Ancient Wisdom—Modern Prophet: Mother Teresa 9-21-14

God, at the core of our being, we want to know you.  Show us the beauty of our journey as we seek to walk more and more in awareness of your presence.  Amen

            Throughout this series, we have been looking at the ways contemporary Christians bring the ancient wisdom of Christianity to life.  Today, I have chosen one of the most famous Christians of all time.  I would imagine if I asked you to list the most important Christians throughout history in terms of impact on the world, Mother Teresa would easily make it onto 80-90% of those lists.  The modern world was and remains fascinated with Mother Teresa; perhaps because she demonstrated the love of Jesus Christ in this world in ways that no one else ever has.  Mother Teresa shows us the meaning of embodiment—the embodiment of the spirit of God here on earth.  It is as if she was a walking example of the reign of God’s justice among us.  She believed that if a person came into our life it was because God intended for us to interact with that person— “The very fact that God has placed a certain soul in our way is a sign that God wants us to do something for him or her. It is not chance; it has been planned by God. We are bound by conscience to help him or her.”   This sermon was neither easy for me to write or speak, given the events of the last few weeks.  But Mother Teresa has much to say to us, things which God refuses to allow me to ignore. 

            Many of you know the biography of Mother Teresa, so I will be brief.  Gonxha Bojaxhiu was born in Yugoslavia in 1910.  Her father died when she was eight years old and she became especially close to her pious Catholic mother.  Although, it would have seemed a likely call for Gonxha to pursue, she says that she never thought of being a nun until she turned 18.  At that age, she chose to become a novice in the Loreto Sisters of Dublin, educators of young girls.  In 1928 she travelled to Ireland; and, never saw her mother again.  After her years in the convent were completed, she was sent to Calcutta to teach in a high school for girls.  She enjoyed this position for the next 15 or so years. 
            Paul reminds us that love “doesn’t fly off the handle and doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,” and Mother Teresa challenges us, “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”   Again, Paul’s description of love, “doesn’t revel when others grovel”; and Mother Teresa explains, “Love is not patronizing and charity isn't about pity, it is about love. Charity and love are the same -- with charity you give love, so don't just give money but reach out your hand instead.” Her insistence on love in the act of charity is important for us to grapple with.
And, as he is closing, Paul says that love “trusts God always and always looks for the best”. She speaks of this as well.  “There is thing you can do but I cannot and there is thing I can but you cannot; so let us together make something beautiful for God.”  Finally, Paul concludes that love “never looks back, but keeps going to the end”.   She tells us and challenges us here at Open Circle, “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”
            My final prayer for you this day comes directly from Mother Teresa.  “May today be peace within. May you trust your highest power that you are exactly where you are meant to be... May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith. May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you... May you be content knowing you are a child of God... Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love. It is there for each and every one of you.”   Amen and amen and Namaste. 

            In 1946, Sister Teresa was on a train bound for a retreat when she heard her ‘second call’ what she considered a “call within a call”.  This call—to give up all and follow Christ into the slums to be of service among the poorest of the poor—was different from her call to teach.  Because she had taken a vow of obedience, she could not do this without permission from her order.  While seeking permission to form a new order, she gave up wearing the nun’s habit she had grown used to and began wearing a white Indian sari and sandals.  She and the order she founded would wear those for life.  Within a year of receiving permission to begin her work, she had taken a course in nursing, and followers began to flood in.  These volunteers later became the core of her Missionaries of Charity.  She worked side by side with these sisters until her death in 1997.  She won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1979 and has amassed a long list of awards and recognitions.  While, Mother Teresa has not been named a saint in the Roman Catholic Church, many people believe that she will be one day.  The beatification of Mother Teresa was conducted Oct. 19, 2003 by Pope John Paul II; and her beatification is the latest step in that path to sainthood.

            For our first reading today, I chose 1 Corinthians 13 written by Paul to the early Christians in Corinth.  Because this is often heard in the context of a wedding; we rarely hear it elsewhere.  But Mother Teresa’s work calls us to look at the qualifications of love in the broader context of life.  Our reading on love begins, “If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere.”  Mother Teresa tells us, “At the hour of death when we come face-to-face with God, we are going to be judged on love; not how much we have done, but how much love we put into the doing.”  She places love above the importance of works, even though her travails with the poor required much work indeed.  But, the love that was to shine through such works for her was imperative.

            Paul reinforces this notion when he next says, “So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love”.   Again, Mother Teresa speaks to us of the end of our lives:  “At the end of life we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done.  We will be judged by "I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat, I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless, and you took me in.”   Paul continues, “Love never gives up”.  Mother Teresa guides us in knowing how not to give up.  She says, “When you have nothing left but God, you have more than enough to start over again.” 

            Paul challenges us:  “Love cares more for others than for self”.  Mother Teresa clarifies Paul’s assertion for us.  “I must be willing to give whatever it takes to do good to others. This requires that I be willing to give until it hurts. Otherwise, there is no true love in me, and I bring injustice, not peace, to those around me.”   In other words, the love behind the caring must be true love—a love that doesn’t stop giving until we feel the pain of sacrifice.  To do works, without true love will eventually bring injustice to the very people we believed we were helping.  Paul continues in his description and suggests, “Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.  Again, Mother Teresa exhorts us, “Be happy in the moment, that's enough. Each moment is all we need, not more.”

            And now, Paul gives us a series of short descriptions of love and for each, Mother Teresa pushes us to think harder and deeper.  Paul’s words:  “Love doesn’t strut, doesn’t have a swelled head.”  Mother Teresa elaborates:  “If you are humble nothing will touch you, neither praise nor disgrace, because you know what you are.”  Mother Teresa, known for her humility, shows us a greater truth about humility.  Think about it—she tells us that humility brings us a true knowledge of who we are; and, therefore, nothing, neither praise nor disgrace, is able to move us away from who we know ourselves to be.   Again, from Paul, love “doesn’t force itself on others”; and from her, “When you know how much God is in love with you then you can only live your life radiating that love.”   Paul continues, “Isn’t always ‘me first’”.  And Mother Teresa responds, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” 

            Paul explores this with us—love “takes pleasure in the flowering of truth”.  Mother Teresa identifies the nature of the truth.  “Jesus wants me to tell you again...how much is the love He has for each one of you-beyond all what you can imagine...Not only He loves you, even more--He longs for you. He misses you when you don't come close. He thirsts for you. He loves you always, even when you don't feel worthy...”  Love, says Paul, “puts up with anything”.  And Mother Teresa agrees.  “There is a light in this world”, she says, “a healing spirit more powerful than any darkness we may encounter. We sometimes lose sight of this force when there is suffering, too much pain. Then suddenly, the spirit will emerge through the lives of ordinary people who hear a call and answer in extraordinary ways.” 

Ancient Wisdom: Modern Prophet—Fr. Henri Nouwen 9-14-14

            How often have you wanted to say to someone when they were talking about how wonderful their life is, “Oh, get real!”  Because sometimes, life is whole lot more real than we would ever want it to be.  We need an understanding of faith and God that takes into account those times when life is a little too real.  “Turn it over” or “Let it go” sounds good in the abstract, but it isn’t always easy to implement.  More than perhaps any other twentieth-century theologian, Fr. Henri Nouwen lived his Christian life for all to see.  His prolific writing laid bare almost everything about him, including great spiritual discoveries, immense struggle and despair, significant depression, and a longing to share his understanding of human beings as God’s children or “beloved”.  It is true that, mostly after his death, his friends and colleagues began to verify the suspicion of many that Nouwen was gay, but celibate.  He was never able to “come out” about his spirituality and it may be that his longing for a “particular friendship” and his inability to be in the open about it was one of his greatest struggles.  Although he could not name his sexuality publically, he was authentic.  None of those who knew him have ever even suggested that he was anything other than completely celibate. 

            If you don’t know of Fr. Nouwen’s works, you might want to start exploring them now.  His writings, still being compiled and published long after his death in 1996, would last you well into old age if you were to read and absorb them.  He was born in Holland in 1932 and felt the call to the priesthood very early in life.  After study, he was ordained a diocesan priest.  During this time he also studied psychology at a Dutch Catholic University.  In 1964, he moved to the United States to study at the Menninger Clinic.   He also taught there as well as the University of Notre Dame, Yale and Harvard.  He spent some time during the 70’s with Trappist monks in New York State and then in the early 80’s he spent some time working with the poor in Peru. 

            In 1985, he made the most significant move of his life and became affiliated with L’Arche communities founded by Jean Vanier where communities of people with developmental disabilities and their assistants lived side by side.  Nouwen came to make the L’Arche Daybreak Community near Toronto his home.  According to Sister Sue Mosteller, another religious pilgrim who found a home in L’Arche communites, “His passion was to teach pastoral theology, and his desire was to convince his listeners that pastoring meant walking in the footsteps of Jesus with the people close to those who suffer in body and spirit, unafraid of sharing the pain and vulnerability and being present as a brother or sister”.   Nouwen was never really at peace in the halls of academia; and, instead, preferred to live side by side with some of the neediest people on earth.

            One of Nouwen’s earliest books is called, The Wounded Healer.  It is the book that first introduces many seminarians to his belief that the only way we can serve others, whether as clergy or laity, is to allow God to utilize one’s own pain as a channel of healing for others.   He said, “In our own woundedness, we can become sources of life for others.”   Nouwen’s books share with us his profound suffering in his own humanity.  And when you read them, you feel a tremendous sensitivity at work.  His call to all Christians, clergy and lay alike is found in this statement:  “In a world so torn apart by rivalry, anger, and hatred, we have the privileged vocation to be living signs of a love that can bridge all divisions and heal all wounds.” 

            Henri Nouwen embodied the belief that walking in the footsteps of Jesus demanded that we be known in our own truth.  But, this did not mean wallowing in one’s pain or displaying it with flourishes and trumpets.  It meant, for Nouwen, simply understanding pain as part of the nature of being human.  More importantly, it meant becoming completely human, as Jesus was completely human. And for us, it means personifying the same compassion that flowed through Jesus in his earthly ministry.  “Compassion”, says Nouwen, “asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into the places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.” 

            Nouwen, however, was not one to sit in an ivory tower and simply write books about lofty theological concepts.  His friend, Sister Sue, tells us, “He loved to be where the action was.  He joined the Civil Rights march at Selma, he went to Martin Luther King’s funeral, and he met with senators in Washington and elsewhere.”   He tied together the revolutionary and the mystic.  He calls us to understand.  “It is my growing conviction”, he says, “that in Jesus the mystical and revolutionary ways are not opposites, but two sides of the same human mode of experiential transcendence. I am increasingly convinced that conversion is the individual equivalent of revolution. Therefore every real revolutionary is challenged to be a mystic at heart, and he who walks the mystical way is called to unmask the illusory quality of human society. Mysticism and revolution are two aspects of the same attempt to bring about radical change. No mystic can prevent himself from becoming a social critic, since in self-reflection he will discover the roots of a sick society. Similarly, no revolutionary can avoid facing his own human condition, since in the midst of his struggle for a new world he will find that he is also fighting his own reactionary fears and false ambitions.”

            Some of us might have found Nouwen tough to be around.  He was so real, so thoroughly in touch with every aspect of the human condition that I imagine people experienced him as a little intense for everyday consumption.  And, yet, he was most at home with some of the simplest people on earth, those who had been completely marginalized from society.  His book, Adam, chronicled his caregiving relationship with one of the residents at the community who could not speak.  And, yet, the story so powerfully tells of the relationship between the two of them and the fulfillment that Nouwen experienced by meeting this young man’s daily needs that one is moved to understand at a profound level the interaction of compassion and love.  Nouwen calls us to explore our own woundedness so that we may be true spiritual companions to those we meet along this sometimes rough and bumpy road. 

            This embracing of our woundedness was thoroughly embedded in the experience of knowing oneself as ‘beloved’.  Perhaps his most popular book, The Return of the Prodigal Son, helps us understand that we are all God’s children who are coming home to the knowledge that we are loved by God.  He, himself, came to this understanding after a three year period of great depression and searching.  In the midst of this spiritual crisis, he was touched by a painting of that homecoming by Rembrandt.  By sharing his experience, he encouraged us to embrace our own ‘belovedness’.  This is no easy task.  Even today, if I asked you to pause for a moment and allow God’s spirit to speak to you of being beloved by God, it would be difficult for many—it is so hard for many of us to fully grasp that we, like Jesus, are completely loved by God.  We allow our woundedness to separate us from God’s completely restoring love.  Nouwen says, “One way to express the spiritual crisis of our time is to say that most of us have an address but cannot be found there.”  Our first reading is a song of praise by David after God saved him from his enemies and from Saul.  Although, this is not the first time God has saved him, David, nevertheless, is caught unaware.  He says, “I stood there saved—surprised to be loved!”  Ah, David, we’re right there with you.  How often do we find ourselves “surprised to be loved”.  We have an address—loved by God—but we are not found there.   In our Gospel lesson we hear from Jesus, “I am the Vine, you are the branches. When you’re joined with me and I with you, the relation intimate and organic…”  Joined with Jesus, our relationship is intimately engaged with all of who we are and organically growing as we encounter more and more of God.

            A long period of declining energy led to his death on September 21, 1996 from an unexpected heart attack.  But he left us with a very different notion of what it means to be a child of God in Christ.  He calls us to wrap our loving arms around our own hurts and scars and to allow God to do the same.  Why?  So that we may show the face of one who knows she or he is beloved to one who does not.  He challenges us, “One of the greatest tragedies of our life is that we keep forgetting who we are”.  Let us not forget who we are this morning.  May we allow the gentle presence of God’s spirit to remind us that we are loved.  May it be so.  98889Amen and amen and Namaste.

Ancient Wisdom: Modern Prophet—Mary Oliver 8-31-14

God, teach us the miracle of living each day as if it is our first and last at the same time.  Teach us gratitude and wonder.  Deliver us from refusing joy.  Amen

            Once upon a time there was a young child, full of wonder and amazement at just about everything.  We’ll call this child “Curiosity” and let her tell us of the journey of a young life.  Curiosity rose early every day so she could run into the fields while the dew was still on the grass.  She loved the way the wetness swept across her ankles and how the higher grass tickled her knees.  But most of all she loved the quiet because this was when she talked to God.  Now this God didn’t look like any God she learned about in Sunday School or Church.  No, this God looked more like the wind or rather the leaves in the trees when the wind was blowing on them.  And this God said very different things from anything her teachers told her.  This God didn’t tell her to “do the right thing” or to “work hard” in school.  No, this God told her all about the wonder of creation and how much God wanted her to treasure and love every created thing.

            One morning as she was running toward some trees, God stopped her and told her to sit awhile on the rock at the edge of the forest.  God sat down, too, and asked her if there was anything she really wanted to know.  She said to God, “I want to know why so many people in the world are so unhappy; and, why so few seem to see the beauty in the world like I do.”  God told Curiosity all about growing up and reminded her how much taller she was this year that she had been last.  God reminded her of all the things she had learned in school and how the books she could read this year were so much bigger and longer than the books she could read last year.  Curiosity, confused for the first time ever, said to God, “I don’t see what one thing has to do with the other.  Oops, God, didn’t mean to talk back, but can you explain what you mean?”  God chuckled and said, asking me a question is not being disrespectful and I wish a whole lot of people would talk back to me.  I’d a lot rather have questions than people just turning away.

            So God explained that when people’s heads got fuller and fuller of things they had to remember, that many times, there wasn’t any room left for seeing the awesomeness of life right in front of them.  Curiosity said, “well, I’m not going to let that happen to me.  There will always be room for you, God.  You and beauty, and joy and happiness.”  God smiled and said, “I hope so, Curiosity, I hope so.”

            Curiosity set out from that very day to work on ways not only to keep God fresh and alive in her life but also in the lives of others.  So, day after day, Curiosity wandered through the countryside making sure to stop and see all the amazing things that God put in her path each day.  Even though she was learning other things as well, like how to add and subtract, and how to write a real sentence, she made sure to visit God as often as she could.  Suddenly, one day, God has an extra surprise for her when she reached their special ‘talking rock’ at the edge of the forest.  God said, “It’s time for you to learn something very important.  It’s time for you to know that all those things that make you smile or maybe make you cry, are just ways that I interrupt your life and say, ‘I love you’”.  “But, I know you love me,” she said.  And God said, “but most people don’t, so I try very hard to show them in so many ways.”  Curiosity was very sad and thought it might break her heart that other people didn’t know what she knew about God. 

            Curiosity asked a lot of grown-ups she knew about God and did they know that God loved them.  Most of them said things like, “I guess so”, and even, “why, of course”.  A few actually told her they didn’t know or didn’t think so and so she took on the job of making sure that everyone would know.  Curiosity took it upon herself to tell as many people as she could about God and nature and that every flower, tree, and river was just God’s expression of love.  Curiosity wrote a poem why she likes to wake up early and it goes like this:

Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who made the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories,
and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety – 

best preacher that ever was,
dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-darkness,
to ease us with warm touching,
to hold us in the great hands of light –
good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.” 

            Now she got to thinking about how different the world would be if everyone woke up, at least some of the time, like she does.  She remembered that Jesus told his disciples that faith was just like that pine nut.  Jesus said, “you plant that pine nut and eventually it grows so tall that big birds, maybe even eagles, can build their nests in it.”  And, she said, all of a sudden—I get it, I get that waking up and saying “good morning” to the world and to God is the same kind of faith that Jesus was describing.  And that if one person started to do it, just like a farmer planted one pine nut that the faith would grow.  Eventually, the tree would be so tall that birds of all kinds could build their nests right in the branches.  She determined to find enough people who would plant this faith with her that it would grow and grow and change the world. 

            People talked to Curiosity and told her they didn’t know how to do what she wanted them to do—that they didn’t even know how to pray, much less did they know how to have faith in God and in the wonder of creation.  This time she wrote another poem and the last part of it said:

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

            Curiosity said to them—“this is it.  This is your one wild and precious life.  God wants to know what you will do with it.”  Some laughed, some cried, and most just turned way saying, “This is too hard.”  So, Curiosity went out to walk the fields that gave her strength.  These words came to her:

On a summer morning

I sat down

on a hillside

to think about God -

a worthy pastime.

Near me, I saw

a single cricket;

it was moving the grains of the hillside

this way and that way.

How great was its energy,

how humble its effort.

Let us hope

it will always be like this,

each of us going on

in our inexplicable ways

building the universe.

            Curiosity was now much older and thought in much more mature ways.  But she never forgot to visit the rock at the edge of the forest.  One day she and God talked about how to live a good life.  God asked Curiosity what she thought.  Pausing for a while as she soaked up the sunshine and gentle breeze on her face, she suddenly said, “Why it’s simple.  Here are the “Instructions for living a life.  1. Pay attention.  2.  Be astonished.   3. Tell about it.”   And, suddenly she knew that she had, in fact, made a very good start at living a good life.  She paid attention, even though it was tempting to give her energy to other things.  And, when she paid attention, every single day she was astonished by something.  And, as her astonishment spilled over into her day to day encounters with others, she told everyone who would listen. 

            Is this not the Gospel itself?—that God longs to fill us all with awe each time we look with intention.  Curiosity, who we now call poet and prophet, Mary Oliver, says this:  “And that is just the point... how the world, moist and beautiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That's the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. "Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?”   Amen and amen and Namaste.