Death to Self Archives - Rest and Trust

What is the best thing about getting older? In an old parable, a man carried two water jars suspended from a pole across his shoulders.

One jar was new and perfect; the other was old and cracked and leaked water along the path.

Every day, by the time the man reached his master’s house, the cracked jar was almost empty. The new jar boasted of its usefulness, while the cracked jar was ashamed of its flaws.

One day, the cracked jar said to the man apologetically:

“I am defective. I lose most of the water through my cracks before you reach the house.”

The man replied:

“Yes, but when was the last time you looked at your side of the path? I know all about your cracks, so I scattered seeds there. Every day, when you thought you were merely leaking water, you were watering flowers. Look at this road now!”

The jar looked and was amazed. His side of the path was covered with the most beautiful flowers imaginable.

“Because of you, the master always has fresh flowers on his table. Your cracks have leaked so much beauty into the world that people come from far away just to walk along this path. They say it fills them with joy like nothing else.”

Old age is the perfect time to leak beauty into the world. We think our cracks make us useless; nothing could be further from the truth. The older we get, the more wounds, flaws, and imperfections we carry — but these are the very cracks through which the light pours out.

Little do we know that someone has sown seeds along our path. These seeds can sprout only if we water them through our wounds. Our wounds are sacred. They are conduits of living water — unique life experiences that can nourish the seeds of new life.

Whole jars carry ordinary water; broken jars carry living water.

“One of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side… bringing a sudden flow of blood and water.” — John 19:34

By that water, we have been healed. The mystery of healing is that it can come only through the Wound. The older we get, the more sacred our wounds become — and the more healing beauty we can spill.

For the world to flower, people must leak the beauty of their cracks. If we hide them or patch them up with tape, our beauty cannot flow out. When we hide our cracks, our path remains dry and barren. We become rigid and closed in on ourselves — crackpots rather than cracked pots.

When we open them, streams of living water gush forth, and everything begins to blossom.

We do not think much of old age. We think of it as diminishing. And it is diminishing — but in an enlarging way. As G. K. Chesterton put it:

“How much larger your life would be if your self could become smaller in it.”

— Orthodoxy

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What is the hidden message of Groundhog Day? I would never have thought there was something in Groundhog Day that I didn’t know. I thought I knew the movie by heart. Apparently, I didn’t. To memorize something means to commit it to memory; to learn something by heart means to commit it to the heart.

As my wife and I watched the first few minutes of the movie last night, she suddenly asked, “Why is the groundhog’s name Phil — just like Phil Connors?” Her question sent me reeling. How could I have missed it? Yes! Phil Connors is Punxsutawney Phil. He is the groundhog of the story.

According to Pennsylvania Dutch legend, if a groundhog emerges from its burrow on February 2 and sees its shadow, it retreats into its den and winter lasts six more weeks. If it does not see its shadow, spring arrives early.

Phil Connors is a weatherman—but he is under the weather. He’s fed up with people. He is under his own shadow, though he is unaware of it. His skies are overcast 24/7. Rita and Larry try to pull him out of his shadow, but he always retreats into his den. People drive him nuts — and into his “den.”

When you are under the weather, people always drive you nuts. You want to retreat, withdraw, and languish quietly under the weather of your own exclusivity. Your shadow grows large and frightening. You want to hide. Everyone with a big shadow has a den to hide in — from himself and from others. The shadow is a scary thing.

How do you get out of it?

Spiritually speaking, my shadow is always there until I become aware of it. It remains until I realize its presence. The moment I see it, it is gone. When I become aware of my own shadow, I look behind me and do not see it. My spring has come.”

Phil’s shadow is enormous. He hates his job, he hates his circumstances, he hates people. And like Punxsutawney Phil, he retreats into his “den” to get away from it all. He is not yet aware of his own shadow even though he lives under it 24/7.

So he hides from himself and from others. His “den” is his Groundhog Day. He is trapped in his den — in his own shadow — locked in a vicious circle. How do you escape your own shadow?

All vicious circles are broken the moment we die. All shadows are trampled down by death to self. The Paschal hymn —“Christ trampled down death by His own death”—carries profound spiritual wisdom. It foreshadows the death of the shadow.

Phil remains stuck in his “den” — February 2 — until he becomes aware of his shadow and agrees to die to himself. He passes through the vicious cycles of his own Inferno and Purgatory until, One Day, he finally lets go. The next morning he wakes up — and there is no shadow. It is gone! His spring has come.

Phil Connors is a “weatherman under the weather” who is unaware of his own shadow. That shadow binds him in a vicious cycle of misery until he recognizes it and… releases it.

The moment we die to ourselves, we are freed from the shadow. A new day dawns. And it is February 3. Spring is coming.