| Rector’s
Sermon
|
||||||
| Are you kidding me? Not worry about my life? In this day and age? W. H. Auden has absolutely characterized these past 100 years or so as “The Age of Anxiety.” It’s easy enough for Jesus to tell us not to be anxious when he didn’t have to deal with the threat of nuclear annihilation, the destruction of our planet, global poverty on a scale unprecedented in human history, fundamentalisms that are as ignorant as they are dangerous—not to mention getting into the college of your choice, the price of gas, and whether or not it will rain on our parade tomorrow. You know, the list is endless, and everyone has his or her own list. We worry about our children. We worry about our own health. We worry about who will be elected President. We worry about what time Sunday services are going to be offered. Endless. Pervasive. Frightening, even, sometimes. One of my personal anxieties came with the realization that I would not in my lifetime be able to read everything I’ve wanted to read. This personal worry was exacerbated by the publication of a book titled 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. The reviewer says this:
Readers know exactly what he means. Perhaps that’s why Bev and I continue to give each other books for Christmas, birthdays, and anniversaries, not to mention a fairly liberal patronizing of Rummage’s book department. We’re never going to be able to read all these books, but there’s a certain comfort in being surrounded by them as if osmosis or good intentions will relieve the anxiety we feel at not getting to them. Now this is a fairly benign anxiety as anxieties go, but does serve to illustrate that even something that provides us great pleasure can also serve to undo us, or at the least feed a certain level of guilt. However it’s not really fair to say that Jesus lived in a simpler, less dangerous time when he was teaching his followers not to be anxious, not to worry about the necessities of life, “what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear.” He did live in an anxious time. Remember the Christmas story how Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were forced to be refugees because King Herod slaughtered all the newborn in Bethlehem. Herod was a vicious, murderously paranoid ruler who contributed to a state of fear in Israel, hand in hand with Roman occupation. Rome had its own reputation for its brutal handling of any hint of civil unrest, and if we want to blame anyone for Christ’s crucifixion it would be the Roman occupational force directed by Pontius Pilate. It was a very anxious culture into which Christ was born and in which he taught and by which he died. It’s not so far a stretch to compare life growing up in Iraq with First Century Palestine. I’m not making a political statement here, just an observation that living in Iraq is a very anxious business as it was for Jesus in Palestine. But Jesus was, to borrow a contemporary phrase, a very self-differentiated, non-anxious presence. This is to say that he was not confused about who he was, had great personal integrity, and communicated trust as well as truth. This little bit of gospel from Matthew this morning is part of his larger teaching called “The Sermon on the Mount.” Fundamentally Christ was teaching us that God’s Kingdom is a peaceable kingdom in our relationship with God, with our neighbor, and within our very selves. It is an attitude of dependence upon God for our daily needs and a habit of gratitude for what we have rather than bemoaning what we have not. It might be observed that the more we have to manage in our lives, the more anxious we become. Jesus is teaching us that the management of our lives does not have to be a lonely prospect. It can be done in partnership with God and for those of us in the Church, in partnership with Christ’s disciples. I was struck by the opening Collect for today’s service and how well it fit with Matthew’s gospel:
The word serenity jumped out at me because of a prayer I often offer to God, a prayer with which many of you may well be familiar. It’s called the Serenity Prayer and it was composed by Reinhold Niebuhr, a great 20th Century theologian.
That’s the short form, but it continues:
I’ve included this prayer in your bulletins to take home with you as you wish and to be used for your own times of anxiety and worry. It’s a prayer both humbling and helpful. There is so much about life I cannot change and there is a certain amount of truth about myself I cannot change. It may be good, bad, or indifferent, but I will never find peace in my own life or in the midst of a maelstrom of change and uncertainty without coming to that acceptance. In one sense it’s letting God be God, letting others be themselves, and letting myself be me. It’s not an attitude of indifference, and there is a big difference between that and the ability to accept the fact that there is much I need to come to terms with if I can be that honest. But the prayer goes on to say there is much we can change, but always beginning with ourselves. I cannot be an agent of peace unless I am peaceful. I cannot be as effective a healer if I’m not attentive to the healing that can work in me. I cannot teach without also being a student. Change from within is change that can last, but is, in the end, the only change that I can really control. Memorial Day is always a very poignant holiday as we take the time to consider the loss of life represented by those who served their country. In Winnetka we always read those names on the Village Green, beginning with those who died in the Civil War. Many are not aware that the loss of life in that war, not to mention the wounded, was greater by far than any combination of every other war fought in or out of these United States. And I’m always drawn to thinking about the leadership provided by Illinois’ own Abraham Lincoln who was faced with such horrific decision-making for the sake of the Union. Reading the Serenity Prayer with Abraham Lincoln in mind is a challenge because of the magnitude of influence that one man had over the course of this country’s destiny. Lincoln took very little joy in the decisions he had to make. He was no Teddy Roosevelt “Rough Rider” but rather a backwoods lawyer who by only the wildest of imaginations could have been foreseen to be President of the United States. But I believe Abraham Lincoln was the real article, in many ways a tragic figure as Jesus was, but one who could find peace for his soul in a life of prayer and a life devoted to justice and the respect of every human being. And so when Jesus teaches us not to worry, he’s encouraging us to enjoy a life of integrity and purpose, a life of prayer, and a life of submitting ourselves to God’s will however we are called to do that. Jesus wants us to be happy although not necessarily comfortable, he wants us to know that he is there for us even as we confront difficult things, and he wants us to put the values of his Kingdom first. All of that takes serenity, courage, and wisdom. But they are God’s gifts, and we are encouraged to ask for them. Amen |
||||||