Mental Health sermon

 

1 Kings 19:1-4 (5-7) 8-15a

Galatians 3:23-29

Luke 8:26-39

 

               Today I want to talk about a subject that we tend to avoid in church, but that is a very important part of our lives, and that therefore needs to be discussed in our faith communities.  All three of these passages deal with it, but in different ways.  What I want to discuss with you today is mental health. 

               And I want to start by asking the question: How do people in faith communities usually deal with mental illness?   

               Obviously, there are many different kinds of mental illness.  And yet I think people can end up lumping all mental health issues, as well as the people who struggle with them, together, very inappropriately I might add.  I have heard people make very fear-based comments that imply, for example, that anyone with a mental illness is somehow dangerous because they are more prone to be violent or unpredictable.  That is a completely unfair prejudicial stereotype that is not, in fact, born out.  Your likelihood of being unpredictable or violent is based on many factors, but a person who struggles with depression or social anxiety, bipolar disorder or even schizophrenia, say, is not going to be necessarily more likely to be unpredictable or violent than someone who does not struggle with those issues.  Until you understand what the person is dealing with in full, you cannot simply decide that they will be more unpredictable or violent.

Today I want to talk to you about mental illness from a faith perspective for two reasons.  First, anybody hurting in our communities is of a faith concern since God cares about and grieves for those who struggle with anything and calls us to care, as well as offer healing and caring as well.  Secondly, mental illness is a growing reality in our country.  Just looking at depression: the rates of depression in our country are hugely on the rise, and there are more suicides in our country every year than homicides.  If we think this has nothing to do with us, we are naïve at best.  In 2020 there were almost 46,000 deaths by suicide, making it the 12^th leading cause of death in the United States.  According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, that same year 12.2 million adults seriously thought about suicide, 3.2 million made a plan and 1.2 million attempted suicide (https://www.americashealthrankings.org/explore/annual/measure/Suicide/state/ALL) .   Estimates are that up to 36% of Americans will undergo a major depressive episode in their lifetimes. That’s over a third of us.  Look around you.  Are you aware of who in your community has suffered serious depression and who has not?  Even if it is a little less than 1/3 in this room who have suffered depression, that is still quite a few people here, in this place, who have experienced debilitating depression at one time or another.  Do you know who those people are?   Are you aware of who might be in this room right now who might be experiencing a severe depression? 

And perhaps the bigger question: if not, why not?  How should we respond to this crisis?  And, as a people of faith, what does it have to do with our faith, with our relationship with God, with our call to serve God’s people?  In the first passage we read today we see Elijah going through a major depressive episode.  Even the prophets struggled with this.  But how are we to respond?

And to point out the obvious, depression is just one of many different mental illnesses.  The church should be a place of welcome, or healing.  And so we must know how to respond to these mental health issues in our community. 

               Theologian Frederick Buechner said, "It is absolutely crucial, therefore, to keep in constant touch with what is going on in your own life's story and to pay close attention to what is going on in the stories of others' lives. If God is present anywhere, it is in those stories that God is present. If God is not present in those stories, then they are scarcely worth telling."  So, in light of that, I choose to share something with you, with permission, that was written by someone I know.  I will not use a name, not because you know the person, but because this could be anyone and I want you to hear it in that light:

               They wrote, “When I was a teenager, I went through a depressive episode that came very close to ending in suicide.  It came close enough that I had a plan, I had acquired the means, I had set a time and place.  The reasons that sent me there don’t matter.  What prevented me from doing it that day also doesn’t matter.  What matters is what I learned from that experience.

               The first is that mental illness is not about being weak.  Depression, which is the illness I struggled with, is not something that you can just “snap” out of or that a happy day can make go away.  It is insidious, it changes not only the way you feel but the way you THINK about life, about yourself, about the world.  I absolutely believed while in that state that the world would be better off without me, that while my family might feel some pain at my loss, ultimately they would be happier with me gone.  I could not shake that thinking.  People telling me to “just get over it” deepened the depression because I was incapable of feeling better.  I could not make myself feel better or have a happier outlook or be more positive.  Sometimes I could name reasons for feeling like that, but other times I couldn’t and therefore nothing in my experience could or would fix it.  I felt helpless, hopeless, and was incapable of eating, sleeping or functioning “normally” in any kind of way.  But I was not weak.  The fact that I got up every morning in spite of those feelings, the fact that I carried on every day in the face of those strong demons telling me my life was worthless was a sign of my deep strength.

               Second, the stigma around it made it nearly impossible to get help.  Granted, this was a few decades back when we did not know as much about depression, but I believe much of the stigma around it continues today.  People are ashamed to admit when they are struggling with any kind of mental illness and that makes it very difficult to get help.  As I said before, mental illness is not about weakness.  It is a medical problem, a medical condition.  And until we start treating it like any other disease, not something to be ashamed of, but something that needs our help and care, it will be hard to treat.              

Third, and along those same lines, mental illnesses are isolating.  I have always heard the biblical phrase, “to those who have much, more will be given.  And to those who have little, even what they have will be taken away” in the context of mental illness, not as something God does to us, but as a reflection on the reality that it is those most in need who often have the hardest time getting the help they need.  People who struggle with mental illness need support and care.  And yet, not only do people with those illnesses struggle to ask for the help they need, when they finally do, they find that often people respond by distancing themselves. Those most in need of the care and attention of others are often the least likely to be able to get it.  I hope this is changing, but as a kid struggling with clinical depression, I learned that if I wanted to be around other people, I had to hide my depression, hide it completely.  I had to learn to put on a “face” that others could not see behind.  Once that face has been learned, it is almost impossible to unlearn.  If I were dealing with depression today, few would know it because that early lesson in hiding that depression remains with me still.

And finally, I learned that the most well-meaning people are often the ones who do the most damage.  Those who say, “cheer up” or “buck up” or “smile” added to the pain.”  I want to pause here and share with you all a wonderful commercial that’s been on the TV recently for an on-line therapy program.  A man says into the camera that he is really struggling with depression, but that “fortunately, those around me are there to help.”  It then cuts to various people saying things like “You have so much to be happy for!” “Just snap out of it!”  “Fake it til it feels normal!”  “Cheer up!”  “It’s all in your head”  “Think of all those who have it worse than you.”  “It’s because you’re a leo!”  And after all of their comments we return to the person struggling with depression just staring bleakly at the camera in complete disbelief as the words “not helpful!”  flash across the screen.

People are trying to help, but you can’t just not feel depression when you have it.  The same is also true of social anxiety or any of the other mental illnesses.  Telling someone, for example, with anxiety to “just don’t worry about it!” will never stop them or help them to have less worry!

My friend’s letter continued, “But the ones who were hardest to deal with were the people of faith who told me that if I just turned it over to God, everything would be fine.  That if I really had faith, I would not be suffering.  That God had blessed me with so much and that my depression was a sign of a lack of gratitude for all God had given me.”

In several of the gospels there is a narrative that describes a “demon” that Jesus says can only be gotten rid of by prayer.  While the demon described sounds a great deal like epilepsy to me, I have also wondered if mental illness isn’t also one of these “demons” that can only truly be cured, at least at this point in time, with God’s help.  It can be TREATED with medication, counseling, friendship, meditation.  But I think it is something that can be CURED only by God.  We don’t know how to fix it yet.  We just don’t.  Even so, sometimes those prayers for cure are answered with “No”.  As my friend continued, “I prayed constantly for God to take away the depression, but it remained.  I asked different people how to pray, thinking maybe I just wasn’t praying right (this idea came because one of these well-meaning people told me if I had been praying “right” that I wouldn’t be depressed anymore).  I tried gratitude prayers, thanking God for removing the depression before it was gone.  I tried surrender prayers.  I tried “not your will but mine” prayers.  I tried everything anyone suggested in terms of praying and nothing “worked”.  But those well-meaning people of faith with their ideas about my lack of faith being the cause or at least preventing the cure of my depression did again a whole lot more damage than anyone else.  Their lack of understanding and compassion, their righteous judgment and impatience with my pain – all of that led me much more quickly to the place of contemplating and planning my own suicide than anything else.”

               So what do we do with this?  As people of faith, how are we called to respond?  People who are struggling with mental illness have a hard time asking for help.  Putting it onto them, demanding that they seek the help they need is like asking a person who is carrying a 100 pound backpack to lift another 100 pounds.  It can be the hardest thing in the world to reach out when you are in that place.  So, as people of faith, we have a responsibility.  We have a responsibility to ask, to look, to see.  We are called to be courageous, and to say the hard words, “are you struggling?”  and then the follow through, “are you considering hurting yourself?”  We have to be brave and start seeing mental illnesses as the diseases they are and offering the help we have to give, not in terms of platitudes about “letting go” or “turning it over” or “bucking up” but in terms of offering to sit with someone, be with someone, listen to them, even when we can’t “fix” it.  This is true of social anxiety as well: just telling someone not to worry fails to recognize that anxiety is not something people CHOOSE.  It is therefore extremely unhelpful to just tell someone with anxiety to simply “don’t worry about it.”  We have to be willing to offer the prayers to God on behalf of that other person, asking what we can do to help.  We also have to be willing to intervene, step in and take the person to the doctor for treatment, even when there aren’t cures.  Mostly, we have to have the courage to not turn away or look away from that which makes us uncomfortable or uneasy.  We have to be willing to put aside our judgments, knowing we don’t and CAN’T understand what someone else is experiencing.

               Mental illnesses – these are struggles that appear to have no meaning.  The loss of life, lives like Robin Williams that were full of laughter and compassion and philanthropy – there is no purpose to these deaths.  But we can help God bring good out of every evil by choosing to learn from those horrible things that have happened, to change the way we interact and care and respond to others, to take a step towards healing our world by being present enough with one another. 

               In today’s gospel story from Luke we see Jesus dealing with the demons, which appear to me in this case to be more about mental illness.  In some ways being able to refer to them as demons made it easier: these mental illnesses were recognized as something the person had, and not the person themselves.  Can we do the same and remember that each person is more than just their illnesses?  Their challenges?  Their struggles? 

I also want to challenge all of us to think about this differently.  The truth is, not one of us is 100% healthy.  We understand this at a physical level.  Each of us has something wrong: we are overweight, or we have osteo-arthritis.  We have need of glasses or hearing aids.  We have high blood pressure or diabetes.  Even as kids, some have broken arms, some have anxiety attacks: whatever it is, not one of us is 100% physically healthy.  And I would say the same is true mentally.  Not one of us is 100% mentally well.  Not one.  Whether you are struggling with anxiety, or fear; whether you deal with your pain by swallowing it down or flying into rages; or if you have a diagnosed issue such as depression or bipolar disorder: None of us is 100% mentally healthy which means that all of us are on a spectrum of mental health.   This isn’t an issue of “us” vs. “Them”.  For some of us the illness might be diagnosed or treated.  For others it might be as simple as being afraid or dealing with anxiety.  But not one of us here is mentally “whole”.  We are on a continuum, and the sooner we can stop dividing the world into those with mental illness and those without, the sooner we can learn to have compassion for those around us who are struggling with serious mental illness.  In today’s passage from Galatians Paul tells us that in Christ there is no Jew or Greek, male or female, slave or free.  He is telling us that in Christ there is NO Us and Them.  This applies to mental health as well.  There aren’t “those with mental illnesses” and “those without”.  In Christ we are one.  We are all connected, we belong to one another.  And the sooner we can remember that, the more compassion, the more grace and the more wholeness there will be, for me, for you, and for the world. 

About a year and a half ago we offered a training here through zoom in how to deal with those who are struggling with mental illness.  I have to give you all credit that the training was well attended.  In many congregations when these things are offered, they are not well attended because people do not want to talk about mental illness.  People are afraid of those with mental illness, seeing them as somehow different, or other. But I think so many of us here were willing to attend the training because we are used to interacting with it, dealing with those who live next door to us, for example, who struggle with mental illness.  None the less, I say again that this is an area in which we have to continue to learn, continue to grow in our ability to address and care for those in our midst who struggle with mental illness.  And that has to start by remembering they are not “other”.  They are us. 

So once again, it comes back to what I said before: Mental illnesses can be demons which seem almost impossible to tame at times.  But we can be present.  We can pray.  And we can learn to stand with and fight with our brothers and sisters in their pain.  I will stand with you if you are there.  And as a community we can make a commitment to stand, as God’s people, with one another.  Amen.

Suffering

 

1 Peter 4:1-19

Malachi 3:1-3

Matthew 5:43-48

 

“There stood Beethoven, gravely ill and totally deaf.  Eyes closed, he kept conducting the orchestra even after they had ceased their performance and the audience had risen to its feet in thunderous applause.  As a singer stepped from the choir to turn him around to see those whose shouts of “bravo” resonated throughout the concert hall, tears of elation filled his eyes.  Perhaps the worst loss a composer could experience had been the catalyst for a remarkably adaptive creativity that allowed him to transcend his tortures to become immersed in the thrill of conducting the premiere of his Ninth Symphony, the “ode to Joy”.  At that moment, and not only in spite of but BECAUSE of his adversity, Beethoven had experienced the thrill of thriving through adversity.”  _ prelude of “Beethoven Factor”

I’ve found myself thinking a great deal about suffering lately.  And today’s passages really explore it and call us to look at it once again.  There is a Christian Education study entitled, “If you want to walk on water, you’ve got to get out of the boat” which explores many aspects of stepping out in faith to walk as Jesus has called us to do, with God and each other.  The study explores our fear, the risks we take, how we perceive failure and also what we do with suffering because when we do take the risks of stepping out of the boat and stepping onto the water, there will be times when we suffer as a result, when we fall into the water, when we fail.  Even though we know there will be suffering, we are still called to do it.  We are still called to step out, take the risks of faith, go through the fire to come out on the other side, purified.  In one of the chapters, John Ortberg looks at what he calls the “resilience factor”.  He wrote, “People who not only survive but grow through difficult situations have (been found to have) three qualities in common:  1.  They take action, seeking to reassert some command over their destiny rather than viewing themselves as helpless victims.  2.  They have a larger-than usual capacity for what might be called moral courage – for refusing to betray their values.  And 3.  They find meaning and purpose in their suffering.” 

In the book, the Beethoven Factor, the new positive psychology of hardiness, happiness, healing and hope, Paul Pearsall says a similar thing, especially in regards to finding meaning and purpose in suffering.  He says that some people who suffer don’t become victims or even survivors, instead they become thrivers, people who actually grow through and because of their pain and suffering.  He lists twelve characteristics of such people, but many of them also have to do with finding meaning and purpose.  Number one on his list is that he says those who thrive rather than just becoming survivors, or staying always as victims have found meaning behind the things that have happened to them, though for each individual that will look different.  He also says that thrivers make sense of what has happened or is happening to them.  In other words, both of these studies emphasize again and again the importance in finding meaning and purpose in our suffering if we are to come out stronger, thriving and resilient on the other side.

For much of the Western world, suffering seems pointless.  Our culture tells us the purpose of life is “fun”, or happiness.  And in that context, suffering can have no meaning.  As a result, many people in our culture have a very difficult time when pain does come.  Where is meaning and purpose in suffering when the goal is just to “be happy”?

But our faith paints for us a very different picture.  The Bible never tells us that life is about being happy or comfortable or at ease.  Meaning and purpose have many levels and many layers and therefore we can’t say there is one reason or one purpose behind any individual’s suffering, we can’t determine for anyone else what their suffering is about, or why it is happening or what good God can bring out of it for any one person.  None the less, what we can and do know as people of faith is that God can and will bring purpose, meaning and new life out of suffering if we work with God, if we are open to God’s movement through the pain.  God creates meaning even when we can’t find it.  God brings resurrection out of death.  And for me, today’s passages really touch on the “reasons”, the purpose, the meaning behind all that we suffer.  The passage from Peter says that God uses suffering to “test” us.  I don’t really like the word “test” because for some that can imply that God authors our suffering to see how much we can put up with.  That isn’t my experience of God.  The God I experience does not create our suffering, but can use it to help us to grow, and to change.  And that is actually the truer meaning behind the Greek word that is here translated as “test”.  It is more accurately translated “challenge” in the sense that God uses our suffering to challenge us to grow, to learn, and to deepen in our connection with God and with life.  I find the same meanings present in the Malachi passage.  Our suffering can refine us.  As John says, it also “prunes” us.  Our suffering can lead us to be more godly, but only if we are open to the purpose God can put into it, open to being “refined” through the hardships. 

As Rick Warren, author of Purpose Given Life said in an interview, “We were made by God and for God, and until you figure that out, life isn't going to make sense…Life is a series of problems: Either you are in one now, you're just coming out of one, or you're getting ready to go into another one.  The reason for this is that God is more interested in your character than your comfort; God is more interested in making your life holy than (God) is in making your life happy.  We can be reasonably happy here on earth, but that's not the goal of life. The goal is to grow in character, in Christ likeness.”

As we know, this isn’t easy.  Malachi tells us this isn’t easy when he compares the process to the pruning of branches, to the refining of metals.  Growing in character means loving more fully, more deeply, even those we don’t like.  Getting there is hard.  And knowing exactly how to do this, how to love more deeply and fully is a challenge.  So God pushes, God “refines” us and “prunes” us so that we might bear more fruit, so that we might be the pure, refined silver we are meant to be.  That hurts.  It just does.  But that also gives meaning to the suffering that comes.  Again, I’m not saying that God causes our suffering.  What I am saying is that when we do suffer, God can use it and DOES use it to refine us if we are open.  While I don’t believe God purposely wants us to hurt, I do believe God can bring and create meaning through our suffering by allowing it to teach and refine us into more godly people. 

Some women in a Bible study came across this passage from Malachi, “God will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.”  One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study. That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work.  She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining Silver.  As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up.  He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities.  The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says:  'He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.'   She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time.  The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire.  If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed.  The woman was silent for a moment.  Then she asked the silversmith, 'How do you know when the silver is fully refined?'

He smiled at her and answered, 'Oh, that's easy -- when I see my image in it.'

   “…When I see my image in it”. 

God refines us until we are truly in God’s image.  What an amazing and wondrous act of love on God’s part, to be with us in that suffering to the point where we are truly made in God’s image.  To be in the image of the God of love, is to love.  To be in the image of the God who loved us so much that that God was willing to die for us, is to love each other so much that we are willing to die for each other.  Not easy.  But that is what being in relationship with God pushes us towards, and challenges us to do.

At one church where I shared this story, one of the congregation’s members approached me afterwards and said something that I also think can help us through times of suffering.  She said, “How hot it must be for God to sit there and refine constantly.”  That is the other part of Jesus on the cross as well.  God is with us in our pain, God is with us in our suffering.  And God is standing alongside in the heat, also suffering but still intent on helping us grow through and beyond our trials.

  A Hawaiian elder once said, “God sometimes tears at the fabric of our lives so that we will learn to be better weavers and to show us how to more deeply appreciate being given the chance to weave.  We may not see the final pattern, but we are wise if we try to find new patterns and become more patient and creative weavers.” (Beethoven factor, xxviii)

And it doesn’t end there.  As the passage from Peter tells us, “After you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, the one who called you into his eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will himself restore, empower, strengthen, and establish you.”  So finally, the other side of suffering comes.  We are refined, we are made new, and in that newness we are brought to healing, to strength and to a stronger place.  Thanks be to God.

 

 

 

Peace I Leave You

 

John 14:25-31

               The passage that we heard from John today is part of Jesus’ speech on the night before he was killed.  Throughout his speech, throughout the evening, his disciples were asking questions about his “leaving” them.  First Peter, then Thomas, then Philip, then the other Judas (not Judas Iscariot)… all were worried, all were upset, and all were asking for clarity, for understanding about this upcoming death that Jesus told them would be coming.  They also bargained, denied, argued with Jesus about what was to come.  But Jesus was clear and firm.

               In the face of their concerns, their fears, their lack of understanding and their grief, then, Jesus’ response was repeatedly to tell them, in different ways, that they were not being abandoned.  He reassured them that he would remain with them through the Spirit, that his relationship with them, though different, would not be over.  He told them they did not need to be afraid, and he offered them his peace. 

               All of this caused me to think on our own experiences of loss and death.  When we know that someone we love and truly value is going to die, that someone is going to leave us, we, too, like the disciples feel fear, anxiety and pain.  As much as that person’s death is about them, and as much as we say we rejoice that they will no longer be in pain, that they are beyond suffering, or as much as we express concern for them at their dying, we also have our own fears, our own grief, and our own experiences and feelings that we must deal with.  Sometimes those can blind us to the pain of the person who is actually dying, actually leaving.  Sometimes it causes our focus to be very inward rather than outward.  Sometimes we even express those normal stages of grief; anger, denial, bargaining, as the disciples did with Jesus, before the event even happens.  And sometimes we require the person who is dying to do the comforting, as strange and as somehow backward as that must sound. 

               But this is very human, very normal.  None of the disciples comforted Jesus.  None of them even could stay awake with him when he needed them to be with him in his final hours of anxiety, grief and prayer.  No, instead, he was required to comfort them, to reassure them that his death was not the end of the relationship, that it would continue, though in a different way.  He would be with them through the Spirit’s presence, as he promised here.  And rather than focusing on his own feelings of loss, he was tasked with the job of comforting, reassuring, and holding those he loved in these his last moments with them.    

               But the peace that Jesus offers is much more than this.  This peace is not just absence of conflict.  It is also not a peace of simply having nothing to be upset about.  So what else does this peace entail?

First, It is a peace that includes forgiveness.  Just as, when we pass the peace in church, it is supposed to be a response to our prayer of confession and acceptance of God’s grace, God’s forgiveness, the peace that Jesus offers is one that is intended to relieve us from our shortcomings, from our failures, from our lack of wholeness.  It is, above all else, a peace of the Holy Spirit’s empowerment. 

I found myself reminded of something Craig Barnes wrote, “Complaining is usually a veiled lament about deeper issues of the soul. Since most people are unaccustomed to exploring the mystery of their own souls, they will often work out their spiritual anxieties by attempting to rearrange something external - like a church's music program. But it doesn't matter how many changes they make to the environment around them. They will never succeed in finding peace for the angst of their soul until they attend directly to it... (That is why) to be of service to the Holy Spirit, who is at work in human lives, the pastor can never reduce ministry to servicing parishioners' complaints about the church.”  So when Jesus offered peace, he was also offering a peace that called them to attend to their own issues of the soul.  These disciples, as we know, were very far from perfect.  They didn’t understand things, they weren’t always supportive.  And Jesus’ peace calls from them growth, calls them into a deeper understanding and commitment.  This is a peace that remembers our connection and that sends his disciples, therefore, out in mission, out to do the work of healing and caring for one another.

               That offer of peace, therefore, included his own offer to them of forgiveness as well, for their lack of support for him, for their lack of understanding, for anything they had failed to do and anything they had done that was less than loving, less than supportive.  His peace was a call on them to accept that forgiveness, and to strive to move into wholeness.  His peace, again, was a call towards their action of mission in the world, doing what they were called to do. 

               But peace is even more than this.  Bonhoeffer said it this way, “There is no way to peace along the way of safety. For peace must be dared, it is itself the great venture and can never be safe. Peace is the opposite of security. To demand guarantees is to want to protect oneself. Peace means giving oneself completely to God’s commandment, wanting no security, but in faith and obedience laying the destiny of the nations in the hand of Almighty God, not trying to direct it for selfish purposes. Battles are won, not with weapons, but with God. They are won when the way leads to the cross.” 

               As my bible study discussed this last week, it’s deeply connected to what Archbishop Elias Chacour talks about when he translates the Beattitudes.  Jesus “peace” is deeply connected to the “blessing” that he speaks of when he speaks the beatitudes.  To quote Archbisop Chacour, “Knowing Aramaic, the language of Jesus, has greatly enriched my understanding of Jesus’ teachings.  Because the Bible as we know it is a translation of a translation, we sometimes get a wrong impression.  For example, we are accustomed to hearing the Beatitudes expressed passively: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.

‘Blessed’ is the translation of the word makarioi used in the Greek New Testament.  However, when I look further back to Jesus’ Aramaic, I find that the original word was ashray from the verb yashar.  Ashray does not have this passive quality to it at all.  Instead, it means ‘to set yourself on the right way for the right goal; to turn around, repent; to become straight or righteous’.

How could I go to a persecuted young man in a Palestinian refugee camp, for instance, and say, ‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted’, or ‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of justice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven’?  That man would revile me, saying neither I, nor my God understood his plight, and he would be right.

When I understand Jesus’ words in the Aramaic, I translate like this:

Get up, go ahead, do something, move, you who are hungry and thirsty for justice, for you shall be satisfied.

Get up, go ahead, do something, move, you peacemakers, for you shall be called children of God.

To me this reflects Jesus’ words and teachings much more accurately.  I can hear him saying, ‘Get your hands dirty to build a human society for human beings; otherwise, others will torture and murder the poor, the voiceless, and the powerless’.  Christianity is not passive but active, energetic, alive, going beyond despair.”

               With this understanding, some might not be as interested in this peace that Jesus offers as they might have been a minute ago. 

               I am reminded of the article I shared with you last week from reader’s digest, about the boy who stole a wallet being helped by bar owner to retrieve what was lost.  He also gave the kid a home with his family and a job.  The owner of the wallet also forgave the boy.   This is what peace for the bar owner looked like: it looked like taking action, working for the wholeness and healing not only of himself, but for all those around him. 

               The peace of Christ is not just being content with your life.  Jesus was offering comfort, yes, but peace is far beyond that.  It is not just comfort.  It involves healing.  Healing from fear, healing from grief, healing from the terrible things that happen and that people suffer in this world.  But more, that healing, that gift of peace that is given to you, to me, to all of us: that healing is not just for you.  We are called to be carriers of that peace, to pass it along in our actions, in our work, in our very attitudes in the world.  We are called to be bearers of that peace.  To heal, to mend rifts, to work towards wholeness, for individuals and for the world. 

 

What Is Right Vs. What Is Expedient

 

Psalm 146

John 19:1-16a

               In today’s scriptures we hear a very difficult passage which is usually only read on Good Friday, if it is read at all, because it is so very hard to hear.  It is hard to hear because it is graphic, violent, and tragic towards Jesus, of all people, who did nothing but love those around him, heal and help those around him, and encourage us to do the same.  It is also hard because we hear Pilate’s struggle, and may recognize in it some of our own.  When the pressure is high to act in one way, it can be very difficult, even when you know it to be wrong, to choose to behave differently. 

               I have a friend who joined Noom.  Noom is the newest, latest, supposedly most effective, weight loss program out there.  One of its gifts is that it teaches a lot of psychology to people who are struggling to change their patterns and habits, and to find a healthier way of life.  My friend was sharing with me that a couple NOOM sessions were discussing the fact that our eating is greatly influenced by those around us.  Part of human psychology is to match the behaviors of the people around you, even with things as simple and easy as food.  So, if the person sitting with you at the restaurant orders an appetizer, you are much more likely to also order an appetizer.  If the person next to you is ordering a dessert, or a drink, you are also much more likely to do the same.  Even the main meal itself can be greatly influenced by the choices of those around you.  When you read the menu you may have one item in mind to order, but if everyone else orders first, their choices often affect our own: “ooo, that sounds good!” we say, “I’ll have the same!” 

               This behavior, of copying, mirroring or matching the behaviors of those around us extends far beyond food choices, though.  Sometimes this happens in healthy ways, and sometimes not.  If those around you exercise, you are much more likely to also exercise (a good, healthy thing).  If those around you relax by sitting in front of the TV and mindlessly eating, you are much more likely to do that (obviously not such a healthy thing).  Whatever it is: if the folk around you play games, or read, or do puzzles.  If they pray, go to church, vote: all of these affect and influence our choices.

               NOOM’s suggestion, then, when it comes to our physical health, is to be the first to order, or the one to set the trends of exercising more or moving more.  Be the one to help those around you make healthier choices.  The NOOM staff also suggest planning ahead: go into the restaurant with some idea in your head before-hand of what you plan to eat and be intentional about reminding yourself that you do not have to do what those around you do.

               But what happens when you can’t plan ahead?  What happens when something unexpected happens?  And what happens when the pressure is HIGH to do something specific, to behave in a very specific way?  We have a really hard time saying no.  For lots of reasons.  We want to be liked.  We don’t want to lose our influence or connections.  We want to be respected and trusted.  And it is just part of our human DNA to do so.

I’m not talking here so much about facing normal temptations.  Normally we are tempted by things we want.  But that’s not what this sermon or today’s scripture is about.  Pilate here is not being asked to do something he enjoys or wants to do, so this isn’t a normal temptation.  This is simply pressure from the community to do something he doesn’t want to do, and that he feels is wrong.  Even in his high position, even as the ruler and leader of the people, he cannot escape the pressure and he caves in to it.  Think about how much more strongly that pressure effects us when it is our boss, or people we love and care about, or a community of people who are of greater or equal influence on us? 

In my pastor circles we talk about the pressure to preach sermons that won’t upset or even challenge people too much.  We have pressure to not alienate or scare people.  Even when scripture points out to us important things that we should be saying, the pressure to “make nice” or avoid ruffling feathers can be difficult to resist.  And like Pilate, we justify it in many ways: I can’t speak on this because it will split the church.  I can’t say it this way because people will leave.  But again, is that what we are truly, deeply called to do?  Is it what Pilate was truly, deeply called to do - to ignore his inner voices telling him this was wrong?  We often react with what is expedient over what is right.  It is very, very tempting to act in the ways others want us to act.  It is much harder to stick to our beliefs and to act with integrity in the face of the pressure to do otherwise. 

The prophets struggled with this too.  Jeremiah didn’t want to do what was right, he knew it would cause him to be unpopular so he said he was too young.  Moses didn’t want to do it, so he said he couldn’t speak, Jonah didn’t want to do it so he ran away.  Even Peter was impacted by those around him when he denied Jesus three times.  He knew acknowledging his connection to Jesus could get him killed, so he denied him. 

Our stories of heroes tend to be those who stuck to what they knew was right and chose to act despite their subsequent unpopularity.  And we know what happens to those folk.  MLK ended up murdered, Ghandi ended up murdered. Jesus ended up murdered.  People who stand up against what the masses want end up dead.  And Pilate?  We don’t know what would have happened if he had refused to do what the crowds demanded.  But my guess is he was afraid, maybe mortally afraid, of the consequences if he ignored the pressure from the crowds.  Is it any wonder that he resisted?  Is it any wonder when we resist?  That we are so easily influenced by those who demand we behave in a certain way, even when we know they are wrong? 

I invite you to think for a minute about a time you may have been pressured to do what you knew (or strongly believed) to be wrong by those around you.  How did you react?  What did you do?  Did you cave in?  And if you did, how did it feel?  If you didn’t, what happened then? 

Ronald Richardson in his book, Creating a Healthier Church, (p 59) wrote, “In Germany in the 1930’s there was a very high level of anxiety.  The primary source of this anxiety, but not the only one, related to the chaotic economic conditions.  The Germans are an intelligent and well-educated people.  But as their anxiety went up, they were increasingly attracted to the simplistic ideas of the Nazi party and Adolf Hitler, who offered, as the cause of Germany’s problems, Jews, communitists, [LGBTQ persons], and others whom he saw as social misfits who diluted the quality of what he called the “pure Aryan race.  In the midst of so much anxiety, the majority of the people lost their ability to think clearly, put aside their own deep spiritual beliefs and values and participated in a social/political movement that heped them to fell better and more confident about themselves.  They gave up many of their beliefs to go along with the ‘party line’.  Dictators thrive in situations where people are anxious, and so the Nazi party was voted into power.”

Pilate, even as he stood in power, was experiencing a great deal of anxiety when faced with the pressure to kill Jesus.  And so he did it.  He could not resist that pressure even in the face of his own convictions about Jesus’ innocence.  He could not choose what was right over what was expedient, simple, and the path of least resistance. 

Few of us are the heroes who choose integrity and what we believe to be right in the face of those loud voices and strong peer pressure to choose something different.  And sometimes the issue is that we honestly don’t know what is best.  We know what we believe to be right, we know it doesn’t feel good to be pushed to act contrary to what we think is right.  But, if you are like me, in the face of high pressure we can doubt our own sense of the world, our own convictions.   When we really don’t know for sure and when the pressure is high to behave in a way contrary to our own inner voices, what do we do in those moments? 

James Baldwin said, “Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”  When we are struggling to know what to do, we should always fall back to doing what is most loving.  What is most kind.  What is most compassionate. 

               But there will be times when we can’t.  And then?  The Good News in this is always God’s abundant forgiveness and continuing call on our lives.  Just as Jesus forgave Peter for his denials, God forgives us.  Just as Jesus, from the cross, begged forgiveness for those who had killed him (which included Pilate), God forgives us.  But God also doesn’t leave us there.  We are asked again to do what is right.  We are called to try again to act with integrity despite the pressures around us to behave differently. 

               That may not feel like good news.  But it is.  God is not calling us to do what is “right” just for the world’s sake, though that is part of it.  God calls us to do what is right for our own wholeness, our own well-being.  So even when we mess up, God gives us another chance, and another, to try again.  Again, we have to remember that even Jesus understood this.  “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do,” he said.  And I believe he said that with all conviction. 

               Our invitation is to trust our inner voices.  Our invitation is to always choose love.  Our invitation is also to forgive ourselves for the past mistakes we’ve made and to move into the future with the determination to do better next time.  God has loved you into being and God will love you into the next opportunity to walk towards wholeness.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

        

Was Blind But Now I See

Psalm 27

John 9:1-41

2/27/22

           How many of you would consider yourselves skeptical people?   I freely admit, I am a skeptical person, or rather, I’m a person who looks at things seriously before just blindly accepting them.  That doesn’t mean I’m not open to learning about some new or even old belief system that those around me think is important.  Growing up here in the Bay Area, I have known and still do know people who are into many different spiritual practices and as I’ve gotten to know these folk, I’ve taken the opportunity to learn about their beliefs and to try to understand why they believe what they do.  So, I’ve learned about Christian Scientist beliefs, I’ve learned about many of the new age beliefs such as Tarot cards, crystals, past lives, astrology and all sorts of stuff that those around me and perhaps some of you hold as dear, true and important.  I’ve listened to my friends’ experiences, but then I’ve also done reading, and studying, trying to understand.  I had a minor in religious studies in my undergraduate schooling because I wanted to know how these beliefs came to be, how they held up, how they measured up.  But more than that, I think some of the major questions that carried me through my learning about other faiths were: In the face of adversity what do these beliefs offer? In the face of suffering how deep do the beliefs go?  And most importantly, do these beliefs promote God’s love and life or do they, in the end, no matter how interesting or “true” a belief may seem on the surface, actually contribute to human suffering, to death, or to a pulling away from the God of life and love? 

          For example, I have an acquaintance who was very into Tarot cards and used them as a guide for daily life.  Generally, this didn’t seem to do too much harm.  But one day her dog became very ill.  Consulting the Tarot cards, the death card emerged.  Because she absolutely depended on the tarot cards to tell her “truth” she did nothing for the dog, assuming that it was set by fate that the dog would die.  Fortunately, her husband did not feel the same, took the dog to the vet and after a few weeks on antibiotics, the dog was fine - and continued to be fine for many years.  Her absolute unfailing belief in the tarot cards blinded her to her options, to choosing life, not only for herself, but also for her dog and for those around her who loved her dog. 

            Another example: I have a friend who believes absolutely in Karma and by “Karma” he means that people who are suffering are suffering because of something they have done: if not in this life, then in a past life.  Because he believes this, absolutely, he will not help those who are suffering, those who are poor, because he believes they must reap the consequences of their karma and if he helps them now, they will have to live through more pain in their next life.

            Personality charts - whether they are determined by the stars or even by tests, can have the same unfortunate effects.   It is possible that they may help us gain understanding about ourselves or others.  Personally, I’m a big fan of the Enneagram which is a spiritually developed understanding of our personalities that can allow us to know ourselves more fully.  But I find that often the people who refer to these personality charts end up using them as a weapon, to box people in, to judge people, to decide who they are and what is best for them as well as themselves.  Another example, I met an acquaintance some years back who would not consider being my friend until she had my astrology chart done.  According to my astrology chart, I am a “popular” person who is shallow, into clothing and jewelry, and because of these shallow values, I can’t stay in a relationship of any kind long term.  My chart said some other interesting things as well, but these were the points which struck my new acquaintance.  It didn’t matter that I pointed out to her that I’d had the same best friend since child-hood as well as other long term close relationships or that all of my clothing was either hand-me-downs or gifts because I don’t have an eye for or even care very much about what things look like as long as they fit.  She had read my “chart” and decided that the stars had determined who I was – a person not fit to be her friend. 

         Another friend of mine chose when to get pregnant based on astrological charts, wanting certain specific personality traits for her children.  One of her children is a Taurus and though she is the least stubborn person in their family, my friend insists that she is the most stubborn because of when she was born.  She can’t see her daughter for who she really is, but instead allows these charts to tell her who her daughter is.  When we do this, we can fail to really see who is in front of us, and even the possibilities for ourselves about who we can be, and who we are called to be. 

         The truth is, there is danger in any belief system if it is adopted without constant question, without growth, without study, without vigilance against “magic” thinking and superstition.  Fundamentalist or legalistic thinking from any religion is dangerous.

          None of the major religions are exempt from the possibility of this kind of superstition either.  Christianity too, risks the danger of falling into that kind of magic thinking.  Prosperity theologians tells us, for example, that if we only do x,y,or z then God will bless us and our families.  This is a magic formula which will supposedly produce magic results.  In the Old Testament, especially perhaps, we are presented with many of these magic ways of thinking.  One of the early magic beliefs is reflected in today’s passage from John which shows an old but faithfully held belief at the time that any kind of disability in a person was proof that either that person or their parents were sinners.  This kind of magic thinking offered much - it offered stability, even offered comfort because it explained things and gave an impression of control in one’s life that otherwise would have been hard to claim.  All you had to do to ensure that you would not get sick, struggle with a terrible disability, produce children born blind or with another disability was to follow the laws to a tee, to be without sin yourself.  And since none of us is capable of perfection in our lives, when something did go wrong, it was easy to find the cause in our own behavior. This gave the illusion of absolute control in an uncontrollable world. Everything was “fair” in this world because anything bad that happened was a result of your own sin.

            But we now understand that sin is usually not the cause of disease, natural disasters, or disabilities.  Of course, there are exceptions: if a mother does not take care of herself nutritionally or in other ways when pregnant and this leads to a disability in the child, we could say our sin caused the disability.  But Jesus here quickly points out that disability is not always caused by sin, and it is not our place to make those judgment calls as regards other people.  Again, this kind of magic thinking, and this holding of unscrutinized beliefs, even in Christianity, can lead away from life, and instead to condemnation, to judgment, and to hurtful, life-harming actions.

          Generally speaking, then, I think that skepticism can be healthy - it can lead to truth, or steer a person away from magic thinking, from unfair judgments on others, from superstitions.

          However, as science also teaches us, things that are observed, are scrutinized, are watched, are also changed in the very act of being observed.  There is danger at times in being too skeptical, too questioning.  For the study itself changes the thing being studied.  When we question another’s experience, we can cheapen their experience.  We can reduce God-infused, meaningful life events down to facts, to cold hard “truth” that is empty of beauty, empty of purpose, empty of life.

          In today’s scripture lesson, this is what has happened.  A miracle had taken place - a blind man had found sight.  But instead of finding themselves touched by the joy, the beauty, the amazing gift of this new life, the truth present in the miracle that comes to each of us every morning we wake, every day we allow something new to change us at all, instead of this, the Pharisees needed facts.  Interestingly, it wasn’t the miracle happening that caused their skepticism.  It was the fact that Jesus performed the miracle that caused their discomfort and discontent.  Jesus was not legalistic, he did not adhere to the Old Testament rules surrounding what could and could not be done on the Sabbath, he did not fit into their image of what constituted a holy man, and because of their rules, and their ways of ordering and understanding the world, some of the Pharisees could not accept that Jesus was a man of God who could help another person to see.  So, they questioned, they grilled, they took some of the joy and life from the man who was given the gift of sight by insisting on questioning him again and again, finally criticizing him, discounting him, and rejecting him.  Ironically, in their search for “truth,” they lost the meaning of the event completely, they lost the joy of the new life, they lost the gift of wonder and awe, and instead found themselves mired not only in fighting with each other, but in blindness to the wondrous and beautiful presence of God around them.

          In the movie "Chocolat" those people who represent truth in the form of rules, those who stay in a way of life that is tranquil or correct, those who embrace cold hard fact, none the less are the very people who act without love.  They gossip, they pass on “truths” with a judgment that leads to the shunning of others.  They tell the “truth” through eyes that see anything that doesn’t fit into their rules as wrong and in need of correction.  They don’t welcome the stranger.  One of the men who represents this way of life beats his wife.  But then he dares still to call the wanderers who come into his town “animals” and he refuses to allow them into his place of business.  He eventually sets fire to their boats, destroying property and threatening lives.  In contrast, those in the movie who didn’t follow in the path that is expected, who didn’t follow the rules, welcomed in the woman who had been beaten, visited the strangers and gave them work.  They invited laughter, friendship, care.  They invited life.  That’s not to say that they were perfect or without sin.  But in the bigger scheme of things, it was the outcasts who invited life and love into the town, and it was the people who were following the rules who failed to act with love.  In the end, the outcast and rejected even welcome those who have persecuted them; they even offer to the one who would throw them out care and comfort.

          I have shared with you before the story of how the hymn “Amazing Grace” came to be written, but it is worthy of repeating, especially in light of today’s scripture.  John Newton was the captain of a slave ship when slavery was profitable and “popular” among the elite.  But after several years he went through a conversion experience.   After his experience he went to seminary to become a pastor and developed a more Christian understanding of slavery.  He came to see it for the evil it is and to condemn it and fight against it. 

   He became a pastor to other sailors, teaching them about God’s love for all and God’s hatred of slavery or anything that oppresses and hurts God’s people.  His song “Amazing Grace” is autobiographical as he talks about the blindness that kept his focus on money and fame rather than on the love that God would have us share.  “I was blind, but now I see” is probably the most famous line in the song, in part because most of us have experiences of enlightenment at one point or another, in which the values we held, the lifestyles we’ve adopted, or the beliefs we have held onto so tightly break in the face of hard but deep truths.  These truths are sometimes beautiful, sometimes they are ugly.  But at some level, the very reaching of those truths can set us free to live differently, can set us free to see, really see God’s presence and life all around us.  In the case of John Newton, it forced a complete change in his life and he became an advocate for God’s justice for all people. 

So what is this truth we are called to face?  This truth we are called to see?  The truth is love; the truth is that we are called to be part of that love, the truth is that it changes us, all of us for the better.  The truth is God’s love was and is incarnate around us if we have eyes to see, ears to hear, and a mind open to receiving it. 

For one Faith and Film night we showed the movie "Spit Fire Grill."  For those of you who haven’t seen it, it is a wonderful and thought-provoking movie about redemption, and forgiveness, among other things.  In it the main character, Percy, comes to a small town looking for work after having just been released from prison.  While we don’t know the details of her experience until pretty close to the end of the movie, we do know that the conviction which landed her in prison was for manslaughter.  But while she is, by every standard, someone to be feared, someone to avoid, someone about whom we should have the greatest suspicion, she has an uncanny way of bringing new life, hope, and strength into the lives of those around her.  Her nemesis in the movie, though, Nahum, cannot see beyond his preconceived ideas of what this foreigner, this ex-con, this stranger must be like.  He cannot get past his skepticism, his cynicism, his fear for what she will bring to his family and his town.  As a result of his actions trying to prove her the villain he believes her to be, his life is lessened and eventually other life is lost as well.  He believed himself to be standing in truth while all around him were blind.  But his skepticism blinded him to beauty, it blinded him to love, it blinded him to opportunity, and in the end, it just plain blinded him to real truth.  His facts were correct - she was an ex-con, convicted of manslaughter and a foreigner to their town.  But the truth went deeper than those facts.  In the end he faced that truth, but not before a huge cost had been paid.

I think the pastor in "Chocolat" in his Easter homily sums it up very well.  He says this:

“I’m not sure what my homily should be.  Do I want to speak of the miracle of our Lord’s divine transformation?  Not really, no.  I don’t want to talk about his divinity.  I’d rather talk about his humanity.  I mean, how he lived his life here on earth: his kindness, his tolerance.  Listen, here’s what I think: I think we can’t go around measuring our goodness by what we don’t do, by what we deny ourselves, by what we resist and who we exclude.  I think we’ve got to measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create and who we include.”

            It’s not an easy journey to put aside our preconceived ideas of what people, what God, what you and I are like.  But when we can, when we can put aside magic formulas, boxes and judgments, when we can put aside our fear of the things that don’t fit neatly into our categories, we are free to be God’s people, a people of light, a people of sight, a people of hope, and a people of love.  Amen.