Sabbath Devotional: The Meekness of a Sieve as a Strategy for Peacemaking

When my children were young, I struggled with how to react in the face of their inevitable anger. Some children have particular challenges and legitimate reasons to be angry at the confusing world around them, and that knowledge gave me a strong measure of compassion and allowed me to sometimes keep my cool when things got bad. But the intensity of mothering amidst constant pressure and sleep deprivation meant it was a struggle to be a consistent example of restraint and goodness in the face of the rage that was regularly directed at me.

Over time, especially as I realized this was going to be a long-term challenge, I developed a very specific visualization strategy for managing my own feelings, words, and actions in the most intense moments.

First, I would say to myself, “I am not a wall.” This is because I did not want to bounce their anger back at them.

Then I would say, “I am not a sponge” because I did not think it was healthy for me to soak up all the negativity coming in my direction.

Instead, I would say, “I am a sieve,” and I would visualize my torso as a porous thing, capable of retaining the helpful information from an outburst and letting the rest of it go through me. I did not want to ignore what my children were saying — if I listened carefully to their angry words, I could usually find some meaning or clues to what I might do to help them. As I sorted through the unhelpful and even damaging words, I could release them behind me, thus avoiding holding on to anything that might get in the way of reconciliation when things calmed down a bit.

Over time I became well practiced at this exercise, and I believe it contributed to what are now close and trusting relationships with my adult children. All is not perfect, and I have the normal regrets mothers hold on to. But I am forever grateful for the inspiration that came to help me build this practice of restraint and care in the midst of difficulty.

As my daily life has changed and my time is filled with the work of MWEG and engagement in the world of politics, this practice has proved invaluable — and I have tested it in various scenarios. Over the past couple of years in particular, it has occurred to me that this practice is a wonderful way to cultivate the sometimes-elusive quality of meekness.

In his general conference address titled “Meek and Lowly of Heart,” Elder Bednar describes meekness as “a defining attribute of the Redeemer … distinguished by righteous responsiveness, willing submissiveness, and strong self-restraint.” We find one of the most compelling examples of meekness in the form of Pahoran from the Book of Mormon. When faced with accusations of slothfulness and neglect from Captain Moroni, Pahoran responds in a measured and compassionate way, giving Moroni information he did not have access to. In other words, Moroni had jumped to judgmental conclusions — about which Pahoran had every right to be frustrated. But Pahoran chose to de-escalate instead by responding with sincere meekness.

Let’s pause for a moment to consider how Pahoran looks in this story. I suppose some would make the case that he allowed himself to be trampled and weak by not defending himself more vigorously. But I think he exemplifies strength — he states the facts about the situation but refrains from giving Moroni a well-deserved rebuke. In words that Elder Bednar uses to describe the quality of meekness, Pahoran is “strong, not weak; active, not passive; courageous, not timid; restrained, not excessive; modest, not self-aggrandizing; and gracious, not brash.”

What if we exhibited this sort of meekness in our conflicts with others? What kind of peacemakers could we become? For example, can we exhibit meekness when someone is telling us a very hard thing? In my experience, personal feedback is rarely packaged well by someone I am in conflict with. It is often flung at me in vulnerable moments and with great emotion that makes it difficult to hear. My instincts might be to be the wall that throws something right back at them or the sponge that lets the hard words sink too deep, too quickly.

But what if I act like a sieve instead? In this case, I listen with curiosity and really seek to hear the essence of their feedback. I prayerfully hold on to the useful pieces and give grace for any meanness that might accompany it. In this scenario, I am truly interrogating my own part in the conflict while not taking responsibility for theirs. When I do this well, I feel uplifted by the exercise, and I believe it nourishes the person I am in conversation with. And I gain confidence in my ability to navigate conflict.

As with all meaningful exercises in self-improvement, this is not something I execute perfectly. In fact, as I was writing this devotional, I was interrupted by three different members of my family, and I responded in annoyance each time! They knew I was writing; they knew it was important, and they somehow could not restrain themselves from coming into my office with questions that, in every single case, were not urgent and could have waited. But after I recognized my own hypocrisy at snapping at each of them in turn for interrupting my efforts to write about meekness (!), I paused to repair and set some better boundaries and expectations. In my experience, it is the times I “fail” that give me the best opportunities to learn and do better.

Friends, all the important work we are doing together here at MWEG will be magnified by our meekness, whether it be with each other in our MWEG spaces, on social media, in person with family and friends, or in conversations with elected representatives. I can’t think of a better way to make peace at this moment than to cultivate a practice of meekness. If you need more scriptural inspiration, read what Elder Bednar describes as the Savior’s “willing submission and strong self-restraint” in Luke 22 when He heals the ear of the high priest’s servant. Or the Matthew 5:5 beatitude: “Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.”

If you, like me, crave simple and replicable strategies to cultivate this divine practice of meekness, or the “principal protection from … prideful blindness,” feel free to borrow my visualization of a sieve. The world is hard and we need more gentleness. May we choose meekness as a way to bring softness and goodness to those around us!

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Emma Petty Addams is the co-executive director at Mormon Women for Ethical Government.