Recently I attended a talk for people in leadership where the presenter shared his involvement in a critical incident.  The incident was truly horrific and would have left significant trauma in its wake.  At the conclusion of the story the presenter explained that this is why when someone comes to him with a papercut he puts up his hand and says ‘don’t sweat the small stuff’.

I have been pondering and wondering about this advice.  The ‘don’t sweat the small stuff’ phenomenon emerged in the late 90s with the best-selling book of the same name by Dr Richard Carlson.  It provides strategies for how to keep the daily irritations of life in perspective – and we face many daily aggravations!  We can’t possibly get upset and cross every time something goes wrong!

And there are also those times of personal challenge, when in listening to others we can’t help but feel that, compared to the bone-crushing sadness that is weighing us down, their trouble seems small.  The challenge, I suspect, is how do we know when a papercut is not really a papercut but a call for recognition with the hope of being met with kindness?

The gospels are peppered with potential papercut characters: in the eyes of the disciples the Canaanite woman in this weekend’s gospel (Mt 15:21-28) was one of them.  She keeps calling after Jesus; and the disciples, clearly exasperated, ask Jesus to send her away.  In the maelstrom of Mediterranean life, the demon-spirit filled daughter of this unknown woman would have been of small consequence, really.  Just another of the many needy people who filled Jesus’ path.  Or the children (Mt 19:13-15) who were brought to Jesus – rebuked by the disciples but seen by Jesus.  The poor, the sick, the suffering, the outsider – carrying their papercuts – they saw something in Jesus, and he saw something in them.  He met them with love and compassion.  And I wonder if this is a clue for us.  In the world of encounter even the papercut is an opportunity to reach out with reassurance: you are welcome, sit down, let me get you a band aid, tell me your story.

Pope Francis has consistently encouraged in the faithful the building of a culture of encounter and accompaniment.  In a 2016 homily he described this as ‘not just seeing, but looking; not just hearing, but listening; not just passing people by, but stopping with them; not just saying “what a shame, poor people!”, but allowing yourself to be moved with compassion; “and then to draw near, to touch and to say: ‘Do not weep’ and to give at least a drop of life”.’

This is a world predicated on an understanding of shared dignity.

At the conclusion of Fratelli Tutti, which includes a number of observations about encounter, Pope Francis offers this prayer:

Lord, Father of our human family,
you created all human beings equal in dignity:
pour forth into our hearts a fraternal spirit
and inspire in us a dream of renewed encounter,
dialogue, justice and peace.
Move us to create healthier societies
and a more dignified world,
a world without hunger, poverty, violence and war.
May our hearts be open
to all the peoples and nations of the earth.
May we recognize the goodness and beauty
that you have sown in each of us,
and thus forge bonds of unity, common projects,
and shared dreams. Amen.

So may our hearts soften toward the one who brings their papercut to us and may we welcome them and whatever hurt, burden or sorrow they carry with respect and kindness.

By Cathy Jenkins