Kindness
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.
-Naomi Shi-hab Nye
No matter who we are or what we’ve experienced since early March, this time has been a defining moment, a time where we’ve experienced what Naomi Shi-hab Nye describes as “feeling the future dissolve in a moment, like salt in a weakened broth.”
We will all remember where we were and how we reacted when we first learned of the coronavirus, of the gradual shutting down of our lives
—
when we learned spring break trips were canceled, and heard we would not be returning to school for the remainder of the academic year, and that seniors would miss their senior spring and all the final moments (their last seasons, games, play, prom, and of course graduation) all important events in the final chapter of their St. Mark’s careers.
And as difficult as it may have been to process these disappointments, we began to realize the truly terrible global dimensions of this catastrophe as news flooded in of the growing numbers of the sick and dying, of the millions of unemployed, of the overwhelmed hospitals while living with the daily anxieties over risks of exposure and fears of loved ones falling ill and futures indefinitely postponed or altered.
For most of us, we slowly adapted to a new daily regimen, we learned to wash our hands again and again, slide our masks on as we prepared for the grocery store aisles, disinfect surfaces, navigate Zoom classes, the litany of asynchronous activities, and crazy chock-full Canvas calendars. For us teachers, we learned how to condense weeks of classes into 20-minute Zoom sessions, while “home-schooling” our own children.
Every little cough or sneeze brings fear and worry, for ourselves and family, but within all of these small and large concerns, we learned each day, little by little, to cultivate hope in the new cadence of life in the pandemic.
As Shihab-Nye writes, we discover on some days that “kindness is the [only thing] that makes sense anymore,” how quickly small acts of compassion change the shape of things. One kind gesture builds upon another, whether it was the first person who decided to sing from their balcony in Italy, or clap for their healthcare workers in New York City, or make homemade masks for healthcare professionals, all these acts of love spread rapidly but began with one small gesture.
Here in the virtual world of St. Mark’s, we witnessed the same, rapid spreading of small gestures of love and compassion. Faculty shared songs, poems and hopeful Loom videos over emails, Mr. Warren addressed us in a fireside chat from his home, the tech staff worked around the clock to prepare for online learning, facilities cleaned from top to bottom, and the Covid-19 task force worked tirelessly to navigate the minute by minute changes.
When we returned to online school, Sierra Petties ’20 had the courage to give the first virtual chapel talk, the monitors led the first school meeting, Mr. Vachris asked for the first Hoo-rah, over and over again, we showed up with courage, hope, and kindness. Students created music, poetry, virtual coffee houses, original songs, stop-motion videos, paintings, photography, and the latest: a wonderful children’s book the Monitors shared for seniors yesterday at school meeting. They scheduled birthday party drive-bys and virtual celebrations, or in one case, lined up on the streets of Southborough to support a classmate as she finished a half-marathon.
Kindness begins with small gestures, as those essential acts that help us through this challenging time. In the coming days, as you move on to the next phase of your lives, pay attention to this spirit of love that surrounds us. Show up, continue to spread hope and laughter, and when we come together again on the other side of this, we will be stronger, more compassionate, and more resilient than we have ever been.
--The Rev Katie Solter, taken from a virtual Chapel talk on May 27, 2020
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