Walking today around Meadowood Park, I feel the cold air caressing my coat, welcoming me outside. I look up and watch birds soar against the grey sky, see a few other people walk around the large circle.
I am relieved to be here. Everything going on in my life drifts into a backdrop and this scene comes to the front. Simple, beautiful, the rhythm of walking. Nothing matters, everything matters. I don’t have control. My role is to align and surrender, to be willing to give with generosity and to sacrifice whatever limited ideas I have about right or wrong, good or bad.
Let me be surprised, curious, with a gesture of welcoming. Let me be humbled, happy, and let go of expectations. Though my knee aches and the other feels stiff, nevertheless, the gratitude at simply being here washes over me. I work my way on around and around until I saunter back to my trusty car.
Reverence and gratitude braided together.
What is behind our ways of seeing others, of interacting, sharing, listening? In some countries there are greetings that are also blessings. In India, people put hands together and bow to each other. In Japan, they bow without the hands. In the West, it is more of a handshake, a meeting of the eyes as an acknowledgment.
As a child, I sometimes felt that the need to be polite felt less than genuine. I yearned for something warmer, kinder. But I learned the ways of my culture.
The word “courtesy” seems to evolve from courtliness. Is that so? I think of the courtly kind of politeness as inauthentic. Is that what I felt about the way the 50s taught me about politeness? That it was somehow fake or not so real?
Now I see young kids, starting to pick up a tone of voice that they notice around them and in the media, sassy, full of put-downs and insulting quips, meant in jest. I find them jarring. What happened to simple courtesy and respect— appreciation for each other?
Medical students from various countries stay with me in my Airbnb rooms for a month or two at a time. One summer there was a young man from India. He spoke of his parents and family with so much love.
One day, he learned that I had been to India years before and had a small statue of Ganesh, the elephant form of the Lord who is the remover of obstacles. He came to me with an eager expression and said, “Oh, well then, it is Ganesh’s birthday today. May I offer him some flowers?”
Touched by his earnestness, I said, “Of course! Feel free to pick any flowers you see out in the garden.”
I watched him walk around and pick a bouquet of wildflowers. He brought them in almost trembling with anticipation. Having practiced a meditation from India for decades and spent time there myself years ago, I had a feeling for the simple reverence in many Indian people. His heartfelt gesture invited me to echo it. I took him up to my study and showed him the tiny Ganesh statue. He bowed reverently and placed the vase of flowers before Ganesh. His eyes were shining as he took in the scene. I left the vase there a long time until the flowers were ready to return to the earth.
The image of that sturdy young Indian man full of reverence stayed with me almost like a message from ancient times. What a simple concept—reverence, humility, appreciation of beauty. This echoes beyond any religious’ tradition into the core of humanity.
Even Jesus conveyed such a message of love and reverence simply by his actions. He often surprised even his most ardent disciples. He asked, “who touched my garment?” knowing that the woman could be judged for her action. He saw through many layers of story treating her with reverence in a way that invited others to follow his lead.
I think of some native people who have ways honoring each other that reflect their core values of reverence for all people as well as the earth. I don’t know the specifics of how various native people greeted each other. I believe sometimes they had different gestures or signals. Core to their values was reverence for the earth and for each other. Our modern culture evolved based on an assumption of dominance over nature that was reflected in the traditions of greeting and recognizing others.
The Haudenosaunee (called Iroquois by the French) revered both men and women who were skilled orators. To be able to articulate ideas, convey the importance of how we treat each other—this was a skill recognized as worthy of respect. They also paused after someone spoke, giving the speaker a chance to add another thought, and to allow the listeners to ponder what they heard.
All of this assumes a kind of reverence for the person, for ideas, and even for time itself. There is no rush when listening to someone share ideas or information.
That feels genuine. There is subtlety here and a delicate beauty. It can go right to the heart. Our modern tendency to be rushed, to get to the point, and often to dismiss someone before they are even finished. This reflects our shallower culture where the values are diluted until barely present at all. I believe we all yearn for and have within us a sense of awe and reverence. It needs a fertile space where it can grow.
I hope that I can reflect within myself on how I can be aware of reverence. As I look outward and assume some judgments about where reverence is missing, perhaps there is a chance for me to look within at where and with whom I am lacking in reverence. Maybe I sometimes revert to the old way, to a stiff version of politeness, courtliness. Going deeper into myself to contemplate reverence, I might find that those who I dismiss out of hand deserve reverence as well.
“Let it begin with me” is a song from somewhere.
The core practice of reverence can take on many hues, manifest in a variety of ways. Simply to pause and listen again can instill or invite reverence. There is no need to be static. It is not a formula.
We learn to be polite, courteous. This is good. Yet without a core belief in the divinity, the worthiness in each person, that politeness can feel hollow.
Reverence can be kindled in us at any time, simply with a pause and an open heart. How helpful to write out thoughts that invite me to listen to what I’m saying and to reflect on where I may begin again.