All I Think About?

Written By Jonathan Krogh

Dear Fellow Fabulists:

Lately, I’ve been musing over a quote by Anne Lamott: “I may not be much, but I’m all I think about.” What stays with me are the many lies I tell myself just to make my own story more tolerable—or at least more interesting. I find myself bending timelines and tweaking details to keep myself at the hero of every tale. What’s troubling is how these subtle edits help me avoid honest moments of real powerlessness.

Of course, that first paragraph is itself an example of my tendency to stay wrapped up in self-focus. Even my attempts at confession can become performances—chances to shine as humbly noble, like the friend who says something self-deprecating just to hear others cry, “No, don’t say that—you’re a good person!”

Yesterday’s Gospel lesson brought up the Great Commandment again: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Yes, it starts with a command to wholly love God—but even Paul, in Galatians 5.14, skipped straight to the second part, keeping us from being lost in the abstract.) That command carries a subtle reflexive invitation: Think about what love of neighbor looks like, then ask if that’s how you treat yourself. Always making someone else the hero of every story feeds their narcissism and avoids the truth of their occasional helplessness. Imagine if the Good Samaritan, instead of helping the wounded man, simply gave him a pep talk that told him how he had actually won the fight. That wouldn’t have been love; it would’ve been delusional. Instead, the Samaritan moved compassionately precisely because the man was helpless. Love of neighbor includes recognition of powerlessness; so too does love of self. There are broken things I have not and cannot fix, wrongs I cannot right and situations I do not understand. I do not like it, but love begins with honesty, a gift we more easily share with neighbors than we do with ourselves.

I think the Samaritan would bristle if he were to hear us call him a hero; he only did what he could, what was needed, and for that we call him Good. The other two, the ones who passed on the other side, were too absorbed in crafting stories of their obvious heroism. I find when I honestly embrace my limitations, I’m far more open to loving others. Which brings us full circle to loving God. It is from our helplessness that we find ourselves drawn closer to the divine embrace of heart, soul, strength and mind.

Seeking to tell more honest stories, I remain,

With Love,
Jonathan Krogh
Your Pastor

Jonathan Krogh
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