YES, EVEN ANTS!
Summit UU Fellowship
Rev. Kathleen A. Green
As many of you know, I took a short trip to Chicago this past week for a conference at my alma mater, Meadville-Lombard Theological School. I hadn’t been back in a year and a half and I’ll admit that I had somehow forgotten what January can be like in Chicago. Since moving here, I’ve learned to answer those who complain that San Diego has no seasons with, …… I now have to agree that Chicago has just 2 seasons – winter and construction! As I trudged the five slushy blocks from my meeting to my lodging, in the evening, bundled from head to toe, the daily high temp of a balmy 22 degrees (wind chill keeping it in the teens) had fallen and it was so cold that after the second block it actually hurt to breathe the icy air.
Now, there is no parable here. No moral lesson, other than try to avoid the wonderful city of Chicago in January. Yes, even the ants seem to know this truth! I will admit that it is simply my truth and I speak it in love. I share my tale of weather woe with you because I’m extremely grateful to be home and have a new appreciation for winter in San Diego – even if it’s an unusual 80 degrees!
A parable is a brief story that illustrates a moral lesson. Parables are found in many of the world’s religions. Parables are common in Buddhism and the Buddha himself taught by parables. This is the The Young Monk Who Saved the Ants.
“In the deep mountain forest, there once lived an old monk and a young monk. The old monk was a great practitioner of Buddha-dharma and was frequently in the deep meditation. Normally when he started meditation, it could last for half a day or one full day. In addition, during his meditation he would now what was going to happen in the future.
One day, the old monk meditated again. Suddenly, he found out that his little disciple was going to pass away in eight days. Therefore, the old monk called the young monk and said, “My child, I am going to give you an eight-day holiday so that you can go home to see your mother and father.”
“Really? That’s very good, thank you.”
“Yes, but you must remember to come back here by the eighth day.”
Delightedly the young monk went down the mountains, without realizing that in the eyes of the old monk, there was sadness and a sense of reluctance to see him leave. After a long walk, the young monk stopped at the bank of the stream to drink some water as he was getting thirsty. Then he saw there was an ant cave in which countless ants were going into and out of it. He stayed to observe for a while with interest. When he was just about to leave, he said, “Oh no! Why is the water level of the stream rising? Oh no! The ants will be drowned!”
The reason was it had been raining upstream for a few days continuously. Therefore, the water level downstream was starting to rise.
He quickly took off his cloth and he put some hard soil in it to make a protection wall along the cave. Not only did he manage to stop water from covering the cave, but also skillfully diverted the flow of the water to somewhere else. Hence he saved the lives of countless ants.
Eight days passed quickly. The old monk was strolling in the mountains forest sadly. Suddenly from a distance, he saw the little monk coming back up to the mountains cheerfully. Happily he asked the young monk to recount what he had done in the past eight days while he had been away. When he pondered on the story, he finally understood that because the young monk had saved the lives of countless ants this had caused his fated eight-day life expectancy to lengthen into a long and happy life. This is the merit of cultivating good deeds, however seemingly insignificant they be.”
Great story. Obvious moral lesson that good deeds, no matter how small, reward our lives. And I suppose I could just stop right here, ask you to reflect on this lesson as you go through your week, and we could all get over to coffee hour early for our refreshments. But I want us to look closer and dig deeper.
Consider Amelia Earhart. As far as I know, she was not a Buddhist. But on this very day, Jan. 11, Amelia Earhart became the first woman to fly solo across the Pacific Ocean in 1935. In flight for more than eighteen hours, Earhart was more alone than most people ever are. Yet in isolation the smallest things become paramount. About opening a Thermos in the middle of her journey, Earhart remarks, “Indeed, that was the most interesting cup of hot chocolate I have ever had,…”
Significance vs. seeming insignificance.
I am afraid that as a society we have become so good at the guru advice: “Don’t sweat the small stuff”, that we may be circumventing the seemingly insignificant, small stuff found in the good deeds that can indeed be the most interesting cup of hot chocolate one has ever had. The ‘small stuff’ that is saving the lives of countless ants – yes, even ants! This is not to advocate worrying about or becoming anxious over the details of our lives, but instead to consider the cultivation of good deeds however seemingly insignificant they be. Cultivating good deeds in all that is our life – this most precious and fleeting journey we call life.
In a short meditation text by Elizabeth Tarbox: “All is dukkha,” say the Buddhists. While hard to translate, dukkha means literally “suffering”. But the feeling of dukkha is closer to impermanence (likely to change, go away, disappear, or fade); impermanence is central to the Buddhist path to nirvana, enlightenment. Dukkha is all impermanence, nothing lasts. Life goes by, and people who were with us last year at this time have died. All is dukkha, nothing lasts. The Buddhist path to enlightenment is understanding, accepting impermanence to the point where we no longer struggle against it. But here in the West we search for that which is permanent even as we live with ceaseless change and uncertainty. We search for a sure footing on the path strewn with fallen leaves; we notice the buds of next year’s growth tightly curled and waiting; we hold on to the things we can count on: our religious community, our neighborhood, our memories of those who died before us, our love and hope, and our search for truth in a world that is dukkha.”
There has been so much angst and fear over health concerns in so many of the lives here over the past couple of months. Perhaps in your life as well. There has been deep grief and sorrow in many of our lives lately. Perhaps in your life as well. There has been a gnawing uncertainty for many of us around issues of personal finance and our country’s economic welfare. Perhaps you too have felt it. All a part of the impermanence of life. With all of this going on around us and within us it is easy to become caught up in the grasping for permanence. It’s easy to find ourselves besieged by a hopelessness that whispers, “It’s just an ant cave. It’s insignificant. You’re little deed of kindness won’t make a difference.”
So what is the moral lesson for our lives in this parable of the Young Monk Who Saved the Ants? Well, the story itself tells us that a long and happy life is the merit of cultivating good deeds, however seemingly insignificant they be. Perhaps it is not a literal addition of years to our life, but rather a lengthening and strengthening of the depth of life – a growth of spirit or soul that is the value of nurturing good deeds (acts of compassion).
During my study leave I began reading a book by Andrew Harvey entitled A Walk with Four Spiritual Guides (Krishna, Buddha, Jesus, and Ramakrishna). Harvey explains, “From Buddha we learn how to train our mind and heart in that equanimity and compassion that in a terrible time creates timeless inner oases of peace and strength.” I am not a buddhist and Buddhism is not a part of my personal spiritual practice, but I do believe that this training of mind and heart can come from the good deeds that we foster.
Beyonca is a young woman who lives in a housing project just outside Chicago, in Evanston, Illinois. I knew Beyonca as my student and friend. She was part of a small performing arts camp that I directed a few summers ago through the Unitarian congregation. My goal had been to bring together a few teens from the congregation with teens from the neighborhood. Beyonca had been the only student from the housing project willing to attend. She came to the camp from a very different household than those of the other students. Beyonca came hungry each morning as she may not have eaten since lunch the previous day, so we started offering breakfast and late afternoon snacks to the students. Beyonca came wearing the same clothes 3 days in a row, so we rounded up some gently used clothes and bought a few new things as well so that Beyonca would be less self-concious. She also came with weak social and academic skills, but the other teens accepted her and they all worked together to put on a great cabaret show for parents and friends.
It was heartbreaking to watch Beyonca’s face light up at the thought of her family coming to the performance, and then change to a look of disappointment and embarrassment when they never showed. A week after the camp ended I received a handwritten note of thanks from Beyonca, saying how she had enjoyed the camp, loved being able to sing and dance in front of an audience, and how she felt confident now as she was preparing to enter high school. It was just a couple of months later that I learned that schools in the projects are not immune to the cruelty of a pecking order among students. Beyonca was at the bottom of that pecking order and made fun of for not wearing the right clothes or the right attitude. One morning, in homeroom, a classmate pushed Beyonca out of the second story window. She did not suffer any serious injuries but was bruised and cut and generally banged up pretty badly. The good deed of reaching out to Beyonca at camp didn’t ‘save’ her from the world. It didn’t ‘save’ her from suffering in life. But the good deed, while maybe seemingly insignificant in the larger scheme of things, diverted the flow of water for that moment in Beyonca’s life and my soul grew as a result. I did speak to Beyonca a few weeks after the fall and she told me that she was still singing and dancing the numbers from our cabaret show, that she thought she might want to be a teacher someday, and when I told her not to give up, she told me “Oh no, Ms. Green, there’s hope out there”.
I cannot promise that I will become particularly fond of ants as a result of the Buddhist parable and lesson. However, I can choose to work on understanding and accepting the impermanence of life. I can train my own mind and heart by way of good deeds. As a religious community, we can recommit ourselves to cultivating good deeds however seemingly insignificant. As individual people of faith and hope and love, we can grow our souls as we make a protection wall along the cave, skillfully divert the stream, and save the ants.
May it be so.
Call to Worship: David Pohl
We come to this time and this place to rediscover the wondrous gift of free religious community.
To renew our faith in the holiness, goodness, and beauty of life;
To reaffirm the way of the open mind and full heart;
To rekindle the flame of memory and hope; and
To reclaim the vision of an earth made fair, with all her people one.
Let us worship.
Benediction: Metta Sutta
Let us cultivate boundless good will.
Let none deceive another, or despise any being in any state.
Let none in anger or ill-will wish another harm.
Even as a mother watches over her child, so with boundless mind should one cherish all living being.
Radiating friendliness over the whole world,
Above, below, and all around, without limit.
The Useless Eyebrows
(told by Ven. Master Hsing-Yun)
Once, a person's eyes, nose, and mouth had a meeting. First the eyes said, "We, the eyes, are of utmost importance to the body. Everything must be seen by us to know whether it is beautiful or not, big or small, tall or short. Without eyes, walking around will be very difficult. So we, the eyes, are very important. But we have been improperly placed under the eyebrows, which are of no use. It is just not fair!"
Next, the nose said, "I, the nose, am the most important. Only I can distinguish a good smell from a foul odor. The act of breathing is also dependent on me. If I do not let the breath pass through, everybody will die. So I am the most important. As important as I am, I have been unfairly placed beneath the useless eyebrows. I am most unhappy."
Then the mouth said, "I am the most important part of the human body. I can speak; if not for me, there would not be any communication among people. I take in the food; if not for me, everybody would die of hunger. Such an important part as myself has been placed in the lowest part of the face. The useless eyebrows, however, have been put on the highest part of the face. This I cannot accept!"
After the others had spoken, the eyebrows spoke slowly, "Please do not fight anymore. We, the eyebrows, are surely the most useless things; we admit defeat. We are willing to be placed below you." Having said this, the eyebrows settled down below the eyes. Unfortunately, the person no longer looked like a human being. Next, they eyebrows settled down below the nose. It was still horrible; it still did not look like a human being. Then the eyebrows settled down below the mouth. This looked even more ghastly! The eyes, nose, and mouth huddled to discuss the situation again. They concluded that it was best if the eyebrows returned to their original place on the face; it was the most appropriate spot for them. When the eyebrows returned to their original spot, the appearance was once again that of a human being. Thus, we can see that what appears to be the most useless thing can be indeed the most useful.
