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Hidden Heroes Throughout my life, I have had difficulty naming anyone as a hero, not because I don’t greatly admire and reverence many, many people; I do. But for a host of reasons, I just haven’t been able to bring myself to designate anyone “my hero.” The word itself makes me uncomfortable and conjures a sort of super-human to whom I cannot relate, intellectually appreciate, maybe, but not feel that resonance of the heart that signifies impending change: a shift in what I DO as opposed to what I merely THINK. For me, the term “hero” also implies an abdication on my part of an intangible sense of Self, a handing over of will to another that feels somewhat idolatrous to me. In addition, as my son Brendan recently observed, in our culture the idealized epitome of heroism, the Super Hero, invariably prevails by resorting to violence, presumably on the side of “right.” And finally, although the term is slowly becoming gender neutral, the status of “hero” has traditionally been reserved for males. No wonder I can’t relate. So the invitation to explore personal heroes, people who have been instrumental in shaping my own passion for peace and justice, is challenging. As an impressionable teen and young adult in the 60s and early 70s, like so many others I was deeply influenced by the lives and writings of iconic proponents of non-violence: Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Cesar Chavez, Thich Nhat Hanh, the Buddha. And I finally came back home to my own faith tradition and discovered the nonviolent Jesus through reading Jim Douglass’ memorable book, The Nonviolent Cross. Twenty years ago, I may have identified these figures as the most significant in my own journey. Certainly, their influence has been deep and broad. My Catholic roots, the great wealth that is Catholic Social Teaching, the faith community of St. Vincent’s in Germantown, and spiritual writings from many other religious and spiritual traditions have all provided nourishment and guidance along the way. But the older I get, the greater appreciation I have for the profound effect that actually witnessing love and nonviolence in action has had in forming my beliefs and practices. If the definition of a hero is a person who acts with courage and a noble purpose, then my life has been blessed with countless heroes; indeed, an encounter with at least one of these sturdy souls is an almost-daily occurrence. I find more inspiration in the people I bump up against directly than in famous “heroes” I have never met. I admire what I do know of them and have gleaned what I can from the abundance of their own harvests. But even the example of Brother Jesus can seem remote and inaccessible in the raw messiness and immediacy of my everyday life. I have been most profoundly influenced by individuals whom I have witnessed living out their faith with loving courage, strength of character, absence of ego, and a grounding in the divine so great that their actions are enshrined in my heart and memory, and so have directly affected how I live my life. They are conduits for God-who-is-Love; they anchor Love to the planet. My obscure and unsung heroes may never know the ways in which they have touched my life. But every time I, or anyone who has witnessed their courage and faith, lives and acts out of the values learned from them, the world is reshaped, and heaven visits earth, if only for a moment. So here is the short list of heroes I have encountered over the years, people who have taught me so many lessons on how to live in peace, walk justly, love tenderly, and walk humbly with God. ►
My friends Debby and Gary, who years ago, as very young,
new parents, chose not to sue the doctor who admitted his negligence in
causing severe, permanent brain damage to their beautiful baby girl. In their
early 20s then, they took scriptural mandates to be peacemakers seriously,
and after much soul searching, decided to forego legal action. They said it
would simply feed their anger, and opted for a face-to-face meeting with the
doctor instead. They cried. He cried. The world moved closer to reconciliation. ►
My co-worker Tanya, who,
when unjustly accused and vilified, responded with kindness, compassion, and
infinite patience.
She often wears the face of God for me ►
My client Mira, raising three grandchildren, who refused
to be baited by a hostile, demeaning welfare
caseworker. Never losing either her dignity or her temper, she smiled kindly
at the woman, observed that she must be having a rough day, and promised to
pray for her. “Things are hard enough,” she told me, “for
me and for her. I wasn’t about to make it worse for either of
us.” ►
The anonymous nurse at Temple Hospital in 1993, who,
despite stressful demands on her time, comforted my distressed roommate, a
poor, elderly woman who was in literal agony. In the middle of one dark and
endless night, the nurse held and soothed this suffering woman like a mother,
whispering to her, “God is here, Mrs. Robinson. Shhhhh.
God is here.” God certainly was. ►
A former neighbor, who left
her abusive husband─courage enough there. But
years later, when all his fight was gone, she returned to nurse him
compassionately through his final, devastating illness because he had no one
else left. He had become a shadow; her Light illuminated the entire block. ►
My friend Marilyn who, despite Multiple Sclerosis and an
unsupportive husband, patiently and lovingly pushed through her own pain to
raise up three lovely, magnificent children, without rancor or bitterness,
finding and welcoming the Indwelling God in all of those long, lonely nights
along the way. ►
John, who laughingly refused
even to hear my apology for being an idiot when I carelessly wounded him with
thoughtless words.
“No,” he said, with greater kindness than I deserved.”No need. It’s
in the past.” I still summon his face when I am tempted to be harsh,
judgmental, and unforgiving. ►
My late husband, Jim
Lafferty, who struggled, with passion and dedication, to secure justice for
the most vulnerable of us. Day in and day out, for years and years and years: never
bitter, often joyful, and always humble. His was one of the purest hungers
for justice I have ever witnessed. These are just a few; I could fill a book with the names and stories of other such heroes. I am graced with flesh and blood angels in my life, people who live conscious, enspirited lives. If all of us made choices like theirs, choosing forgiveness, humility, patience, kindness, and compassion amidst trying and even impossible circumstances, there would be no war. We carry the seeds of violence in our own hearts; the world is simply a reflection of our daily lives writ large. Our turned backs, harsh words, refusal to forgive, lack of compassion, arrogance and pride are the same blind impulses and energies that cause nations to refuse negotiation, manufacture enemies, ignore suffering, and rain death and destruction on each other. As William James commented, “I am done with great things and big things, great institutions and big success, and I am for all those tiny invisible molecular moral forces that work from individual to individual.” I offer these hidden heroes as examples of such invisible moral forces. And to them I say “thank you. You have changed my life.” Sharon Browning |