Mrs. Shari Ray, twelfth grade English teacher and storyteller extraordinaire, retold a story from several years ago in which she met a Holocaust survivor. This elderly woman told her terrible stories to Mrs. Ray at a Passover Seder and yet had a surprisingly joyful demeanor. When asked the secret to her positive outlook, the grandmother told Mrs. Ray that it came from her choice to forgive her enemies.
In today's retelling of this encounter, Mrs. Ray added a coda, describing the joy and delight and dancing by this same older woman at the wedding of her granddaughter. We were all challenged to consider the choices we make: small ones about what to wear, medium decisions about where to go to college, and large choices - character choices - choosing to forgive and to live in joy.
Showing posts with label faculty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faculty. Show all posts
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
What Not To Wear
The St. Mary's Chapel Committee brought "Stacey" and "Clinton" of TLC's What Not To Wear fame to take a look at what some might consider wearing to chapel, and the verdict was a very clear thumbs down. No phones for texting, no headphones under a hoodie, no snacks, no study notes, no blankets, no purses ...
Special thanks to all the faculty who so fashionably modeled these DON'TS on the chapel runway.
Special thanks to all the faculty who so fashionably modeled these DON'TS on the chapel runway.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Faculty Chapel
"To Be of Use"
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
Marge Piercy
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.
I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.
Marge Piercy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)