusalem. We know Jesus also would have shed silent tears as he spent the long hours of night along with His Father. It is not that we need to invite tears for no reason, but when they do come, it may be to our benefit, not to stop them!

Pleasure from Pain

It is hard to describe how much of inconveniences the mother and brother of a companion of mine go through in order to keep the father under control. The father in his late seventies, had been suffering from some kind of psychotic disorder, which the doctors are not able to diagnose and attend to it. Sleepless nights and days have become their daily routine, as the father begins to wander in his past glory, and imagines that he is in a different location and a different time. Anger and violent protests have become quite common, and to keep him under control is not an easy task, but this is something that they cannot help but accept. Often I hear the whisper of the mother that she is worn out and she would not live long under this kind of stressful situations.

Two things come to my mind. First, the care and concern the family has in attending to the old father, who is just not aware of what he says and what he does. Diabetes and swinging blood pressure have made his situation worse; when he was taking medicine to keep his head and mind cool, it had repercussions on the diabetes and blood pressure. Now that the hospital he was staying in has discharged him, my companion is blank as to what the family would do next. He keeps muttering that they are facing a dead-end, all the possibilities having run dry. I could see that he too has not slept well ever since the family brought his father to the city; he has been running helter skelter, trying to meet doctors, getting medicine, and at the same time attending to his office works.

Everyone in the family seem to be fully aware that they cannot blame or shout at the old man, who does things without fully being conscious of; they do not put the blame on him. Sometimes they are hurt by what he tells them, but they know that he is not aware of the words which spill from his lips. They try to be as gentle and nice to him as they can, and that makes the old man a bit soft in his dealings with them, but that is not the end. It would not take too long for him to get into his usual tantrums and put all of them into uneasy situation. Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I were in the place of my companion; it is psychologically not too healthy to live in such hyper tension day after day. It is sure to affect one mentally and psychologically.

Second, everyone in the family is a silent sufferer; we all suffer for the ones we love and care, and that seems to be part of the bundle! It would be quite unrealistic to imagine that we always have good time with the people we love. There are times when we may not have any other option than to silently suffer, while the other party may not even be aware that we are shedding silent tears. The other possibility is also there, when one party is indifferent and cold, the other party may go through untold suffering, and it may be hard to accept if the pain and suffering is inflicted on the other deliberately and willingly! This is yet another riddle of life, for which we may not have an answer.

Even as we suffer for our dear ones and those we care, there is an amount of joy and happiness we may experience deep within; this may be a passive pleasure, but it is real! But this pleasure may turn to self-defeating when it begins to submit oneself voluntarily to be persecuted and tortured by another. A pleasure which comes out of self-pity and self-surrender before sadistic and masochistic persons cannot be deemed real and authentic. Pain and suffering come to us unasked, and if we go seeking them, that may be the sign that we are going crazy, and may need some psychiatric counseling, but when it comes to us unasked, we can either accept it or reject it, depending on what we really want to do with it.

Ringing the Sensitivity Bell...

Sensitivity to one another is a quality that can be applied only to human persons; to my knowledge, there is no animal or plant which shows a quality of sensitivity to their kith and kin. We are able to measure the atmospheric pressure, the movement of the planets, the stirrings of the ocean waves and their currents and predict what is to happen. Weather forecast has become withered forecast, with most of the predictions not coming true. You might expect a heavy shower when the Metereological office predicts shine, and you might expect a dry weather, when the Met forecast rain. But there is some truth in what the forecasts project.

I wish we have discovered a machine which would read the mind of other persons, and give signals to our mind to respond accordingly. For instance, if my mind forecasts that my neighbor is angry, then I would know I should not add fuel to the fire. In fact, our bodies give enough and more signals to others about the mental, physical and psychological state we are in, but there are not too many people who are capable of reading these signs and respond accordingly. If only we have mastered the art of reading the signs of our bodies, both mine and others, then half the problems, misunderstanding and conflicts can be avoided.

Sensitivity basically relates to the situation when I read what the other person is going through, and responding in such a way that there is no barrier in communication. This is possible only with human persons, because to observe, evaluate and make a judgement on the basis of the observation and evaluation is not something that is possible with other animals and plants. Lack of sensitivity is an everyday reality with most of us, especially when we live in a community or a family. Women are proverbially known for their sensitivity, responding to the situations appropriately. But can men be left far behind?

We may hurt the very people we may love so dearly, but being blind to their situation, both known and unknown, may pain the person only more and more. We may often hear our dear one's sigh: but how could you be so insensitive? Insensitivity indirectly implies that I do not or cannot give my whole hearted attention to the person I am attending to. My mind may be distracted, or my attention divided, or I may be preoccupied with a hundred and one things. No wonder then we are less sensitive towards the people we care less, and are often overly sensitive towards the people who matter.

Having known the past history of a friend, I should have been careful not to poke into the wounds of the past; but when I do it, both consciously and unconsciously, the person does not protest, and it had taken me quite a while to realize that I was touching a sensitive nerve of the person. If this situation were to continue, there may come a time, when that person would only try to avoid being open and transparent with me, and even reduce being in touch with me, for fear that I might inadvertently poke into the past wounds. It is possible for me to be open to the numerous verbal and non-verbal communication through which I am forewarned, and it is for me to be forearmed, so that I do not stab into old wounds!