“Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)
Hearing these words read recently during morning prayer, my mind fixated on the word “gentle”, and I began to repeat it silently over and over. Gentle. Gentle. Gentle. I think what caught my attention was the fleeting pleasure thinking about gentleness brought me, if only for a moment. It was a comfort and a release from the decidedly un-gentle world we seem to live in right now.
So, I decided to write about gentleness for this column. And yet, almost immediately, I second-guessed myself. Would it mean anything? Why would my random scribblings on gentleness matter right now? Is it even right to muse about gentleness with so much hate, injustice and violence going on wherever you look? Is gentleness even what’s called for? Maybe I should be writing about righteous anger or bravery or something that seems far more helpful than gentleness.
Today's world is all hard edges, cutting hazards and judgement. There's no gentleness, which is mistaken for weakness. To get things done you can't be gentle. You must engage in gotcha moments, one-upmanship and beat someone else to the punch.
But I’m tired of that, so very tired. Exhausted, really. And in my exhaustion, I look at those words above, of Jesus telling the weary, overburdened people close to him they could rest in His gentleness. Resting in gentleness. Imagine that. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all rest in gentleness?
For Jesus, the default way to engage with people was from a gentle and humble heart. The gentleness was His way of being in the world, and it came from within. From that bedrock of gentleness, he could see what the weary people around Him needed. Gentleness was the way to let those around Him rest, gather strength and move forward again. Jesus didn’t remove the yoke, but His gentleness, His acknowledgement of another person’s weariness and pain, made it lighter.
For me, this means defaulting into gentleness with those around me. I’m often guilty of not treating others as gently as I could, both intentionally and unintentionally. I’ll be short with someone or impatient, forgetting that they, too, are likely tired and carrying pain I can’t see. I can be willfully blind to the circumstances of others when it doesn’t suit me to consider them. And, when hurt, I can lash out on autopilot without pausing to assess the entirety of a situation.
The sum of all that less-than-gentle reacting, I think, can ripple out far beyond one immediate interaction. Negativity tends to spread and compound on itself, having effects we won’t even see. Just like a butterfly flapping its wings in Texas might create a monsoon in Japan, a sharp word from me can have a domino effect and impact people I don’t even know.
But if I try to make gentleness my default, maybe, just maybe, there will be fewer negative ripples running off in all directions. Or perhaps those ripples will carry positive, loving energy instead. If I take a beat to truly understand someone and treat them gently there’s a chance they will do the same for someone else, and it will carry on until it reaches who knows where. Maybe there is no limit to what can change if we just let others rest in our space of gentleness.
Kevin Aschenbrenner is a Victoria-based writer, poet and communications professional. He holds an M.A. in Culture and Spirituality from the Sophia Center at Holy Names University in Oakland, Calif. He blogs at .
You can read more articles on our interfaith blog, Spiritually Speaking at /blogs/spiritually-speaking
* This article was published in the print edition of the Times 91原创 on Saturday, October 21st 2023
