An encounter with our first responders

         Last week, after visiting my parents, I was standing with my father in their driveway, ready to leave, when we heard someone screaming.  After determining that it sounded like it was coming from about a block away from my parents' home, we drove around to see if we could help.  A woman was standing in the middle of the street screaming.  I pulled over, rolled down the window and asked if she needed help.  She said she did, but was having a hard time communicating what was going on.  Eventually she said she was having a severe panic attack, but did not believe that she could get herself to the hospital.  I told her I would call for help and she agreed.  My dad got out of the car, moved her back to her own car, where she sat inside alternately screaming and crying, while my dad held her hand through the open window of her car.  I called 911.
          When the 911 operator answered the phone I explained that a woman appeared to be having a severe panic attack, that she was was freaking out and needed help.  The operator said that she was highway patrol, but that she would transfer my call to the appropriate person.  My call was transferred to another 911 operator.  I explained again what was happening.  This operator said she was the police and that they couldn't help, so she was transferring my call again.  The next time it went to the fire department 911 operator.  She, too, said she was the wrong one to help me, and she also transferred my call.  I didn't catch who the next person was, but it sounded like ambulance (do they have their own 911 people?  Not sure...).  At any rate, in frustration, I explained that she was the 4th in a line of folk and could she please help.  She, too, said I was talking to the wrong person but she stayed on the line this time while transferring me back to the police.  The two 911 operators spoke in code at this point, seemed to determine between them that it was in fact for the police to handle, and they both disconnected.  Okaaay….
       We waited another 10 minutes while the woman was still extremely upset.  The police car finally came and I signalled her over.  At that point I was talking to the woman in the car, had let my dad go to deal with the police officer while I tried to get the woman to just take some deep breaths.  She seemed to be calming down a bit.  As my father approached the police officer to explain to her what was going on, the officer snapped at him to get away from her, which he did, looking confused and trying to say that he wanted to give her some information.  She came over to the car and began barking at the woman to give her name, address, etc.  This freaked the woman out even more.  She began screaming again.  She also started rocking back and forth saying, "I don't want to be in trouble!  I need help getting to the hospital!"  I tried to calm her down but the police officer told me to back off while she dealt with it.  I asked the woman who was freaking out if she wanted me to stay.  She was screaming louder and louder and saying, "I just need help!" The police officer said to us, "I'm handling this now!" So my dad and I just backed off and eventually we left as the officer continued to yell at the woman and as the woman went farther and farther into "freak out" mode.
         I left feeling several things:
       1.  I am deeply aware that not all first responders are the same.  She does not represent everyone who would be called in and I would never say that she did.  I wish someone else had been the one to respond to the call because I have seen these things handled much better by other people.  None the less, this is what we had to deal with and I regret that, deeply, for the poor woman in crisis.  First responders are supposed to serve and protect us, all of us.  She did not serve this woman well.  She did not serve my father and I well.  Protect?  No, she was escalating the problem with her approach.
      2.  That being said, it is obvious to me that there needs to be some more serious training done with our first responders about how to handle people who are having mental break downs and mental crises.  I do not believe the woman was under any kind of chemical influence.  I think she was simply having a panic attack, which was not going to be helped through being yelled at.  She had been calming down while I was talking to her quietly and slowly and encouraging her to breathe. She had stopped screaming,  All that was reversed as soon as the officer started her barking.
     3.  Our 911 people need to gain some clarity about what to do in different crisis situations.  Being transfered four different times when calling for help?  Unacceptable.
     I believe that change starts with being aware of the problems and naming the problems.  I think accountability is a helpful thing as we can own what is good, what needs improvement, and what needs to change.  I am grateful that there is a 911 system at all, even though it clearly needs some work.  I don't believe we help ourselves by stereotyping or universalizing one person's experience, but I do believe that we can all learn from things that do not go well.  I am hoping that by putting this out there, a deeper awareness is gained, and perhaps more thought put into how to respond in these kinds of situations.
       I am aware that Richmond has been working hard to retrain their first responders to better handle mental health crises and that this effort has met with incredible success in lessening violence in the city of Richmond.  It sounds like cities such as Walnut Creek might also want to consider such training.  Just because the city is "posh" does not mean that they don't need training in these areas.  My prayer for today is for our first responders, and for all those with whom they interact.  Today, especially, I lift up that woman who we met last week.  I hope that she finally was able to get the help she needed, and that she is on the way to recovery.

It's all about the other.

           I wrote some time ago that hate connects you more deeply to the object of your hate than apathy ever could, that we care more deeply about those we actively dislike than we do about those we rarely think of.  I said that one of the most painful comments someone made to me was that they didn't care enough to hate me. That was years ago.  But a few months ago I had another similar encounter with a person out here.
           I was at a large meeting of colleagues when I ran into a woman who has actually made a point of not liking me.  We went to school together, sang in a choir together for two years, have served on committees together, been on retreat together many times, and have been in many of the same collegial groups together.  She has always been cold and distant.  More, she has sometimes been blatantly unkind, saying things that are pointedly mean or dismissive, and even blocking my participation in one group.
          In this particular instance, she was with someone who came over to talk to one of the people in the small group that I was with, and one of my friends said to her, "Do you know Barbara?"  Her response was, "Oh, I think I've seen you before once at a meeting of x."   At first I found myself just staring at her.  Really?  We were once at a meeting together?  It is not possible that she could not remember me as someone who sang with her every week for 2 years in a small 16 member choir.  It is not possible that she has forgotten that we served on a small 5 member committee together.  It is not possible that she doesn't remember that we have been to 25 person three day long retreats on a regular basis together.  It is highly unlikely, even, that she forgot we were at school together when the school was a very small, intimate community of people learning and worshiping together.  Does this mean the nasty comments she's made and the decision to block my participation in a group of colleagues was aimed at someone she doesn't even see?  No, her comment of "Oh, I think I've seen you before once in a meeting" was the same comment as that other person made years ago who said he did not even care about me enough to hate me.  It's the same comment.  But this time I don't think it was an honest account of her feelings.  In this case it was another intentional slam.  "You are not important enough for me to remember."  It was an attack.
          But interestingly, it had exactly the opposite effect of what I imagine was the intention.  The pettiness of the comment was just great enough to really help me let go of the discomfort and wonder around her unkind behavior towards me all these years.  I no longer care.  She has moved herself through this behavior into a place where I see her more fully than I have before, and I realize at a heart level that her thoughts, feelings and actions really and truly are about her and have nothing to do with me.  She doesn't know me.  Her dislike has been a gut reaction.  But for a long time I've helped her carry that by worrying and wondering what I could do to fix it.  That's no longer the case.  Now she can carry it all on her own.
         Whenever someone is unkind to us, it is about them and not about us.  Always.  But it can be hard for us to see this, difficult for us to hold, and sometimes it can feel impossible to put that into our hearts in such a way that we can feel compassion for the other rather than pain, hurt or anger.
          When Aislynn was about three years old she and I were in a Trader Joe's grocery store, doing our daily shopping one day.  She was skipping and singing along beside the cart, very happy, full of life.  We were coming to the end of an aisle when a woman zoomed around the corner and almost hit us.  She snapped at Aislynn, "Watch where you are going!  Stop playing around!"  I was stunned and upset.  But Aislynn, my three year old Aislynn, looked at the woman like she was a curiosity.  She stared at her with interest, but without any guilt or bad feeling, or shame.  As soon as the woman zoomed down the aisle, Aislynn turned to me and said, "Poor woman!  She must be having a bad day!" and then she returned to skipping, singing, playing.  My heart filled with joy and pride to see that my three year old understood that the woman's bad behavior was about the woman.  It had nothing to do with Aislynn.  I also felt some envy: I wished I could feel that same way when attacked.
          It is a worth while goal to learn to separate the behavior of someone else from ourselves.  It allows us then to choose our responses.  It enables us to find compassion, even, for those who may be having a hard time, a bad day.  It can encourage more honest interaction as we search for what is going on underneath the behavior, rather than just reacting out of our angst to what has been said.  It stops the escalation of anger and allow a person to respond instead to unkindness with empathy and care rather than revenge and retaliation.
         I am grateful for the moments in which I see the other as the other, someone who is complicated but whose behavior is truly about them.  I pray for more moments of such grace.

Habakkuk

               Habakkuk is one of the prophets whose words are written as poetry.  But unlike many other prophets, Habakkuk is a prayer to God.  More than that, it follows the format of many of our psalms of lament.  Next lent I expect us to focus on the different types of psalms.  We haven’t done that yet, so to give a preview, there are many different types of psalms, and like with hymns or other kinds of poetry, the different genres of psalms follow different formats.  Psalms of lament usually include most of the following components:

               Intimate Address to God

               Complaint

               Petition

               Argument in favor of the petition

               Vengeance

               Rejoicing and praise

               The main difference between Habakkuk and another writer of a psalm of lament is that unlike the psalms, which usually offer the complaints, petitions, etc. on behalf of the speaker, Habakkuk is speaking on behalf of the people.  He was one of the Southern prophets, speaking very close to the time of the Babylonian exile, anticipating the exile, and pleading for God to intervene, to save the nation, to save the people. 

               As I listened to Habakkuk’s words, I am reminded of an exchange that I’ve seen several cartoonists recreate in which one person is complaining and loudly lamenting, “I want to yell at God and demand to know why God allows so much suffering, so much pain!  I just want to demand that God tell me why God hasn’t done anything and I want to scream at God that if God really cared, God would DO something.  I want to demand to know why God hasn’t done it!”  To which the listener to this rant asks, “Well, why don’t you?”  The original speaker responds, “Because I am certain God would ask me the same thing.”

I think this is summed up well in the words to one of my favorite praise songs, sung by Matthew West entitled “Do Something”:

I woke up this morning

Saw a world full of trouble now, thought

How’d we ever get so far down, and

How’s it ever gonna turn around?

So I turned my eyes to Heaven

I thought, “God, why don’t You do something?”

Well, I just couldn’t bear the thought of

People living in poverty

Children sold into slavery

The thought disgusted me

So, I shook my fist at Heaven

Said, “God, why don’t You do something?”

(God) said, “I did, I created YOU”

I’m so tired of talking about

How we are God’s hands and feet

But it’s easier to say than to be

We live like angels of apathy who tell ourselves

“It’s alright.  Somebody else will do something.”

Well, I don’t know about you

But I’m sick and tired of life with no desire

I don’t want a flame, I want a fire and

I wanna be the one who stands up and says

“I’m gonna do something”

We are the salt of the earth

We are a city on a hill

But we’re never gonna change the world

By standing still

No, we won’t stand still

If not us, then who

If not me and you

Right now

It’s time for us to do something

If not now, then when

Will we see an end

To all this pain

It’s not enough to do nothing

It’s time for us to do something

Habakkuk is speaking words that almost all, if not all, of us have felt at one time or another.  We, too, want God to fix the pain in the world - ideally in the way we think it ought to be fixed.  There are many times when we feel if God really loved us, really loved the world, God would surely step in and fix things.  For many this is reason enough to believe that God doesn’t exist at all.  After all, if there were a God, why wouldn’t he/she step in a fix everything?  But the response of God?  Well, according to Habakkuk, the response is, again and again, to throw it back at us.  We have been given this world, we have been blessed with unbelievable abundance, with good minds, and with each other.  We have been given all the tools we need to confront the pain in the world.  We’ve been given all the resources we need so that everyone could have enough, should have enough.  If they don’t have enough, we have no-one but ourselves to blame.  I’m reminded of the saying, “Pray as if everything were up to God.  Act as if everything were up to us.”

This is, indeed, the message of all the prophets.  A message that Jesus echoed every time he told us to love all people even our enemies, even those people we don’t understand, even those people we don’t like, as we love ourselves.   If we were experiencing hunger or oppression or pain, we would fight for better.  But we don’t do this for those among us who are, in fact, facing these things.  We don’t give to others to the same degree that we take care of ourselves.  Extremely few people do.  But that’s the call.  It’s the call of the prophets, it’s the call of Jesus.

And perhaps it is a hard message to hear.  I know it is for me.  I wonder how I can be better at not contributing to the pain and suffering of the world, how I can use my resources for the good of everyone.  None of us is wealthy by American standards.  But we are wealthy in comparison to most of the world.  How can we better use our resources to further God’s kingdom and to care for our brothers, sisters, siblings throughout the world?  How can we use our power for good?  To change the systems that oppress and keep resources from those who need them the most?

I remember in my Prophets class as a seminary student our professor telling us that all of the prophets were speaking to the elite of Israel and Judah: those who had both the power and the resources and were using it for their own gain to the great loss of those they were supposed to serve and love.  Our professor told us that while in some ways these words apply to us as well, there is a difference in that while we have many resources, most of us have very limited power. I shared with you a few weeks ago that a Princeton University study showed that public opinion has absolutely zero impact on the decisions made by our federal government.  The limited power we do have comes in the form of how we vote, and in the actions we take locally.  But still, our power is not that of the people being addressed by the prophets.  Their words were meant to convict the leadership.  Well, we know that that fails to happen.  Those in power STILL use their power to better their own positions and rarely, RARELY, consider the “least of these” as the people they most need to care for.  But as I said in my first sermon on this series, the prophets were extremely political.  They were speaking to those in power and condemning them for not caring for their own.  And while it may be a relief to know that we don’t carry that kind of power, normally, I think that we must consider that these words are being spoken to us as well.  As I was working on this sermon, my Facebook paged dinged at me and this quote popped up from the Lord of the Rings: “Some believe is it only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found.  I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay… small acts of kindness and love.” 

There was a farmer who grew excellent quality corn. Every year he won the award for the best grown corn.  One year a newspaper reporter interviewed him and learned something interesting about how he grew it.  The reporter discovered that the farmer shared his seed corn with his neighbors. “How can you afford to share your best seed corn with your neighbors when they are entering corn in competition with yours each year?” the reporter asked.

“Why sir,” said the farmer, “Didn’t you know? The wind picks up pollen from the ripening corn and swirls it from field to field. If my neighbors grow inferior corn, cross-pollination will steadily degrade the quality of my corn. If I am to grow good corn, I must help my neighbors grow good corn.”

None of us truly wins, until we all win!  None are whole if we are not all whole. 

I'm reminded again of the story of Ubuntu: I am because we are.  Some children were approached by an anthropologist who said whoever could run the fastest would win a bag of candy for himself.  He put the children all on a starting line, but when he said "go!", all the children took each other's hands and ran together so they would win together.  The confused anthropologist asked them why they had done this.  The children answered that they could not be happy if even one of them was unhappy.  They had to win together because then they would all be happy together.  They understood at a much deeper level than we do that we are all interdependent. I am who I am because of all the people who have gone before me as well as all the people I now know.  We create our future together.

Today we end our series on the prophets and so there is one other piece that I want to discuss with you this morning.  Several of you have asked me after hearing these fiery words from our prophets each week if I really believe that God punishes people in the way that the prophets believed happened when the Israelites were exiled to Babylon.  I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that I do not believe this.  Just as I do not believe in a God who will step in and fix things because that God has already given us all we need to fix it ourselves, I also believe very deeply that God is not a wrathful being who will harm or hurt us.  God wants genuine relationship with us.  Genuine relationship means that there must be freedom to be who we choose to be, act how we choose to act, and either fail or succeed at bringing love, peace, and grace to a broken world.  That leaves us then, as we reflect on the prophets, perhaps to wonder if their words of threat actually mean anything.  While I do not believe that God brings wrath upon our heads, I do think that in life there are consequences for our actions.  Our behavior changes the world.  It affects the world.  And the world is then the one that we live in and live with.  If we want a world that is kind to us, we must create that world by being kind to others.  When we fail to seek justice for one another, all of us are lessened, deeply and truly.  The call of the prophets, and the call of Jesus to love all – all creation, as we love ourselves: that is not just for the “other”.  That is for our well-being as well.  The prophets threat is real: if we do not care for one another, all will be lost.  If we do not take care of our poor, our marginalized, those we don’t want, those we don’t like, those we fear, those we ‘hate” – if we cannot learn to see them as the brothers and sisters that they are, the threat to us is real.  I don’t believe it’s because God will harm us.  God’s love for us is genuine, deep and sincere.  But if we continue to create a world in which others live in terrible ways, if we accept this as okay, as the norm: if we continue to think in terms of “us and them”  then at some point, we will be the “them” who are hurting as well.  Maybe not in our lifetimes.  Maybe it will come for our grandchildren or their grandchildren.  But it will happen.

The call of the prophets, as I have said, is the same as the call of Jesus: love God, love yourself, and love each other with all that you are and all that you have.  It’s not easy at all.  But it is simple.  

An Act of Deep Kindness

          I woke up in the middle of the night with a memory about something I haven't thought of in a long time.  Right after college I spent some time as a mission volunteer for the Presbyterian Church.  I ended up in Santa Fe and when my volunteer time was ended, I stayed another year working as a full time musician.  I accompanied all of the vocal classes out at the community college and I played piano and organ for several local churches.  One of those churches was St. Francis Cathedral on the square.  I was invited to come one evening to their Saturday service and to help their music director who had been both directing and playing for the praise team.  I filled in that evening because he had broken his arm, but afterwards, he hired me (well, paid me a tiny stipend) to continue to play for them.  I loved this particular job for so many reasons, and I was happy to do it no matter what they paid or didn't pay.  The music was fun to play, but what was more important, the praise team itself was comprised of truly kind, loving, faithful people.  They were a wonderful small group and I enjoyed being with them.  As I said, we were a very small team.  One day we had two new people come join us: a young woman and her boyfriend.  We needed their voices, they sang very well and we were excited to welcome them.  
        However, the young woman took an instant dislike to me.  More, she was verbally nasty about it.  I cannot remember a single thing that she actually said.  What I remember is that she started, that very first night, to say mean and hurtful things about me to the other members of our little group.  The other members, as I said, were deeply faithful, loving people.  And so not one of them joined in with her comments.  They all looked very uneasy, uncomfortable, and said nothing.  None of the comments were said to me: they were all nasty comments said about me to the others in the group, but in a loud enough voice that I couldn't help but hear them.  There was no way to respond to these comments.  After the rehearsal, the choir director approached me and just asked me what I thought of the new couple.  I told him that I had heard her comments and didn't know what I had done to upset her so much but that they were very hurtful.
       The next time we met, she was there and her comments began almost immediately.  Again, I can remember no specifics of what she said.  But I remember with extreme clarity what happened next.  The choir director stopped the rehearsal, looked directly at this woman and said, "We are incredibly blessed to have Barbara here.  I pay her a pittance of what she deserves, but she comes every week and helps us out of the goodness of her heart and from a place of faith. We would not be the group that we are without her playing for us as she does.  I will not allow anything in this group that threatens her happiness and comfort here.  Therefore if anyone is unkind to her, they are not welcome to be part of this group."  All of us were stunned.  I was stunned most of all.  I did not expect him to be so direct, so confrontational or so strong in both his support of me and his insistence on the kindness of others.  Needless to say, the couple did not return.  We lost needed singers for the group.  At the same time, I will never forget that this man stood up for me, nor that he was willing to let people go in order to maintain the health and kindness of a team whose culture had been and returned to being one of great compassion and care for one another. 
        While I have not thought of this incident in years, I know that his willingness to stand up for me has given me likewise the strength to stand up for others.  I also find it so very interesting that while I usually remember every insult and rarely retain the compliments, that in this case, it is just the opposite.  I don't remember what she said about me at all.  I only remember the kindness of this man.  I wonder if this isn't the case for others when they are defended, protected, and valued in such a concrete way.  Those acts of kindness go in deep.  And they change who we are.
        As I've reflected on this memory, it brought to mind my favorite chapter from Jane Austen's book Emma. Mr. Elton is very unkind to Harriet because she loved him while being a poor "born out of wedlock" young woman.  She has no family connections or money and he feels it necessary to demean her and "put her in her place" for daring to care for him.  They are at a dance and someone suggests to Mr. Elton that he should dance with Harriet.  He not only refuses, but does so in a humiliating way that makes it clear he sees Harriet as dirt.  She is sitting in absolute shame when someone of a much higher class than Mr. Elton, upon seeing Mr. Elton's cruelty, walks angrily by him and asks Harriet to dance.  That kindness, too, changed Harriet for the better.  She no longer pines for Mr. Elton.  She realizes that kindness is higher and more important than class or money every single time.
        I am deeply grateful to the music director who stood up for me.  I am grateful for the memory waking me this morning.  And I pray it may continue to inspire me to also be kind and willing to stand up for those who experience unkindness or injustice in the future.

Haggai

            Unlike the other prophets whom we’ve studied so far, Haggai is speaking to a people who have already been destroyed.  He is talking to the exiles of the destroyed Judah who have been in Babylon.  Now, under Cyrus’ edict (after Persia conquered the Babylonians), the remaining Israelites have been allowed to return to Jerusalem.  Haggai is therefore giving instructions for a new Jerusalem, and he is encouraging the rebuilding of the temple, the rebuilding of the tradition, the rebuilding of the Israelite commitment to their faith as they return home.  This is a very different message from what we’ve heard from the other prophets.  And the response of Zerubbabel, the high priest, is to lead the people to do exactly what Haggai says God has commanded.  They do set to work on building the temple.  And Haggai announces that as a result, God will grant peace, God will be with them, God is pleased.  The book of Haggai approaches the conclusion with this phrase, “From this day on I will bless you.”

            So, unlike the other prophets, and perhaps especially Amos who we heard from last week, the book of Haggai is hopeful, it is living in the resurrection of Israel, it is the promise of new life that comes after death.  Since we are in the season of lent, walking towards the cross, this resurrection and focus on the resurrection may seem to be premature.  But I think that, first of all, going through those times of hardship, those times of death, we can be boosted and supported by knowing that even out of death resurrection comes.  And secondly, I am aware that even in our most difficult times there are small moments, at least, of new life, or hope, of good things.  Those understandings, and that promise of new life, that hope, that belief, allows us to carry through, to make it through, to push forward even through the darkest times. 

            You all know the story of Pandora’s box (or jar, is, I understand, a more accurate translation).  The idea behind this Greek myth is that Pandora accidentally let loose on the human race all the evils of our world except one – that one being despair.  In another version, she let out (and away) from humanity all the good things in the world except for Hope.  In another version, everything in the box was evil except the very last “spirit” to slip from the box, and that spirit was hope….Whichever version you know of the story, the message is the same: with all the evils that are in the world, the one thing that humanity could not tolerate, could not live with: the one thing that would make life unbearable is despair, or lack of hope.  When people do hit that place of ultimate despair, that is when they give up, and we know the results of that…suicides, murders, harm to other people.  All of it ends the same: death. 

But the message of the gospel is a message of hope.  The scriptures do talk about endings, they do talk about sorrows, they do talk about walking through fire, as the Israelites did when they were sent into exile, as Jesus did when he was sent to the cross.  But the scriptures don’t leave us there.  There is always something beyond death, beyond the dark night, beyond the fiery trials and tribulations.  And that is the Good News of our faith.  On the other side of any loss, of any death, of any pain, God promises resurrection.  Haggai is the voice for that resurrection that is offered even in the Old Testament.

            I want to share with you a story written by Arnold Lobel in his book Grasshopper on the Road.  The story in entitled “A New House.”

The Road went up a steep hill.  Grasshopper climbed to the top.  He found a large apple lying on the ground.  “I will have my lunch,” said Grasshopper.  He ate a big bite of the apple.  “Look what you did!” said a worm, who lived in the apple.  “You have made a hole in my roof!  It is not polite to eat a person’s house,” said the worm. 

“I am sorry,” said Grasshopper.  Just then the apple began to roll down the road on the other side of the hill.

“Stop me!  Catch me!” cried the worm.  The apple was rolling faster and faster.  “Help, my head is bumping on the walls!  My dishes are falling off the shelf!” cried the worm.  Grasshopper ran after the apple.  “Everything is a mess in here!” cried the worm.  “My bathtub is in the living room.  My bed is in the kitchen!”

Grasshopper kept running down the hill.  But he could not catch the apple.  “I am getting dizzy,” cried the worm.  “My floor is on the ceiling!  My attic is in the cellar!”The apple rolled and rolled.  It rolled all the way down to the bottom of the hill.  The apple hit a tree.  It smashed into a hundred pieces. 

“Too bad, worm,” said Grasshopper.  “Your house is gone.”

The worm climbed up the side of the tree.  “Oh, never mind,” said the worm.  “It was old, and it had a big bite in it anyway.  This is a fine time for me to find a new house.” Grasshopper looked up into the tree.  He saw that it was filled with apples.  Grasshopper smiled, and he went on down the road.

The worm in this story was upset.  The worm experienced great loss – of everything that he owned.  But the worm also had the vision to see possibilities beyond his losses; to look forward, to go into new life, to experience resurrection.

Does that mean that we can avoid the pain and the grief?  No, we can’t.  We have to feel those things too.  But it does mean that we can avoid deep despair.  And I think that is the deepest gift, the deepest promise of our faith. 

As I wrote this sermon, I found myself reflecting on the hardest times in my own life.  I know that each of us has gone through difficult, painful, deeply disturbing times.  I have no doubt that for you, as there was for me, there were moments when the questions loomed large, “will we make it through this?”  “HOW will we make it through this?”  “Will we be okay on the other end of this?”  “What will that other side look like?”  For myself, the other side of those times did not look the way I had hoped or expected.  Nothing stayed the same, and nothing returned to what it was.

No, instead things are better than they were before.  I mean this genuinely.  I am happy here at this church, I am happy here in CA again with the sun and the land and the mountain, I am happy with David, I am happy with my family.  More than this, I walked through the fires of our life and came out with two very different and very real understandings than before I went through.  The first, I came through knowing my own strength, a strength based in large part on my faith.  God walked in a tangible way alongside our family through the toughest times.  I go forward trusting God’s presence to a much deeper level than ever before.  And secondly, I understand much more fully that “this too shall pass.”  Nothing lasts.  Nothing stays the same.  Everything changes. And that means that whatever is good in your life should be appreciated and celebrated now because it will not stay the same.  And whatever is bad in your life will not be a burden forever because it, too, will not stay the same.  These are deep gifts of learning: that everything changes, and that with god on our side there is hope, and there is faith that we will make it through whatever life hands us. 

A quote that has been helpful to me over the years, written by Paramahansa Yogandanda is, “Do not take life’s experiences too seriously.  Above all, do not let them hurt you for in reality they are nothing but dream experiences.  If circumstances are bad and you have to bear them, do not make them a part of yourself.  Play your part in life but never forget that it is only a role.”  I play my part, but I never forget that my deeper identity is as a child of God.  Your identity is as a child of God.  That is what is real.  That is what is ultimately important. 

I found as I wrote this that this poem came to mind:

I asked God for strength that I might achieve.
I was made weak that I might learn humbly to obey.
I asked for health that I might do greater things.
I was given infirmity that I might do better things.
I asked for riches that I might be happy.
I was given poverty that I might be wise.
I asked for power that I might have the praise of men.
I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God.
I asked for all things that I might enjoy life.
I was given life that I might enjoy all things.
I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I hoped for.
Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.
I am, among all men, most richly blessed.

– Prayer by an unknown confederate soldier

            There is another message in Haggai, though.  In the book of Haggai we are told that resurrection does not look like just sitting around and taking life easy. Resurrection is not a passive experience for us of sitting and waiting for God to act.  The Israelites were required to rebuild the temple – not an easy, simple, or small task to take on.  This was a primary message of Haggai: you must rebuild the temple: all of you must rebuild the temple together.  But the results of this, for the Israelites, for this people of God, were amazing.  First of all, when they had a hand in their own renewal, in their own resurrection, it became not only a source of pride, but they had a much deeper ownership in who they now were as a people.  Before the exile, the temple had really only been used by the elite.  It was a place built by, and for, the elite.  But it was only after the rebuilding of the temple that it became the center of life for the Israelites. That joint effort, that working together (not hired by the wealthy, not forced to build something for others, but choosing to be part of creating something for themselves) to rebuild this central building brought a deeper sense of faith, of commitment, of community to the people.  

Again, it came with a lot of work.  The message here is that for those who hope that new life, that resurrection, that “heaven”, that new beginnings of any kind are given to us on a silver platter, are a place where we are served and do not need to lift a hand on our own behalves but  can just nap and wait for the wonderful to come, the reality will be something far different.  The resurrection is a place where there will be good things, wonderful things: God’s presence, new life.  But those things also come with a much deeper gift: meaningful work and purpose.   

This week I read an article in the Washington Post about a school where the girls were being sexually harassed.  They tried to talk to the principal, who brought in only the “Leader” from the boys and told him to stop it.  But the girls knew this was not enough.  They fought for an education program at their school that would teach everyone more about how to be respectful of all people, no matter their age, gender, situation, race, or any other factor.  They changed the whole culture of the school by pushing this through.  And they came out with strength, with a sense of their own power and ability to change their world.  It not only improved things for them in the short run, it also empowered them and their fellow students as they were able to witness the power of their efforts change the world in which they lived.

Walking into new life will involve the work of all of us talking, sharing, healing, and growing together.  If we accept the invitation to follow God’s call to action, to working together, to building the new together: if we accept the invitations for meaning, to purpose, then, as Haggai tells us in his book, “From this day on, God will bless you”.  And that is very good news.  Amen.