Sermon for September 23, 2018

The Way: Ancient Journey for modern Times

The Way of Ascent and Descent

Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, you will all see heaven open and the angels of God going up and down on the Son of Man, the one who is the stairway between heaven and earth." John 1:51

When I was growing up, our school regularly took trips to the science museum in Boston. The capstone event was the museum electricity show. We sat in a small amphitheater in front of an enormous dual-sphere Van DeGraff generator – two enormous columns the size of a four-story building with enormous aluminum globes fixed at the top each column. The generator produced static electricity. We would sit in wonder and terror as the machine zapped arcs of lightning, teaching us about the power of electricity. The grand finale of the show was a hair-raising electrical storm with the retina-scorching light and ear-splitting crackle. I think we were supposed to learn about how awesome it is to control and use such power for human benefit. I learned that being in the presence of that kind of power gives me a migraine headache. I always dreaded the electricity show.

One of the demonstrations at the museum was an arc of electricity that travelled up two parallel wires. I’ve since learned it has a name: Jacob’s Ladder. His dream described in Genesis 28 must have felt electric. Jacob is on the run from his brother. Jacob, the impish and impetuous youngest child of Isaac now finds himself in the desert, destitute and cut off with nothing other than what he might find as he goes. For instance, he uses a rock for a pillow. Nothing in the text suggests that Jacob is thinking about God. He’s tired, afraid, and on the run when he stops at the place that will be known as Bethel, or God’s House. At this low point, Jacob dreams of angels ascending and descending on a staircase, then God appears next to him and offers a blessing. Jacob gets a small experience of the wider workings of God. God has more in store for Jacob beyond his own plans and schemes.  God draws close as if to say, “I am with you and I will watch over you.” It must have felt electric. If his experience is at all like mine at the electricity show when one is in the presence of power, I wonder Jacob was in caught between amazement and terror. The text says he woke up afraid. I wonder if experiencing the electricity of God also have him a headache. Or, maybe it was from sleeping on that rock for a pillow.

I was taught that the spiritual life is an upward journey in which I must strive for goodness and perfection in life. We should always be growing. Always learning. Always getting better. Always taming our wild sides and becoming more respectable. These expectations are like upward angels, moving us closer to the unattainable perfection of God. It sure is a lot of pressure, trying to be perfect while knowing we will never get there. The thought of always reaching, always striving, but never getting there this side of heaven – that gives me a headache, too.

Jacob’s dream isn’t just about the upward journey. In Jacob’s dream angels are ascending and descending—going up and down. I experience those upward moments when I sense more of God’s presence and feel transformed. Sometimes, those very same encounters fill me with fear. In my experience, both movements are important to understand out spiritual lives.  The spiritual life if not just about travelling arcs of electricity that always rise. Spiritual life is about rhythm. We travel up and down. We breathe in and out. We expand, and we are emptied.

At times we sense a deep connection to God. The world feels in sync. The journey feels life-giving, even when it’s demanding. It’s as if we are, in those moments, ascending the ladder. We say, “This feels good. I’ll do whatever it takes to be in this place.” Then life hits us hard. We experience pain, doubt, and confusion. We are afraid. We are afflicted by "contracted consciousness" and feel far away from God. People will offer us some religious sounding platitudes, thinking they help us feel better. I hear this especially around grief and dying. “God needed another angel. He is in a better place. Now you will have another angel watching over you.” Those words may be helpful for some people. Not for me. They discount my grief and suffering, making me feel like I’m somehow less resilient because of my pain. Or they are somehow more spiritual than me because they are still climbing the ladder while I am tumbling back down to the bottom.

If two people are on a ladder, one at the top and one on the bottom, who is higher? It depends on which direction each is headed. In other words, there is nothing wrong with this up-and-down process. Descending is an important part of the spiritual journey. Times of descent can lead to fuller and higher ascents. Distance or crisis can lead to a more profound sense of connection and intimacy.

During the 1920s, a young French Catholic Jesuit priest and scientist named Pierre Teilhard de Chardin [te-yar duh shar-dan], worked as a geologist and paleontologist in China. In his spare time, he developed a spiritual focus that integrated all the discoveries being made in science with what he knew about God. He published his ideas in a book called The Divine Milieu. It became a revolutionary book of Christian spirituality -- so revolutionary that his religious superiors refused to let him publish it.

Chardin recognized at every moment we experience the descent. He called the descent diminishments. We experience external diminishments all around us… premature deaths, stupid accidents, weather-related destruction, oppressive political systems. They all work outside of us and hinder our capacity for development. We also face internal diminishments. If an external diminishment gets us asking, “Why him, why her, why now?”, internal diminishments get us thinking, “Why me?” To Chardin, internal diminishments were far more threatening because of the kind of damage they inflict: dealing with failing bodies, sickness and disease, and the pain of moral failings and weaknesses that keep us weighed down. They strike without warning and rob human beings of hope. Can these diminishments ever become for us a source of good and growth?

We respond to diminishments differently. Some people will fear the downward journey and avoid it all costs. They may even blame God or loathe the idea of God.

Some will feel defeated by diminishments. Chardin says no matter how well we resist we will feel the constraining grip of our diminishments gradually gaining mastery over the forces of life.

There is a third way. Chardin called it resignation. He didn’t mean to just give up and accept the pain. He wanted us to resign ourselves to God -- to unite with God when our strength is spent. We resist. We persevere courageously. In the wonder and in dread, in the glory and in the agony, God appears next to us and says, “I am with you.” In our tradition, Jesus is the ladder … the staircase. He is the one who shows us an example of what it feels like to live the upward and downward journey. Christ gathers up our stifled ambitions, our inadequate understandings, our incomplete or clumsy endeavors. He shows us a way to resign ourselves to God when caught between amazement and terror.

Take a minute of silence now. I want us to think a diminishment you experience. Never give up the struggle. This hostile force can become for you a loving moment of transformation. The challenge is to acknowledge that our unwanted and uninvited experiences are happening in the Divine Milieu – in God’s Space. As created beings, we are still incomplete. Every other being is also incomplete and looking for wholeness. Earth itself is still incomplete, still in a state of process. We will experience conflicts, competition, loss and failure. All of this, the upward and downward journey, the blessings and challenges, the embellishments and diminishments, the healings and the headaches, all happen in God’s Milieu. All pain unfolds within God’s Space.

May we come to see we are not alone in our pain… On the downward journey, we are in the company of millions around the world. Even in pain, we can be a blessing to others

We will be tempted to get angry, and rage against the powers and people who cause pain in our lives. Or, the pain might be like a migraine headache that causes us to withdraw and close our lives up. We can convert the energy of fear and rage into something else – something that brings us closer to God and to one another. All of this takes place in God’s Space. We won’t always understand how or why. Instead of downplaying our diminishments with simple answers and unsatisfying slogans, we can resign ourselves to live in God’s Space—to sink into God’s presence.

If two people are on a ladder, one at the top and one on the bottom, who is higher? It depends on which direction each is headed. As we journey along the Way, we remember everyone is climbing Jacob’s ladder. Everyone is moving upward, just like we are. And everyone is also moving descending, just like we are. What can we do but smile at others, and encourage others, and love the person who grips the ladder while frozen in panic? What can we do but address those who try to push others off the ladder, those people around us who cause pain and destruction? They might be wounded at their very core. You never know. What can we do but journey with Christ who is the Ladder, the Staircase, the Way along our insufficient knowledge and our incomplete actions? Our inner failings, our wounds, our pains, our scars – those help us remember what it means to show compassion as we all journey in God’s Space.

Sources:

·          http://spiritualpractice. ca/welcome/how-can-my-ageing-become-a-spiritual-practice/a-spirituality-of-diminishment/

·          Teilhard de Chardin: Theology, Humanity, and Cosmos by David Grumett 89-91

·          http://www.beliefnet. com/faiths/judaism/2000/12/the-ladder-to-heaven.aspx#StvpRhEw5Hgbru2d.99

·          https://rc.library.uta. edu/uta-ir/bitstream/handle/10106/424/umi-uta-1153.pdf?sequence=1

Sermon for September 16, 2018

A Journey and a Return

After this, the Lord chose 72 more followers. He sent them out in groups of two. He sent them ahead of him into every town and place where he planned to go. He said to them, “There is such a big harvest of people to bring in. But there are only a few workers to help harvest them. God owns the harvest. Ask him to send more workers to help bring in his harvest. You can go now. But listen! I am sending you, and you will be like sheep among wolves. Don’t carry any money, a bag, or sandals. Don’t stop to talk with people on the road. Before you go into a house, say, ‘Peace be with this home.’ If the people living there love peace, your blessing of peace will stay with them. But if not, your blessing of peace will come back to you. Stay in the peace-loving house. Eat and drink what the people there give you. A worker should be given his pay. Don’t leave that house to stay in another house. If you go into a town and the people welcome you, eat the food they give you. Heal the sick people who live there, and tell them, ‘God’s kingdom is now very near you!’ But if you go into a town and the people don’t welcome you, then go out into the streets of that town and say, ‘Even the dirt from your town that sticks to our feet we wipe off against you. But remember that God’s kingdom is coming soon.’”

When the 72 followers came back from their trip, they were very happy. They said, “Lord, even the demons obeyed us when we used your name!” Luke 10:1-11, 17

They were light-headed with giddiness! What an honor! What a promotion! What power they would have. What fame would be theirs when the crowds figured out they were the opening act for Jesus the miracle worker. The 72, hand-picked by Jesus, already wove fantasies about the trip. Just imagine thousands of people filling the valley, listening to their message. Ok, it was actually the Master’s message, but in their fantasy, it was the 72 who preached to the multitude. In their wild dreams, flocks of needy people formed lines to be healed while the 72 fixed them all up, and kicked a few demons out while they were at its. They could hardly wait to get going.

First, though, Jesus had some advice … more like conditions. The 72 would go out without Google calendars and smart phones, without even a bag of Chex Mix to nosh along the way. Jesus says, “Don’t bother with suitcases because what you’re wearing is all you will need – and that includes just one pair of shoes. There is no rental car – you will have to walk. And you’re not staying at the Raddison– I don’t care if they do have free continental breakfast. We don’t even have the budget for Airbnb. You will have to ask for free lodging wherever you go. When you enter a town, pick a house and ask for some hospitality. The homeowners might be eager to provide. Then again, they may not be. If it’s yes, go and be a good guest. Eat all your vegetables and don’t worry about the portion sizes or whether you get desert. Give your peace to all who live there. Just as easily, you’ll come across some residents who would host a nest of rats before they invite you in. They will feel scared and threatened by the healing and exorcisms. They will say, ‘Not in my backyard are you going to treat the mentally ill – they must be rapists, murderers, thieves, and, “Hello!” they’re scary.’ They will disrupt your meetings and try to harm you. You won’t be able to convince these people. Don’t try to talk sense into them. Shake the sand off your feet and walk away.

Wow, buzz-kill. Nevertheless, the 72 go off two-by-two to save the world, with glorious, romantic notions about expanding the Kingdom of God.

Jesus’ instructions remind me of Rev. John’s directions to the youth before they left on their Summer mission trip to New Jersey. He said, “We are going to serve God by helping rebuild homes. Don’t take anything extra with you. One suitcase, that’s it. You will sleep on the floor of a school building. You will work hard and get grimy. You might get a shower after work. No phones. No electronics, no valuables. Some people you meet will be grateful. Some will be difficult to work with. Remember, this is not vacation. We are building relationships with each other, with God, and with the people we serve, so let’s not get distracted.” At least, that’s what I heard him say. Our youth and adult volunteers journeyed in small groups to rebuild lives with hammers, paint brushes, and the message that God’s love draws near.

I’ve been on a journey for five months while away on sabbatical and vacation. I did not do much travelling during my time away from CCC. Not in the traditional sense. My journey was less about a destination, and more about learning my bounds, pushing my body and my mind beyond self-imposed limits, and learning how to come back from injury and failure.

Part of my journey included overseeing the final edits and publication of my first book. It’s called The Space Between: Spiritual Activism in an Age of Fear, and it came out last April. I’m proud to say that a few people other than my mother-in-law bought a copy … but not many more. When I started my sabbatical journey, I had big dreams. My book would be an Amazon top seller in the religious social justice sub-niche market. I would develop workshops and webinars on the material in my book, maybe go on a speaking tour, or offer an inspirational conference keynote address … perhaps some book signings. I would grow my audience, network on social media, develop curriculum and trainings, and get my perspective out into the world. I was going to become a one-person PR machine. And, while I did get to preach at two churches, my ability did not match my fantasy. I am horrible at self-promotion. I didn’t have the emotional energy to engineer a podcast. I did not follow through on 90% of that fantasy.

Truth be told, I was tired. So, after a week of switching off between sleeping and pacing frantically around my house looking for something to do, I asked myself, “What, during this sabbatical journey, will be the most life-giving gift I can offer myself?” The answer came to me in the form of endurance racing.

I know this may sound crazy, but I spent a lot of time – I mean A LOT of time — training to race in short-distance triathlons. A triathlon is a race where we swim, then bike, and then run all in one event. You may be familiar with Ironman events where athletes push themselves to extreme distances. I raced in five shorter sprint and Olympic-distance events. The Braddocks also joined some friends and members of CCC in the Defeat DIPG 6k in memory of Elijah Sundell. So, my journey was more about putting miles into training. Since the beginning of May, I swam the equivalent of 62 miles, biked 850 miles and ran 300 miles — not bad for a 47-year old dad who could not stand up straight due to chronic back pain three years ago. Speaking of not standing, I had a big bike accident in May – I skidded out on wet pavement, landed hard on my hip, and gouged up my left side from my ankle to my armpit. It set me back about a month of training and racing. I learned a few things. #1, I am not a good patient. Just ask my wife and the good people at the wound clinic. #2, I am not good with blood, even if it’s my own. Just ask my wife and the good people at the wound clinic. #3, Endurance training is hard and unpitying, and it requires sacrifices. #4, It’s true what my parents taught me: If you ride a bike, you are going to fall. The true test is whether you get back on.

I also used my journey to deepen my spiritual practices. During what feels like endless pool lap, or when I am running for an hour, I spent the time focusing on my breathing, offering prayers for my family, for our world, and for you. It’s true, I did not forget about you while I was away. Even though we were not near each other physically, I prayed for CCC with my breath.

Now that I am back, I will confess, I expected a lot from a sabbatical. At first, I developed a fantasy of what it would be. In my mind everything went together perfectly. There were no falls, no failures, no major plumbing accidents with a broken pipe spraying water into my basement on the day of a huge party we hosted for our son’s graduation (I will save that story for another time). I dreamed that my old self would be shed and a new-and-improved me would return, ready to revitalize the church. My return to CCC would be a grand and glorious vision and I felt ready to get back to the work of ministry.

I did not listen to Jesus any more than did the 72. What was waiting for me? A moldy, flooded social hall, the deaths of some beloved members of our church, ongoing issues of trying to figure out what God wants us to do and who is going to do it and how are we going to finance it, tragedies in families, and all the tough conversations about money and budgets that I secretly hoped would be resolved before I came back – another naïve fantasy. I returned, not joyfully, but cautiously at first. It was not what I had expected. It felt like there was no recognizable change in or in our church.
Then I looked again … More good happened here than I thought at first glance. I saw volunteers who worked heroically, around the clock, to keep our church dry during the flooding. I saw our CCC staff who kept ministry going. I saw people who stepped up to lead worship and provide spiritual nurture. I learned all the guest preachers I lined up actually showed up – no one skipped out or forgot. Some of the most inspiring preachers were our own members who spoke about how faith intersects with their lives. We all learned that we can do more than we thought when we are apart, and it’s a lot easier around here when we are all back together.

The sabbatical journey brought newness. There is some newness to me: a new haircut, a summer tan, a few pounds slimmer. Beyond the surface, the journey provided the space we all needed to think objectively about what’s next for me and for us. After much thought and listening for the Divine Spirit’s guidance, it is clear to me that God is calling us to a new season at CCC. It will not be a season of gathering but a season of sending. Like the 72, God is sending us out together. Jettison the fantasies of greatness and the lure to power. Forget about the dreams of grandeur where we open the doors and hundreds of people flock to Colesville Road to join us on a Sunday morning. I think God about to send us out – sent to heal what is ailing in our community; sent to drive out the demons of abused, malignant, privileged power in our world; sent to proclaim the supremacy of diversity; sent to preach compassionate justice; sent to offer God’s over-the-top welcome to those who feel forgotten, or worse, abused, by Christianity. Our journey ahead will require sacrifice, hard work, and commitment. Sometimes our message will be accepted. Other times it might feel like we injured.

When we go on a journey, we are going to lose our way occasionally. The true test is whether we can get back on the path – whether we can find and follow the Way.

Christian people are sent people. Journeying people. If we want to understand our faith, we must live it along the Way. Some realities only make sense at a soup kitchen, or on the steps of the Capitol, or at a hospital bed, or mentoring children after school, or in any one of the countless of places in the world where people cry out for mercy, for the bread of justice, for the cup of compassion. Even today, Jesus sends his followers, carrying only the message that God’s love draws near.

Sources:

day1. org/1050-the_nearness_of_the_kingdom

www.messiahnh. org/2016/07/i-have-returned-end-of-sabbatical-sermon/