Showing posts with label rebirth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rebirth. Show all posts

Monday, August 27, 2018

On Falling and Rising





Her marriage had imploded, leaving her a divorced, single mother, dependent on welfare to get her from day-to-day.  She was severely depressed, and things felt so bad to her that she considered suicide.  To make matters worse, perhaps, she also was an aspiring author.  She said ever since she had learned what a writer was, she wanted to be one.  So she would take her baby and a number of yellow legal pads down to a local coffee shop, where the baby would sleep in her carriage, and the woman would nurse one coffee, and write.

She finally did finish the novel she’d been working on, but then couldn’t find a publisher.  Some say she was rejected 9 times, others 12, but it is certain that the head of the publishing house that finally did pick the book up never actually read the manuscript himself.  He’d given it to his eight year old daughter, who proceeded to nag him for months, wanting to know what happened next. 


As far back as the 5th century B.C.E., the Chinese Philosopher Confucius was teaching, “Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”  Nanakorobi Yaoki is a Japanese saying that translates as, “Fall seven times; rise eight times.”  (This is metaphoric, of course.  It’s not the physical act of “falling” and “rising” that we’re talking about here, but the “falling” and “rising” of our spirits, of our courage, of our resolve, of our living.)

There are so many stories about people who proved that on that eighth time rising miraculous things can happen.  (A quick search turned up hundreds of such stories, and I’ve got tell you – editing them down to the one’s I’m going to tell you was really, really hard.)  Here are a few:

  • Harrison Ford was told by movie execs that he simply didn’t have what it takes to be a star
  • Before I Love Lucy, Lucille Ball was widely regarded as a failed actress, nothing more than a B movie star.  Even her drama instructors didn’t feel she could make it, telling her to try another profession.
  • Walt Disney was fired by a newspaper editor because, “he lacked imagination and had no good ideas.”   But he went on to start … a number of businesses that didn’t last too long and ended with bankruptcy and failure.
  • After an aspiring actor’s first screen test, an MGM Testing Director noted, “Can’t act. Can’t sing. Slightly bald. Can dance a little.” He was talking about Fred Astaire.
  • Emily Dickinson wrote almost 1800 works, yet had fewer than a dozen poems published in her lifetime.
  • Madeleine L'Engle's, A Wrinkle in Time was rejected 26 times before it was picked up.
  • Early in Elvis Presley’s career, the manager of the Grand Ole Opry fired him after just one performance, saying, “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, son. You ought to go back to drivin’ a truck.”
  • William Golding’s book Lord of the Flies. — often included on lists of best novels ever written — was rejected 21 times.
  • Stephen King’s first novel, Carrie, was rejected 30 times.  In his early days, King has said, he would take all of the rejection notes he got and put them on a nail in the wall.  Eventually there were so many that the nail fell down.  So, he replaced it with a spike and kept on writing.

Nanakorobi Yaoki Whether they knew the words or not, all of these people fell a whole lot more than seven times, and all of them rose at least one more time than they fell.

Three more stories.  (I can’t resist):

  • Ludwig van Beethoven’s teachers thought he was hopeless and would never succeed as either a violinist or a composer.
  • Thomas Edison’s earliest teachers thought that he was “too stupid to learn anything,” and he was fired from his first two jobs for not being productive enough. And you may have heard the famous story that when working to create the filament for his incandescent light, he made something like 1,000 attempts before finally getting it right.  When asked how he dealt with so much failure he said, “I never failed.  I successfully discovered 1,000 ways it wouldn’t work.”
  • This last story is one of someone who is perhaps best known for his starring role in the seminal film Space Jam, or maybe because he’s often referred to as the greatest basketball player who ever lived, Michael Jordan has said, “I have missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. On 26 occasions I have been entrusted to take the game winning shot, and I missed. I have failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” 


Look at it from either side: “I never failed.  I successfully discovered 1,000 ways it wouldn’t work.” or “I have failed over and over again in my life.  And that is why I succeed.”  It essentially comes down to Nanakorobi Yaoki and the promise that if only we can rise more than we fall …

I would wager that most of us haven’t faced situations as dramatic as these, yet I’d also bet that we’ve all had times in our lives when we felt as if the cards were stacked against us, as though nothing would – or could – go right, as though we knew that other shoe was going to drop pretty soon (and that there was an infinite amount of shoes after that one).  No doubt most of us have been knocked down more than once, and I know that in my own life there’ve been times when I thought I just simply didn’t have it in me to get up again.  Any of you been there?

Now keep in mind: the reason the stories I’ve just shared are so inspiring is that we know the outcome.  We know what the people in them didn’t know at the time, because at the time most of those people probably felt just as badly as we do when we’ve been knocked down (or out).   They did not know that success was around the corner.  After Carrie was rejected so many times, Stephen King gave up, and threw the manuscript in the garbage.  It’s a good thing that his wife fished it out and encouraged him to try again, because he’s now published more than 90 books. At the time, though, he had no idea of what lay ahead of him.  At the time, all of that rejection, all of that “failure,” all of that falling down was as devastating for him as it can be for us.

BrenĂ© Brown, who has her own story of falling and rising, has put it quite simply, “The truth is that falling hurts. The dare is to keep being brave and feel your way back up.”  There it is.  When you don’t know how things could possibly turn out okay in the end, all we know is that falling down hurts.  Because it does.  It hurts a lot. 

So it’s no wonder that a whole lot of people simply stop daring, stop taking risks, stop … well … stop starting up again when all that we know has come to a grinding halt.  “The truth is that falling hurts. The dare is to keep being brave and feel your way back up.”

I recently read somewhere that that Japanese proverb has a second part.  Fall seven times.  Rise eight times.  Your life begins today.

That is why we are encouraged to rise that eighth time.  That is the reason we’re told to get up again even when getting up seems like the last thing we can possibly do, the last thing we can possibly want to do because the falling down has hurt so much and we really don’t want to get hurt any more.

The author, historian, and philosopher, Will Durant, collaborated with his equally impressive wife, Ariel Durant, in writing the 11-volume work, The Story of Civilization.  I’d imagine that after all that he’d know a thing or two about the human experience.  Here’s something he said:
“Forget mistakes. Forget failures. Forget everything except what you are going to do right now, and do it. Today is your lucky day.”
It is worth our continuing to risk falling, to actually experience falling, and failing, over and over again, because, no matter how many times we’ve fallen, when we rise again our lives can begin again.  Living this way is worth the risks because the promise of a new start, the promise of a new path, the promise of a (re)new(ed) life is waiting for us.  This is true whether we’re talking about individuals or a community like this.  Taking the risk – the risk of falling, the risk of failing, the risk of hurting is worth it because of what we can find on the other side.


Pax tecum,

RevWik




Friday, October 02, 2015

On Resurrection and Renewal

This is the October edition of the column I write each month -- "Words of Wikstrom" -- for the Bulletin of the Congregation I serve, the Thomas Jefferson Memorial Church - Unitarian Universalist.  I re-post it here because it might be of interest to anyone -- whether in my particular profession or not -- who has felt the need to reinvent or resurrect themselves.


Unitarian Universalist preachers don't get a lot of opportunities to talk about "resurrection," but I don't really know any other frame for the story I have to tell.  It also has to do with this month's theme of  "letting go," I suppose, but I'll get back to that in a moment.

Since I was ordained twenty years ago I've preached somewhere around 1,500 sermons; spent nearly one-and-a-half years in Board meetings; and made a truly incalculable number of visits to people in the hospital, in their homes, and in my office.  In and through all of that I've developed a “way” of performing my ministerial duties, a “way” of being a minister.  Toward the end of the last church year, though, it became increasingly clear to me that over the years I had gotten stuck in my habits and had, for want of a better description, "lost my way."

Nor have I been alone in recognizing that something just wasn't right.  Over the past four years some of you have expressed confusion, discontent, and disappointment with the way you've experienced me doing things (or not doing things).  I can see clearly, now, that I haven't been performing my ministerial duties as well I would have liked -- as well as I know I am capable of -- and I know that some of you have seen and felt this, too. 

And this is where the element of resurrection comes into this story.  This past May was the twentieth anniversary of my ordination, and that got me thinking about what it was like -- what I was like -- when all of this was new to me.  Alex's ordination deepened these reflections.  The results of the Pulse Survey also gave me much to mull over.  And so, this summer I spent a great deal of time in prayer and reflection; I consulted with trusted colleagues, friends, and family; and I sought to remember the fire that once burned so brightly in me and called me to ordained ministry.  I am happy to say that I believe I have not only remembered it -- I've been able to rekindle and reclaim it.  It feels to me as though my ministry has expereinced resurrected.  It may not be too much to say that I have, too.

From the begining I have been committed to the idea of shared ministry.  I believe down to my core that each and every one of us -- ordained or lay -- is called to a ministry of one kind or another.  (After all, "minister" comes from the Latin for "to serve," and aren't we all called to be of service to some one at some time in some place?)  I also believe, just as foundationally, that your ministry as lay people is no less "real" than mine; that the term "minister" should not be reserved only for the clergy nor should it be considered an analogy or a metaphor when referring to lay people.  This is decidedly not the way most religious communities operate, so I have spent a lot of time and energy "defending" our right to share that title ... and to mean it.

What I've come to realize, though, is that with this nearly single-minded focus I have lost sight of my own role as this congregation's Lead Minister.  Yes ... your ministries are no less important and no more real than mine, yet mine is no less important than yours.  Lay ministry and ordained ministry are not more nor less important than each other, yet neither are they the same.  I come back to this church year once again committed to answering my own deep call which, in many ways, I have only just begun to hear clearly once again.

TJMC is full of some truly wonderful people -- strong, gifted, funny, smart, dedicated people -- and we are doing some really important things here.  As your Lead Minister it is my role to help make and deepen connections between and among you, and between our congregation and the wider community.  This calls on me to "show up" in ways that I haven't been, yet which I find a renewed energy for doing.  It is not enough for me affirm you as you discover, develop, and deepen your ministries in the world.  My ministry includes taking an active role in supporting, nurturing, and offering you guidance as well.

I have often said that the ordained minister should not be the "captain of the ship" but, rather, its "navigator" -- helping the congregation get to the destination it has chosen for itself.  I still believe this, yet I now see again that when the navigator is passive the ship in emperriled.  I have studied the ancient charts, if you will, and have an understanding of how their wisdom might be of service to us.  I have been taught how to read the signs of the sun and the sky, if you will, so I have an idea of how the currents are running today and what kind of "weather" we might encounter.  Perhaps most significantly, I have the time to contemplate these things and to try to make sense of them.  A "Lead Minister" should lead -- not demand, not dictate, yet the approach of "leading from behind," which I am inclined toward, still calls for leadership.

This looks to be a year of resurrection and rebirth.  That means it will be a year of "letting go" as well.  I need to be willing to let go of the patterns and habits I've developed which have obscured my original call.  I have to let go of my own guilt and shame, to wipe clean my life's "sands of forgiveness and atonement."  I must be able to let go of my own belief that how I've done things before is how I should do things now and, instead, be open to discovering something new.  This won't always be easy of course, but it certainly does feel exciting!

If I am to succeed, however, it will need to be a year of letting go and of discovery for you, as well.  Just as I have, over the decades, developed a pattern, a "way" of being a minister, so, too, over the past four years you have developed a "way" of seeing me.  Some of you have seen me in a bright light while others see me through a dark cloud.  Most of you are no doubt somewhere in between.  I am hoping that you will be willing to try to let go of your picture of who (and how) I've been so that we might discover together who I am now and who I am becoming and what this means for our mutual ministry. 

If we can each do this for one another, I feel certain that this year will see us actively, collaboratively, and creatively deepening our mutual ministries in and through this beloved community.

Pax tecum,

RevWik