Kipling's wisdom

I have lately begun to wonder what the Church would look like if we weren't so fraught with our own agenda's. The leaders at the mission I work at, IDT, are always talking about unity, and love, and all those beautiful ideals that make our present reality that much more dim. I have hope for the Church at large, that one day she will understand how not important her feelings are. How many relationships do I destroy, or even strain, because somebody has hurt my feelings? How often do I analyze the words and expressions and tone and body language of somebody, to discover if I have a 'right' to be offended with them?

I am coming to the realization, slowly, that, in the broad spectrum, how I am treated doesn't matter. And also that how I am treated is not nearly as bad as I sometimes think. I don't think I'm alone when I say, in complete honesty, that being 'mad' is a great deal of fun. It gets my blood pumping, and my mind racing, and gives me that oh-so-lovely feeling of self righteousness. I don't like to admit to myself (or to you) that I often look for offensive behaviour in completely innocent people. Poor friends of mine. Now you know the truth.

My friend Gord posted something on behaviour today which set me thinking. His point was that we could be a lot nicer than we are, and I agree. However, on the flip side, we could probably give people credit for being as nice as they intend to be, and leave our sensitive feelings at the door. So, all that to say that I found a poem a few years ago that set me to thinking, and I wanted you to read it too.Sometimes the words that have already been spoken are enough to express the idea of the moment. The author is unknown, but it is most often attributed to Rudyard Kipling (whom I love).

Read it slowly.

Could we but draw back the curtain
That surrounds each other's lives,
See the naked heart and spirit,
Know what spur the action drives,
Often we would find it clearer,
Purer than we judge we would--
We would love each other better
If we only understood.

Could we judge all deeds by motives,
See the good and bad within,
Often we would love the sinner
All the while we loathed the sin.
Could we know the powers working
To o'erthrow integrity,
We would judge each other's errors
With more patient charity.

If we knew the care and trials,
Knew the efforts all in vain,
All the bitter disappointment,
Understood the loss and gain.
Would the grim external roughness
Seem, I wonder, just the same?
Would we help where now we hinder?
Would we pity where now we blame?

Ah! we judge each other harshly,
Knowing not life's hidden force;
Knowing not the fount of action
Is less turbid at its source;
Seeing not amid the evil
All the golden strains of good--
Oh, we'd love each other better,
If we only understood.