When the "I" is Silent

As a part of my Lenten discipline this year, I have been attempting to be more focused on spiritual reading. Along with this, I have also recognized a need within myself to better understand and explore the Old Testament. The need to strengthen these two disciplines in my life have led me to Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, Chief Rabbi of the British Commonwealth, who is writing a series of spiritual commentaries/devotionals on the parashat hashavua - the weekly portion of Torah (Old Testament) that is normally read at synagogue. The parasha readings are basically like the Lectionary in the Christian Church, which divide the bible into weekly or daily readings. Rabbi Sacks writes four 'articles' on each parasha reading, as they are usually about 3-4 chapters in length anyway. Drawing from rabbinical sources and Talmudic sources, with which most Christian authors I've read are unfamiliar, Rabbi Sacks engages the Torah in a dialogue that opens up the world of the Old Testament to me in ways I, myself, have never known.

This week's parasha is from Gen. 28:10-32:3, the story of Jacob when he leaves home, fleeing his brother Esau, from whom he stole his father's birthright. Jacob camped at Bethel, and that night had a dream. He saw a stairway or a ladder reaching from the heavens down to the earth, and angels were ascending and descending upon it.

When Jacob woke later, he said to himself, "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I, I knew it not." Rabbi Sacks points out that there is a repetition of the word "I" in this statement, which appears to be superfluous. But the extra "I" is not superfluous; it is, in fact, important. He writes "we sense the "Thou" of the Divine Presence when we move beyond the "I" of egocentricity." When we are centered on ourselves, we lose sight of the world around us; we begin to lose the ability to recognize God when we see only ourselves, when the "I" gets in the way.

Rabbi Sacks points out that the medicine for this is prayer. Lehitpalel is the Hebrew verb, meaning "to pray." It "is reflexive, implying an action done to oneself. Literally, it means 'to judge oneself. It means to escape from the prison of the self and see the world, including ourselves, from the outside." Prayer is how we set aside the "I" for a time and become aware of the reality that is God - above us, around us, within us, beyond us. And when the "I" is silent, when we pray, our lives begin to change. Prayer changes us.

I remember reading Walter Wangerin and Richard Foster years ago, both of whom emphasized this as well. Prayer has the effect of changing us because it removes the "I," and focuses on "Thou," the Divine Presence of God. Rabbi Sacks says that it is in that moment that we can say, with Jacob, "I know not the I. I know only God."

Matthew 6.24-34

It seems like I’ve been saying to you a lot lately, “This is a difficult passage.” But as I read today’s gospel lesson, it is a difficult passage. Really though, all of the Sermon on the Mount is more than a little challenging to us. Today’s lesson, though, is a bit different than the last few Sunday’s about following the Law. Today’s lesson is about trust.

Jesus says, “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

Well, you may have heard this passage differently before, as the Greek word that is translated here as wealth is mammon. Mammon does not exclusively refer to wealth, but is a derivation of a Hebrew word that comes from Aramaic...to make things simple. And if my Hebrew is bad, my Aramaic is even worse, but thankfully I went to seminary that taught us how to use certain tools, and, well basically I cheated. The word is used for anything of value: property, slaves, earthly goods.

That’s about as far as the translation goes. Other things in Greek that I look up, have pages and pages and pages about just one word. Mammon has one and a half. But it says a lot.

Where do we put our trust? What do we hold on to in life for security? Jesus says don’t worry about what you will eat, drink, or wear. Really? Does he not understand that “Western economies depend on massive spending on commodities people do not need?” Does he not know that our large and growing industry of mood-altering drugs is based on our inability to not worry? And I’m not just talking about illegal drugs. More people now than ever before in history are being medicated for one psychiatric condition or another. The problem is getting worse, not better.

And Jesus says don’t worry. Aren’t some things worth worrying about, though? Like starving, homeless refugees in war-torn parts of the world. They are innocent, and many of them were driven away from their homes because they are Christians. Shouldn’t we worry about them, even just a little bit? Shouldn’t we worry for them?

I give thanks to God every time I sit down to a meal, because there really are those who won’t get to eat today, or tomorrow, and did not eat yesterday. Did you know that, after a while, you actually stop feeling hungry?

Now, when Jesus was tempted in the wilderness, he fasted forty days, and so the Devil tempted him with food, but Jesus refused to break his fast, saying that we do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. And because Jesus said that, this passage in the Sermon on the Mount has often been spiritualized to show Jesus saying that we shouldn’t worry about our next meal, but instead we should worry about our spiritual well-being.

I disagree with that interpretation of the text, I think it completely robs the text of its intended meaning, but so often it is easier to avoid what Jesus actually says in favor of what we want him to say. Jesus said do not worry. He didn’t say don’t worry only about physical things so that we can focus on spiritual things, he simply said, do not worry. And that is hard to do.

In 2000, I went to East Africa with a group of college students on a short-term mission tour. Among many things, we visited the slums. Now, before I get too far into it, I have to point out that Africa is not like what they show on those sponsorship commercials on TV, where everyone is starving and naked and lying in the street. The standard of living is simply different, people can live well on very little, unlike America.

But after visiting that slum, I would venture to guess that some of those commercials are filmed right there. Starvation literally looked me in the face, through the eyes of little children, whom we were told had probably either not eaten in two or three days, or ate the crumbs that their parents gave to them, which meant of course that their parents went hungry.

It didn’t take us long to distribute every scrap of food that we had with us to those children, and what happened next utterly shook me. They didn’t expect more, they didn’t fight over what we gave them. They didn’t give us any looks of why-don’t-you-do-more-for-us-you-fat-white-American (and believe me, in that place, I probably would have been considered more than well-fed).

They praised God. They sang to the Lord and thanked the Almighty for what He had given them. It was a snack. I probably eat five times that much for dinner, but I doubt that many of these kids had ever held that much food in their hands at one time.

We do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. The world today produces enough food to feed the entire world today. Did you know that? The United States gives more money to missionary-type organizations than any other country in the world, but considering that we are still one of the largest and most economically stable countries in the world, our giving is dead last compared to others.

So after all is said and done here, I now have to tell you that I don’t have an answer to the question that is on my mind from this passage, and probably on each of your minds as well. How in the world are we to stop worrying? It’s hard enough to stop worrying about ourselves, but when we look at the state this world is in, it’s almost enough to make me sit down and cry.
It’s almost enough to make me want to do something about it. What did worrying ever bring us, what did it ever get us? More worries. Fear. Depression.

But the opposite of worrying is trust. Trust in God. Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and all these things: food, drink, clothing, life, will be given to you as well. They will also be given to others, because that is what God wants for us in His Kingdom.

Food and drink, clothing, life. That covers just about everything that we have that we worry about, around here, isn’t it? I think that this message might need to be a little bit different for the people in the slums of Emanyatta, but to us it is just that. Trust in God, not in material gain. Life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing.

Living a life of worry means living a life of fear, as it is fear that fuels worry. Where there is fear there is little room for trust and hope, which is what Jesus offers us. So what I have learned from my time with the people of East Africa is that I need to constantly remind myself and challenge myself to let go of my fears, and to focus on what is positive, what is of God and give thanks. That is probably the biggest difference that I saw between them and us. They gave thanks, we ask for more.

I cannot alleviate the sufferings of the world, I cannot alleviate all of your sufferings or even my own, but that’s life. What I can do is live that life in witness to God’s Way. I can be changed by it, I can be the change that I want to see in others. And while it may not be so easy to stop worrying, especially when we are so good at it, we can practice. Amen.