I find myself sympathizing with the Psalmist's words. What he had on his mind when he wrote this song I can't pretend to know. Such speculation would reveal to you what is manifest to me all day long - my own foolishness. I don't want you knowing too much about that. So rather than guess at what the ancient hymn writer had on his mind, I'll simply say that his words ring true with my own soul, whatever that means. But what do you do when everything seems to be a "great matter" or a "thing too wonderful"? Maybe this timeworn and time-honored song is presenting humankind with an ideal, hymning for someone to repent of such great and wonderful thoughts. Maybe it's simply asking us to exchange our understanding of what makes a matter great and wonderful. I don't know. Maybe it's calling for us to take our proud hearts and haughty eyes, with their skyward gaze, so easily fascinated by some other time and some other place, and turn them down to the very dirt beneath our feet, to see how great and wonderful is right here and right now.
My heart is not proud, O Lord. My eyes are not haughty. I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.
"Think globally. Act locally." So bids the preferred maxim of many-a modern social movement. I have no quarrel with it, such as it is. It's a good idea to habitually connect our local work to a global story, to acknowledge that our decisions right here have concrete corollaries over there. That's all well and good. But if I were to recommend this precept to a neighbor, I would hasten to add an urgent qualification; namely, that thinking globally does not preclude the persistent requirement to also think locally. The two are not mutually exclusive.
My heart is not proud, O Lord. My eyes are not haughty. I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.
I do not have the power to change the world. I am slowly coming to terms with this truth. I do not have sufficient rank to flourish a sword with such potency. Had I such a weapon, I would gladly lay it down to be brandished by wiser, better people than myself. Fact is, the vocation to change the world has not been proffered to me by the Universe or by God or by any moral imperative, real or imagined. What follows is a series of confessions for which I hope you will not condemn me but will instead grant me some measure of compassion.
My heart is not proud, O Lord. My eyes are not haughty. I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.
While I willingly and without reluctance assent to the scientific consensus that the earth is rapidly warming due primarily to the activities of prodigal industrialized nations, I don't lose any sleep over it. While I understand the violent conditions under which scores of my human brothers and sisters live out their fear-filled, war-torn, blood-spattered daily lives, I am not ceaselessly conscious of their reality. While I am able to discern the worldwide facts of extinctions, deforestation, desertification, oceanic dead zones, economic injustice, educational injustice, environmental injustice, prejudice, genocide, unnecessary hunger, senseless poverty, child slave labor, the systematic oppression of women, religious intolerance, draconian political regimes, and suffering ad infinitum, these things do not weigh heavily on my mind throughout my day. Of course, during those moments when I am aware of them I am anguished. But it does not take a great deal of effort for my mind to return to more modest matters. Do we need toilet paper? Has the milk expired? What will I have for dinner? Perhaps this is simply a means to maintain sanity. Were I to devote all of my waking consciousness to the world’s more painful realities, I would surely go mad under the burden of the parallel awareness that I am ultimately helpless to do anything about them.
My heart is not proud, O Lord. My eyes are not haughty. I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.
I am paralyzed when I devote too much of my energy to consideration of the problems of the globe and all of the proposed solutions, both of which are typically oversimplified. And all of my "local acts" in response to "global thoughts" seem to be little more than symbolic. Symbolic acts are good, often beautiful, but they are not food for a hungry child, nor are they progeny for a vanishing species, nor are they shelter for an abused woman. The summation of all of the globally symbolic acts of my entire life could not add up to a single drop of water for a thirsty village during a drought, to say nothing of a single day of renewed friendship for a Saudi rape victim shunned by her entire community, to say nothing of liberty for a tyrannized North Korea, to say nothing of acres of old growth forest in a barren Amazon.
My heart is not proud, O Lord. My eyes are not haughty. I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me
So what do I have left? Thinking globally is often crippling, though I'm thankful there are people and organizations in the world with shoulders big enough and brave enough to bear the burden for a time. Acting symbolically is generally ineffectual, though I obligingly take part in ecclesiastical rituals meant to represent openness of heart and mind to the "least of these" all over the world. But if I am to experience any sense that I am actually doing good on the Earth, then I must do good to the earth. I must return to thinking locally - beneficially living in my place and with my neighbors. I must act sensibly - being a practical member of the land and the community. I must reject the unrestrained production and consumption of so-called "goods" for the genuine good of my place and neighbors.
My heart is not proud, O Lord. My eyes are not haughty. I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.
I have grown increasingly convinced over the previous two years that becoming an honest-to-goodness member of a community, belonging fully to a place, knowing land and neighbor, and judging actions according to their appropriateness to their setting are among the most prudent ways to heal our local communities and eventually confront global miseries. Over the next few posts, I'll offer up some admittedly crude thoughts about how societal movements away from local, grounded thinking to de-localized, place-less thinking has threatened both the local and global orders. But I want to do my best to light a candle and not simply curse the darkness, so I'll provide some suggestions about how citizens, citizen organizations like churches, and local governments can return to the community, and I'll do my best to avoid nostalgia, sentimentality, romanticizing the past, and Utopian idealism. Ultimately, what I'll have to say is for my own sake. I will talk about how I hope to become a baptized member of my home and my place. Maybe it won't change the world. Maybe it'll just change me. That seems like project enough for now.
My heart is not proud, O Lord. My eyes are not haughty. I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.
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Wow. Heavy duty food for thought. Candid with promise of forthcoming ideas to consider as solutions for the community.
Reality of thinking I'll call it and down right honesty. I like it.
Caring for the dirt beneath our feet, that is a full time job. It begins and remains there.
I will read this one more time. Well, maybe two more times. Actually, I think I will read this many more times. It speaks to me but I am finding it hard to listen. I think it is going to have to soak in. Thanks. You have always been one of my favorite thinkers. Love.