I had never heard this phrase until many years ago when the administrative assistant at the church where I worked, reminded me, as I was freaking out over a situation which was way beyond my control, “Hey!” she said, “This is not your circus and not your monkeys! And you don’t have to make them dance! ” She could not have summed up the situation any better. That phrase, sometimes said out loud and sometimes muttered under my breath, has come in very handy many times over the years.
A little Goggle search helped me discover that the phrase—“Not my circus, not my monkeys”—originates from Poland and is apparently a well known Polish proverb.
I am not sure where the “you don’t have to make them dance” came from, but it may have been an original add-on from my very wise and always witty administrative assistant.
The proverb is a reminder that we do not have to be responsible for everyone’s actions or lives. We each have our own circus and our own monkeys for which we are indeed responsible. But it is ever so easy to get caught up in the drama and quicksand of other people’s circuses and to think it is our job to get all the monkeys dancing.
Most of us have friends and family members who are only too eager to let us be the ringmaster in their circus and to devote ourselves to getting their monkeys dancing. We have to learn to recognize what we can control and what we cannot control. We can choose to stay in the circus tent, but we need to resist taking on the permanent role as ringmaster for all and everything.
The very first sermon I ever preached was on the scripture passage (Luke 10:25-37) which most people know as “The Parable of the Good Samaritan.” The story, in brief, is about a man that has been beaten and robbed and is left half-dead by the side of the road. A priest passes by and does not help. Not only does he not help, he crosses to the other side of the road so he doesn’t have to even come near to the man. Then a Levite (another religious authority) passes by and again, does not help. A Samaritan, essentially an alien, an immigrant far from home, sees the man. He does not close his eyes to a person in pain nor does he cross to the other side of the street. He helps the man, bandages his wounds, puts him on his own donkey and takes him to a nearby inn. He pays the innkeeper to take care of the man until he is well and tells him he will return and pay him if there are additional expenses for the man’s care. To put it bluntly, as it is put in the parable, he shows mercy to the man who was robbed and beaten.
The usual interpretation of this parable is that it was the man who was least likely to help who actually helped. It was the man that many people disdained who stepped up and helped. The Samaritan saw past cultural and religious boundaries and only saw another human being and he offered mercy.
So how does this relate to the circus and the monkeys? Showing mercy is different than becoming the ringmaster. The Samaritan helps the man, deals with his immediate needs, but does not stay with the man every minute. He entrusts the man to the care of others until he is well. The Samaritan goes on about his business, his life; he helps but he does not take all the responsibility on his own shoulders. He trusts that the innkeeper will do his job of caring for the man as he has been paid to do; the Samaritan trusts that the injured man will do his work, too—the work of resting and healing and becoming strong again.
On occasion we are called to be the ringmaster but it is not a permanent position. We get confused and think we are called to be the savior in a difficult situation, when what we are called to do is to show mercy and then to go forward with our own life.
There is an excellent book Friedman’s Fables written by Edwin H. Friedman, a rabbi who was known for his family systems theory. One of his teaching stories—one of my favorites— is called “The Bridge.” In brief the fable tells about a person on a journey and this person knows exactly what he wants to do, where he wants to go with his life. But in crossing over a bridge he meets another man who has a rope tied around his waist. The man with the rope asks the diligent and clear headed man if he could hold the rope for just a moment. The man agrees and as soon as he takes hold of the rope the other man jumps over the side of the bridge. Oh my! The man cries out to the one who has jumped and tells him that he is not strong enough to pull him back up onto the bridge to which the dangling man replies, “I am your responsibility. My life is in your hands.” The man who jumped off the bridge has made the other man the ringmaster and in charge of the monkeys. If the man lets go of the rope, the other man will fall and die. But there is another way. The man who jumped can pull himself up on the rope and climb back on the bridge.
After deliberation this conversation occurred:
“ I want you to listen carefully,” he said, “because I mean what I am about to say. I will not accept the position of choice for your life, only for my own; the position of choices for you own life I hereby give back to you.”
“What do you mean?” the other asked, afraid.
“I mean simply, it’s up to you. You decide which way this ends…You do the pulling and bring yourself up…”
“You cannot mean what you say,” the other shrieked. “You would not be so selfish. I am your responsibility….”
“I accept your choice, “ he said, at last, and freed his hands.
The Samaritan stopped to help, he showed mercy. He did not assume the role of permanent ringmaster. He did not take over the injured man’s life. He gave of himself and of his wealth and then he knew it was time to walk away, to let go of the rope.
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Interesting, I’ve never thought about it this way. I wish girls could be taught from a young age that it is not their responsibility to hold that rope as they grow into women. More men should be held accountable for their lives and actions.
Love the new take on the old Parable. Love the saying.