"On Labels"

Glancing at the clock, I noted it was 6:30.  It was dark even though it was still early in the evening. 

Sitting at my computer, I heard a loud voice outside my window.  It’s not uncommon as I live on a busy thoroughfare with quite a bit of pedestrian traffic.  Occasionally, it comes from one who lives on the streets, engaged in either an argument with himself or shouting obscenities, his anger filling the air.  Often I hear a voice in the distance, a crescendo as the walker nears, then fading as he passes on by.

This time the volume didn’t abate; instead it increased and got closer.  Turning all the lights off, so I was able to see but not be seen, I peered through the blinds and discovered the source of it all.  A man was on my front lawn, no more than 25’ from my front door.  His stumbling and his rambling rant indicated he was quite inebriated.   

My heart rate sped up as I checked the locks on my door and found my phone, calling my neighbor across the street.  "There's a strange man in my front yard," I told him.  It was then I realized he had laid a tarp out on the grass, "and he's bedding down for the night."  “I’ll put the dogs on a leash and come over and check,” my knight-in-shining-armor said. 

And so my neighbor/friend and his dogs came, confronting my uninvited guest.  I wasn’t privy to the conversation, but the gentleman packed his things up, including the tarp, and headed down the street. 

“Deplorable.”  That was the comment made recently when a camp of homeless folks was forced to leave an area they were inhabiting with their tents and temporary structures.  And that was the word bouncing around in my mind throughout the evening. I had initiated the very same thing—forcing one with no home to leave and find somewhere else to sleep.  I did not welcome him with open arms.  Did that word describe me as well? 

label:   a word or phrase that describes or identifies something or someone; a name given to someone or something to categorize them 

After taking a long, hard look at myself in the mirror and asking some real questions, this is where I landed—“Homeless” is a label, a description given to a group of people.  That label carries with it the reality of living a difficult life, one filled with hardship and uncertainty.  Those circumstances of life also evoke a great deal of empathy and sympathy from fellow man.

The man in my front yard was, however, first and foremost, a person.  And I owe it to myself and my Heavenly Father to give credence to my gut, inner instincts, to trust my reaction to the restlessness and unpredictability I felt as he ranted outside my window.  The man frightened me.  And that is why he was not welcome in my space. 


The man's homeless state, as difficult as that is, did not trump the state of the man.  All of mankind, homeless or otherwise, is not necessarily filled with kindness and good will toward his fellow man.       

Labels come in a variety of forms.  They can be used to describe a title, a position, an office, a role, a condition, a set of circumstances.  For many, they become one's identity, their persona, a comfortable, safe place in which to hide, a cloak of sorts as the labels take on a life of their own.  Often the label gives justification to a certain type of behavior, a "reason," as it were, to control, to exercise superiority, to gain attention. To give you an idea of what I'm speaking of, consider all the connotations and perceptions attached to "athlete, politician, mother, businessman, minister, teacher, diabetic, elderly, and yes, homeless."  The list is virtually endless, very individual and personal.

When all the labels are stripped from each one of us, the one remaining equalizer is that we are all people first.  I am not a mother, a grandmother, a pianist, a gardener, a friend, a small business owner.  Those labels are not who and what I am.  I am, simply, a person who is engaged in those things.  In that and that alone I must stand and live my life, as must all.

We are people first.  A label is only a description, not a cover and does not change that; we can never hide there.   

Wise is the one who sees this, recognizes it, and lives in it.

   

 

  

"It Takes Two: On Being An Instrument"

instrument:  a device used to produce music; a means or agency for achieving an effect

If you were to ask me to describe the instrument, I would do so in the most elementary of terms. If the same request was applied to the music which comes from it, I would have to search for adequate words. How does one explain the experience of being captivated and enraptured by a musician and his instrument? It transcends all adjectives and vocabulary.

 “You have one more chance,” my client said. I had come to blow debris off his driveway with my blower, and he referred to my refusal several weeks earlier of a ticket to the symphony. Bone-tired, I had begged off then and asked for a rain check. And here it was.  “Would you like a ticket to hear Yo Yo Ma play?,” he asked. My jaw dropped. I was not going to refuse this invitation. I resolved to get a good night’s rest before heading off to the concert.

The cello is a large instrument in the violin family. Made of wood, it has four strings that are played with a bow. The end pin rod holds the cello planted in the floor while it's played.

From my vantage point in the audience, this instrument of the world-renowned virtuoso looked very similar to those of his fellow cellists in the orchestra. It may or may not have been his Venetian cello, made in 1733 by Antoni Stradivari. Known as the Montagnana, that cello is valued at $2.5 million. But, then again, Yo Yo Ma looked as ordinary as his fellow musicians in the orchestra as well.

That changed when he began to play. It wasn’t just the music that flowed from the cello, but also the experience of watching as man and instrument became one. I found myself holding my breath as he pulled his bow back and forth across the strings on the final note of a song, the sound floating off into the air. Those of us in the audience sat completely silent before bursting into thunderous applause.

A child prodigy, Yo Yo Ma had been challenged by one of his teachers in his early years to “pull the soul” of the composition through the strings of the cello. He performed with the desire to “make the music live" and to "hear that special hush.” And he certainly does. 

“The instrument is my voice,” he says.

I found myself considering the instrument and its spiritual application. 

There is a gross misunderstanding and false perception in the world and in the religious realm when it comes to God and the manner in which He works with people, bringing about His will and revealing Himself on earth. Those who speak in spiritual terms often use catch-phrases. They say they are “being used by God" or they are "His tool, His instrument.” This suggests He is a puppet master, and we are the puppets, being controlled. It is a natural response of man to resist such, to turn away from this image of  God.

"Bless the fruits of our labor," was a common prayer heard during my childhood. "Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace." While an honorable idea, prayers such as these may carry the implication that I am able to bring about change through my own efforts. These suggest I am able to "do something" to make the world a better place-- if God would just help me. Many prayers invoke His blessing on those good deeds.

The reality is that living life with God is a collaboration as we work together. Living life with Him isn’t my working for Him, under Him, beneath Him, being used by Him but rather, with Him. Yes, I am His instrument, I am His voice, and it takes the two of us. 

The Montagnana was created for the purpose of producing beautiful music, but that can only happen at the hand of a master.  Yo Yo Ma was given the gift of making music, but that can only happen if he has an instrument.  It takes two. The cello's purpose is fulfilled simply by being, not by doing.  Do you see it? So it is with God and man. Being His instrument is in the being, not the doing. And that is when beautiful "music" is made--from Him and at His hand.

"I am the vine, and you are the branches.  If you abide in me, and I in you, you will bear great fruit.  Without me, you will accomplish nothing."