IF... Is A Dangerous Word, But An Important One

But if it dies, it bears much fruit.

IF is a dangerous word. It’s the type of word that can drive me crazy. If I get all my work finished then I will be happy. If I clean my apartment, then I can rest. If I get my sermon completed, then I do not have anything to worry about. The “ifs” of the world even keep me up at night. What if a storm crashes through Decatur? What if something happens to my niece or nephews? What if my beloved Kim stops loving me?

IF is a dangerous word. I find myself gripping tightly the false sense of safety all around me, so that I do not hear the “ifs” getting louder and louder. Pray more, believe harder, go on a run, or watch something on TV, so to take my mind off the chances of this world. The grain of my life seems so fragile and with all the “ifs” I wonder, what “if” my grain dies?

IF is not just a dangerous word though. If a single grain of wheat remains gripped tightly in my hand, like all the desires, hopes, and dreams that have no room to breathe or even be, then that single grain of wheat remains just that, a single grain of wheat. But if it dies, it bears much fruit. My knuckles jut out from my hand, they turn a pale shade of white, and what is held within my hand has no chance to survive if I keep holding on.

IF I release my grip and turn my hand over the seeds that I have been given fall out of my control and into the ground. I might be able to drop the seed on some good soil, surround it with good earth, and provide it with life-sustaining water, but only God can help it to grow. So much of life feels like gripping onto what we have earned, achieved, or been given. Prosperity, savings, and whatever state of health we have; children, friends, and the relationships we have formed; the Church, our Faith, and the spirituality that makes us whole; everything that we hold dear to us, everything that we hold onto as more precious than life itself has no chance of living if it remains hidden within the grip of our clutches.

But what happens if we let light shine upon our inmost desires? What will occur if I let my true self shine? I love my life, but am I not simply living safely behind the façade of tightly clinched fist?

Jesus invites us to throw down the seeds of our lives, not so that they will immediately be prosperous, nor so that we can reap the benefits of a quick return on investment, but instead so that our deepest desires may die. Death freaks me out. Failing scares me even more. To expose my dreams that typically remain tightly gripped makes my stomach churn just thinking about it.

Yet, to live our life in Christ is to give up on perfectly enacting our desires. To live in Christ is to die to what we think is best. To dwell with Christ means that we risk failure, humiliation, pain, suffering, misunderstanding, and death. For a single grain of wheat will remain just a grain of wheat, but if it dies it bears much fruit. Our deepest desires do not die just because, they die so that we might live life in Christ.

Loosen your grip, let go of your seeds that are your dreams, your hopes, your vision for your life. Those seeds will die in some way or another. Yet, when they die Jesus will resurrect them in ways that are too profound, too magnificent, too lovely for us to imagine. Let go and let God.

Forgiveness

Recently I heard a comedian talking about his relationship with his girlfriend. Like many romantic relationships some of the things that this young woman did got on the comedian’s nerves and vice versa. Those things that were sweet and cute and unique in the beginning somehow become neurotic, narcissistic, or nerve wracking down the road. Yet, this comedian would not immediately say something to his girlfriend about the annoying behavior. Instead he would wait. Then, when she came back from the bathroom saying, “Honey, you left the toilet seat up again,” he would launch into his savings of offenses… “Well, what about last week when you made me stop watching the game? Or the other day when you made me get off the phone with my bestfriend so that we could call your parents? Or on and on…”

Of course, I have never purposefully saved up a wrong done to me, so that I could hold it over someone else’s head (wink, wink). And, I am sure that you have never once withheld forgiveness to someone else. Living and forgiving in community have been the focal points of the last two Sunday’s gospel readings. Last week it was about pointing out the fault by yourself, with one or two others, and with the whole church if you have to do that to ensure that the one doing the harm knows their hurtful actions. Today, we heard Peter asking Jesus how many times do we have to forgive someone who sins against us? Seven times?

Now, at first Peter’s estimate might seem either a little high or a little low depending upon where you are sitting. There are some people I just get along with from the moment I meet them. It would take a pretty dramatic turn of events for them to need to seek my forgiveness seven times. We all also probably know someone that gets underneath our skin, and often that is the person that we also love the most. A recent post on the Episcopal Café’s website asked, “Want to take a crash course in forgiveness? Get married. Want to take a graduate degree in forgiveness? Have kids.”

Forgiveness is not just something that we do sometimes when we kneel down at church, this is a way of life that becomes more challenging the closer we come to other people within a community. When Peter throws out his question he is asking more though, than just should we forgive people seven times? The original language comes across in a more complicated fashion, as it says something like, “Should I forgive fully? Should I forgive others perfectly?” The way I might ask Jesus this question is “Should I forgive others always?” Jesus is not satisfied with the fullness of Peter’s forgiveness, instead he says, not seven times but seventy-seven times (or seven times seven times). For Jesus perfect forgiveness does not cut it, we must practice forgiveness beyond perfect forgiveness. But how? How can we possibly forgive fully?

Jesus tells a parable that seems very straight forward. We have a King who holds a servant’s debt that makes Bill Gate’s net worth look small. We have a servant, who is in way over his head. The servant begs for forgiveness, and the King actually listens. Instead of going to jail and being required to work off the debt, the King acts graciously forgiving the entire balance. Not good financial work, but the most generous offer. The servant turns around and tries to get money back from those who owe him, and when some other servants catch wind of it they report it to the King. The King who was abundantly gracious is now abundantly vengeful. Now, we are to take away from this that 1. The King is clearly God, 2. The Servant is clearly us, 3. God cancels away all our debts, 4. We are to forgive others, but what are we to do with the ending?

“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” We pray this as part of the Lord’ Prayer, from earlier in Matthew, every week during Holy Eucharist. In fact, this is the only thing I know of that is present in every single liturgy that we have as a church. The Lord’s Prayer is so important that we pray it every time we gather together. So we are to expect that God’s does not forgive those who practice forgiveness to others? Hold onto that question, while I tell you one more story.

“Two monks on their way to the monastery found an exceedingly beautiful woman at the riverbank. Like them, she wished to cross the river, but the water was too high. So one of the monks lifted her onto his back and carried her across.

“His fellow monk was thoroughly scandalized. For two hours he berated him on his negligence in keeping the rule: Had he forgotten he was a monk? How did he dare touch a woman? And worse, carry her across the river? What would people say? Had he not brought their holy religion into disrepute? And so on.

“The offending monk patiently listened to the never-ending sermon. Finally he broke in with ‘Brother, I dropped that woman at the river. Are you still carrying her?’”

We can scream at God and believe that God is the one that tortures us, but it is by not forgiving other’s debts that we torture ourselves. Our task as Christians is to follow Jesus in the practice of loving one another and the best way that we can do this is to forgive one another, not perfectly, but beyond perfectly. We will not always get forgiving others right, and when we do that we have to forgive ourselves. So forgive your brother and your sister, your father and your mother, your son and your daughter, your friend and your enemy, for it is in forgiving others that we ourselves participate in the forgiveness of our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Don Henley, the Dentist's Office, and Forgiveness

The Perfect Don Henley Meme 

"The Boys of Summer" has a distinct place in my memory. Of course, at my age it is the Ataris' cover of Don Henley's classic song that resonates with building fires during my first summer as a staff member at Camp Winnataska and not the original. Still I can say without reservation that this anthem about love lasting more than a season stands atop my list of favorite Don Henley songs. Another song by the former Eagle though has an equally distinct memory attached to it.

For some strange reason when I hear "The Heart of the Matter" I feel like I am strapped into a dentist's chair with a hygienists' work keeping me from answering the endless questions that the cleaner of my teeth asks. The refrain of this 1989 soft rock song that only made it to number 23 on the Billboard Top 100 crashes its way into my head whenever I think of the word "forgiveness." Although we all probably have reason to practice forgiveness towards our dentist (who hasn't left with bleeding gums?) that is not why Henley's song comes to mind.

The refrain goes like this:
"I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it's about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore."

I think it's the repetitious "FORGIVENESS" sung by back up singers that has lodged its way into my memory. It's almost haunting. While this might seem funny, it's a bit distracting when I begin to prepare a sermon that focuses on forgiveness. I can only take so much dentist office rock! So as I begin preparing for this coming Sunday's message on Matthew 18:21-35 in which Peter asks how many times he should forgive his fellow church member I wonder how many times can I put up with "The Heart of the Matter" playing in my own head and I get frustrated with myself.

In the gospel text Peter ends his question about forgiving his neighbor wondering is seven times enough? If someone does something to harm me enough that I feel I must confront and forgive them seven times that seems like a superfluous amount of forgiving. This is an overabundance of forgiving right Jesus? NOPE! Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times." Then Jesus launches into a story about an unruly servant who is forgiven, but does not forgive.

I think this is where Don Henley might actually make a little sense when he is not reminding me of the dentist's drill. If Jesus urges us not to forgive seven times, but seventy-seven times then getting down to the heart of the matter is truly about forgiveness just as Henley suggests. Our entire life as followers of Christ comes down to this act of forgiving and reconciling with others. Whether we are the one that is harming another or the one being harmed we practice forgiveness because God forgives us, as the parable suggests. Communal life as Christians focuses upon being ready, willing, and eager to practice forgiveness with one another (even if, even if you don't love me anymore).

A Hidden Universe

Hidden Universe IMAX poster

A few weeks back my niece turned five years old. IT WAS AWESOME! To celebrate this amazing day I went with her and her dad (my brother-in-law) to the Space and Rocket Center over in Huntsville. We had a blast (haha) learning about rockets, going on rides, eating space ice cream, and exploring the wonders of space. At the end of our day there we watched an IMAX movie called Hidden Universe. I love IMAX movies. They are so huge, yet gazing up at the curved screen with the speakers booming and the stadium seating it feels like I am right in the middle of the action.

This particular documentary revealed some new technological breakthroughs in telescopes. At first, I thought this would be a tedious hour, but soon the images that these new telescopes captured ended up capturing my interest. Our eyes are amazing and help us to see stars when light pollution does not get in the way, but even with a high definition ocular telescopes we cannot see many parts of the universe. With the advent of new telescopes (primarily microwave) we are learning so much about what has been right in front of us our entire lives. There is a hidden universe made up of invisible matter, which shows how stars collapse, how the universe still expands, and even what our galaxy may one day look like. A hidden universe exists not just out in space though, but all around us too.

When I was younger I had a priest who was a great mentor. One day we sat down to talk about discernment and whether ordained ministry might be right for me. I told him that I loved being in community with other people and that was part of why I felt the call to the priesthood. He asked if I knew where community originated. Wanting to give a good answer I made up something about the early church. While he appreciated my attempt, his response was that God’s nature is communal. That from before time, before creation, before anything God was in relationship with God. As a 20 year old kid, my head was spinning and I could barely keep up with the rest of our conversation.

I still have a hard time understanding what my priest said about ultimate reality. My mind cannot make sense of this imperceptible data. Yet, I believe that like the hidden universe that we are now finding, God’s reality penetrates this created world in ways that we cannot always fully comprehend or understand.

In today’s Gospel Jesus says that Abraham rejoiced at Jesus’ coming, and he says, “Very truly, I tell you, before Abraham was, I am.” These kind of statements make my head spin. If someone told you that they had spoken with a long dead religious figure how would you respond? And yet, I believe that God’s reality does not always compute with our senses. Jesus’ presence permeates throughout the present moment, yet sometimes we can be so obtuse missing that he walks right beside us. Jesus was before time, he was the one through whom all things were made, he is part of that original community that is within I AM.

Later on in other meetings with my priest he asked me if I had ever felt the power of the saints during a moving service or a powerful moment. I thought he was a little bit off of his rocker at this point, but the more I thought about it the more I thought he was on to something. When my grandfather died I could feel his presence leaving before I knew medically he was dead. From time to time since his death I felt that same presence of my grandfather. Sometimes on Sunday mornings the collective beauty of St. John’s congregation singing makes me feel that we are not making a joyful noise alone. As I sit in silence early each morning when I am still I can hear a whisper of a voice calling me closer, deeper.

Just because we cannot see it does not mean that it is not real. The saints dwell all around us. God’s spark burns within us. I AM is the ultimate reality that we might not be able to perceive with our eyes, ears, nose, mouth, or skin. There is a hidden universe around and within each of us, will we stop to observe with our hearts and souls its wondrous existence or will we rely solely on our physical senses?