[SB] Sabbath Blessing

[Molly Wolf]

MP3

I have one myself; I sometimes listen to music when I'm working on my 
journal. But not when I'm walking. When I'm walking, I want to be paying 
attention, especially at this time of year when the birds are back and the 
crocuses and snowdrops are beginning to bloom. I want to keep my senses 
wide open, scooping up whatever's on offer.

One of the principle items on offer yesterday afternoon was a whole 
succession of glossy, handsome university students of both genders, each 
firmly plugged into his or her personal MP3 world, striding along, looking 
at the ground or straight ahead but emphatically *not* making eye-contact, 
at least not with slightly dishevelled middle-aged women who were willing 
to hand out promiscuous friendly smiles (me). They were withdrawn from the 
world they walked through, no doubt preoccupied with oncoming exams and 
end-of-term essay crises and probably pretty stressed.

There are times and places when (I suspect) an MP3 player is probably 
critically important to one's sanity: the Toronto subway at rush hour, for 
example. But this was a pleasant Saturday afternoon on a quiet street full 
of handsome old stone or brick houses. What was on offer was (if they'd 
given it any attention) soul-soothing stuff: hints of spring, birdsong, 
squirrels, a skein of geese pounding up from the lake, sun in a spring-soft 
sky, friendly smiles, a lightly chilly breeze and the promise of warmth.

Withdrawing from their preoccupations and casting their senses loose to 
this reality would, I suspect, lessen their stress and freshen their jaded 
brains and maybe even help with the end-of-term load. But no, they'd chosen 
otherwise. They were in their own private worlds, however stressed or even 
nightmarish -- not blissful, not given their strained expressions. 
(Besides, being visibly engaged is not kewl.)

They aren't alone by any means. We all do it: we all get wrapped up in our 
own enormously important concerns and don't pay attention to what's 
happening around us. It's not that we want to hurt people; it's that we 
don't notice that they're hurting . We're not intentionally cruel. We're 
just under our own headphones, dealing with our own realities.

But by so doing, we marginalize those who are suffering. *They're* supposed 
to do the reaching out, because we're too busy. Reality check: people who 
are suffering are keeping their own eyes looking down at the sidewalk 
because it's embarrassing and humiliating to front the world with tears 
streaming down your cheeks, especially in a world which is showing you a 
pearly-toothed happy-happy smile. The fact that the smile is demonstrably 
bunkum doesn't lessen its emotional power. We redouble the pain of those 
who suffer by expecting them to do the work of relationship, but that is, 
in fact, what we do.

This week is supposed to lead us hip-deep into the realm of undeserved 
suffering, a state which we'd greatly prefer to avoid. What we forget is 
that it's in the bonds of suffering that we find the deepest community and 
best fulfil the will of God, something Our Lord figured out in the desert 
and then in the garden where he sweated blood. We're wrong to scant 
attention to Good Friday, trying to sneak past it into Easter, not giving 
Jesus his full three days' rest in the tomb.

We form community best when we're simply ready to sit with each other in 
whatever grief we have to bear; when we share the grief, instead of 
brushing past it, we form warm, solid bonds, like blankets close-woven on 
ancient, clumsy looms.

So take the MP3 player off, unless you're on the subway in rush hour, and 
engage fully and lovingly and attentively with all that goes on around you, 
especially the hurting parts. That way of engagement is also the Godward 
way, the way of the Cross, the way of salvation.