Why Are You Here? sermon March 8 2015

 “Why Are You Here?”

Rev. Alison Longstaff, March 8, 2015

Bath Church of the New Jerusalem
1 Kings 19:4,9-13; John 1: 35-38; HS 2693

 What brings you to this spot on this day?  Are you here from habit?  Are you here with deep intention?  Did you wander in?  Perhaps you don’t even know why you are here?  Perhaps something just impelled you to come—something you can’t describe?  Maybe you were mildly curious what happens in this church?  Or are you here because of some commitment to yourself and your spiritual development?  There could be as many reasons as there are people in this room.

So let’s start with why I am here.  The most shallow reason is that it is my job to be here. It is part of my contract to lead worship and deliver a Swedenborgian message each Sunday in this building. 

An even deeper truth is that I just love Swedenborgian theology.  I have been steeped in it from the cradle, and it makes my life immensely richer, more comforting, and more blessed.  But perhaps the deepest truth is that I am on a spiritual journey just like everyone else in this room.  And I need spiritual support and spiritual community just like everyone else.  I would be here anyway, even if I wasn't preaching.

I do believe, for what it is worth, that we were each meant to be here today.  To be here.  Today.

“What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Emanuel Swedenborg was a man who was constantly searching for the deepest truth.  He knew that there was something underlying the outside face of the Bible, the same way there is always a lot going on behind and underneath what the world sees of you and me.  There is what we wear and what we say and how we act and what the camera sees; but there is always so much underneath.  So much that can be quite different from what the world sees.  Did you know that Mother Theresa was depressed a great portion of her life? I wouldn't have known that if someone didn't tell me.  There is so much that we don't see.

So much that we don’t see—within the Bible, within each other, within our own selves—at least, not without help.  Swedenborgianism encourages us always to look deeper; to ask ourselves what is going on inside—inside the Bible, and inside you and me—within our thoughts and feelings. 

Whoever first said or wrote “Know thyself” was a Swedenborgian (well, inside, anyway).

Because the truth will make you free. 

So when I ask you, “Why are you here?  I’m meaning it on every level, but especially the deeper ones.  Why you are here? 

In our Hebrew Bible reading, God asks Elijah not once, but twice, “Elijah, what are you doing here?”

In the Bible, when God asks a question, it represents an encounter with God. God calls us to observe ourselves in a deeper way—which is often what happens when God draws near.   It represents a moment of self-reflection.  Think of all those times when you were a kid just goofing around, and then some adults drew near, and suddenly you looked at what you were doing a little differently.  You paid attention in a new way.

God’s presence calls us back to ourselves, back to our sense of connection and our sense of meaning and purpose.  God calls us back to our intentions and dreams, back from distractions and digressions, back to our intended path.

Elijah was running for his life when God asked him what he was doing.  Elijah was exhausted and discouraged and felt out of options.  When God asked him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” the first things out of Elijah’s mouth was discouragement.  Elijah had done everything right, and everything that had been asked of him.  He had worked hard for the Lord, bringing God’s message to the people.  And for his efforts King Ahab and Queen Jezebel have ordered him killed.

Elijah is in a deep spiritual crisis. This crisis calls him back to his center the same way many of our extreme life experiences can call us home to our true center.  Elijah’s crisis invites an intimate encounter with the Divine the same way a profound life crisis can call you and me back to what matters most in life. 

Up to this point, Elijah was on the run.  Just like Elijah, we can spend a lot of our time and energy running from the things we don’t want to face—the things we think will “kill” us—be it doing our taxes, or having that hard conversation with a loved one, or trying to make amends with that person we have harmed, or facing some other personal demon…

But we can only run so far.  Eventually exhaustion will force us to face that thing from which we run.  God—Life itself—continues to call us to emerge from our hiding places the same way the womb contracts to push us out into a bigger reality.  We will repeatedly be called to face those things that are blocking our growth until we are ready to face them. The arc of spiritual growth, the hero’s journey, regeneration—call it what you will—moves inexorably along like the seasons, and like the birth process itself. The call to new spiritual birth comes again and again like the return of spring.  If we refuse one opportunity, there will be another and another until we are ready.

In Elijah’s case, he was running from despair and fear of death.  He had to name these things and face them in order to be ready for God to help him move beyond them.  In the meantime, God provided food, safety, and rest; all the while calling him to wake up—to pay attention.  We, too, must become more self-aware to grow.  We do this through self-observation, self-reflection, and a return to our created purpose.  We can do this through prayer, reading sacred Scripture, or meditation in one of its many forms.  Indeed, we invite spiritual growth by attending a place of worship on Sundays.  Greater self-awareness is not always comfortable, but it is always rewarding.

Especially when fear and despair haunt us, God’s question, “What are you doing here?” invites us to name and face the things from which we run.  Simply naming what we fear gives us power over them, or rather, it invites God’s power over them.  God always has the power to defeat any demon, but we forget that again and again.  We get stuck in the belief that we are all alone in our battle and it is all up to us.  God always knows what troubles us, but waits for us to ask for help, because it helps us to speak, to name, and to ask for help.  It helps us to remember that we deserve help, no matter what we've done.

Elijah believed he was a failure at this point in the story.  However, when Elijah was able to name his despair before God, Elijah brought God back into the equation.  Once God is invited to help, we not only survive the battle, but we will thrive beyond it, no matter how scary things look at the time.

We humans, and North Americans perhaps in particular with our strong valuation of individualism, resist at every turn any realization of how dependent we really are on God and on each other. We love taking pride in our might and power and competence.  We love thinking that we don’t need anyone. It is so much more comfortable not to need help—to be self-reliant! The problem is, this illusion of our own strength and competence stands between us and the truth.  We could neither think, nor breathe, nor move without God’s life and love flowing through us.  Accepting that is one of the first steps toward happiness.  We started out utterly helpless and we will end that way. 

And “being invulnerable” is not why we are here.

We are not here to become powerful or “be safe.”  We are not here to be secure.  We are not here to accrue wealth or to be the best or be the most impenetrable. 

We are here to become as wise and compassionate as we possibly can.  We are here to have joy and to have it more abundantly, which comes, not through greater wealth or greater security, but through greater inner wealth  which is personal wisdom, and greater inner security which comes from compassion, vulnerability, and service.  We are here to learn and grow and help each other.  “Whoever wants to be great among you must be as the servant.” (Mark 10:43)

No matter what your journey has been like up to this point, stop just for a moment.  Breathe in this moment.  Take a look at yourself and ask yourself why you are here.  Ask it on every level.  Feel God standing next to you, and gaze with curiosity and compassion at your life.  What has your dream for your life been up to this point?  Is it worthy?  Will it lead you to genuine happiness, or is it calling you to a false security? 

Whether you feel purposeful or lost, energized or exhausted, or somewhere in the middle, remember that the God of all love and wisdom stands ready to help.  You are here to be birthed into an ever better future.  You can face that thing from which you run, and be transformed by the experience.

“What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Whether you have been coming a long time or are relatively new here today, you are welcome to be here.  Right here. Right now.  Stay here, and get to know yourself better.  Stay here, and get to know God better.  And if you go, go in peace, and with God’s blessing.

Amen.

Originally preached February 3^rd, 2013, Wayfarer’s Chapel, California. Revised almost beyond recognition.

The Readings:

1 Kings 19 4, 9-13  But [Elijah] went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he prayed that he might die, and said, “It is enough! Now, Lord, take my life, for I am no better than my fathers!”

And there he went into a cave, and spent the night in that place; and behold, the word of the Lord came to him, and He said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

So he said, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God of hosts; for the children of Israel have forsaken Your covenant, torn down Your altars, and killed Your prophets with the sword. I alone am left; and they seek to take my life.”

Then He said, “Go out, and stand on the mountain before the Lord.” And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.

So it was, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave. Suddenly a voice came to him, and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

John 1:35-39

The following day John was again standing with two of his disciples. As Jesus walked by, John looked at him and declared, “Look! There is the Lamb of God!” When John’s two disciples heard this, they followed Jesus.

Jesus looked around and saw them following. “What do you want?” he asked them.

They replied, “Rabbi” (which means “Teacher”), “where are you staying?”

“Come and see,” he said. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon when they went with him to the place where he was staying, and they remained with him the rest of the day.

Heavenly Secrets 2693

In the literal sense of the Word the Lord is asking a question, but in the internal sense it means that the Lord already perceives everything we think and feel in infinite detail.  We read in various places in the Word of people being questioned about their state. But they are questioned for the reason that each person believes that they are all alone in their thoughts and feelings. Besides, many are helped by being able to express their feelings, which usually does them good.

The Way Through the Wilderness

“The Way Through the Wilderness”

“Streams in the Desert; Joy in the Journey”

Rev. Alison Longstaff, March 1, 2015

Bath Church of the New Jerusalem

Isaiah 43: 16-21, Matthew 4:1-11, Secrets of Heaven, Paragraph 2334

The hardest thing about writing a sermon is not “what to say” but “what NOT to say.”  There is so much bounty in God’s Word.  So many gems of wisdom!  This thing was ten pages long when I started it, but fear not, I did some relentless trimming.  I pray that the outcome is a lovely bonsai, not a… well, mangled bush.  So here we go.

“I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

In 2007 I had the privilege of going to the Holy Land. I breathed in the clear, clear air and walked under the brilliant blue sky.  The air is clear and the sky so blue because there is almost no humidity—no airborne water vapor at all.  You see, most of southern Israel is a desert.  Water is a rare and precious commodity.  Unless regularly irrigated, or immediately after a rain, nothing grows.  Nothing, except the occasional most drought-resistant shrubs. Maine is a lush rain forest in comparison to southern Israel.  There is simply NO WATER.  For miles and miles there is nothing but rough, extremely rugged rock.  This isn't a soft, sandy desert, but a deeply ridged and rocky landscape. 

The craggy mountains are sliced and intersected by “wadis,” or deep gullies carved by rare flash floods.  Crossing this landscape before the advent of modern highways involved a lot of climbing and descending into steep ravines, stumbling over large boulders, or taking repeated wide detours to find a less challenging path.

  Think about it: John’s prophesy that “every valley will be lifted up and every mountain and hill made level” takes on a whole new meaning when one  considers what must have been involved in trying to navigate such a hostile geography.  This is the wilderness the Children of Israel wandered in for 40 years; this is the wilderness in which our Lord Jesus suffered his forty days of temptation.

But that’s not all.  Being a desert, not only do the temperatures rise to scorching highs in the day, they plummet to near freezing at night, because, with no suspended water vapor trapping the heat near the surface, all the accumulated heat disperses back into the atmosphere at nightfall.  The lack of water in a desert impacts every aspects of the environment, rendering it shockingly inhospitable to human life. 

You and I may never have to contend with the actual Negev wilderness, but each one of us is called to cross our own spiritual Negev.  To make our own journey from the spiritual Egypt to our personal Holy Land, you and I must traverse this spiritual wilderness.

Saying “yes” to this journey invites intense spiritual work. No amount of physical wealth or powerful technology or top-notch insurance can make any difference when we face this personal gauntlet.  Only one thing can help us on that journey, and that is the presence of God—the original local nomadic guide, with his wisdom and compassion.  God’s love and wisdom are the only things that will get us through.  These show up in the Bible as the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night that guided the children of Israel in the wilderness. 

So where do I get me some of them?

As I've said before, Swedenborg talks a lot about love and wisdom.  He tells us that they are two distinctly different things that are in relationship inside us.  He tells us that the bread of communion represents God’s love, and the wine represents God’s wisdom.  In another place he says again the bread represents God’s wisdom, and the wine represents God’s love.  Wait….

Is the bread the love, or the wisdom?  Is the wine the wisdom or the love?  Huh?

The answer is: “Yes.”

Deeper study of Swedenborg’s material shows us the very yin/yang relationship between these two essential capacities of our nature. Wisdom holds deep within it tremendous love (or it isn't real wisdom), and genuine love is always guided by a deep inner wisdom. The two capacities mirror each other and work together in a profound and miraculous way.  This means we can always find BOTH qualities in every correspondence.  Wine or bread can represent love or wisdom, depending on the context and the emphasis.  The same is true with many other representatives in the biblical narrative.

So, I submit that though Swedenborg tells us repeatedly that water corresponds to truth, when we are looking at a rocky, sun-baked landscape, where rocks represent truth, and sunlight represents truth, the thing that is needed for survival in this case is possibly not more truth.  In considering the wilderness and surviving spiritual temptation, it is entirely possible that our need for water could represent our need for supportive, utterly essential life-giving love.

Can water represent love?  Well, think about it.  Love, feelings, and emotions—are they static and solid, or fluid and difficult to restrain? What is more likely to swamp us, ideas or feelings?  We can “drown” in emotions, be “flooded” with feelings and “filled” with love—all language that suggests a fluid nature more like water than rocks. Our bodies are 98% water, and Swedenborg tells us love is our very life.  We are gestated in water, baptized in water, and will die without water long before starvation can carry us off.  So for me at least, water and our need for water images our need for love far more than truth, and this is NOT contradictory to Swedenborg’s message.  You don’t have to agree with me, but when it comes to crossing my spiritual wilderness, nine times out of ten it is love and comfort I need to get me through.  It is the warmth of a hug, the reassuring squeeze of the hand of friendship—not a book or a quote or a lecture.  Honestly, when you are truly hurting, which is more helpful, a hug or a platitude?  A Kleenex or being told, “Don’t cry?”  A silent, sympathetic, non judging presence or a sermon?

Secrets From Heaven, Paragraph 1690:3 says, “Every temptation [which is what the “wilderness” corresponds to] is an assault upon the love in which a person is, and the temptation is in the same degree as is the love. If the love is not assaulted, there is no temptation. To destroy anyone's love is to destroy their very life; for their love is their life.” Emanuel Swedenborg

We are in temptation when our love is under attack---not our ideas, our love.  Love manifests and cloaks itself in ideas, but never let us mistake the fact that any genuine temptation is an attack on what we love, not what we think.  Confusion and deep questions and a crisis of faith will only occur in the midst of such a temptation, but they are not the real issue.  Genuine spiritual temptation means what we love is under attack.  And love is always good.  

Even twisted love, otherwise known as evil, derives any power it has from the kernel of goodness at its core.  And it is the attack on that goodness that creates the suffering.  It is the attack on God-with-us that creates the pain.  Jesus suffered because this is what suffers in us.  We are not wrong when we are suffering temptation.  It means that we are spiritually alive.  It means we are responding to God’s call to live and love more deeply!  It hurts like…well, hell but please don’t waste one scrap of energy beating yourself up for being in temptation if you are.  As Winston Churchill said, “When you are going through hell, keep going.”  Don’t beat yourself up for being there, keep going!

So, knowing all that we know about spiritual temptation, what do we do to prepare ourselves?  Given our Swedenborgian-status-special-Biblical-knowledge, how do you and I prepare to be Swat-team buff and ready to face our personal wilderness crossing?  How do we become wilderness-crossing-ninjas—not only surviving but ready to rescue everyone else?

Step one, we get over ourselves.  The twelve steppers have it right: “We admitted we were powerless before our personal wilderness….”

The truth is we will probably survive about as well as anyone else does.  We may even end up whining and complaining as loudly and often as the most cantankerous of the children of Israel.  We may give up again and again on God, even having seen the miraculous provision of water and manna for our survival in every prior experience. 

Because the story of the Children of Israel in the wilderness and their repeatedly failing faith and almost ADD inability to trust in their God isn't in the Bible to shame us into doing better than they did.  It is there to say, “This is what the journey looks like.  This is what mortals do in this process.”

We are the ones who get stuck on thinking we’re supposed to be better than we are.  We are the ones who think that somehow, because we supposedly “know better,” we should be able to do better.  That’s called pride.  Honestly, looking at the whole of human history, how often has “knowing better” ever meant we chose to do better?  Our idealism is adorable, but rarely realistic.

The Lord’s miraculous love and tremendous wisdom knows that we have lousy spiritual attention spans.  God is way ahead of us.  It is kind of darling how earnest we are and how hard we try to be perfect.  But the truth is, we are two-year-olds trying to do quantum physics here.  It is important to us that we try, and it is good for us to try, but the victory ever and always belongs to God. It is probably good for our pride that we don’t realize just how powerless we are.  But the truth is, despite all their shortcomings, God brought the Children of Israel through the wilderness intact, and God will do it for you and me as well no matter how inept we might feel.  We just have to show up.  We just have to say, “Yes,” to the journey. Then the only thing that might make the journey more comfortable is letting go of doing it more perfectly than anyone else.  You won’t.  I won’t.  We are not that powerful.  And that is perfect.

God’s power.  God’s love.  The spiritual journey to which our God calls us is the journey to venture more deeply into love.  Love equals compassion, and the one who needs compassion the most from you and me is not our lousy neighbor, not the idiot from our work-place, not even Hitler.   The one who needs compassion the most from you and me is our own, broken selves.  Yourself.  Myself.

I’m going to share something with you:  My particular heredity gifted me with an inner critic so harsh as to rival the most abusive nasty parent.  It never was and probably never will be more criticism that I have needed, but more compassion, more gentleness, and far more patient loving-kindness than I would ever naturally give myself.  I have had to get over an enormous pride—pride, I tell you, that was not because I ever truly felt I deserved it, but pride that is a massive defense against the relentless, merciless, profoundly abusive inner critic (that I now know is a legacy of my particular genetic line).  A cruel personal demon.  A nasty hereditary trait that is not unusually special by the way—I don’t even get to take pride in how harshly that inner critic can abuse me.  Dang!  Because a vicious inner critic is not even as rare or special as my pride would like to think.

But the point isn't whether I'm prideful or special.  The point is that what has helped heal me—what has helped get me through that leg of my wilderness—was not stones.  Which is to say, not criticism or advice.  Not the stone of “I shouldn't be so proud.”  Not the stone of “I should love God more.” Not the stone of “I should try harder;” but the life giving, miraculous experience of being radically loved in the midst of feeling so miserably unlovable.  Immense, overwhelming, utterly delighted tenderness.  Being bathed in that cleansing benevolence when we are so utterly dry is what saves you and me, and continues to save us in the midst of the glaring sun and harsh and scraping landscape of personal temptation. 

That God loves you and me even in our profound brokenness is the saving truth of God’s love.  It is true for me, and it is true for you.  Show up. Care.  And forgive yourself for being so imperfect. Who did you think you were, God?  We are so cute.

“I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert,” says our God.

It is the Lord’s bounteous, miraculous love that lifts the valleys before us and turns the mountains into plains, not our preparedness, not our amassed store of wisdom, not how many bible quotes we have memorized or how much Swedenborg we know.  It is God’s love that does that work—the spiritual water that fills every cell of our spiritual bodies and that sustains us and operates at levels far beneath our conscious control.  That is what wins the victory and transforms the desert.  If we can just let go of thinking we have to do it perfectly—when we can stop judging ourselves so harshly and stop trying so hard, we just might open ourselves into relaxing into God’s providence.  And when we can do that, then, then we will see how the river of God’s love lifts up and softens that barren rock and causes the desert to bloom with joy and life.  Amen.

The Readings:

Isaiah 43:16-21

Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, and a path through the mighty waters,
Who brings forth the chariot and horse, the army and the power (They shall lie down together, they shall not rise; They are extinguished, they are quenched like a wick):
“Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth; shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.  The beast of the field will honor Me, the jackals and the ostriches, because I give waters in the wilderness and rivers in the desert, to give drink to My people, My chosen. This people I have formed for Myself; they shall declare My praise.

Matthew 4:1-11 Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. And when He had fasted forty days and forty nights, afterward He was hungry. Now when the tempter came to Him, he said, “If You are the Son of God, command that these stones become bread.”

But He answered and said, “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.’”

Then the devil took Him up into the holy city, set Him on the pinnacle of the temple, and said to Him, “If You are the Son of God, throw Yourself down. For it is written: ‘He shall give His angels charge over you,’ and, ‘In their hands they shall bear you up,
Lest you dash your foot against a stone.’”

Jesus said to him, “It is written again, ‘You shall not tempt the Lord your God.’”

Again, the devil took Him up on an exceedingly high mountain, and showed Him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. And he said to Him, “All these things I will give You if You will fall down and worship me.”

Then Jesus said to him, “Away with you, Satan! For it is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God, and Him only you shall serve.’”

Then the devil left Him, and behold, angels came and ministered to Him.

Secrets From Heaven, Paragraph 2334 “All temptation includes feelings of doubt about the Lord's presence and mercy, about salvation, and so on; for people who experience temptation suffer great emotional distress, even to the point of desperation. They are kept in this state primarily so that they may eventually be confirmed in the certainty that all things are governed by the Lord's mercy, and that they are saved through Him alone….” Emanuel Swedenborg

"Theodicy" (Theo-what?) - Sunday's discussion

"Theodicy"  (Theo-what?)

Church was cancelled AGAIN.

The ice made the roads too treacherous for our guest speaker, Rev Dr Reuben Bell, to make it up to us to preach.  So church was cancelled, and I was prepared to sit alone in the church with candles and Gregorian chant playing on the stereo, and praying.

Well it turns out that since worship had been cancelled the two previous Sundays, the longing for spiritual community won the day for several locals plus two not-so-locals!  As we had such a small community and no organist, I opted for a gentle discussion group with the seven of us.

I opened the Word, led us in prayer, read a little Scripture, and then after a few other discussion points, opened up the topic, "Why does God let bad things happen to good people?"

In case anyone cares, that HUGE spiritual question is called the question of "Theodicy," which is the attempt to understand how God can be good and yet there is so much evil in the world.



So we reviewed some of the ways people answer this question. (Note:  This is the way PEOPLE answer this question.  These are not necessarily "right" answers.)  Each one of us must answer this for ourselves and we often travel around between these or combine two or three as we struggle to make sense of this question.

1. God sends bad things as a punishment for sin. 
2. God sends bad things to test our character, or to show us what we are capable of
3. God allows bad things to happen because we need to learn something.
4. Bad stuff just happens and God isn't all that involved down at our level.
5. There is no God.
6. God doesn't cause evil nor prevent evil, but is right there with us walking through the suffering.  God's job is not to protect us from bad things happening to us but to be with us even in the heart of them.

We looked at each "solution" and reflected on the different ideological landing places.  I talked about some of the psychological underpinnings of these various solutions,  with each one making sense when we understand the sort of thinking or perspective that drives it.  

1. For example, deciding that God is punishing us for our sin comes from the sort of reasoning that causes a child to think they caused their parents' divorce.  It is connected to a feeling of dependency and powerlessness. We feel powerless in the face of the tragedy and want some sense of control.  We decide either God is Bad or we are, and the idea that God is evil is just too terrifying, because then we would be utterly helpless in a hostile universe.  In this case it is more comforting to think that we are to blame.  Because if we are to blame, we can maybe do something to make things better.  We still have agency---we still can have a way to put things right.  

2.  "God sends bad things to test us or show us what we are capable of."  We leaned more towards the "help us see what we can do" idea than the "God is testing us" idea.  (Besides, an omniscient God wouldn't need to test us.  And God is not passive aggressive, and does not need to grade us nor to create martyrs.)

3.  "God allows bad things to teach us something."  At least one member liked this one.  I certainly have heard such sentiments as, "I wish I would learn what I need to learn from this so it would pass."   Notice that the idea of "needing to learn something" gives us a feeling of some control in a tough situation.  In that case, if we just "learn" whatever it is we need to learn, the bad situation would go away, right?  I knew someone with a chronic illness who said fairly often, "I guess I haven't learned what I need to learn yet." Certainly all sorts of good learning and good secondary experiences (human compassion, human cooperation) can happen around and in the wake of tragedy.  But I am not sure that our learning is ever the primary reason God would allow our suffering.  

4.  "Bad stuff just happens."  God neither causes it nor prevents it.  This answer lets God at least be neutral, if a bit detached from human affairs.  This God has left us on our own, or has different priorities than we do. (Some could argue that this is a typical Swedenborgian conclusion, if we read only the passages that say that God doesn't pay attention to any temporal affairs unless they have a direct impact on our eternal well-being.  It does not take into account the numbers that say that God is aware and present in even the least moment of our lives, guiding and guarding while leaving us in spiritual freedom. Putting these teachings together implies that our perspective on tragedy and suffering and what is allowable is different than that of God's; meanwhile God cares deeply and is intimately present with us in our suffering.  This leads to 6.) 

5.  There is no God.  This is a common and understandable landing place for many of us in the face of deep suffering.  Please don't judge such a person. (To blame someone for losing their faith as a result of terrible loss and pain is just adding insult to injury.)  When one must choose between an incomprehensible, uncaring God or no God at all, many choose "no God."  Until one can see another option, "God cares and helps but doesn't always stop tragedy," the "no God" option makes perfect sense. 

6.  God is present with us in the suffering and carries us through.  God's job is not to protect us from earthly hardships, but to walk with us through them.  There are reasons this conclusion satisfies many theologians and pastors, though it can be small comfort to the one in the depth of suffering. We can remember that Jesus did not protect himself from horrible suffering, but walked all the way through it, even to the point of feeling abandoned by God and a slow agonizing death.  He braved the whole experience without sparing himself one bit, as a way to show he is willing to come with us into the very worst of human suffering, and as a way of saying there is something more beyond.

However, when someone you love is suffering, the best thing you can do is be with them, and ask them what they need.  If chaplaincy training taught me anything at all (and I still often need reminders of this, because the urge to offer comforting words can be so strong) it is the value of the ministry of presence.  What most folks need in the heart of a crisis is company more than quotes, a steady presence, rather than platitudes.  Just be there. Just stand by them. Words are not as necessary as you might think.

Well, this summary of our discussion has turned into a mini sermon.  I have shared some extra things here and skipped some others.  I hope we all came away with new tools and ideas to support us in living into this profound question.

We wrapped up our discussion and shared an amazing tea hour (no coffee).  And we sent each other off with love and wishes for safe travels.

And I will leave it on that sentiment.  Life can be slippery and uncertain sometimes.  May we all go carefully.  And when the worst happens to one of us, may we all take extra good care of each other, and the bruised one most of all.

Blessings,
Pastor Alison

When Things Fall Apart - sermon Feb. 1

 “When Things Fall Apart”

Rev. Alison Longstaff, February 1^st, 2014

Bath Church of the New Jerusalem

Ezekiel 37: 1-14; John 11:portions of 1-45; Apocalypse Explained 555:14

           

"Mortal, can these bones live?" I said, "O Sovereign Lord, you alone know."  Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones and say to them, 'Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!  And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, "Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, mortal, and say to it, 'This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may live.'" So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.

 

Bones and flesh and breath. We are more than our bones. Our bones are our ideas, and they are the truths we need in order to live an “upright” life. They are the things we all know . . . but can fail to live. A “truth” is a dry bone when we know it, but we don’t live by it yet.

The thing is, it is hard for us to make dry bones live without the help of God—some might say, impossible. Look at the alcoholic who knows he or she shouldn't drink, but can’t seem to stop.

"Mortal, can these bones live?" says God to Ezekiel.  And Ezekiel says, "O Sovereign Lord, you alone know."

Put yourself in Ezekiel’s shoes. Staring at a valley full of dry bones, how would you answer God? Perhaps Ezekiel was hedging his bets with his response. “God alone knows,” he said. Was he being sarcastic? Or reverential? Despairing? Or perhaps, skeptical? Was this his way of saying, “I’m not going to touch that one….”? 

But God can look at a valley of dead dreams and wasted efforts, and make them live again. And when God asks us if we think the bones can live, “He” makes space for all of our responses, whether we are in the optimistic and shiny faith of the newly spiritual-born, or the jaded and weary faith of the long-lived spiritual traveler. Depending on who we are and what we have been through, we may be jaded, or hopeful, bitter, or deeply trusting, or a mix.

Bones need flesh to live—flesh that softens and rounds and pulls things together—flesh that can pull these dry bones into a human form, capable of hugging, lifting, carrying, serving, holding, and bandaging the wounded. Flesh corresponds to love. Flesh symbolizes putting things to use. “Fleshing out” a belief is when we try to live it. 

I like to think of myself as environmentally conscious, but how much do I actually do on a daily basis to help the environment? Do I recycle diligently? Do I walk when possible, rather than drive? Do I compost? Do I support businesses that have proactive environmental practices?  This is a fairly civic and world-bound illustration, but you can extrapolate over to any value that you desire to embody—be it devoting more time to your relationships, to being trustworthy in your workplace, to working out more often and eating better, to being kinder to that one person that absolutely drives us up the wall.

Getting such “bones” fleshed out isn't as easy as we wish it was. Living our beliefs is where the “rubber hits the road,” and sometimes our efforts can feel pretty dead and lifeless.  I know mine seem to need constant “resurrection” or re-commitment, like any New Year’s resolutions that died within a few weeks of their launch.

This piece of Scripture, like every other passage in God’s Word, has layer upon layer of meaning.  We can study it from all sorts of angles and find new, fascinating, and nourishing insights. And like we discussed in the children’s talk, the ideas we find are never meant to be used to whack our brothers and sisters over the head with, though this does tend to be what we do, at least at first, with God’s truths. This passage is for me to use in my life, and you to use in your life, not for me or you to use to find fault with someone else’s life.

So what is this passage primarily about?  Is it a confirmation that living our faith can sometimes be hard work? Oh, this passage goes way beyond that. This passage is about the despair we feel when we have tried and tried to live a better way, and have failed.

           

This story describes the death of living dreams. There is a saying that goes, “A person can survive up to forty days without food, three days without water, but scarcely a minute without hope.” This level of discouragement is absolute.  We are ready to throw in the towel.  No doubt all of us here have experienced this despair to some degree, but this despair is well beyond the loss of hope and deep into bitterness and anguish. This despair is what Jesus was feeling when he cried out from the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”  God is the only hope left, and God doesn't seem to be doing anything to help us.

At the time of this story the people of Israel had been captive in Babylon for over a generation.  They had been torn from their burning homes and possessions, had seen their children dragged off to be slaves, their leaders and warriors had been murdered, and their great and beautiful temple being torched and demolished. They had been marched hundreds of miles from their homeland to be slaves in an alien land. This was not even a fresh reality. By the time Ezekiel was prophesying to them, they were in their second generation of slavery in Babylon, and their children had no sense of identity other than as slaves—no experience of their homeland. They could see no way out, and no way to rebuild. Sorrow upon sorrow. Loss upon loss.

It is important to understand that the Judaic people had then and continue to have a profound sense of “place” as an important part of their identity as a worshiping nation. Christians do not have this as part of our religious narrative, so we can have a hard time understanding it. “Where two or three are gathered” is where we can worship, no matter where that is. But for this people, the “Holy Land,” and particularly the city of Jerusalem is a part of their flesh-and-bones sense of religious place, and without living there and worshiping there, they do not feel that they are being God’s people the way they ought to be. Before you snort at this idea, realize that you and I all have within us attachments to certain ideas of how things need to be for us to be right in God’s eyes, beyond which we cannot see. We too have attachments to ideas that might look silly to someone else. We are not so different.

And if it is in God’s Word, it is in our story too. You and I may never be carried away captive from our physical homelands. But we can and will know the equivalent depth of despair in our spiritual lives. When we are at this level of spiritual despair, it is as in the story of Lazarus—by the time Jesus arrives, all hope of rescue is long gone.  

Was Martha feeling bitter when she says, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died,”?  Did she feel abandoned? She had expected Jesus to save the day, and He hadn't shown up in time. This is the cry of every person of faith when we bang into the hideous unfairnesses in life from which we think we should have been spared. But we are not spared. Lazarus did die and lay dead four days. 

When things go horribly wrong, especially with those who have lived good and honorable lives, we can feel betrayed by God. It is a mark of the deepest despair when we feel so abandoned by God that we question God’s existence. If you hit this level of spiritual struggle you are not “weak” in your faith.  You might even be at an advanced level of spiritual work.  Severe doubt is a very real part of developing a living, breathing, resilient faith.  Mother Teresa struggled with terrible doubt in God’s existence her whole ministry.  C.S. Lewis spent many years as an atheist. The current Archbishop of Canterbury and even Pope Francis struggle with doubt in God’s existence and benevolence. Even Jesus cried out, “Why have you abandoned me?” Doubting God’s presence and loving care is normal, and you are in good company if you go there.  

           

Remember, if it is in God’s Word, it is describing a phase of our spiritual journey. No part is “wrong.” It just is. This story is about a very hard part of the journey, and yet it is full of compassion and hope.

So there we are, staring at the dead and dry bones of our hopes, our dreams, and even our faith.  God leads us around and around the bones. They are very many—piles of them! And they are very dead.  And God says to us as we stare at the ruins of all that was meant to be, "Mortal, can these bones live?"

Well, if it was me, I’d say with deep sarcasm, “Oh sure they can.” Ezekiel says, "O Sovereign Lord, you alone know," which could also be heard as, “You know God, if anyone can do it, You can.”

Remember, this isn't just a curious story from an ancient text. Put yourself into the emotional place of Ezekiel. This is you and God, looking at the wreckage of your whole reason for living. And God says to us, “No matter how dry and dead are the bones and ashes of your dreams, I can resurrect them.” God stands beside us in the wreckage of our dearest hopes, and He promises that He can restore it all:   

Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones and say to them, 'Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!’”  And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone.  I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on [the bones] and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. 

God restores the fragments of our lives until they are whole again. Amazing! Can you feel the hugeness of this vision down in your bones? But still, there is no life in them.

Then he said to me, "Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, mortal, and say to it, 'This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may live.'"  So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.

Breath. The breath of God. This is inspiration—to breathe in the Holy Spirit—to be in-spired by the Holy Spirit. Sometimes we need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from God in order for our hopes and dreams to live again, in order to live, really live again in a life of joy and grace and rich faith. So God provides that too. It is a miracle surpassing all miracles. New life where there was only death.

Our reading from Swedenborg describes bone as truth before it is lived. But that is describing bone that is not attached to or an integral part of a living body. We do have living bones—living bones that ensure we stand upright, have the strength to hold our children and each other, and to withstand outside pressures. God wants our bones to live—and they can, with God’s help, with God’s breath. 

In this story, these are not bones that have never lived, these are bones that were alive once and have died. There is something so much more desperate about that image. We all know these skeletons of things we once loved—they are dreams we had once, relationships that thrived once, ideas and organizations that we trusted in once. How sad it is to stand there with Ezekiel and feel the desperate losses in these bones.

There is so much more to this story.  There is meaning in “the four winds,” and in the skeletons “standing on their feet.” But I need to wrap this up.

This strange story is about despair, but even more it is about hope. It is about hope against hope. It is about God being able to handle things, even when we have lost everything, our faith, our hope, our reason for living, even our belief in God. This story speaks hope into our darkest temptations and breathes new life, and new spirit into us, that we might live again. God revivifies the best of everything that we think we have lost. This story is telling us that we will again see every good thing that we have loved live again one day, because what is made of love never dies, it just hides and goes to sleep for a while. This can be impossible to believe sometimes, and that is okay. It can be impossible to look at three feet of snow on hard frozen ground and believe in soft earth and bare feet in warm grass too. We must await the warm breath of spring the way the bones awaited the breath of life. So, as we head into these last seven weeks of winter, let us live in this metaphor—let us remember this hope against hope, and go gently with each other until new life springs again fresh from the frozen earth.  Amen.

Originally “Them Dry Bones” preached Feb 9^th 2008 St James Lutheran in New Dundee Ontario

The Readings:

Apocalypse Explained 555:14 

“Bone” symbolizes truth before it is made living, that is, incorporated into how we live—this means every single thing we have learned but do not yet use. 

Ezekiel 37:1-14

The hand of the Lord came upon me and brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley; and it was full of bones. Then He caused me to pass by them all around, and behold, there were very many in the open valley; and indeed they were very dry.  

And He said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”

So I answered, “O Lord God, You alone know.”

Again He said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them, ‘O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!  Thus says the Lord God to these bones: “Surely I will cause breath to enter into you, and you shall live.  I will put sinews on you and bring flesh upon you, cover you with skin and put breath in you; and you shall live. Then you shall know that I am the Lord.”’”

So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and suddenly a rattling; and the bones came together, bone to bone.  Indeed, as I looked, the sinews and the flesh came upon them, and the skin covered them over; but there was no breath in them.

Also He said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, ‘thus says the Lord God: “Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.”’” So I prophesied as He commanded me, and breath came into them, and they lived, and stood upon their feet, an exceedingly great army.

Then He said to me, “Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They indeed say, ‘Our bones are dry, our hope is lost, and we ourselves are cut off!’  Therefore prophesy and say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord God: “Behold, O My people, I will open your graves and cause you to come up from your graves, and bring you into the land of Israel.  Then you shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, O My people, and brought you up from your graves.  I will put My Spirit in you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land. Then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken it and performed it,” says the Lord.’”

John 11: 1, 3-5, 14-15, 20-23, 25-27, 32, 34-35, 39, 41, 43-44

Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany, therefore the sisters sent to Him, saying, “Lord, behold, he whom You love is sick.”

When Jesus heard that, He said, “This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.  Yet, when He heard that he was sick, He stayed two more days in the place where He was. 

Then Jesus said to them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, that you may believe. Nevertheless let us go to him.”

Now Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met Him, but Mary was sitting in the house. Now Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.  But even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again. … I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?”

She said to Him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that You are the Christ, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

Then, when Mary came where Jesus was, and saw Him, she fell down at His feet, saying to Him, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.”

And He said, “Where have you laid him?”

They said to Him, “Lord, come and see.”

Jesus wept. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.”

Martha, the sister of him who was dead, said to Him, “Lord, by this time there is a stench, for he has been dead four days.”

Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead man was lying. And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, “Father, I thank You that You have heard Me.”  Now when He had said these things, He cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth!” And he who had died came out bound hand and foot with grave clothes, and his face was wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Loose him, and let him go.”