The broad theme for our
prayerful consideration today is wilderness – what does the wilderness show us
of the Lord, what can we discern of God’s power and grace in the wilderness,
how do we come to trust that the One who is Holy is not merely symbolized by
the enormity of the wilderness but actually lives within in it, too – this is
the challenge. Fortunately we’ve been
given some excellent biblical texts to wrestle with:
The ancient
Hebrew prophet Joel grasped that when people live in an unbalanced, selfish and
bottom-line way, the earth itself suffered:
… the seed shrivels in the ground, the granaries are ruined and empty,
the animals groan, the cattle flee and our flocks of sheep roam the land in a
daze. The Psalmist,
most likely Israel’s David, wrote of a time that the earth reeled and rocked,
the mountains trembled and the heavens roared. And St. Paul
reminds us that there are times when all of creation groans – humans and
animals, land and water and air – aching to be set free from bondage.
Now, as a Bible geek, I LOVE
playing with these texts: the nuances of their poetry call me deeper; the quest
to unlock spiritual mysteries awakens both heart and mind. But not everyone has the time or inclination
to be playful with the Scriptures. In
fact, as a number of you have told me over the years, because life is so full
and demanding, mostly you want something helpful and useful to come from
whatever I share on Sunday morning. How do journalists put it: news you can use?
So I’ve been thinking hard about how to talk with you about the blessings of
today’s wilderness theme:
+ How and why do
they matter to people struggling to keep up with all their bills in a
responsible way? Or people juggling a
few jobs just to keep their heads above water?
Or those caring for children – or aging adults – in addition to work and
love and the demands of being a faithful citizen?
+ How does any of
this matter beyond an abstract fascination with spiritual words and my
introverted, intellectual meditations?
Here’s my hunch – there are
at least two ways all of this matters – one is cosmic or macro and the other is
intimate and personal. To know the Lord of the
wilderness is to experience a love and power that is so vast and grand that most
of our puny indiscretions and sins shrivel up and become irrelevant – they even
look absurd – in contrast or comparison. It is to confess and celebrate the
enormity of God’s greatness and grace in a way that puts our fears and shame
into perspective.
+ Let me ask you:
have you ever spent any time in a place of wilderness? It could be the Grand
Canyon – or parts of the great American desert in the Southwest – or in the
forests and mountains of Montana and the Dakotas
+ Where have you
encountered and experienced something of the wilderness – and what did it feel
like to you?
One of the spiritual mentors
I often use as a guide is Fr. Richard Rohr of the Center for Contemplation and
Action in New Mexico. His writing and
reflections are a touchstone for me when I am trying to discern why something
biblical matters. Not long ago he wrote this and it speaks to the God of the
wilderness to me – let’s see what it says to you.
YOU are about LIFE.
Before a unifying or transformative encounter with God or
+ Are you
still with me? Do you hear what he’s
trying to say: that when we have been
touched and embraced and encountered by the enormity of God’s love, our part in
the totality is given perspective?
+ We
grasp that too often we treat both our sins and our celebrations as too
important? I’ll ask you for your
reactions in just a moment, but let me finish this quote.
(Such an awareness of God’s vast love and
power) is an earthquake in the brain, a hurricane in the heart, a Copernican
revolution of the mind, and a monumental shift in consciousness. Frankly, most
do not seem interested.
Understanding that your life is not about you is the connection point
with everything else. It lowers the mountains and fills in the valleys that we
have created, as we gradually recognize that the myriad forms of life in the
universe, including ourselves, are operative parts of the One Life that most of us call God.
And here’s the part that blows my mind and
cuts to the chase about WHY and HOW this matters.
After such a discovery, I am grateful to be a
part—but only a part! I do not have to figure it all out, straighten it all out
or even do it perfectly by myself. I do not have to be God. It is an enormous
weight off my back. All I have to do is participate! My holiness is first of all and really only
God’s, and that’s why it is certain and secure —and always holy. It is my
participation, my mutual indwelling, but never my achievement or performance…. True spirituality is not taught; it
is caught once our sails have been unfurled to the Spirit.
Henceforth, our very motivation and momentum for the journey toward holiness
and wholeness is just immense gratitude—for already having it!
+ Did you
get what Rohr was saying? Can somebody
summarize all of that in your own words…?
+ And
what do you think about this insight – that the enormity of God’s love and
power not only reminds us of our small place within it (freeing us from
fretting so much about our sins and accomplishments) – but also shows us how we
are connected to something so much bigger than us that all we have to do is
respond in gratitude?
It seems to me that one
of the blessings of wilderness – as reality and as part of the biblical story –
is to give us God’s perspective on our lives.
It shows us that we are a part – a beautiful, loving but nevertheless
small part – of the whole. That is part
of the reason why the gospel tells us that the Spirit of God drove Jesus out
into the wilderness: did you notice that
choice of words? It wasn’t a studied choice or a deliberate action: the Holy
Spirit drove him out into the wilderness where he fasted and wrestled with his
demons for 40 days and 40 nights. There
are two really wonderful truths being shared with us in poetic and narrative
form here:
+ The
first is a vision of harmony between heaven and humanity, creation and all that
is a part of it, during the baptism of Jesus. When he comes up out of the
Jordan we have an image of integrity in creation: the sky opens up, the heavens announce Christ
as the beloved, the Spirit is present, the waters and air and even our flesh
participate in an act of gratitude.
+ And the
second points to something that is essential for every one of us – a vision
quest – a spiritual encounter with the vastness of God’s love so that we grasp
and own our part in the enormity of grace.
Jesus is driven out into the wilderness so that he too can see where he
fits in the plan.
In this
Jesus is a symbol for you and me – we need to know, as Fr. Rohr wrote, that we
are not the center of the universe. Before
a transformative encounter with God or creation, almost all people substitute
the part for the whole and take their little part far
too seriously—both in its greatness and in its badness.
But afterwards…
well what does the gospel tell us? Jesus
found his place in the wilderness even as he wrestled with demons and let the
angels and animals minister to him. That’s the first macro
reason why Wilderness Sunday matters – and here’s the news you can use summary
– something I shared with you from Frederick Buechner earlier in the Spring:
Don't Worry, Trust God. Stop trying to protect, to rescue, to judge, to manage the
lives around you . . . remember that the lives of others are not your business.
They are their business. They are God’s business . . . even your own life is
not your business. It also is God’s business. Leave it to God. It is an
astonishing thought. It can become a life-transforming thought . . . unclench
the fists of your spirit and take it easy . . . What deadens us most to God’s
presence within us, I think, is the inner dialogue that we are continuously
engaged in with ourselves, the endless chatter of human thought. I suspect that
there is nothing more crucial to true spiritual comfort . . . than being able
from time to time to stop that chatter.
+ Are you with me?
+ Before I continue let me stop and ask what you what you think about this – does any
of it hold any beauty or power or meaning for you – and questions?
Ok,
now here’s the other reason I think this maters – the small, micro and
personal reason this matters: listening the groaning of creation – the
weeping of the four-legged ones, the agony of the birds of the air and the fish
of the sea to say nothing of the cries of our trees and land – invites us to
hear the tears all around us and to respond with tenderness. We aren’t being asked to solve every
problem. We aren’t being scolded for not
doing something huge or changing the course of history. Listening more
carefully and responding with tenderness helps us live more fully our
heart. It strengthens compassion and
encourages living in harmony rather than discord. And here’s what I mean:
Loving and caring for my strange and often skittish
dog Lucie does not change the world in any obvious way – but it changes me.
· Since she has come into our life I have become a
little more patient, a little more aware of how my life affects hers, a little
more conscious of how my tenderness might ease a little of her suffering.
· In a way, Lucie has been a spiritual guide for me,
showing me how to become more tender and that has a number of consequences –
not the least of which involves the couple hundred people I meet and talk with
every week. They, too have wounds and pain, they too are riddled with anxieties
and blessings, hopes and fears.
· And truth be told I’m not always aware – or
sensitive of the needs of others – I can miss the clues in profound and sad
way. And not because I want to, but
because I’m too wrapped up in my own agenda and my own hopes and fears. But my four legged spiritual director, Lucie,
shows me what a dead end that can be – how I lose out by not sharing tenderness
– and how others do, too.
It is a small thing, right? But I’ve learned over
the two years she has been in our home that the more I pay attention, the
better I am at living into the values I most value and respect. Listening to creation groaning evokes the
best in us – right where we live – so that we can share our best with those who
need us. I just read a tragic story from Japan. Maybe you know about this,
too. There are coves along the coast of
Japan:
… where one can hear the penetrating
screams from dolphins being murdered. It seems that fishermen pound the water
with metal poles to confuse these sound-sensitive creatures – the dolphins –
and in their confusion they are herded into covers where they are then
slaughtered and sold in tins at the supermarket. The
dolphins know what is happening to them, they know they are being murdered.
Like humans they are self-aware and groan in anticipation. After spikes are
driven into their heads, they are held under water until the blood pours out.
They take five minutes to die and all the they are bleeding out their
companions are crying in sympathy as the sea runs red with blood. (The
Advertiser, Oct. 31, 2003, p. 3)
· The apostle Paul tells us that as the whole creation
groans, the Spirit of God groans, too for the Lord shares our pain – the pain
of all of creation – a pain that is raised up as sighs too deep for human
words.
· And as we ache, as creation groans, the Spirit
intercedes for us – comes to us with a presence of grace – that is also deeper
than human words.
Theologians
and those far smarter than I have said this is akin to Christ crying
+ Knowing that God is with me in my fears and pain
doesn’t take away the agony; knowing that the Spirit is with all of creation in
our groaning doesn’t make it any less horrible or ugly.
+ And yet knowing God’s presence is with me allows me
to continue even in the most broken experiences of life. And more than continue, says St. Paul in
Romans 5, knowing that God is with me in my pain I can trust that my suffering produces
endurance, and endurance produces
character, and character produces hope, and
this hope does not disappoint because hope is God’s love being poured into our
hearts through the Holy Spirit.
There is a big picture that empowers us NOT to worry
but to trust – there is a little picture that invites us to listen more loudly
and live more tenderly – and there is a cosmic picture that assures us that God
is with us even in our worst agony and fear.
And I don’t know if there is any BETTER news we can use, beloved, so let
those who have ears to hear, hear the good news for today.
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