Icarus flies too close to the sun.
This post marks the eighth
anniversary of beginning this blog. Thanks for reading!
This
year she gave me Thoughts on Virtue:
Thoughts and Reflections from History’s Great Thinkers, Philip Larkin Collected Poems,
Bulfinch’s The Age of Fable (whose
cover boasts a handsome, hunky Icarus in midair), and the Dalai Lama’s An Open Heart: Practicing Compassion in
Everyday Life. The latter’s only wound seems to have been water damage that
made the book’s jacket stick to the first pages.
The
Dalai Lama is a favorite of mine, so that’s the book I’ve been reading. As is
his wont, his teachings begin almost too simply before delving deep into the
murky waters of human nature, though he might argue with such a phrase
suggesting essence or identity that is unchanging.
Soon
I came across a description of contemplation that answers many of its critics:
We must know how to pace ourselves down to the
snail’s pace of profound contemplation while also ensuring that we do not
forget our neighbor’s problem or that of the fish swimming in polluted oceans
many thousands of miles away. [p54]
In
this simple way, he reminds us that, though focus is a gift of a meditative way
of life, it is always held in context with the bigger picture of a neighbor’s
need or our environment’s plight. His “snail’s pace” made me think of a snail I
wrote of in the introduction to the third section of my book of prayers, Coming Out to God:
A snail stretched its full length in a strenuous
assault, climbing the tall picture window. Inside, those of us on retreat
discussed our vision of the future church. A sadness had slipped into some
hearts, as often happens the final day of a retreat. The common purpose,
camaraderie, and caring intimacy that are experienced at such gatherings inevitably
lead one to wonder, Why can’t it always be like this? Our visions of hope for
the church painfully reminded us of our place—or lack thereof—in the present
church, intensifying our letdown. Yes, we were on the downhill side of our
mountaintop experience. Yet the slowly ascending snail, apparently
unintimidated by the long vertical climb, offered hope for progress. [p119]
When
reading a sacred text, many of us know that meditating on a line or phrase or
thought that disturbs us may be as helpful as reflecting on one that is pleasing.
And so I soon found my “disturbing” text in the Dalai Lama’s elaboration of
compassion:
It is not difficult for us to develop sympathy for
a child in the hospital or an acquaintance mourning the death of a spouse. We
must start to consider how to keep our hearts open toward those we would
normally envy, those who enjoy fine lifestyles and wealth. [p105]
For
me, that’s a tough one! The Psalmist had no qualms complaining to God:
For I was envious of the arrogant;
I
saw the prosperity of the wicked.
For they have no pain;
their
bodies are sound and sleek.
They are not in trouble as others are;
they
are not plagued like other people. …
Therefore the people turn and praise them,
and
find no fault in them. …
Such are the wicked;
always
at ease, they increase in riches.
All in vain I have kept my heart clean
and
washed my hands in innocence.
[Psalm 73:3-5,
10, 12-13 NRSV]
Anyone
who knows me knows also that I can’t exactly claim that I have always “kept my
heart clean and washed my hands in innocence.” But still, without impugning
them as “evil,” why do professional athletes and performers, celebrities and
CEOs live so well, while “do-gooders” scrape by?
Funny
thing is, when I started writing this post, parenthetically referring to the
depiction of a beautiful and handsome Icarus in the sky on the cover of
Bulfinch’s The Age of Fable, I hadn’t
yet thought that this could be an illustration of keeping “our hearts open
toward those we would normally envy.” The myth of Icarus is that he flew too
close to the sun, melting the wax on the wings that held him in flight. Many of
those we envy “fly too close to the sun.”
“How
the mighty have fallen,” cried David in a psalm of lament at the opening of 2
Samuel upon hearing of the killings of Saul and his son Jonathan. David had
earlier resisted killing Saul when he found him sleeping, despite the
humiliation, threats and attacks he had endured from him. The “ideal” king
showed compassion.
Even
for those who don’t suffer such a comeuppance as Icarus or Saul, the Dalai Lama
believes we must hold open our compassion for all who share the human
condition:
There is a certain irrationality in responding to
injustice or harm with hostility. Our hatred has no physical effect on our
enemies; it does not harm them. Rather, it is we who suffer the ill
consequences of such overwhelming bitterness. [p111]
Remembering
both the mighty and meek suffer may hold our hearts open for our sake if not
for theirs.
Thanks to Toby Schmidt, cover
designer of Bulfinch’s
Mythology: The Age of Fable, which
features the image of Icarus used above.
Scroll down to the donate link below its description. Thank you!
Copyright © 2019 by Chris
R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and
blogsite. Other rights reserved.
