Thinking this morning about the disgraceful way Trump is treating John McCain at the time of his death—no different than the disgraceful way Trump treated him in the final days of his fatal illness—this came to mind: Trump is a small, small person.
That’s appropriate, but what exactly does “small person” mean?
I think it means small of spirit. Our traditions urge us to be bigger of spirit. Not just better, though that might be nice, but bigger. As big as whatever we conceive the biggest to be.
There is a small, hard and dark place inside of us. Small, but we can live there, once in a while, for a little while, or in the case of some people, most or all of the time.
The traditions want to get us into a bigger space with unlimited dimensions. So big that it encompasses everybody and everything. That doesn’t mean that we care about everybody and everything or act in ways consistent with such universal care. Nor does it mean that the small, hard and dark place inside dissolves and disappears. It just means that some of the time, more and more of the time if possible, you live in the space of the bigger spirit. That’s all.
The small, small person is the one trapped in that small, hard and dark place. You may be disturbed that you have to hear about such people, but you should be hopeful and joyful that it is not you.