“Not Knowing”

         I am not great at surprises. I like to look like I’m the spontaneous one, always up for unplanned adventures; but the truth is, I’m a bit of a control freak. I kind of like knowing what’s going to happen next, where I’m going next. I love a good calendar and planner. My only saving grace is that I know this about myself, that I work on it as a growing edge. I am learning to be comfortable in the not knowing since I understand we never really know anything for certain. And that some of the best times in my life were not expected, certainly not planned.

         In his book, Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest, by Wayne Muller, he writes a traditional tale. It goes like this:

         “An old Hasidic rabbi crosses the village square every morning on his way to the temple to pray. One morning, a large Cossack soldier, who happened to be in a vile mood, accosted him, saying, “Hey, Rebby, where are you going?”

         And the rabbi said, “I don’t know.”

         This infuriated the Cossack. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Every morning for twenty-five years you have crossed the village square and gone to the temple to pray. Don’t fool with me. Who are you, telling me you don’t know?”

         He grabbed the old rabbi by the coat and dragged him off to jail. Just as he was about to push him into the cell, the rabbi turned to him, saying, “You see, I didn’t know.”

         Learning to rest well requires a certain comfort in understanding that we really can’t control the future. We stay in a state of anxiety and “unrest” when we fight to gain control, struggle for certainty, wrestle with what we do not know. What if in this time of spring, we try to settle into mystery, practice resting even in the space of not knowing what the future will bring, what even the day will hold? What if we find ourselves in a place of faith that lets us believe that even in the un-knowing we will be okay?

         I can try but then again, if you ask me if I can really let all that control go, if I can really sit in mystery, I’ll have to be honest and say, I just don’t know.



You are the light of the world!

Warmly,

Lynne