Sunday, October 18, 2015

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Pentecost 21-B Sunday, October 18, 2015

Job 38:1-41 Hebrews 5:1-10 Mark 10:35-45 Isn't it interesting how Jesus can become poetic in the most prosaic moments? Here's the prose, spoken by the worldly-minded brothers, James and John Zebedee: "Jesus, let one of us be your Prime Minister and the other? He can be Secretary of State…….. once you come into office. We want to sit – one at your right hand and the other at your left." And here’s the poetic: "Can you drink from my cup?" James and John are curious about how they will be rewarded for their hard work. It’s a legitimate question. But, as always, Jesus is operating at a deeper level. Since that level isn’t accessed very well through logic, reason, or the principle of cause and effect, he speaks through poetic imagery. He will invoke this image – drinking a cup – again. He will do this at the single most difficult moment in his life……the Garden of Gethsemane, where he must decide whether he will allow himself to be arrested and executed. He prays: "Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me." In both these uses of the cup image we get a clear sense that whatever it is Jesus is drinking, it's not what you want at happy hour. Jesus uses the image of cup to mean suffering. "Are you able to drink the cup of suffering that I will drink?" is the question he asks of James and John. They want to be on his right hand on his left. As it turns out, there were two thieves in those positions, one on either side of Jesus at his crucifixion. Prior to that grisly event he prayed: "Father, take away this cup of suffering from me." He ponders. He agonizes. And yet, he drinks it. Throughout his life Jesus grasps this cup and drinks it; he doesn't avoid or evade. He demonstrates for us a spiritual truth so deep that – like all spiritual truth – it is simple and obvious to say but daunting and life-changing to do: We must face our own pain. We must drink our own cup. What this amounts to is a principle of embrace. It is the most counter-intuitive, anticommon-sense thing to do: embrace your pain. Embrace the times of darkness that befall you. If confusion attends you, embrace it. There is work that happens in our inner life that can happen in no other way except during times of hardship. Not that we want to live there. But as we all know all too well, suffering cannot be avoided. It is part of the created order: all beings suffer. St. Paul says in the book of Romans that even Creation itself groans. Church of the Nativity, 2175 Broadway, Grand Junction 81507…………………………….. Rev. Nature Johnston

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Pentecost 21-B Sunday, October 18, 2015

Instinctively we are hard-wired to avoid pain. Instincts are good; they help keep us alive. But when we allow them to run our lives we end up stunted; spiritually impoverished. When we allow instinct to run our lives, all we’re doing is coping; constantly looking for ways to cope. That is the barest form of survival. That is not abundant life. Chronically running from and avoiding pain leaves us spiritually bankrupt. Maybe we end up addicted. Maybe we engage in self-destructive behaviors like over-eating or compulsive spending. Imprisonment to pain is what we get when we try to avoid pain. It's ironic, isn't it? The further you run from something, the more it catches up with you! In order to drink the cup, we must embrace our pain. We must allow it to touch us. We do this when we acknowledge our pain. This takes a strong dose of reality and self-awareness – what the psychologists call “ego-strength.” We are so well practiced at denial and blame. We excel at blaming others. We are trained in the strategies of avoidance or minimization. We're so good at these things because we taught them to ourselves. They are part of the self-preservation package. We begin to live differently when we can – finally! – accept we are powerless to change or fix or solve whatever is causing us to suffer. This is one of the lessons of Job. For 37 chapters of the book that bears his name he rails against the unjustness of his suffering. He protests. "Life is not fair." "I deserve better." "Why do the righteous suffer?" We've all said these things. Eventually Job accepts. The majesty and wonder; the sheer breath-taking splendor of the Almighty causes him to stop resisting. He yields. He embraces the fact of his life as it has become. He drinks the cup. And he is transformed into one who converses with God. That’s what the embrace of pain does for us. I want to be careful here that I don’t glorify pain or suffering. I certainly do not want to imply that the purpose of pain is to teach us something. THERE IS NO PURPOSE TO PAIN. It just is. But if we have the creative energy to harness the pain in our lives; to embrace it, then we have the means to dive more deeply into God. That’s abundant life. The spiritual masters say that suffering is really estrangement from God. One of the reasons we are estranged from God is because we are filled with ourselves. Everywhere we go, there we are. We seem to fill all things with our own thoughts. With our own talking. With our own doing or busy-ness. This is the essence of what’s called “ego-centric.” We need an appropriate amount of ego strength to function but if it’s all us; all the time, then we’re egocentric.

Church of the Nativity, 2175 Broadway, Grand Junction 81507…………………………….. Rev. Nature Johnston

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Pentecost 21-B Sunday, October 18, 2015

Jesus, on the other hand, was God-centric. He knew that even in the midst of his suffering, he was being beautifully cared for. It probably didn’t feel like it. Indeed, he even prayed: My God, my God: why have you forsaken me? Sometimes our pain; our suffering is the only thing we can feel. It even crowds out the very presence of God. But we are still being cared for. Even in the midst of our suffering, we are being beautifully cared for. I remember years ago going outside at twilight just to admire the cool, night sky. It was a fall evening. At the time, I was living on a busy road and noticed a car on the side of the road. An older woman got out of the car and started walking in my direction. She looked distressed. I approached her and asked if everything was OK. She said her car wouldn't start but she was walking to the gas station just up the road a few blocks. She didn't know it, but she was going in the wrong direction. She was walking away from the gas station that was only three blocks behind her. There wasn't another one for miles in the direction she was headed. Of course, this was well before the days of cell phones, and my house was just a few steps away: warm and well-lighted. So I suggested that she call a family member for help. She came in; called her son, and waited safely inside until he came. What I did was no big deal. It was simple neighborliness. But I pondered how fortunate it was that I came outside at just that moment; another minute-and-a-half and the woman would have been well past my house; out of my range of vision; walking into the darkness. She was being wonderfully cared for, and never, never knew it. It is possible that all she knew was the suffering of a broken-down car; at night; in a strange neighborhood. It’s also possible that she had prayed: God help me! Even in the midst of our suffering, we are being beautifully cared for. When we face our pain rather than run from it; when we drink the cup; we are begin to realize the limitless love of God. We realize that God is there; was there all along. We just didn't know. Amen.

Church of the Nativity, 2175 Broadway, Grand Junction 81507…………………………….. Rev. Nature Johnston

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