Make Me an Instrument of Peace

"If I'm laden at all
I'm laden with sadness
That everyone's heart
Isn't filled with the gladness
Of love for one another."         from He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by Bobby Scott and Bob Russell

Just before Christmas I was driving my wife and me to the mall.  As we took the exit for the mall, I was singing to myself Buryl Red's arrangement of "Make Me an Instrument of Thy Peace." I say "Singing to  myself", but occasionally my singing is loud enough to be annoying.  In this case, I was either singing to myself or my wife didn't seem to mind.   I learn most things by reading or by listening. But every so often something just pops in my head that I had never considered before.  Such was the case with that moment with this song. As I sang the title words "Make me an instrument of Thy peace" I had a realization.  For as many years as I have sung or conducted that song and those words, I have processed it something like this. "Make me the sort of person who can help bring peace to the world." But this time as I sang those words, I imagined the wind chimes that hang outside our den sliding glass doors.  Each chime is an instrument of music. Each chime is a particular note.   Each chime of the four chimes is only capable of being that particular note.  Although there is an argument that each chime plays music, most of us would assume that it's the combination of those four notes that makes music. It's the sounding of each of those notes played either sequentially or simultaneously that makes the music.  But regardless of any melodies or music, each chime exists only to produce that one note.  It's a Db, Eb, Gb or Ab. That note is not what it does; it's what it is. The Db may wish to play a melody, but it can only ring as a Db.  It's what it was created to be.

I continued to process my revelation as we continued toward the mall.  I thought "The prayer is not to make me useful in the effort to bring peace on earth" but "make me an instrument of peace." Make my very being 'peaceful'. Then when the wind blows or something bumps up against me, I will exude peace because I am peace.  This may seem like semantics to you, but the difference was very important to me. I suddenly realized that to bring peace to the world I only needed to be peaceful.  If I am peaceful then the world  is more peaceful regardless of any one else's disposition. It's a classic win-win.

I loved He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother  the first time I heard the Hollies sing it in 1969. And in spite of the analysis I will subject it to, I will continue to benefit from listening to this song. But...

The writer says that he is laden with sadness that the world isn't filled with gladness. It's nice poetry. And you and I both understand the point he is making.  On the other hand, in light of my revelation, it seems to me that his sadness is not going to help anyone's gladness. Whereas, it may be true that loving one another brings gladness, unless one is an enemy, it doesn't  hold true that someone's sadness brings gladness. And now you are laden with gladness instead of sadness. If you want to contribute to the world's gladness then be glad! If you become glad, there is immediately more gladness in the world. The world has no other choice.

I'm sitting in the den listening to those wind chimes. Normally, like now,  they play a beautiful and soothing  drone of the pentatonic scale. But every now and then they play recognizable melodies. My wife is witness to the fact that one Christmas several years ago, the chimes played Christmas carols off and on all day on Christmas Eve.  I don't mean they played the whole thing. But imagine the first four notes of Joy to the World or of Silent Night.  Sometimes the notes were in rhythm and at  other times were very slow in no particular time.  But the tunes were recognizable. Since that phenomenon has never occurred before or since, I'm not attributing any sort of black magic to what happened. It just happened for reasons only the Universe can comprehend.  I do know that right now as I listen, the chimes confirm what I've been saying. Each chime exists as a note on the scale. When the wind blows, they reverberate.

Sometimes on trips when I get quiet my wife asks "What do you have on your mind?" I'm thinking, "An electron is one of the strangest things in the galaxy. How can it be two places at the same time?"  But what I say is,  "I was wondering if you could use a rest stop."