Simplicity
There is an old story about the first-century Jewish teacher Hillel the Elder. A man was considering converting to Judaism; but to put the faith to the test, he asked this famous teacher to teach him the entire Torah while he was standing on one foot. Hillel replied: “That which is hateful to you do not do to others. All the rest is commentary. Now go and learn.”
This week a word came to mind, and it felt like a good, deep, settling breath. That word was:
Simplicity.
It’s certainly not a concept that was given to me by the world around me. Conversations with students are filled with lists of projects and papers and exams and facts to memorize. With professors, it’s the grading of all those things. With all of us, it’s the holiday season: the TV blares reminders of presents to buy as stores clamor for attention; homes need to be cleaned, travel plans must be made; etc., etc., etc. And yet
Simplicity.
The word came to me as I was prepping for a sermon this week. As I was wading (hurriedly, of course) through historical details on the prophets and the politics of first-century Israel and the life of John the Baptist until finally I realized that what John was doing through all his camel-fur-wearing and bug-eating and repentance-calling was reminding the people: Love your God. Love your neighbor. Simple.
How complicated we can make the holiday season.
How complicated we can make our daily lives.
What an impossibly detailed list of “should-haves” and “shouldn’t haves” we can hold ourselves accountable to at the end of the day.
And yet, if we could take the time to center ourselves, to slow down and remind ourselves of what really matters — what we really want to do with our lives – how we really want to be thought of by other people – what would we say? Wouldn’t it be something much simpler?
Love God. Love neighbor.
All the rest is commentary. Or detail. Or even just sprinkles on top.
If we could keep ourselves centered, simply, on those core things that really matter – how would that change the way we experience our lives?
I’d like to close by offering you one of my favorite night prayers, which always reminds me to let things be simple:
Lord,
It is night.
The night is for stillness.
Let us be still in the presence of God.
It is night after a long day.
What has been done has been done;
what has not been done has not been done;
let it be.
The night is dark.
Let our fears of the darkness of the world and of our own lives rest in you.
The night is quiet.
Let the quietness of your peace enfold us,
all dear to us,
and all who have no peace.
The night heralds the dawn.
Let us look expectantly to a new day,
new joys,
new possibilities.
In your name we pray,
Amen.
Pr. Kate
Rev. Katherine Museus and Rev. James A. Wetzstein serve as university pastors at the Chapel of the Resurrection at Valparaiso University and take turns writing weekly devotions.
December 11, 2024
[From A New Zealand Prayer Book, compiled by the Anglican Church in Aotearoa, New Zealand, and Polynesia]