In A Trying Time

A hot, bleak, disappointing day, and sitting here in the quiet of a cool room, I am grateful that it is at an end.

Two sizable disappointments bled the day of much of its appeal. One was a considerable setback at my job, which does not bode well for me in the coming weeks. The other was a bit of dismal financial news, arriving when I reached home this evening.

And yet I do not feel crushed or despondent, and my spirits are cheery and calm. I believe the credit for my calmness in the face of disappointment goes to two mp3’s to which I listened today. This morning on the way to work, I listened to Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen talk on the meaning of suffering, and on my return trip home I listened to a Mormon speaker talk about God’s plan for his children. Truly, listening to edifying words can make all the difference in a trying time.

***

Sometimes, however, I am reminded that a man merely speaking profound-sounding words does not make him a wise man. This is particularly true with the clergy. Too many of them believe that their ministerial credentials magically grant them gravitas and grace. This is akin to the sort of men who freely boast of what they’d do to another man if he dared talk or behave in an unacceptable way. Clouds without rain, sounding brass, all hat and no cattle. It’s sad to note how common the phony-tough and the faux-wise are in this life.

***

My readers will note that I have a link in my sidebar to the Mollie B Polka Party. Molly is a sweet, talented girl who has dedicated her life to preserving a form of music that is mocked and could easily go extinct if not for her efforts and the efforts of her friends and fellow musicians. This past weekend, my wife and I watched “The Mule,” Clint Eastwood’s most recent acting and directorial effort. Based on a true story, The Mule was enjoyable and sparked a good discussion about what people sometimes do for financial security. During one scene, we were happily surprised to see Mollie B in a cameo role. She even got a dance with Mr. Eastwood. A great story for her grandchildren someday.

***

The other night, I had trouble sleeping and at one point thought of arising and going to my altar, lighting a candle, and saying the night office in the Liturgy of the Hours, known as matins. The next afternoon, which was Sunday, I was watching Franco Zefferelli’s heavily-truncated production of Hamlet, with Mel Gibson in the title role. Just as I frequently see things for the first time in passages of Scripture that I’ve read thousands of times, I also see things for the first time in Shakespeare’s works that I thought I knew well.

Such a passage on Sunday was in the scene where Hamlet talks with his father’s ghost in Act I, Scene 5. As the ghost begins to tell his tormented son good-bye, he says

Fare thee well at once! The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, and ‘gins to pale his uneffectual fire…

The reference to the end of the night office tickled my heart. As I said, I had never noticed it before…

***

One of our neighbors keeps three horses at her farm. The horses are often at the fence when I drive past, and I enjoy speaking to them. This evening, I looked closely at one of them as he gazed back at me with his great dark eyes, and I thought of all the horses that have been worked to death for the advancement of mankind. How many old farm horses have been urged on, day after day, until their bodies finally failed? How many horses have been ridden to death to deliver things of importance? Their elongated faces seem to exude suffering. They seem venerable and patient. They watch us.

***

My wife taught me something of delight this evening. “Do you know what a flock of hummingbirds is called?” she asked. When I shook my head “no,” she said, “A charm. A charm of hummingbirds.”

Perfect words and phrases do exist, you see.

~ S.K. Orr