Worship notes redux...

NOTE:  For no good reason, what started as a lovely good night's rest was broken this morning at 3:45 am.  So after finishing the most recent Inspector Gamache mystery, I made some revisions to my worship notes for Sunday.  I hope to get a nap soon and then take the puppy for a long walk.

Introduction

This summer some startling things happened:  my precious guitar was stolen

AND I was given the gift of this sweet, sweet upright bass.  Once again the war drums are starting to sound in our nation’s capital AND new life is about to be shared within our small family as daughter Jesse moves ever closer to giving birth to our first grandchild.  There was a super abundance of rain in our neck of the woods while fires and draught raged through the Southwest.  Our goofy puppy Lucie began to mature as she celebrated her first birthday and at the ripe old age of 61 I became a student again in my attempt to play my new instrument properly.

·      Perhaps you, too have been aware of the ebb and flow of life taking place all around us in ways that are simultaneously challenging and comforting?  In ways that I hardly expected, my heart has been opened this summer to the deep, deep love God has poured into the very soul of creation:  the rhythm of the sun and moon, the birth and death of each season, the sorrows and celebrations of every heart, community and nation.

·      The ancient Psalmist of Israel – perhaps King David himself – put it like this in the song we know as Psalm 104:  Creator God, how great you are!  You grow the tender grass to feed the cattle. You give us fruits, vegetables and grains to cultivate, wine to share and gladden our hearts, bread to eat and strengthen us – even oil to lotion our skin.  You planted the cedars, grew them tall and strong, and now birds can build nests safely in their branches. Your high mountains are pastures for the wild goats, and even the rock-badgers find a home burrowing in the boulders there.

You gave us the moon which marks the months and the sun which marks the days. At night the young lions roar. At dawn they slink back to their dens to rest as we go off to work until the evening shadows fall once more.  Oh Lord, what a variety you have med in all your wisdom.  Truly the earth is full of your riches.

Do you sense the rhythm of creation in this poem?  The integration of light and dark, shadow with insight, work and rest – even freedom with interdependence – autonomy and community: it is not utopia, mind you, there is clearly predator and prey, yes?  And yet within this sacred rhythm there is a balance where every part of creation has enough for life:  enough food, enough space, enough time, enough freedom and enough community.  One of our communion liturgies puts it like this:  living into God’s truth there is sharing by all so that there is scarcity for none.

Jesus speaks to this sacred rhythm, too when he tells us: “Don’t fuss about what’s on the table at mealtimes or if the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your inner life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the ravens, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, carefree in the care of God. And you count far more. Has anyone by fussing before the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? If fussing can’t even do that, why fuss at all? Walk into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They don’t fuss with their appearance—but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them.  If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of them never even seen, don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you?  What I’m trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions.

And so we gather again – after vacations and retreats, time away for rest, relaxation and reflection – to consider what does the Lord require of us as servants living faithfully within the rhythm of God’s sacred creation at this moment in time?

Insights

For the next six weeks we will join thousands of others throughout the world in an experiment called “the Season of Creation.”  It is an ecumenical exploration for worship born of a growing concern about our current ecological crisis.  One of the founders of this challenge put it like this:  Our aim… is a joint celebration in which we not only give thanks for creation but also celebrate with creation… to find ways to heal rather than exploit our beloved planet.  So each of the next six weeks will have a theme – today is Fauna and Flora Sunday – and each is designed to help us listen to God’s voice within creation and tradition – and respond in ways that resonate God’s rhythm rather than our own  frenetic and over stressed habits.

And before going deeper into today’s focus text, let me share with you a personal word about what I found to be most challenging when asked to consider God’s revelation to us in creation.  First, I came face to face with my own raging anthropomorphism:  you see, most of my thinking and my understanding about the sacred have been set in very human terms.  As a Christian, I relate to Jesus as "the Word of God revealed in the flesh." Not only do I take the human experience very seriously but tend to see God at work in the world through people.

·      But what is God's first word - creation – revealing to me about the Lord?  What is it telling me about grace and sacred love and the deepest meaning of life?  Well, as much as I cherish the beauty of nature, apparently I don't spend a lot of time thinking about creation being one of the ways God reveals the heart of grace to all the world.  I simply have NOT had eyes to see the Lord in this way with any depth, so I am truly inexperienced trying to do so.  That’s one challenge for me.

And the second is equally complicated for me because it asks us to explore theological revelation without words.  Contemplating the flora and fauna as one of God's revelations (and gifts) to the world pushes me out of my head - and my well cultivated safety zone of words and ideas - into an encounter with living things that cannot speak to me in ways that I understand. And I don't have a lot of practice doing theology without words.

Dianne chortled when I confessed this to her at breakfast recently noting, "Such is a part of the sacred order:  one who talks so much was made to be with one who is so consistently quiet!" But I really am a child of my Reformed tradition: rational words have been one of the ways we have nurtured living as those "created in the image of God" over the past 500 years.  Our religious heritage is saturated in words.

And that isn't what the season of Creation invites.  Rather, this season asks us to listen to the cries and songs of the trees, the wisdom of the animals and the challenge of sustaining life in ways that are fecund and beautiful. And it asks us to do this not in a flaky, new age, "everything is beautiful" way, but as a vibrant part of the Christian tradition.  So, let’s consider what is being revealed to us in Psalm 104.  This is one of seven different creation narratives in the Bible and this one emphasizes the reality of God's plan as a well-integrated community.

·      There is a sacred interdependence taking place here where all things great and small – in the heavens as well as the land and sea – all flora and fauna move together in ways that strengthen and nourish the whole.  Do you see that in this poem?  Now think if you can of some examples from your own experience where you have seen this sacred rhythm of interdependence taking place:  where have you witnessed the joyful dependence of other creatures living in cosmic cooperation in your world?

I have seen it with our puppy who is becoming a real spiritual teacher for me:  she is just a year old and VERY enthusiastic about EVERYTHING.  And while she likes to act independently, if Lucie were left to herself chaos and destruction would follow her everywhere.   Because, you see, after millennia she has become one of our domesticated creatures – one who needs intimacy and order from humans – in order to thrive.  She has love to share – and laughter to bring – heart-break and frustration, too but it must be done within the confines of being a pet rather than a creature of the wild.  And I’ve come to believe that it was part of the Lord’s plan in creation that dogs and people should bond.

·      Lucie needs Dianne and me to help her focus – or stop and practice sitting – so that she doesn’t run out into the traffic to certain death.  She needs us to help bring order to her day – and food to her belly – warmth and shelter to her ever growing body and limits to her boundless energy.

·      In return, Lucie gives us unconditional love.  She helps me live in ways that challenge my selfishness and surrender to compassion when I would rather be grumpy and self-centered.  And that, too, is part of God’s revelation.

You see, I believe that Lucie – and all pets we come to love – help us who live in relative civilization not only break down some of the barriers between culture and nature but also learn something essential for deep and joyful living:  namely, that it isn’t our individuality that’s so important, it is our relationships.  The Canadian author, James Taylor, put it like this in his book, A Spirituality of Pets:  I think that we humans are not so much individuals as much as we are relationships. It’s not our height, weight or wealth that defines who we are: it’s the range and depth of our relationships.  And if we don’t honor and cultivate relationships, then everything and everybody is just something to be used – and discarded. 

That’s one of the sins of our current age:  we treat so much of creation like a thing to be used up and then thrown away, not a relationship that reveals something of the Lord, more like a tissue or a rag.  One revelation that God wants us to know through the flora and fauna of creation, is that sacred living honors and strengthens our inter-connectedness. 

Conclusion

So here’s a suggestion for this week designed to help us reclaim our relationship with our animal and plant partners and do a little bit – just our part – in restoring some balance and connection.

And it involves your dining room table and kitchen:  what would happen if we used each day of the week to help us eat something that comes from the Berkshires?  Feasting is another non-verbal way of encountering the love of the Lord and it is all about our connections with creation. So what would happen if we took the next week to learn about sustainable agriculture in our community?  My hunch is that not only would this help us build relationships with the farmers and local merchants in our community, but it might also reconnect us with the rhythm of the seasons. 

Here’s my spiritual practice – I’ll give you a hand-out to take home if you are interested – but the summary goes like this:

·      Each day eat something that comes from the Berkshires:  on Sunday it might be a salad using a local fruit or vegetable; on Monday you could make a soup or stew using some regional ingredients; throughout the week you could find some local eggs for breakfast or some herbs and spices; you might even explore buying some local meat, too.

·      If you are really adventurous and you have the time, you could try baking some bread using ingredients from the Berkshires.  And each night – or morning or noon – before eating you could say a prayer like this:  Lord God, we thank you for the food that is before us.  Be with us as we return to living in relationship with our world; for this will not only nourish us but help those who come after us in all creation.  In the name of all that is holy we pray.  Amen.

What do you think:  would such an experiment be possible?  What would be hard about it for you?  What would be fun?  What do you think we might learn in the process?

We have made a commitment to be servants of Jesus Christ.  In this we look foolish to the world around us:  we care about the connections between people – the relationships that sustain and wound us – we care about the earth and the animals and the plants, too – we care about war and peace – and hope and forgiveness.  And we have promised NOT to be too busy or self-absorbed to live in the way of the Cross so that others might see a way out of the rat race, too.

I hope you will choose to be a part of this experiment this week.  God’s first word speaks to us about living in a sacred connection with all the earth.  In the spirit and presence of Jesus, the Word made flesh, let me ask you to join with me in prayer:

All loving wisdom of creation, whose joy gives us the feast of this day and whose bounty offers us relationships that nourish, you have connected us to each other in ways we could not have imagined or sought by ourselves.  Today, we remember those who find themselves on the fringes:  those who have fallen ill, who are weakened by hunger, debt or hopelessness.  We remember those who feel lost by grief – or addiction – or ignored by the powers and principalities of our age.  Help us to step back from the busyness for a moment that we might reconnect with your sacred rhythm and bring a measure of joy to those whose lives we touch.  For we seek to be faithful to our Lord Jesus Christ.  Amen.