I heard a cry of anguish coming from the stairway leading down from Market and Van Ness to the subway. I was beginning one of my semi-weekly night-walks in and around the Tenderloin, and was barely into that neighborhood when I heard the howl. I looked down the steps and saw a man trying in vain to light a cigarette butt from a lighter that threw only sparks. That disappointment seemed more than he could bear.
I walked down the steps and offered him a fresh cigarette from my pack of Lucky Strikes and a light from my Zippo. I gave him an extra smoke to chain-light from the first, said a blessing, and went on my way. The next day I bought five small disposable Bic lighters, which fit perfectly in a side pocket of my satchel, because of this man’s misery and that, every once in a while, someone has asked me for a lighter and a corner store to buy one from isn’t handy.
A fresh cigarette and a working lighter seem a small thing to get upset about, but I do appreciate the man’s frustration in being denied a simple and expected comfort. I may not howl out loud when even the simplest of things don’t go my way, but I do give in to grousing and grumping, more often than I care to admit, until the disappointment passes. Pausing for prayer, when I think of it (again, less often than I care to admit) usually helps.
I am blessed that, in my occupation, I am expected to pray. It’s not an extra, not a side-hustle, but part of my job description. In the part of the Ordination of a Priest liturgy called The Examination, the bishop asks this of the ordinand: “Will you persevere in prayer, both in public and in private, asking God’s grace, both for yourself and for others, offering all your labors to God, through the mediation of Jesus Christ, and in the sanctification of the Holy Spirit?” (BCP 532). In addition to the public daily offices that I pray Monday through Thursday, I use our Monday through Thursday 3:30 PM Holy Hour for private prayer, lectio divina (slow, holy reading), and meditation. If I’m stewing on something, usually it’s better and often gone by the time I’m done.
I also find physical activity usually helps. Giving our front sidewalk a sturdy sweep, or taking a brisk walk through the Panhandle helps burn some of that unhelpful energy that I bottle up. And a regular walk through the Tenderloin and other tender spots of our city puts my small gripes and grievances in perspective. It’s a truism of life that there’s always someone worse off than you or me. While it’s probably not the best motivation to use another’s misery solely to salve our own, reflecting on our blessings, giving thanks for them, and bearing witness to another’s pain, and alleviating it when we can, is a good thing.
God’s blessings and peace,
Dan +
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