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| My lovely friend Corinne and I, shortly after completing our first clinical internships in 2010. She is the friend/colleague mentioned in this sermon, and I am still grateful for her listening ear and good advice! |
I have many updates about racing and training, which I will try to post within the next couple of days. First, though: a sermon!
I preached this at my home church, St. Andrew's UMC in Edgewater, MD last Sunday, 8/12/12. This sermon came from a very different writing process than previous sermons. Normally, I look up a sermon text at least a month in advance, sometimes even more. Then, I spend a few weeks just thinking about it. Sooner or later, an idea emerges about what I have to say about the text. I try to start actually writing a minimum of two weeks in advance, because I find that my best sermons come when I write a little, think, and then write some more.
Not this time. As I have mentioned in sermons before, I choose to preach using the lectionary (for an explanation of that, click
here.) At least 90% of the time, this feels like a good idea. This summer, however, is part of that 10% of times when I find myself asking why I insist on making things hard for myself. For reasons beyond my comprehension, this year's lectionary cycle includes a stretch of four weeks where the Gospel lesson is basically the same every week. This year, from July 29th-August 19th, every week's Gospel lesson is from John, chapter 6, and they are all about how Jesus is "the Bread of Life." What's even more fun is that (in my opinion) the readings get less interesting and more repetitive every single week. For the first two weeks, we get stories. John tells a story and the crux of the story is "Jesus is the bread of life." For the second two weeks, the stories disappear. Instead, we get readings where Jesus spends 10 or 15 verses saying "I am the bread of life. Come to me and never be hungry, because I am the bread of life. Have I mentioned that I am the bread of life? Bread of life." (I'm paraphrasing here, but not by much.)
Why does the lectionary do this? I have no idea. An optimist might say that the bread of life message is so important we need to hear it four times. Someone more cynical might point out that church attendance drops in the summer, so repeating the lesson four times ensures that most church members will hear it at least once.
Now, I really can't complain too much about this, because I only had to preach on these readings once. My very hard-working and talented friends who are full-time clergy had to preach on these readings for four weeks in a row. Bless them. However, I will complain just a little that I got assigned to preach in week three of this cycle. By week three, pretty much everything that can be said about the bread of life has already been said... which brings me to my writing process.
When I sat down in church on July 29th, I already had a working draft of my August 12th sermon in my head. I knew I was preaching on the bread of life, and that the phrase "never be hungry" was in the text. At that point, I was a week into my latest round of Weight Watchers and struggling with constant hunger. BOOM! Metaphor! Physical hunger vs. spiritual hunger. I knew exactly where to go with that... and, apparently, so did my pastor. That morning, he stepped up to the pulpit and delivered the sermon I had mentally drafted. What's more, he delivered it well. Curses. Back to the drawing board.
A busy 10 days or so passed, and suddenly I found myself at August 8th without a word of my August 12th sermon written. I had a kernel of an idea in my head, but I was unsure about it because (a) it was very confessional, and (b) I wasn't sure it would make sense to anyone but me. By August 11th, I knew I had to use my risky kernel of an idea because I had nothing else. I sat down that afternoon to write, thinking I would be working until 1 or 2am. A mere three or four hours later (before dinner!), I was finished. This sermon practically wrote itself. And I like it. And the church liked it.
So, maybe the people who compiled the lectionary knew what they were doing!
John 6:35, 41-51 35Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty… 41Then the Jews began to complain about him because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” 42They were saying, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” 43Jesus answered them, “Do not complain among yourselves. 44No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day.45It is written in the prophets, ‘And they shall all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me.46Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father. 47Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. 48I am the bread of life. 49Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. 50This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. 51I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”
Desire:
John 6:35, 41-51 Three years ago, before I met my fiance Andrew, I dated a man who was interested in Buddhism. He was longing for a more spiritual life, and he thought Buddhism might be the right path for him. Given the fact that I’m standing here right now, it probably won’t surprise you that I’m pretty interested in religion myself, and not just Christianity. I wasn’t interested in converting to Buddhism, but I was certainly interested in learning about it. So, for several months, I read about Buddhism too.
I know that Pastor Dave has an interest in Buddhism, because he’s mentioned it in several sermons over the years. He’s even brought in a Buddha statue as a visual aid. Pastor Dave recognizes that Buddhism is its own distinct religion, with its own distinct history, beliefs, and practices. Still, he sees a lot in Buddhism that’s relevant to Christianity.
Having done my own reading about Buddhism, I can understand where Pastor Dave is coming from. Buddhism is not Christianity, but there are many Buddhist teachings that sound a lot like Jesus’ teachings. This week’s Gospel reading is a prime example. For the past few weeks, we’ve been hearing Gospel readings from John about the Bread of Life. Our lectionary has reminded us over and over again that the food of this world is limited. Often, we don’t have enough of it to feed everyone. And even those who do get enough to eat are only satisfied for a short time. No matter how much we eat the food of this world, we will always be hungry again. Our lectionary has also taught us that the Bread of Life is different. Jesus offers a kind of nourishment that will satisfy us forever. Even better, the spiritual bread that Jesus offers is unlimited. There is enough and more than enough for everyone in the world.
By this point, after hearing these readings for weeks, the message should be clear: striving after the things of this world- indulging our worldly hungers- will never bring us true and lasting satisfaction. We can only find that kind of satisfaction by striving for something beyond this world. Matthieu Ricard, a modern-day Buddhist monk, defines “happiness” as “a deep sense of flourishing that arises from an exceptionally healthy mind. This is not a mere pleasurable feeling, a fleeting emotion, or a mood, but an optimal state of being.” To me, that sounds an awful lot like what Jesus is talking about when he talks about the Bread of Life: a soul-deep satisfaction that can last forever, completely different from the momentary pleasure we get from worldly things.
When I read about Buddhism, this was one of the ideas that really resonated with me. There are many different schools of thought within Buddhism, but almost all agree that striving after worldly things is a sure route to unhappiness. As human beings, we all have wishes and wants. We might want to make more money, or buy some nice furniture, or lose some weight. There’s nothing wrong with wanting these things, but we get into trouble when we convince ourselves that having those things will bring lasting happiness. What actually happens when we get what we want?
How many of us have gotten a raise and then increased our spending so that we used up the raise and then some? What happens then? We decide we need another raise! Or how many of us have saved up and bought a new sofa? What happens when we bring it home? We put it in the living room and sit down on it feeling satisfied… and then we take a look around and notice a few things. The brand-new, nice sofa sure does make our old coffee table look lousy. And it really brings out flaws in our paint job or the stains on our rug. The next thing we know, we have to redecorate the whole room! And what about losing that weight? As most of you know, I’ve been on that journey with Weight Watchers for almost 10 years now. During that time, I’ve seen a lot of overweight, lonely people with unhappy lives make some dramatic changes. I’ve met people who lost 50lbs, 100lbs, and more. I’ve also seen many of those people learn the hard way that losing weight only changed one thing: how they looked on the outside. Once the weight comes off, these people realize that they still have a lot of hard work to do in order to change how they feel on the inside. Losing weight turns out to be only one step on a long road to true happiness and peace.
Matthieu Ricard, the Buddhist monk, describes a person caught up in an endless cycle of wants this way: “If I have more than I could possibly need and I am still not happy, happiness must be impossible… Living on a pendulum between hope and doubt, excitement and boredom, desire and weariness, it’s easy to fritter away our lives, bit by bit, without even noticing, running all over the place and getting nowhere.” I think we can all look around our world today and see countless people living this way. I suspect that we can all look at our own lives and find times when we live this way. And I’m sure the fact that we’re all taking the time to be here at church this morning means that we want to do things differently. We want to find a higher purpose for our lives.
So how do we do it? Some Buddhists argue that our biggest problem as human beings is desire, and the answer is acceptance. As long as we want, we’ll never be happy with what we have. One of the wisest sayings I read in a Buddhist book is this: “Those whom summer’s heat tortures yearn for the full moon of autumn, Without even fearing the idea that a hundred days of their life will then have passed forever.” When we focus all of our attention on what we want in the future, we miss out on all of the blessings of the present. I think Jesus is saying the same thing when he tells us not to worry about what we will eat or wear because God will provide for us just as he provides for the lilies and the sparrow. Jesus wants us to stop worrying about what we may or may not get in the future. That way, we can appreciate the blessings and opportunities of the present.
Obviously, I’m very comfortable these ideas. I’m 100% persuaded that striving endlessly after momentary desires is a bad idea, and not just because Jesus and Buddha said it. I’ve seen in my own life and the lives of others that it doesn’t bring happiness, and it often has a ton of negative consequences. But there was a place in my Buddhist reading where I got stuck, and it was about desire. I accept that the desire for money and things is often dangerous, and I agree that most of us would be happier if we could live in the moment instead of endlessly worrying about the future. But is all desire bad? And should we never think about the future?
When I look at my life, many of my greatest blessings came to me because I had a desire and I focused on the future. My education is probably the best example. Growing up here in Edgewater, I always dreamed of traveling to other places, meeting new people, and learning new things. My favorite activity was reading. Through reading, I got to experience totally different people, places, and lifestyles. The fact that I loved to read and learn meant that I liked school, and I did really well there. Gradually, I figured out that school could be my ticket to the places I wanted to go. By the time I was in middle school, I was already dreaming about college. I had a vision of myself at an elite school, in a new place, surrounded by people who loved learning as much as I did. I thought going to a good college would be the beginning of a life where I could travel to interesting places, have adventures, and meet interesting people.
And you know what? I did it! I worked hard all through school and focused on my goals. I got into a great college and my dream of being with other smart, passionate people came true. I worked hard in college and after college, and I got into to graduate school at Yale- an experience that went beyond my wildest dreams. My work life hasn’t disappointed either. 20 years ago, I thought I would be some kind of globe-trotting writer or English professor. I never imagined I would be a pastoral counselor. But what do I do every day? I go to interesting places and listen to the stories of interesting people. Its not the adventure I imagined, but its definitely an adventure. I have a great life, and a good part of what led me to this life was having a desire and keeping my mind on the future.
All through my reading about Buddhism, I struggled with these questions. If desire led me to so many good things, how can it be bad? How can acceptance always be good? If I had just accepted my life the way it was when I was a child, I never would have experienced so many great things.
I found answers to these questions from some unusual teachers. My teachers weren’t Buddhist monks, or even Jesus. My teachers were the women I was counseling at that time. Back in 2009 and 2010, the time when I was engaged in my study of Buddhism, I was also engaged in my first clinical counseling internship. My clients were women who had experienced domestic violence. Talk to anyone who works in the field of domestic violence and they’ll tell you that domestic violence affects all kinds of people. I certainly found that to be true. I worked with a poor, uneducated, young white woman. I worked with a wealthy, educated, older black woman. I worked with married mothers, single women with no children, and teenagers. My clients were a diverse group, but they also had many things in common.
Pretty much all of my domestic violence center clients had a difficult, unresolved relationship somewhere in their past. Some lost a parent at an early age. Others had a parent who was distant, abusive, or unfaithful to their other parent. One lost a close friend to suicide as a teenager. Whatever their experiences, all of my clients carried around a lot of unexamined anger, guilt, and grief. Also, most of my clients had been in more than one abusive relationship. Many shared a similar experience: they escaped their first abusive relationship vowing never to be abused again. They tried to choose partners very different from their original abusers. Yet, despite their efforts, they found themselves being victims again and again. Finally, none of my clients stayed single for long. Those who had been through the harrowing process of leaving an abuser would immediately start looking for a new partner. Even those who had not left their abusive partner would confess that they had been thinking about old flames or developing an interest in someone at their work or in their neighborhood.
I found myself giving these women the same advice over and over: “Slow down. Take some time to be alone and learn about yourself. Deal with your past traumas. Become a different kind of person if you want to attract a different kind of person.” When I said these things to my clients, I often got the same answer: “But I want a relationship. I want a relationship and I want a family, so why shouldn’t I seek those things?”
I was very familiar with these pieces of advice and these responses even before I started working at the domestic violence center. I knew them from my own life. I am very fortunate in that I haven’t experienced an abusive relationship like the women I counseled. However, I did spend many years of my life focused on finding a relationship and having a family.
Throughout my 20’s, I experienced many blessings in my education, my career, and other aspects of my life. But instead of appreciating those blessings, I often focused my attention on something else that I wanted: a partner and a family. Like so many of my clients, I developed a negative pattern: I would meet someone, have a relationship for 6 months or a year, invest all of my energy in that relationship, and be devastated when it didn’t work out. Then, within a few months of each breakup, I would meet someone else and the cycle would start again. During this time, many wise friends advised me to take a break: to spend some time alone and invest some energy in other areas of my life. I would always rebut this advice with the same argument: “But I want a relationship. I want a relationship and I want a family, so why shouldn’t I seek those things?”
Finally, I think God got tired of watching me make the same mistake over and over. In 2010, while I was reading all about eradicating desire and practicing acceptance, and while I was counseling client after client to slow down and take time to herself, something happened. My boyfriend the Buddhist came to visit me one Saturday morning after his weekly meditation. He explained that he had achieved a moment of clarity and insight during his meditation: that we should break up.
As per my usual pattern, I was devastated. But that was the only part of this breakup which followed my usual pattern. By the time I went back to work on Monday morning, I knew that I needed to make a change. Before my clients arrived for the day, I sat with one of my fellow therapists, crying over the breakup, and told her that I had achieved an insight of my own. I realized that I could not be a hypocrite therapist. I could not tell client after client to take a break from dating and work on other areas of her life, and then not do the same myself. So, before my friend and colleague, I made a pledge: no dating for 6 months.
At the time, 6 months felt like an eternity. I had just turned 30 when I made this pledge and I was terrified of postponing my search for a partner. What if I didn’t meet someone in time to have children? But then, just as I advised my clients, I got invested in other areas of my life. I signed up for a challenging second-year clinical internship. I spent time fixing up my house. I joined committees here at St. Andrew’s and got my stalled ordination process moving again. I turned my on-again, off-again exercise habit into a daily commitment. Pretty soon, I felt like I was too busy for a relationship! I wound up renewing my 6 month no-dating pledge for another 6 months, and then another and another.
On the day I met Andrew, I had been single for just over 2 years. In that time, I had done what I always urged my clients to do: I had become a different kind of person. And sure enough, I attracted a different kind of person. Andrew is one of the greatest blessings to ever come into my life- the kind of blessing that can only come from God. And the path I took to meet him taught me a very valuable lesson: that God brings us blessings in God’s own time.
This reminds me of another wise teaching from a book about Buddhism. The authors encourage readers to think of our lives like newly-planted gardens. A newly-planted garden is full of seeds, but we can’t predict which ones will grow and which ones will die. We might really, really want a particular plant to grow into something great, but we can’t make it happen. We can’t reach into the ground and pull it up by force. And if we spend all of our time and energy focused on one plant, we risk neglecting the others. The best thing we can do is water and tend to all of the plants, and then wait to see which ones flourish.
In the garden of my life, I spent years trying to pull the “relationship” plant out of the ground, while neglecting all of the others. Once I stared spreading my attention around- giving some to my career, some to my spiritual life, some to my friends, some to my health- blessings started sprouting up everywhere. And the blessings I have now are not the kind that make me happy for a short time and then leave me wanting more. These are the kind that bring deep, lasting satisfaction- the Bread of Life.
I think Jesus and the Buddhists have one more valuable thing to teach us about real and lasting satisfaction: its out there, calling to us. We just need to listen. In this morning’s text, Jesus says “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me… Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me.” This is about grace, and as United Methodists, we believe in grace. We believe that God is out there, calling to every human person, inviting us into relationship with God. All we have to do is slow down, put our endless wishes and desires aside for awhile, and listen. Why do you think Buddhists spend so much time in meditation? Why do you think Jesus spent so much time away from the crowds, alone, in prayer?
God knows that we long for deep, abiding happiness and peace, and God will guide us on our journeys to achieve that peace. But God can’t guide us on the road to happiness if we’re too busy trying to guide ourselves. There’s nothing wrong with desiring happiness, and there’s nothing wrong with taking action to achieve that happiness. But the most important action we can take to achieve happiness is letting go of what we desire for ourselves, and asking what God desires for us.
Amen.
