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SERMONS Sean Gilbert – 20/12/09 Before we launch into the fourth and final way of Angeles Arrien, I want to retrace our steps a little, to help create a context and pave a way toward something of a conclusion. Our context, of course, is Advent, yet so often the prayer of the season, Maranatha (“Come Lord Jesus”) is either lost in the blinding rush toward Christmas Day (the finishing line), or held to be of little relevance so far as real life is concerned. My assumption about the Maranatha prayer is that we are consciously inviting the willing and merciful presence of God into the nitty-gritty of our lives, the nooks and crannies, the storage bins and musty attics or basements; the places, I’m saddened to say, that are not often named or specifically addressed either in worship or preaching. And yet, these are the very places from where human motivation, will, habit and life practices daily spring, whether we are conscious of it or not. Our nightly dreams often make such things vividly clear. Angeles Arrien’s Four-Fold Way, then, gives us some practical and I think, helpful ways forward into a more conscious, integrated, practical and creative life. Something akin to what I understand Christianity ideally to be: A way of transformation, a graced broadening of our being for the benefit of the whole. So, beginning with “Be open to outcome, not attached to outcome” we are faced with a key spiritual principle of being led into life, not driven toward outcome or achievement, and all for the sake of inner freedom and an outer fruitfulness. Detachment is a central Buddhist principle, as it is within the teachings of Jesus. The older I get (closer to death), the more I’m beginning to understand why. “Show up and be present” is about courageously facing life in all of its complexities and ambiguities, standing tall and graciously in the person that we are and are loved by God to be. It demands a great deal from us, daring and honesty for a start, yet guarantees quality of relationships that simply can’t happen magically or in a round about way. We have to show up and be present. “Pay attention to what has heart and meaning” is an invitation to live from deeper places than mere routine or obligation. It is the way of healing and reconciliation, the way of empathy and true compassion between us all. It is the way of true prayer and true religion. And today, “Tell the truth without blame or judgment” takes us well beyond heady ideals, into the realm of embodiment, or in the words of Ghandi, “My life is my message.” Again, it is no mere cosmetic or snappy principle. It is the domain of the Spirit and the function of an open and yearning spirituality; the core essence, I believe, of the Advent Season. So before us this day, stands Mary and her Magnificat. In all probability it is a song placed on her lips by the later tradition, but it really doesn’t matter too much. It is a grateful vision of both God and life that arises from a truthful and free heart. A heart wherein conviction (what is true for her or what is most expansive and life-giving), does not mean a weapon against others. Rather, it is a statement of gracious being, inspiring and supremely hospitable. Truth, in this relational sense, is no mere proposition or an intellectual assent. Telling the truth arises out of the truth that we are already and are becoming: “Speaking with a spirit tongue” as some native cultures describe it. Or, “To fully present ourselves to each other,” as Arrien suggests, so as to “say what is so without abandoning our own ideas or feelings.” Some examples she cites (commonly known as I statements): “I’m so angry and upset right now that I need to take space.” “I feel so judgmental and critical right now that I don’t trust what will come out of my mouth.” “I’m feeling insecure right now and need your reassurance.” In each instance, the personal truth and knowledge is embodied but it is greatly respectful to another’s truth also. There are no blanket statements, harsh or opinionated pronouncements. There is simply an authenticity – an abiding sense of personhood – that understands the place and value of others. In fact, it is seeking communion, not further hostility or just an end to the argument with me being the victor. The Persian mystic Rumi, who I have quoted often this year, says it all so beautifully: Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, I want to sigh deeply when I read that. We tend to expend so much needless energy and anxiety by not venturing out beyond entrenched ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing. That is, justifying our selves by either being critical of others or not taking full responsibility for the one wild life we have been given, blaming someone or something else for our misfortune. To live in the truth of the Christian faith beyond the trenches, is to experientially know how much this “I” is valued, diffusing so much of the pent up human need to criticize or blame. For it is the experience of a truly amazing grace, that despite the inner disparagements and contortions of shame, we are securely held, and from that safe and sacred place there is no need to compete, fight or cower any more. There is an ennobling grace, and correspondingly there is a yielding to another way of being the persons we are. For such grace simply won’t work without the yielding; without the needed surrender. The poet, Denise Levertov in her latter years, gave much attention to the nature of God from within her own life experiences, and is not unlike Mary in her praise. She writes, Thus, not mild, not temperate, She knows first hand about human resistance to grace. She knows the barriers we erect within ourselves and between others that grace simply cannot break through. But she also knows the hope and promise of divine love that will be shed (flooded) irrespectively. And it is that same liberating love of which Mary sings and then proceeds to live her life from, including the birth of her wondrous child. It is no less our song for the living and for relating to this present world without blame or judgment. It is a song of freedom, a song of joy, a song of belonging, a song of service, a song for the betterment of all, the good earth and its creatures included. So friends, at the end of this Advent season, together let us stand in our own wondrous truth. May we not be ashamed of what we have been created to be and may we not allow anyone try and shame us into thinking or feeling otherwise. Instead, may we further learn to live from deep places of authenticity and again see others in that same, entirely new light; the light of good grace, the light of lasting love and beauty. Let us take a few moments for our own prayer and reflection…
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