SERMONS

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Sean Gilbert – 29/11/09

Christ Church, Luke 21:25-36

Open to Outcome

I wonder if you’ve ever noticed the Dali Lama’s ever present laughter.  At every opportunity, no matter how serious the topic of discussion may be - Tibetan persecution or the hope of political freedom from China - there is spacious room for humour.  (Significantly, there is also space for not knowing the answer to any given question; humorous in itself to some degree).  For at core in his practice of Buddhism lies the daily discipline of detachment, that attractive human capacity to deeply care yet caring from an objective or a non-overly invested place.  He remains open to the shifting ground of reality and is therefore free to respond honestly, compassionately and wisely to life in general.

Now as casual observers, we might think this is all a bit light weight or frivolous.  We might even ask ourselves, is he the real deal like our Jesus who seemed to be pretty intense about all things religious?  Or at least, as are his followers, such as serial preachers like myself!

Angeles Arrien makes this telling observation about the human condition:  “If we observe what causes us to lose our sense of humour, we can identify our point of attachment (and by that she means an over investments in things, circumstance and people).  Where we maintain our sense of humour is where we are detached and can remain flexible.”  

Football followers come readily to mind here, don’t you think?  Such is the deep level of investment we store in our team to win, please don’t mess with me when they don’t.   In my case, that’ s more often than not and it isn’t funny at all!

Well, maybe not, but realistically the birds will sing up the sun tomorrow morning.  There will be a match next week or next year, as the case may be. More disquieting, I think, is the lack of freedom within and without that is felt by the person at such moments and how that then negatively impacts on those around them! 

Translated into far weightier human affairs than mere sport, attachment to outcome(s) can result in relational dysfunction on small scales and outright warring between nations on a large scale.  For when the mind, heart and will is fixed on what should or will be, rather than what might possibly be, something has got to give or break, because reality itself is never so certain.  Fear, anxiety or the need to control will ultimately turn off the tap to love or they will simply moderate it, letting it flow only in so called deserved installments; the very antithesis of what we understand the unconditional love of God to be.

Just listen to these few poignant lines from the wisdom of Wendell Berry, describing our modern society’s fixation with objectives/outcomes and how that can undermine the very foundation of human love and community:

I visited the offices where for the sake of the objective
the planners planned at blank desks set in rows.
I visited loud factories where the machines
were made that would drive ever forward
toward the objective.
I saw the forest reduced to stumps and gullies;
I saw the poisoned river, the mountain cast into the valley;
I came to the city that nobody recognized because it looked like every other city;
I saw the passages worn by the
unnumbered footfalls of those whose eyes were fixed upon the objective….

 

Every place had been displaced, every love
unloved, every vow unsworn, every word unmeant
to make way for the passage of the crowd
of the individuated,
the autonomous,
the self-actuated
the homeless
with their many eyes opened only toward the objective
which they did not perceive in the far distance,
having never known where they were going,
having never known where they came from.

There exists an insightful Zen saying that reads: “True mastery can [only] be gained by letting things go their own way, it can’t be gained by interfering.”

This rings true, I believe, to the central teachings of the Christian faith and its author:  “Consider or notice the birds of the air,” said Jesus, “they neither sow or reap and yet…”  Or, from our text today, “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation (eating to excess) or deep drinking and the anxieties (attachments) of this life.”   In other words, here also is the ironic or humorous teacher, if we would listen, clearly identifying for us the anxiety driven attachments that we struggle with, hence an inherent difficulty of living freely, joyfully and compassionately in the here and now. 

For me, this begs the question of spiritual and emotional disciplines, whereby openness and a healthy sense of detachment need to lie at the very heart of who we are as a Christian community and what essence or flavour of spirituality we practice here on a weekly basis; for each other and the community at large. 

Thomas Merton certainly took this principle to heart, yearning that the Christian Church would plumb the depths of spiritual life and not simply skate around on its surface.  In one of his prayers that I’ve used here on more that one occasion, he says to God, “You have taught us that if we are open to one another you dwell in us.  Help us preserve this openness and to fight for it with all our hearts…” 

For openness is about encountering each other as we truly are, it is not about holding one another captive to who we think they should be.  It is the gentling, open hand policy, as respectful encounter always leads to the distinct possibility of a grace flowing into a harmonious, common future.  Presumption and possession (the closed hand policy), leads only to deep unhappiness and inevitable conflict.

So when we stop and think about it, the pivotal prayer of Advent, Maranantha! or Come, Lord Come, is reflective of our best and deepest desire to remain open and hopeful within life, not overly attached to it; open to new possibility, new perspective, new found compassion for self and others, wherein even the oldest canines, so to speak, learn new and valuable tricks. 

The God of Jesus, the Spirit of Jesus, dwells most vitally in open, vulnerable and yearning hearts; wherein exists a flexibility, a spontaneity, the capacity to laugh at our absurdities, a hopeful creativity, and perhaps most importantly of all, an abiding trust, even against all the evidence to the contrary, that all shall be well, all manner of things will be well, irrespective of our best laid plans. 

That is not to say we become lazy or not future orientated. Heaven forbid and certainly that is not the tone of today’s Gospel reading, rather we seek to remain awake – attuned; alert to possibility for good and lasting change, either on a local or global scale.

(You know) I am keenly aware of the paradoxical nature of this teaching.  For it is about holding two equally valid things in creative tension: investing in life, yet also it letting go, reaching toward the future but not seizing it.  So often in the church, at least as I have experienced it to be, and to avoid such so called complexity, we gravitate toward a shallow pragmatism, that so far as hope might be concerned, it is usually expressed as, “let’s just get out there and change the world.”  Objective!  Objective!  The trouble being, of course, is that very often, what we take with us is as rigid and demanding as the systems and people we are intent upon changing.  Have you ever noticed that about the church?  Our level of self-awareness is appalling low at times. 

Being genuinely open to a hoped for outcome implies that we will be changed, often profoundly in the unfolding, unpredictable processes of life.  And I believe that such openness to transformation and outcome makes all the difference to the quality and drawing power of our worship, to the depth and joy of our community life, and the effectiveness of our outreach or mission. 

By being genuinely surprised by the gift that is Grace over and over again, we learn to flow with it as it opens new doors before us, we learn to be still and to wait for the right moment to speak or to act and we learn to let go and laugh at the storm.   Carried by life we do become life bearers for others.