Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Stories: A Sermon for Christmas

The other day a news story came out that Pope Francis was blasting the Vatican with a list of spiritual ailments.  One of them was about humor.  I understood him to say that we misunderstand what it means to be serious.  Serious doesn’t mean to be stern and severe, but to seriously express the joy of being found in Jesus Christ.  He said to keep a healthy dose of humor.  And translated from the Italian, Francis called it the Disease of Funeral Face.  I hope it’s not catching.
So here you go, Pope Francis.  Little Eddie went to his grandfather’s church on Christmas Eve, and while he was waiting for the service to start, he looked at all the announcements in the bulletin, and he saw all these pictures of young men in uniform.  So he asked his grandfather who all these men were, and his grandfather said to him, “Well, those pictures are there to remind us to be thankful at Christmas of the great gift that they freely gave us.  These are all our boys who died in the service.”  
Little Eddie then got very serious, and he gulped and said, “Grandpa, which service was that?  The Christmas Eve service or Sunday morning?”
We love stories.  We love to hear about adventures that take us out of the moment to far away lands and about things that we don’t believe we would ever be able to do ourselves.  We love to hear stories that make us feel good, we love stories that scare us, stories that inspire us, stories that challenge us.  
I heard a story just the other day from a young woman who called into K-Love radio to tell a miraculous story about herself.  She said that she was a cutter, someone who cut on herself.  She was, basically, suicidal, and one day she took a box cutter to her wrist and she sliced and sliced and pressed that blade as hard as she could because she had had enough and just wanted to end it all, but nothing happend.  The blade didn’t even scratch her arm.  
Of course she was discovered and an intervention was made and so she was actually calling the radio station from inside the hospital.  What was so miraculous, she said, was that later her father took that same blade and tested it on a piece of copper wire, and it sliced cleanly through it, but it hadn’t even scratched her soft flesh!
It changed her life.  She knew that God himself had saved her, and so she gave herself to him there in that hospital.
It’s an amazing story, but the story doesn’t end there.  This isn’t about making a bad choice and getting over it and moving on.  This young woman recognized that this is her unique story, and that she needs to allow her story to become a part of her, not to simply put it behind her and pretend it never happened, but to allow it to change her in ways that are unique to her and in ways that can bring healing to others as she herself has found healing.  
So she said that she now has a dream to someday open a Christian cutter’s hospital.  In our misguided and depressed society, cutting on oneself is really not that uncommon, but it’s a symptom of a much deeper psychological condition that this young woman is in a unique position to help other people find healing from.  
Her story can help other people to find hope.  Her story gives her a unique gift that not many other people have.  It gives her a unique credibility as a witness to the power of healing.  What I mean is that, I can tell people that there is freedom from depression.  I can say that all I want, but I’ve never experienced clinical depression, so my credibility is not the same as one who has walked that road and understands the pain and the fear and the feelings of hopelessness and worthlessness that are depression, which people face day after exhausting day.
That’s not a part of my story.  So I wouldn’t be as effective as a depression counselor as this young woman who can identify with debilitating depression and so make real connections with other people who experience this terrible condition.
But we all have a story that makes us who we are.  
These past five Sundays, we’ve been talking about the stories of many of the different characters that are found in the birth narrative of Jesus.  We talked about Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, who didn’t believe the testimony of the angel who said to him that he will become the father of the one who goes in the spirit of the Prophet Elijah to prepare the way for the coming of Messiah, Jesus Christ.  
Zechariah didn’t believe him, he and his wife were too old to have children, and so as punishment, he was stricken deaf and dumb, but this only made his story more credible, but then when John was born, he began to hear and speak praises to God, proclaiming the prophecies that the Angel had foretold to him.  Zechariah’s story of disobedience ended up giving him a unique credibility because of his witness to the power of God working in the world.
We heard the stories of the shepherds, simple men of the country who were not educated, not well-paid, and probably thought of as hillbillies.  But the angels came to tell them the good news of Jesus’ birth in the manger in Bethlehem, so that they went to see for themselves.  Shepherds had a unique place in society.  They were watchers, it was their job to keep very careful watch over their flocks so as to protect them, because there was no one else around, so when shepherds came to town and had news of something they saw, it was usually taken seriously.  Shepherds don’t care about gossip, they only told what they saw, and they were often a reliable source of news in an age without telephones or mail.
And so when they witnessed the baby Jesus in the manger, they went out into the streets shouting the good news to anyone who would listen about what the angels had said to them about this baby boy.  The shepherds’ story gave them a unique credibility, it put them in a unique position to be trustworthy as the very first evangelists of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
We read all these and other stories in the bible, and we think that they are all about Jesus being born, about the miracle of God coming down from heaven, but they’re not.  These are stories about us, about people just like you and me.  The miracle is not that God came down from heaven, you can look into just about any religion in the world and find stories like that.  The miracle is that God’s coming into the world can shape our own stories.  
Our own, personal, gospel message grows out of our own, unique story, the story of our lives.  I’m not saying that we should be glad that some bad, horrible thing happened to us years ago, but I am saying that we need to stop being defeated by that bad thing, and recognize how Jesus can use it to turn our story of bad news into a story of good news.
The Gospel of Jesus Christ for that young woman is that a lost, depressed, suicidal girl became a disciple of the Lord with a vision to help other people in ways that only she can, because Christ gave her the power to defeat a disease which would have otherwise defeated her.
Jesus Christ was born into a world very much like our own.  The people we read about in the Bible are very much like you and me.  Just people.  They did things they regretted, they struggled through life just as we do.
Which is why God became one of us.  God became a human being.  He did it for us, so that we might see in Him the credibility that we look for in one who has been there, who understands our pain and our struggles.  
That is Good News.
May you learn to see the light of Jesus Christ in the dark places of life.  May you not be defeated by the shared suffering of this life, but May God show you how to harness the power of your unique story for His glory.  
In the Name of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

Memento Mori, Memento Vivere

"Where shall I look for Enlightenment?" the disciple asked.
"Here," the elder said.
"When will it happen?" the disciple wanted to know.
"It is happening right now," the elder said.
"Then why don't I experience it?" the disciple asked.
And the elder answered, "Because you do not look."
"But what should I look for?" the disciple wanted to know.
And the disciple smiled and answered, "Nothing.  Just look."
"But at what?" the disciple insisted.
"Anything your eyes alight upon," the elder continued.
"Well, then, must I look in a special kind of way?" the disciple asked.
"No," the elder said.
"Why ever not?" the disciple persisted.
And the elder said quietly, "Because to look you must be here.  The problem is that you are most certainly somewhere else."

Lately I've been reading a book on Benedictine living for those not in monastic communities.  St. Benedict's Toolbox: The Nuts and Bolts of Everyday Benedictine Living, by Jane Tomaine, has certainly been one of the most practical books on Benedictine spirituality for non-monastics that I have ever read.

For example, she writes, "Those outside of a convent or monastery might think of the vows as values...that can guide our lives."  p. 43

The vows (values) that she refers to are the three vows which a Benedictine professes upon being received into the the community as a brother or sister.  These are: stability, obedience, and conversion of life.

Tomaine is an Episcopal priest, and not an oblate or associate of any particular Benedictine order, but strives to live according to her own understanding of the Rule of Benedict, that ancient manual for Christians living in community, which has endured in monasteries and convents and beyond for over 1500 years because it has the ability to adapt to whatever environment the community is in - and Jane Tomaine points out that we are all living in community, even though all our communities are not the same.

So I've taken some notes on the three vows (values) illuminated by St. Benedict's Toolbox:

Stability: from the Latin stare "to stand, to stand up, or to be still."  "Stability says stay put physically and emotionally (p. 64)."  "We need to stay connected to others and to commit to these relationships fully (p. 53)."

Obedience: from the Latin obaudire "to listen thoroughly."  "Listening is what the vow is all about (p. 78)."  "Set aside what you are doing.  Focus your attention on the person before you to discern what God is asking you to do (p. 64)."  "True obedience, healthy obedience, comes when we place God in the center of our lives to help us balance our needs with the needs of others (Pp. 65-66)."

Conversion: from the Latin conversatio morum "conversion of life."  "Change and grow.  Be transformed by the Spirit (para. p. 84)."  There seems to be some recent scholarship on the root of Benedict's writings on conversion.  It has also been translated conversio morum.  Their are different meanings associated with both.  Conversatio is also the root of conversation.  I've found significant discussions on both of these translations and how they are different, but here are my thoughts on this: We are changed (conversio) by actively participating (conversatio) in our relationships with God and with each other in community.  "Conversion of life encourages a positive and constructive response to  change (p. 87)."

How do the three vows (values) work together?

Benedictine community is about people ministering to each other.

"One of the most important tools...is to listen for God in our daily lives and to find God in the people and in the world around us.  To do this we need to be present right where we are at any given moment.  Benedict asks us to live in the present moment.  He says, stay put (stability), listen to the people and to life around you and respond to who God is calling you to be and what God is asking you to do (obedience), and be open to the ways in which God will transform you as you live the Christian life (conversion of life).  Benedict wants us to live in the present moment, fully alert to the now and ready to respond, whether we are at work, with our family, with friends, or with God in prayer (p. 183)."

Memento Mori, Memento Vivere.