SABBATH POEMS 2008 I

After the bitter nights
and the gray, cold days
comes a bright afternoon.
I go into the creek valley
and there are the horses, the black
and the white, lying in the warm
shine on a bed of dry hay.
They lie side by side,
identically posed as a painter
might imagine them:
heads up, ears and eyes
alert. They are beautiful in the light
and in the warmth happy. Such
harmonies are rare. This is
not the way the world
is. It is a possibility
nonetheless deeply seeded
within the world. It is
the way the world is sometimes.

Wendell Berry

METANOIA

"Metanoia" comes from two Greek words: meta, meaning "above," and nous, meaning "mind." Metanoia invites us to move above our normal instincts, into a bigger mind, into a mind that rises above the proclivity for self-interest and self-protection that so frequently triggers feelings of bitterness, negativity, and lack of empathy inside us. Meta-noia invites us to meet all situations, however unfair they may seem, with understanding and an empathic heart!

Moreover, metanoia stands in contrast to paranoia. In essence, metanoia is "nonparanoia," so Jesus's opening words in the Synoptic Gospels might be better rendered: "Be un-paranoid and believe that it is good news. Live in trust!" In With Open Hands, a small but deeply insightful book, Henri Nouwen perfectly describes the difference between metanoia and paranoia. He suggests that there are two fundamental postures with which we can go through life. We can, he says, go through life in the posture of paranoia.

The posture of paranoia is symbolized by a closed fist, a protective stance, habitual suspicion and distrust. Paranoia makes us feel that we forever need to protect ourselves from unfairness, that others will hurt us if we show any vulnerability, and that we need to assert our strength and talents to impress others. Paranoia quickly turns warmth into cold. understanding into suspicion, and generosity into self-protection.

The posture of metanoia, on the other hand, is seen in Jesus on the cross: he is exposed and vulnerable, his arms spread in a gesture of embrace, and his hands open, with nails through them. That is the antithesis of paranoia, in which our inner doors of warmth, empathy, and trust spontaneously slam shut whenever we perceive a threat. Metanoia—the metamind, the bigger heart—never closes those doors.

Some of the early church fathers suggested that all of us have two minds and two hearts. For them, each of us has a big mind and a big heart. That's the saint in us, the image and likeness of God inside us, the warm, generative, and empathic part of us. All of us harbor a true greatness within. But within each of us is also a petty mind and a petty heart. That's the narcissistic part of us, the wounded part, the paranoid part that turns self-protective and immediately begins to close the doors of warmth and trust whenever we appear threatened. Such is our inner complexity.

Ronald Rolhesier