Hurrying

Hurrying...
from Pray All Ways by Edward Hays

Greetings, Fellow Criminals!
The salutation is a lucky guess.
Half the population breaks the law;
no matter the speed limit, we go faster.

Law breakers--a salutation that's an easy bet
addressing Kansans and Missourians--
of them, 70% break that law of limit.

Kansas with its long, lethargic miles of flat farm land:
why linger? Hurry-up to get from here to there
and from there to here.
Now, California, Indiana and Idaho, much more to see--
and yet, there, as here,
we're in a hurry to get from here to there--
and there to here.
Not 70% but 99 & 44/100% pulled over to the curb,
if speed limits were placed on eating lunch,
drinking coffee, drying dishes, making love, and praying.

Our lifestyle is R &R: rushing and running.
We've been programmed in Pampers to hurry.
"Hurry-up and eat your breakfast...you'll be late."
"Hurry-up and get dressed...everyone is waiting."
"Hurry-up, students...only five minutes left."
And now, today, when the little round light
turns from red to green
--before the electric eclipse is over--
honk-honk, hurry-up, hurry-up.

Brother Marx was wrong; it's not religion--
haste is the opium of the masses.
Haste makes waste, wrong again, haste makes fun.
Shoot up with speed, another fix of stimulation--
Hurry, hurry,
double your pleasure, double your fun
double your speed and get it done!
We pause, catch our breath, panting a pious petition--
"Lord, teach us how to pray...in a hurry!"

Water in acid, haste in prayer, don't mix!
hurry hurts our hearts and haste poisons our prayer.

Haste, in Old English-Saxon tongue meant violence,
once upon a time.
The meaning's changed, the effect's the same.
Haste is violence...to our prayer,
haste is violence...to our health,
to our marriages, friendships and contemplative communion.
We deplore violence on the screen and in the streets.
Then why promote haste at home
and rushing on the road?

Whirlin' round in the revolving door of life's department store,
we hear the voice of God whispering in the whirl,
"I will lead her into the desert and speak to her heart.
She shall respond there as in the days of her youth."
Into the desert to find a different pace--
in the desert...to hot to hurry, silly...in the sun to run.
Take your time, move s-l-o-w-l-y.
Watch the camel, learn a lesson, measure well the journey.
"Lord, can't we pray at home? Why lead us into the desert?"

"Why, my children?
Hustle, hustle, is the music of the marketplace, that's why---
Hurry, hurry, is the song of the city, that's why."

In the desert, ageless, clockless, still as sagebrush--
all moves at lizard's speed.
Time to sit and once again to hear.
"God speaks slowly," say the ancient ones--
a word an hour, a sentence a century.
Those in a hurry...hear not!
Jesus in the desert, said Mark, "absorbed in prayer"
Jesus in the desert, led by the Spirit--
soaked up in silence and sand,
responded as in his youth.
In the desert, no hurry to hear, no rush to respond.

Friends...contemplative prayer, in the Sinai or in Cincinnati--
always has the slow scent of sagebrush.
Why is it hard to pray?
Well, there's no time to pray.
It's a hurry, hurry, you'll be late.
Hurry is a habit and we have grown to hate to wait.
"Let's get this show on the road...let's go, what's the delay?"

Speed is our Holy Spirit, a virtue, not a vice.
Twice as much to do, so learn to double up.
"Blessed is the man who can do two things at once,"
open his e-mail and answer the phone,
brush his teeth and balance his budget,
watch TV and surf the Internet...
Why is this a virtue, and not a vice?
Words, like eggs, hold secrets, hide truths.
Drugstore, daily words, like haste,
once upon a time meaning violence...
Why is hurry a virtue and not a vice?
Take a word, a yellow word...SLOW...
Turn back the clock centuriese.
Slow first meant not less speed, but stupid!
If you're slow in getting the point, slow with the answer--
you're stupid, dull, and witless.
Smart people, we all know,
are fast with the answer, first to finish, swift with solutions.
Smart people can do two, three things at once.
Ah, so easy and so swift, and fast....
So, who wants to be slow and dull
and stand at the rear of the class?
Hurry-up and prove your worth!
Busy days and speedy answers,
all status signs of brilliant people.

Do you want to pray? Slow down!
Eat your green peas one by one--
Chew your food, don't wash it down.
Sip your wine and words slowly,
linger long on a friendship, pause and ponder, take your time.
Have the courage to cancel--the stomach to say "no"
so as to have the time
to taste your life, your loves and the 57 varietiese of prayer.
Taste...life...slowly.
And beware, the Devil of the Hyper Drive
is purring near your ear--
resist the temptation to rush around--
giving life but a harried glance,
taking only samples of friendship,
only samples of prayer and daily life.
Take your time, friends--
for in the ordinary hides the extra-ordinary,
in the daily, you'll find the divine...
"Blessed are those who live slowly for they shall see God."

Stop...look...and listetn...
We always overlook when we overbook.
United, Continental, you and I overbook our days.
Too many events, too many things to do--
hurry, hurry, and finish, then we'll pray.
Hurry, hurry, then, job done, we taste good times.
But when we overbook our days, who's let behind?
Who's left at the gate when all things significant have been seated?
The Divine Beloeved, our secret friend--
who never pushes, is always slow and silent--
Who else...is left behind?

Lord, there's so much to do--so little time--
teach us how to separate trash from treasure.
We pray that a modern vice might be converted
and return to a life of virtue.
Let us pray for discrimination. Let us distinguish
between the work of the blessed
and the work of the busy-busy.
Let us descriminate, then begin to eliminate.

Friends, resist the temptation,
don't look at your watches.
Let go of time and allow the Beloeved
to loead you lovely into the desert,
not the Sinai or the Sahara,
but into those quiet, empty spaces hidden in this day--
desert spaces devoid of ticking clocks
and lethal deadlines.

Children of God--
let each of us find a sand pile, a little desert lot,
behind he garage or at the beginning of the day,
silent and strong
with the slow scent of sagebrush,
and there, as in our younger days--
the Divine Friend will speak--
not to our heads, but to our hearts!
Free from haste and the violence of rushing,
we can do one thing, slowly, at a time.
Then we can respond as in the days of our youth--
with abundant affection,
dedication,
and dreams.

Coming forth from those empty spaces,
desert-places--kissed by silence,
we shall be able to savor--
The Spirit Supreme,
sip by sip
in every, every segment of our lives.