It matters. What we think matters, that we are clear in our intentions. What we say matters, that we are thoughtful with our words. What we do matters, that we are compassionate in our dealings with others. How else will the world emerge from its present darkness? How else will we participate in the saving of our souls? It begins with us. It matters, to ourselves and to the world, how we show up.
I didn't know if David was doing his best. I only knew that it wasn't good enough for me. We were trying to build a new church and David was one of the churchwardens tasked with getting us there. I was young and ambitious, without the boundaries I would eventually learn that are essential to our mental health and stability. I worked all the time, into the evenings, on my days off, building my own personal Tower of Babel. If I'd thought about it at all, I might have justified my workaholism by saying I was just setting the bar for our efforts, and setting it high.
David was older than I was by a good fifteen or twenty years. His children were grown and his home and marriage were his sanctuary from a demanding work-a-day life. Volunteering as a leader in our church was only one of the things on his plate. So, the tasks we asked of him didn't always get accomplished between our team meetings. He sometimes seemed weary, lacking enthusiasm for our grand designs. His inertia was a drag on my own momentum and I began to resent him.
There was a moment, just a brief second, where, had I been older and wiser, I might have taken David aside and initiated a conversation about our conflicting leadership styles and energies. I might have learned something about his life circumstances and become more reasonable in my expectations. I might have cut him some slack while looking more critically at how driven I myself had become. But no.
I buried my resentment until the Annual Meeting, when David would be coming to the end of his term. There, in front of the congregation, I embarassed him with my comments, likening his energy to that of the plush toy I'd given him as a joke gift, a blue teddy bear that appeared comatose but, when roused, could get something done. I could tell by the looks on the faces in the room that something was wrong, that I'd overdone it, that I'd gone too far. But it was too late. The damage was done. It wasn't David who was shamed that day, it was me.
I carry that shame with me even now, thirty-five years later. How could I have been so wrong, so thoughtless, so cruel? As for David, he threw the bear into the trash when he got home and never returned to church. I know I hurt him, and then I moved away, with no recourse to go back and make things right. But I hurt myself as well. Every time I find myself climbing up on my high horse, I only have to think of David and I climb back down, chastened.
I know there is grace in high places, and forgiveness for those who repent. That's what I preached throughout my ministry. But it's difficult to claim that grace for myself. What, did I think there wouldn't be consequences for my actions? So, I will wear that memory as a hair shirt until someone--my Creator, my Redeemer, the Cosmos itself--sets me free. In the meantime it serves as a painful reminder: it matters, what we do.
Mordy Levine is the president of the Jigme Lingpa Center in San Diego. Together with the center's spiritual teacher, Tibetan Buddhist Lama Lhanang Rinpoche, he's written a book to introduce the Western world to the ancient notion of karma, a Sanskrit word meaning "action." The book is titled, The Beginner's Guide to Karma: How to Live with Less Negativity and More Peace. It's a sobering read, but hopeful too, in its way. We can grow, we can change.
This is something we've always known, that our actions have consequences, for us and for the world. Many religious rites and beliefs exist to mitigate the effects of those consequences. But five hundred years before Christ, the Buddha refined and enlarged the concept to include not only our actions, but our speech and our intentions as well, and to help us realize that the consequences are not only for this lifetime, but for the lives we live beyond this one. In other words, our deeds follow us, as do our words and our intentions, making matters worse.
Knowing this could crush our spirits. Which of us is without sin? But the good news is that, once we become aware of our actions, we can make new choices, better choices, and reverse the karma we've already set in motion. Ebenezer Scrooge hoped this was true the morning after he'd received the visitation of the three Christmas spirits, and I do too. In fact, I'm counting on it, along with grace and forgiveness. My misstep with David has straightened out a good many of my steps ever since, good karma coming from bad. And thankfully, I'm not finished yet.
To listen to my conversation with Mordy Levine, click on the Play button below. To learn more about the Jigme Lingpa Center and the teaching of Lama Lhanang Rinpoche, the More Info button will take you to my show notes.
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