Easter 4-20-14

The Promise of Resurrection  4-20-14a

          When the women, distraught from losing their teacher and friend, discovered that Jesus was no longer in the tomb, their broken hearts had to relearn the ability to sing.  At first simply confused, that confusion turned to joy as they went running back to find the disciples and tell them of this glorious turn of events.  Did you ever wonder why they were so surprised?  Jesus had performed miracle after miracle, healed and raised from the dead, and had steadfastly told them that he was going to do exactly what he did.  And, yet, they were surprised, shocked even.  We know that the disciples did not often really understand what Jesus was saying to them or asking them.  They weren’t good listeners; but, surely, they had absorbed enough from Jesus to know that such a miracle was possible.  So, what happened?

          Here is our learning moment.  What happened is the same thing that happens to many of us when trials pull us into the undertow of despair or uncertainty takes over and erases our memories of prior miracles or experiences with God.  And, as our hearts are broken time and time again by experiences in the world, our belief that God is making the way plain grows more and more dim with each disappointment.  Just like us, I would think that the disciples experienced two primary feelings.  First, and very importantly, they experienced fear.  They were fearful that they were about to meet the same end as Jesus.  They were fearful that all that Jesus had told them was going to amount to not much; and, they were afraid that everything they had come to believe would be ignored and forgotten by the world after Jesus was gone.    Secondly, they experienced the feeling of betrayal.  There they were; they had given up everything to follow this man around the countryside and he was, well, dead.  What was the point of it all?  Perhaps he had not been the Messiah after all.  Can’t you just hear them talking—one might say, “You know, he never really acted like a Messiah, I should have seen through it sooner.”  Or another might say, “Perhaps it was all a show and we just got caught up in it.  I’m embarrassed that I’ve been so gullible.”  Or maybe, “What in the world are we going to do now?  We gave up our businesses, our boats and nets.  What are we supposed to do?”  Fear and betrayal are pretty strong emotions and are front and center in the disciples’ experience of these past few days.  We would be unrealistic to believe that these feelings would not get in the way of their believing that Jesus was, indeed, alive. 

          So, what does the Resurrection bring to us in those hours of confusion, fear and betrayal?  The promise of the Resurrection is transcendence on all levels.  Transcendence, used in many spiritual communities, means the overcoming of one set of circumstances by another set of circumstances or to rise above.  Sometimes to transcend means to triumph over.  Transcendent is one of the adjectives used to describe God; that the divine spirit is greater than all else.  And yet, the Resurrections gives to us that same promise of transcendence.  

          How is the gift of transcendence made manifest in the  Resurrection?  As an act that went far beyond what any human being could have imagined or expected, the Resurrection pulls us into a discussion in unknown worlds—a discussion that pushes us to think beyond our usual ability to think—we transcend our own expectations of ourselves and find ourselves pondering the resurrection of Christ and it’s meaning for us in this day and age.  Regardless of the outcome of our ponderings, our exploration has called us to think beyond our usual thinking and to evaluate the role that faith plays in our explanation of those things we say we believe or don’t believe.  Such an exploration as this helps us grow and mature in the way we think and respond about faith.  We begin, like adults in the faith, to look at questions free from earlier fear of violating old taboos of knowledge; and, we give ourselves permission to think and act for ourselves.  We transcend earlier interpretations; and though we may return to those interpretations, it is after we look at those beliefs from new-found eyes and ears.  We transcend what we have always been told and come to our own understanding and claim it for ourselves.  This is a crucial aspect of spiritual growth and the Resurrection gives us the opportunity to mature.

          Through the experiences of the disciples we are also shown that we can transcend despair and hopelessness when God or the Cosmos invites us to participate in a miracle or an unexpected outcome.  Not one of the disciples expected to ever see Jesus again—not one!  I find that amazing in light of all he taught them; but, it is true, not one!  Focused on their hopelessness and self-centered despair, it never occurred to them to simply wait for God to work the promised miracle.  What if we could transcend our own self-centered despair when things are going badly and wait for the promised miracle.  In fact, God has promised us that as we trust and learn to flow in sync with the rest of the creation, that things will work out along a path of divine grace.  Our only job is to stay faithful to the knowledge that the Universe and God, her creator, is guiding and protecting us when we open ourselves to that guidance.  So, though the resurrection, we can transcend the impatient, grabbing at life, and learn to trust God and ourselves.  The transcendence that we learn from the gloriously happy women is that similar joy awaits us when we wait for the miracle.  The promise of the resurrection is that all things are made new—the old is transcended, and we see and experience only the new.  And together, we experience and find joy.  Christ is risen, Christ is risen indeed.  Alleluia and amen.   

“Were You There?—the Gift of Presence 4-13-14

God, it is so easy to get caught up in the cheers of the crowd.  It’s not so easy to stick around for the tears and agony.  Teach us the way to be soul friends to each other.  Show us how to be present for each other in the way you are present to us.  Amen

          As Sophia used to say, “Picture this:  Jerusalem, Passover week:  suddenly there is a parade.  We’re all running to see what is happening.  People are shouting, ‘'Hosanna, blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord’.  They’re waving palms and throwing their coats on the ground.  We watch and wait; and, then, there he is.  He’s not much to look at, just a common man; but, there’s definitely something about him.  People are beside themselves.  The crowd is growing with hysteria.  I’m getting out of here while I can.”  We can all get caught up in this story.   Why, here in The Villages, there are parades for every imaginable holiday and people get pretty caught up in them no matter how silly they might seem to people who weren’t there. 

          People love parades.  And the folks in Jerusalem that day were no different.  I’ll bet even some of you, if you’re honest, felt a little rise in excitement as our own choir processed waving their palms and singing, “God has made me glad”.  We love to rejoice, it lifts our spirits, makes us feel good, brings us closer to each other as we celebrate together.  But, this week does not end at the parade.  And, we must travel on with Jesus after he dismounts from the donkey and walks—almost unnoticed—around Jerusalem.  There’s no real agreement about what Jesus did from the time of the parade to the time of the so-called ‘last supper’.  Each of the gospel writers tell different stories.  It would appear that he continued what he had been doing all along—teaching to whoever was present to listen.  Only this time, he did it in Jerusalem.  Jesus is upping the ante.  It may be that this is when he overturned the tables of the money-changers in the Temple.  He certainly continued to heal people and the crowds gathered.  It became impossible for the ‘powers that be’ to ignore what this man from Galilee was doing right under their noses.  The disciples also continued to be with Jesus, spending time with him and learning from him. 

          Before you know it, it is the eve of the Passover Meal.  Again, we can imagine a somewhat rowdy crowd of rough and tumble men and women, still completely unaware of what lies ahead.  They quiet during the supper when Jesus says those strange things about the bread and wine.  And then comes the prediction of the betrayal with the self-questioning.   Judas is sent to ‘do the deed’ and Peter is warned that he will, himself, betray Jesus during the trial that is to come.  They sing a song and go out. 

          Jesus takes the disciples with him to the Garden of Gethsemane.  All he asks is that they stay awake with him while he prays.  Not only do they not stay awake, they never realize the agony that Jesus now carries with him in prayer.  Three times, Jesus comes back to see if his friends are standing watch in prayer for him and three times he finds them sleeping soundly.  He bears his agony alone when even his best friends cannot stay awake after a good meal to be with him.  There is so much to focus on in the hours that follow; but, today, I want to focus on what Jesus was asking from his disciples—their presence with him during the sobbing, pleading, hard time.  I want to suggest that we might call that gift—the gift that Jesus failed to receive at his neediest point—the gift of presence.

          It’s a gift that we all can and do give; but, it’s not always easy.  Like many of you, I was an extremely lonely adolescent.  Nobody, and I mean nobody wanted to listen to me whine one more time “Nobody likes me.  I don’t fit in anywhere.”   When I was about fourteen, I happened on to a book by Taylor Caldwell called “The Listener”.  It wasn’t written for kids, so, I must have lifted it from my mother’s books.   I don’t remember the whole premise but I remember that a man, after his wife died, built a monument to her where he sat day after day.  Across the top of the monument it said, “The Man Who Listens”.  People could come in and talk to him though he sat behind a veil and was unknown to them.  The story follows several people whose lives were changed because of this listening presence.  People who were suicidal, bankrupt, broken-hearted, all these had their lives changed.  Somewhere, somehow, a lonely adolescent hung on to the hope that somewhere, someday, there would be someone who would listen to her pain.  And, of course, eventually there was, or I would not be here today.  When I hear of our LGBT young people dying at their own hands, all I can think of is that no one was there to listen.  That book, though I did not realize it until recently, played a huge role in my wanting to become a minister, to be a person who could be counted on to listen. 

          Why does the gift of presence seem so hard?  It would seem that Jesus did not ask much of his disciples—just “stay with me”.    Most of the time when people come to see me, all they want is for me to listen—really listen.  We are a multi-tasking, make everything better, rush to the next job world.  The gift of presence requires us to change every one of these orientations.  When our friends ask us to listen, I can guarantee you that they need our full attention; and, more than likely they are not asking us to fix whatever is going on for them.  Unless we have worked on increasing our sensitivity to the need of people to be listened to and our need to dispense answers, we will rush in with advice—we don’t do well with feeling unable to help.  Perhaps it is also because of our need to move on to our next task of the day or hour. 

          The gift of presence is pure love.  By giving the gift of presence, we are allowing the love of the Universe, indeed the love of God, to flow through us and flood the other person with peace.  The Celtic tradition speaks of “soul friends”, people to whom we can completely unburden our hearts and souls and know, without a doubt, that they will sit quietly and listen.  For many of us, it requires great discipline to remain completely focused on what this one person is saying.  But, the gift that you are giving to another is well worth the price of practice.  I find that the more I am able to sit in God’s presence quietly, the more I am able to sit with complete focus on another.  This single focus calls us to hear and experience pain, conflict, suffering.  But God—the very source of this love—will guide you in your growth. 

          This soul friend, this anam ċara provides the place where we can be completely understood.  To be understood is to be loved.  John O’Donohue, Celtic poet and priest, said, “to be understood is to be home”.  There is no greater feeling that to come ‘home’ and know that you are there—at home, at peace.  There is much sadness in this world, no matter what the advertisements say about living or retiring in Florida.  We don’t shovel snow like our northern friends, but we suffer the same losses and grief, the same disappointments and estrangements and the same need to be understood.  What an opportunity we have to give this free gift to others. 

          This is what Jesus needed from his friends on tis night of great suffering.  They failed him, perhaps because they were still completely unaware of what was happening, perhaps because they could not face the pain of seeing Jesus as he was that night.  No matter the cause, the lesson is that there is no need for us to ever fail those whom God has placed in our lives in the same way as the disciples failed Jesus.  When we provide for others this ‘coming home’ experience, when we know this profound desire to listen with full attention, we are standing on sacred ground.  This sacred ground is ours for the experiencing by our steadfast attention to being present to all who come into our presence.  This sacred ground, the same as when we come fully into the presence of God, is where we are ‘church’.  And ‘where we are church’ we are love.  May it be so.  Amen and amen. 

          

What Is the Good Life? 4-6-14

God, when we think upon what is good, we must, by necessity, begin with you and creation all around us. Help us appreciate this good life and lead us to live in ways that enable everyone else to live the good life as well. Amen

What do you think of when you think of the good life? Are there people who spring to mind? Is it about comfort, material blessings, living without guilt or regret, being famous in some way or another? We have many, many descriptions for the good life. I, in my ever-present, yet seldom acted upon, desire to simplify my life, love the Life is Good® line of t-shirts. They are simple, direct, and remind us that life is the good-est in the little things. The two brothers who created the clothing line just wanted to spread optimism. The fact that the shirts and gear are so popular says to me that most of us are attracted to optimism. The fact that other lines of clothing in a parody of the Life is Good® shirts were distributed (and I choose not to use the name of the shirts from the pulpit) also remind me that not everyone is quite so enthusiastic about being optimistic. Nevertheless, most of us long for the simplicity of optimism in our lives, particularly our spiritual lives. Today, I am the bearer of good news—Jesus says that eternal life is to know God and to know that God sent Jesus to model the good life to us. Pretty simple, right? If it is so simple, why then, do we have so many people telling us how to live such a life?

Many preachers, and I know that many of you know or knew some, focus on the ‘don’ts’. I, for one, and I know that I am joined by many of you, don’t do well with don’ts. I long to know that, “Yes, life is good and I am a part of all that goodness”. Paul, in our beautiful passage for today, gives as clear a description of the ‘good life’ as appears anywhere and it is mostly in do’s. Beginning with the nature of our spiritual lives—our relationship with ourselves—he says, “Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it”. Ah, we find we are back to the sermon from a couple of weeks ago, regarding living an authentic life—you remember, a life where the inner matches the outer. Paul calls us to this congruent life at the very beginning of his description of the so-called ‘good life’. Then he tells us where our focus should be: “Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good”. We hold on to the good (may I suggest that optimism as well as morality may be implied here?) and by holding on to the good, we plant ourselves firmly in the ‘good’ of all creation.

From there Paul begins to talk about our relationships in this present life (he will return to this theme again), “ Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle”. Most of us would identify the first half of Paul’s admonition regarding others to be the most important. One really cannot do one without the other, however. We have to be able and willing to put our friends first if we truly love deeply. Paul then turns to the question of the longevity of such a life. “ Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of Jesus, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder”. I love the line “keep yourselves fueled and aflame”; if ever there was an endorsement for spending time with God—refueling—this is it. Though Paul does not say as much, we know that prayer and meditation was crucial to Paul’s own spirituality. He spent many a hour preparing his heart for his work in spreading the good news.

He finishes with a list of do’s and don’ts—this is, after all, Paul writing, which give us simple guidelines for living the ‘good life’ in the context of a community. We might want to pay special attention:

1. Help needy Christians. Indeed, we strive to do this when we remember. It’s the remembering that can be hard.

2. Be inventive in hospitality. I take this to mean that we are to practice hospitality in ways that no one has thought of before—ways that are so inventive that people will have no way to expect or anticipate the hospitality.

3. Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Ok, this one is a challenge—one that’s been on my spiritual growth radar for years. Always a struggle, but always worth the struggle.

4. Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy. This is the easy part; except when you are not happy yourself—perhaps their laughter can help move you into laughter as well.

5. Share tears when they’re down. My child welfare workers used to ask me what they should do when a child was on the floor sobbing his or her heart out. My answer—get on the floor and wait.

6. Get along with each other. If it were only this easy. If you have siblings, you more than likely had a parent who asked, “Why can’t you just get along?” I never had a good answer, did you? I wonder what it would have looked like if I had been able to say, “Well, I don’t know. I’ll pray about it.” I’m thinking that might have put some light on the subject.

7. Don’t be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don’t be the great somebody. When we go out of our way to make friends with those whose worth is not acknowledged by others, we receive the greater blessing by far.

8. Don’t hit back. Imagine the number of wars that would never happen if we could just not hit back.

9. Discover beauty in everyone. Sorta like #7 and, yet, it expands it to encourage us to find and help the person find that inner beauty, that spark of the divine.

10. If you’ve got it in you, get along with everybody. This must be important since Paul says this twice.

11. Don’t insist on getting even; that’s not for you to do. “I’ll do the judging,” says God. “I’ll take care of it.” Walk away, just walk away…leave it to God.

And finally, on the treatment of our enemies, “Our Scriptures tell us that if you see your enemy
hungry, go buy that person lunch, or if he’s thirsty, get him a drink. Your generosity will surprise him
with goodness. Don’t let evil get the best of you; get the best of evil by doing good.” Clear and to the point, this needs no further explanation. It may, however, need motivation. I did not include this as #12 in the prior list, because it seems as if this reaches far beyond our community and into the world to all of those who oppose justice and truth. One heart a time, when we “get the best of evil by doing good”, we will change the world.

So, what does all of this mean for us, here on the Sunday before Palm Sunday? I believe that Paul’s description of the good life is a way for us to finish up our Lenten pilgrimage because we know the life to which we have been called. There is one very important aspect missing from our conversation. That is the why? Why do we choose to seek this ‘good life’? Who or what calls us into this strenuous re-examination of our inner selves at this Lenten time. Is it Jesus, himself, or the Holy Spirit? Perhaps, but perhaps it is the seeking of our own hearts—those hearts graced by the presence of the Sacred within—perhaps it is the wisdom of our inner spirits whispering—‘there is so much more”. Is this not what Lent is all about? We open ourselves to listen more carefully, respond more thoroughly and to ask more directly. We choose to spend more time in silence, in contemplation. We do not necessarily deprive ourselves of something we hold dear. We may find, however, in this pilgrimage to the good life that things that felt dear to us as the beginning of this journey are willingly left behind because we no longer need those things.

It is not too late to spend extra time alone with God this Lenten Season. Perhaps the nearness of Palm Sunday caught you napping. But this last week, the week before the final week of Jesus’ life plays out once again, you have the opportunity to ask the Truth and Beauty of the Universe, this God who we call ‘good’ where you fit. You have the opportunity to ask yourself, “Do I really want this good life?” You have more than enough time to open your hands and heart to the Sacred within and without yourself and allow the stillness of the Truth of God flood your hearts and minds with peace, beauty and joy. Amen and amen.