Starting
Point Which of Gods favors will I refuse today?
By THERESA THORN COYLE
A few months ago, I came across a
pin a friend had given to me. It was languishing in a dish of old jewelry,
discarded coins and other detritus on a small dresser in my closet. The pin
showed a detail of a Renaissance Annunciation, Gabriel kneeling at Marys
feet. On a whim, I dusted it off and pinned it to my backpack. Giving my cat a
goodbye scratch, I went out the door.
The Annunciation image sent a refrain from the Quran running
through my head: Which of the favors of the Lord will you refuse
today? Throughout my day, I reflected on this line. What would have
happened if Mary had refused? What seems like a favor to us must have felt like
a burden to her. Had it been me sitting there, I would likely have said,
What, are you crazy? Leave me alone! Im busy. Im perfectly
happy with my life, thank you very much. Besides, who are you to appear out of
nowhere, anyway?
My impulse is to refuse so much. This gives me the illusion that I
have some control over what happens around me. That I somehow know --
know what is best, know how to act, know what the probable outcome of my
actions and decisions will be.
But how can I know? What am I really refusing? I am first refusing
to listen, refusing to see.
This meditation was not a call to let whatever happens, happen. It
was not a rallying cry for doormats and dishrags. Buddha was not a doormat.
Jesus was not a wet rag. It was a call for breath, a pause before I so quickly
try to change the course of things. I need to sit with myself, to begin to know
myself, in order to better listen to that which can dwell within me -- that
which has been called spirit, grace or soul.
Which of the favors of the Lord will you refuse today?
This is a big question, especially on my more misanthropic days, when the city
where I live feels too greedy and pushy and my part in maintaining its culture
seems suspect. So then I have to ask myself: Did I spend time just sitting with
myself today? Is there any clarity of mind, heart and body? Can I even have an
inkling of what I may be throwing away just to make it through one
overstimulated day?
This is where prayer comes in, or meditation, or just being quiet
for a while. We refuse so much in sheer defense in the midst of overwhelming
bombardment. We need a center. Would any of the reluctant prophets have said
yes if they hadnt had some small space inside for grace to enter? Would
Mary have shouldered the burden and gift?
I have many questions and few answers that stay firm at any rate,
but I have been returning to this meditation for months now. Which of the
favors of God will I refuse today? If I allow that question to enter my
being often enough, more space does open up. Where space is, grace can enter,
and as it is written in the Quran, Everywhere you turn, there is the face
of God. If I refuse less, perhaps I will see this face more often.
Theresa Thorn Coyle, formerly with the David House and Martin
de Porres Catholic Worker communities, now studies philosophy and religion at
San Francisco State University. Her e-mail is tcoyle@sfsu.edu
National Catholic Reporter, September 1,
2000
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