Ancient Wisdom/Modern Prophet: Brian McLaren 10-19-14

God, in the spirit of truth and love we come to you today.  Fill us with your love for each other, for ourselves, and for you.  Lead us gently into wholeness.  Amen

                I’ll be honest.  This is not a sermon about the work of Brian McLaren.  It was supposed to be; but, it is not.  It is a sermon, however, that is inspired by his work, and the words of Jesus.  Brian McLaren is one of the voices of Progressive Christianity and one of the authors of some of the Living the Questions materials that we have been using for over a year now.  He encourages us to ask questions more than give answers.  He calls us most of all to an authentic faith—one that we learn for ourselves in our experiences with God.  In his book, Naked Spirituality, he calls us to stand naked in front of God and see for ourselves who we are in God’s presence and notice what God is doing in the world—in our world and in our life.  Jesus, does he not, calls us to the same kind of worship—in spirit and in truth he says—no more arguing over the details, enter only into true religion—the kind we have when we stand before God with nothing more than who we are.

                Now, for more honesty.  In the current situation that we find ourselves in as a faith community, I, as your spiritual leader, cannot stand naked before God, before I stand in front of you and share my truth with you.  I understand that after last week very few of us viewed our community as moving toward resolution and it is imperative that we address that today.  So, I am going to share my heart with you.  I ask those of you who have determined that you do not trust me to put that assumption aside for these few moments when I speak to you as your pastor.  If this is your first Sunday, I will not apologize for this sermon.  Hear it and use it to know that this is a church that loves and takes responsibility for healing and caring.

                It is time for the hurting to stop.  Let me say that again, more strongly—the pain and hurting must stop now.  We must all commit to stop bruising each other with words, looks, and whatever other ways we have been employing to make our own hurt known; thereby hurting others in return.  I am your spiritual leader at least for a while longer; and, while some of you dislike my leadership style or some of my decisions, I am the person that God has intended to be here today as the leader of this spiritual community.  Please, help me, help us, find a way to be the Open Circle that we all once knew and loved.  It isn’t about ‘winning’ or losing.  There is no triumph in the destruction of peace and sanctuary for those who long to come to this place as a place of safety and serenity.  And, I also want you to know, that I trust us all to do this.  I do, in the spirit of openness and honesty want to say a few words about where we are now.

                First of all, I want you to know that I do not believe that it was the intention of any group or any person to deliberately bring pain and conflict to this congregation.  That being said, many sad things have come to pass.  This is what I believe:  it no longer matters “who started it” in the childlike language of one sibling tattling on another.  If you believe that it does matter, please pray mightily about it as you must let go of that notion if you are to join us all on the path of healing. 

                Secondly, while I won’t say much about this here, I think we got some mixed messages about the nature and process of the ‘intervention’ from UFMCC.  The intervention stage did not include mediation; and, it would appear that the process so far has brought an increase in conflict.  I can assure you that this was not my intention nor the intention of the Board as a whole when we solicited their help.  I, personally, deeply regret that doing what we thought would help, brought greater pain. 

                One of the things that is interesting to me is that both “sides” if we have to use that language thought that the report was, in some way, unfair or heavy-handed toward them.  I don’t know if that is the mark of a good assessment or not; I just know that people were hurting at the end of the meeting.  I left last Sunday broken hearted—literally broken hearted.  Hearing people’s tone and distrust was incredibly difficult.   I, like all of you, love this church; and, to sit in such a pit of pain in the very place we are to worship in freedom and praise, did something to me and I know it did to you as well.  We walked out of here a deeply sorrowed people—no matter where you stood in the conflict the pain was there. 

                Perhaps, that is our common ground at this point.  We all want the pain to stop.  My friends, my dear friends, there is only one way for the pain to stop and that is for us to stop it.  All of us, right now, have the ability to ensure that no one else is ever hurt or re-hurt by this conflict that has been raging for the past few weeks.  Again, I remind you:  we can make it stop and the report will at least help us move forward in putting the pieces back together.

                Now, as for my leadership—it is a difficult, extremely painful thing to have one’s integrity questioned.  Those of you, who know me well, know that my integrity is precious to me and even in the midst of confusion and turmoil; I strive to allow that sense of integrity and authenticity to direct my every move.  I sought and suggested to the Board that we seek help from the denomination because I believed that bringing in someone from the outside was the most appropriate thing to do and I stand by that position.  However, my prayer that I be somehow able to lessen the hurt along the way was not answered, at least in a way that I understood.  That’s ok, it happens sometimes when God has other ideas and waits for us to catch up.  Just as importantly, we all failed each other and reconciliation will require us to do some forgiving and to do it quickly so that we may all move on.  I want you all to know, whether you can hear it and accept it today or not, that I forgive you all.  I forgive those of you who didn’t know the harm that meeting separately would bring.  I forgive those of you who are part of Open Circle and, yet, chose not to lend your gifts to the community when we needed you most.  I even forgive the weekly FaceBook critiques and caustic remarks.  I forgive you and I forgive myself for not always knowing the best way to proceed.  And I do so, not because you asked me to, but because I need to—for myself, for my heart, and for my very soul.

                Finally, I want to speak just briefly about my role here at Open Circle.  Being a founding pastor is a gift above gifts and a joy above other joys.  It’s unlike anything I have ever done before.  Knowing that there will be an Open Circle after I move from this area and even after my body no longer holds this soul—a place that loves and comforts and offers salvation from the world’s hatred and despair—knowing that fills my heart to full and over-flowing.  As you can well guess, founding pastors are protective, perhaps overly so, because we love this little child of God, this growing incarnation of Christ and this spirit-filled canvass upon which great things will be painted.  Initially, my plan was to be your pastor for 10 years.  I’m not sure how I thought I was going to do that, but it was my intention.  God has other plans.  I am aware that some of you shared with Liz that I had changed in last couple of years.  You may well be right, but it has not been for the reasons you may have assigned to it.  As my serious health issues have deteriorated, I know that my energy and passion may have lessened as well.  I wish that were not so; however, it is.  I believed that I was keeping that hidden.  Best laid plans…and all that. 

                God has something better for both Open Circle and its founding pastor.  I must tell you that I believe that it is in the best interest of both Open Circle and me that I move my retirement up by several months.  I have shared this with the Board of Directors and they agree.  Therefore, my last Sunday will be Sunday, November 30 although I will preside at the interfaith AIDS Vigil on December 1^st.  I will be on leave through the month of December.  Nan, Fin and I will move to Asheville, NC during the month of December.  We chose Asheville because the air is crisp and, yes, sometimes, cold, and God whispers constantly in the leaves of the trees that cover the majestic mountains in the area. 

I look forward to the wonderful things that Open Circle will do with the guidance of new leadership and I eagerly anticipate sharing with you my improving health and God’s unfolding direction in my life.  My you all be blessed and may we love one another as God loves us.  Amen and amen and Namaste.

               

Modern Prophet/Ancient Wisdom: Barbara Brown Taylor

Modern Prophet/Ancient Wisdom:  Barbara Brown Taylor

God, author of Light, teach us to walk in the inner light of your Spirit.  Lead us deep within to reconnect with all you have to show us in darkness and light alike.  Talk to us, we are listening.  Amen

            Barbara Brown Taylor is our modern prophet today.  She is modest in her biography, telling us only that she is a Professor of Religion at Piedmont College in rural northeast Georgia.  We know more however--An Episcopal priest since 1984, she is the author of 13 books, including two New York Times bestsellers, Learning to Walk in the Dark and An Altar in the World. She is a preacher of great note in today’s world and has inspired women and men theology students alike in her quest for authenticity and honesty.  Her books are connected to her life and to ours.  She and her husband Ed live on a working organic vegetable farm in the foothills of the Appalachians with, as she describes it, “wild turkeys, red foxes, two broken down Quarter horses and too many chickens”.  Today, we’ll look at her quest to establish a relationship with the dark. 

            Sociologists and other people who study human behaviors have told us for decades now that it is a very bad idea to teach children to be afraid of the dark.  This leads to, among other things, inherent racism, even among peoples of color; and, reinforces fear as a justification for hatred or mistrust of all things dark.  Sight-impaired people have asked us to stop referring to the negative side of things as ‘darkness’.  In short, Taylor believes that some of our greatest spiritual and personal discoveries are ours to be had in the dark.  Her book is a personal telling of the story of her growing friendship with the dark and she invites us to come along. 

            Now, many of you know that I love to tell stories as part or whole of the sermon.  I just returned from the National Storytelling Festival and came away even more enamored with the story as both art form and passageway to truth that we might not otherwise hear.  So, you guessed it, I could not help but share a story with you today. 

            There was once a young man who longed to become a great spiritual leader among his people.  He was determined.  He studied at the feet of the great leaders—the shamans, the gurus, the theologians, and the mystics.  He longed for recognition as the spiritual leader that he wanted to be.  Now we know that this isn’t the way God chooses spiritual leaders, but the young man refused to believe that he was not called.  The problem was, no one listened to him.  It’s hard to be a leader when you have no followers.  So he set out on a journey to discover what was keeping him from attaining the station of spiritual leader.

            First, he travelled to a different land and spoke with all the leaders he could find.  No one could tell him why his studies hadn’t resulted in a following.  He said all the right things, knew all the right holy verses to quote, and cut a striking figure when he was all dressed up in his ‘leader clothes’.  Then he travelled to another land and another and another.  But the result was always the same.  No one could help him.

            One night, he laid down in despair, and finally drifted off to sleep.  God the Spirit came to him in a dream.  “Do you really want to know what is missing?” asked God.  At that, the young man awakened and said, “Yes, Spirit, I do want to know.”  “No, I mean, do you really want to know?” asked God.  God and the young man went back and forth like this for several moments and finally the young man said, “What do you mean, do I really want to know?  I searched the land over, talked to anyone who would give me their time and spent my fortune on studies and lessons.  Yes, Spirit, I want to know.”  Spirit laughed—God can be like that sometimes—and said, “I want to be sure that you are really ready and able to finish the work you must complete before you can become a leader of your people.”  Now the young man got a little nervous and said, with a little shake in his voice, “What’s the final lesson?”

            “You must learn to live in the dark,” said God.  “Why, I’m afraid of the dark,” said the young man.  “Surely, there is something else I can do.”  “I’m sorry,” said God, “that is what you must learn to do.”  “Why, why must I learn to do this?” asked the young man with quite a big shake in his voice now.  “Because”, said God, “your people walk in the dark at various times throughout their lives; and, you cannot lead where you have not been.  Go away, now, and when you are ready, come back to this place, and we will talk again.” 

            Saddened, the young man got up and continued his travels.  But, this time it was different.  He knew, deep in his heart, that he was running away from what he had to do.  So, back he went.  Before he went to sleep, he said, “Spirit of God, I’m ready.”  Sure enough, he had a dream and God was there.  He awoke and spoke to God.  “You win, I’m back, defeated and ready to learn to live in the dark.  What is next?”  God told him to leave the city and go as far into the country as he could where no lights from neighboring villages would reach him—where no light from fellow wanderers could be seen.  So he set out. 

            Leaving the city, he at first thought, “this is not so hard.”  He did not realize how much the residual glow from the lights in the village was helping him find his way.  Slowly, he walked farther and farther away from the village.  It got darker and darker.  Every time his would think that he had gone far enough, he would come upon the fire of fellow wanderers.  Even when invited to stay the night, he kept walking.  He stumbled, a lot.  He landed on his face more than once; and, finally, he reached it—the place where no light shone except from the stars and the crescent moon.  He sat down.  And began to wait—still comforted by all the stars that he could see and even identify.  Suddenly, the wind shifted and clouds began to quickly move in, placing a mantle over the moon and stars and, it was dark.  Let me say it again.  It. Was. Dark. 

            The young man shut his eyes, he opened them—no difference at all.  It was so dark that it fit the old saying “you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face”.  As he sat, something began to dawn on him—no pun intended, it was a long time until dawn.  “This is nothingness,” he said to no one in particular.  And, God’s Spirit began to lead him through the lesson.  First, he was very afraid, very, very afraid.  Of what, he was not sure.  Mostly, it was the unknowing—what was out there.  What was close and what was far away.  He began to whimper.  “Just sit,” said God.  “I am here”.  “But I can’t see you,” whispered the young man.  “Just sit,” said God.  “I am here”.  And, so, he sat.  As he did, his well-trained mind began to think of everything he had learned in his quest.  Nothing had prepared him for this.  No-thing.  “Just sit,” said God.  “I am here”.  And then he began to think of all the things that could go wrong.  He could be killed just sitting here.  He might never make it home.  Why, there could be an earthquake and a giant gash in the earth could keep him separated from all he knew as familiar.  “Just sit,” said God.  “I am here”.  God did not grow impatient as most of us would have.  Every time the young man grew distraught, sometimes working himself into giant sobs, the quiet voice came.  “Just sit,” said God.  “I am here”. 

            Along about 3:00 a.m., the young man grew quiet.  And, he sat, quietly.  He listened and discovered that he could hear the leaves rustling in some far off trees.  He listened again, and he could hear the small animals of the field moving around.  He realized that if he could hear them, he could know that no large predators were close by as they were not afraid.  He heard the song of the night birds longing for each other.  And he could hear his own breath and sense the miracle of his own body, a part of all creation.  And, he heard God’s voice saying, “Just sit, I am here”.  And it was in the sitting in the presence of God with those terrifying thoughts that taught him a thing or two about darkness.  And, so, he spent the rest of the night, thinking of all the things he was learning about sitting in the dark of life. 

            First, he learned that it was not inherently bad as he had been taught—that in the darkness one found a side of God that one might not find in light of day.  He learned that his internal life seemed more intense in the dark.  With no distractions, he could really hear what he was saying to himself and what he was saying to God.  And, most of all, he learned that God does not desert us in the darkness nor punish us for our doubts.  God is just there.  Always there.  And, so the young man returned to his people a changed man.  No longer young in his understanding of God and considerably more humble in his approach to becoming a spiritual leader.  He had many more experiences of God in the darkness and, each time, he came away stronger and more able to share what he learned.  We may never know whether or not this young man became the spiritual leader he once longed to be; but, we do know that those he touched knew they had been touched by a man who had experienced God in the dark—and that gave them hope. 

            May we learn to walk in the dark and share our talks with God with the world.  Amen and amen and Namaste.

 

Ancient Wisdom-Modern Prophet: Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu 9-28-14

Ancient Wisdom-Modern Prophet:  Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu   9-28-14

God, we’re on dangerous ground here.  Seeking and granting forgiveness is something that forces us to rely completely on your grace.  You call us to be whole.  Give us the courage today to say yes to your mercy.  Amen

            I had to put this sermon off for several weeks because I wasn’t ready to preach it.  I hope you know and trust that my sermons come from my heart as God leads.  Well, this is a sermon that wouldn’t go away; or rather, God wouldn’t go away.  So, here I am, a little bit peeved at God; and, relieved at the same time to know that God has prepared my heart in the intervening weeks to be able to share with you the wonderfully healing words of Desmond Tutu, Archbishop Emeritus of South Africa. 
            I want to start with a story.  It happened sometime in 1984 or 85.  I was a student in NYC at Union Theological Seminary, bastion of liberal theology and human rights.  Apartheid had not been abolished in South Africa—that would not happen until 1991.  Then Bishop Desmond Tutu was visiting Union during one of his many trips to the UN.  I was attending a large dinner in our refectory in his honor.  People were sitting down in a somewhat random fashion.  There was no head table.  I, somehow, miraculously, ended up across the table from the Bishop.  He was lovely.  I told him of my work in women’s history.  He told me my work was important.  He talked about the women in his country and the long journey to full human rights made 100 times more difficult by the apartheid laws.  But this is not the story.  The story is that a much younger, still idealist, young woman minister came away knowing what it looked like and felt like to sit with someone so full of God’s presence that it literally poured across the table and spilled all over me.  Try as I might, I simply could not find any hatred in the man sitting across from me—only God’s pure, full, amazing, grace.  Even then, and his famous work in forgiveness was still ahead of him, he radiated the willingness to start anew, if only his people could be free.  There was no revenge desired; and, therefore, no hate.  This may well have been my first and one of my only experiences of being with someone who embodied God’s spirit to its fullest.  Yes, I was starstruck at the time, but, over time, came to realize that it was God’s spirit that drew me like a magnet.  God gives us these visions, I believe to show us, just as Jesus showed us, what it looks like to be a child of the almighty God.    

            Apartheid was abolished in 1991, but for Archbishop Tutu, a new work was beginning.  The Truth and Reconciliation Council was born as a way for the country to heal.  Story upon story was told by survivors, relatives, and perpetrators.  And, reconciliation was somehow achieved or at least begun.  This work fueled and clarified for Archbishop Tutu God’s call to reconciliation among God’s people—and all were God’s people—victim and perpetrator alike.  Evil was acknowledged and consequences were levied; but, most of all, a country learned to love again. 

            Archbishop Tutu’s recent book , written with his daughter Mpho A. Tutu, The Book of Forgiving: the Fourfold Path for Healing Ourselves and Our World, uses many of the stories from the Council and elsewhere to illustrate the process of forgiveness.  It was not an easy book for me to read, and not just because of recent events here in this church.  Like everyone else, I carry hurts from my family and from my past that needs the healing that the Tutus speak about in this lovely, difficult book.  So, today, I want to speak to you about forgiveness and why I believe it is the single most important task, shall we say, facing this incarnation of the body of Christ. 

            The book begins with the question, “Why forgive?”  The answer:  “The only way to experience healing and peace is to forgive.  Until we can forgive, we remain locked in our pain and locked out of the possibility of experiencing healing and freedom, locked out of the possibility of being at peace. “  And, elsewhere he says, “When we forgive, we take back control of our own fate and our feelings.  We become our own liberators.”  Let me assure you, this is not an easy forgiveness for those who are being forgiven.  Evil and wrongdoing has consequences.  He says, “And those who shred the web of interconnectedness cannot escape the consequences of their actions.”  So, we learn that because of this interconnectedness which Tutu sees as primary, we cannot avoid the consequences of what we have done. 

            Our first reading today was from one of Paul’s many letters to new Christians.  It is not important who or what action, Paul is speaking of.  That is why I asked that you not jump to conclusions about why I chose this passage, or whom I was secretly addressing through the choice of this passage.  You see, I’m addressing all of us, myself included.  We are, none of us, exempt from needing forgiveness and reconciliation even in the relatively small incident that is the not so quiet elephant in the midst of almost all our interactions. 

            Paul sets us straight:  The focus of my letter wasn’t on punishing the offender but on getting you to take responsibility for the health of the church. … The fact is that I’m joining in with your forgiveness, as Christ is with us, guiding us. After all, we don’t want to unwittingly give Satan an opening for yet more mischief—we’re not oblivious to the evil one’s sly ways!”  I believe that Paul, like Archbishop Tutu, knows that, in one way or another, the lack of forgiveness—the continuation of mistrust and lack of reconciliation—lead us nowhere except down a path of more and more hurt and pain.  Tutu says, “When we ignore the pain, it grows bigger and bigger, and like an abscess that is never drained, eventually it will rupture. When that happens, it can reach into every area of our lives—our health, our families, our jobs, our friendships, our faith, and our very ability to feel joy may be diminished by the fallout from resentments, anger, and hurts that are never named.”   Tutu says that when we are hurt, and we will be hurt, we have two choices.  (Cue slide)  He draws it out for us in his book.  We can enter the Revenge Cycle which leads us from Pain to Choosing to Harm to Rejecting Shared responsibility to Revenge which leads to violence or cruelty and returns us to pain OR we can enter the Forgiveness Cycle. 

            Instead of choosing to harm, we choose to heal.  Before we look briefly at the Forgiveness Cycle I want to point out a fact that I had missed somewhere along the way of my six decades of life.  We cannot choose to harm and then go to choose to heal—if you look, you’ll see that there is no arrow from choose to harm to choose to heal.  Once we have chosen to harm, we are well on our way to revenge. 

            Once, however, we have made the choice to heal, there are four stops along the path.  All of these steps could be a workshop in itself and probably should be, so let’s consider this sermon a mere introduction to the topic of forgiveness.  Tutu says, first, tell your story.    Secondly, name the hurt.  Naming is important work.  It helps us clarify not only what has happened to us, but also the impact it has had on our lives.  For today, I want to focus just a bit on the third step—“granting forgiveness”.  You can only imagine the number of times any pastor hears the words, “I can’t forgive him, or her, or them, or, even God.”  No wonder we are wounded people.  And, for many reasons, LGBT folks and their families have been hurt a lot.  We have a lot to forgive and that doesn’t even touch the well of childhood hurts.  Tutu tells us, “We choose forgiveness because it is how we find freedom and keep from remaining trapped in an endless loop of telling our stories and naming our hurts.  It is how we move from victim to hero.  A victim is in a position of weakness and subject to the whims of others.  Heroes are people who determine their own fate and their own future.”  So, we, you and I, choose to grant forgiveness because it changes us. 

Secondly it is important that we understand that  forgiveness grows out of ‘shared humanity’.   We all are flawed and make mistakes or as Scripture tells us, “we all fall short of the glory of God.”  Tutu wants us to know that we all have the capacity for evil and acknowledging our shared humanity, both the less-than-perfect and the perfectness enable us to move forward in our granting forgiveness.    Whether it be in an intimate relationship or a fellowship of believers, we each, pastor included, at any moment, are capable of being the bearers or cause of hurt.  Once we get that embedded in our thoughts, it becomes much more difficult to refuse to choose forgiveness. 

Finally, we are at the point of knowing whether to renew or release the relationship.  Forgiveness does not mean that you choose to renew the relationship.  It may be that the healthiest thing you can do, once forgiveness has been experienced is to ‘walk away’, to release that relationship and continue on with your life.  Tutu believes that it is always preferable to renew the relationship, but he acknowledges that it is neither possible nor healthy, in some cases, to work to renew the relationship.  Nevertheless, forgiveness is necessary for your good, the good of the community, and, ultimately, the good of the world. 

We have merely begun to touch on the nature and process of forgiveness today.  But we have touched on it, and will continue to speak of it as a community.  I hope that when we are ready to begin our own process of reconciliation, that we will remember the words of this modern prophet.  May we all find the glow of peace and never shy away from the work it takes to get there.  Amen and amen and Namaste. 

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.