SERMONS
Christine Battjes – 30/8/09
August 30th, 2009 Mark 7:1-8, 14-1, 21-23 & James
1:17-27
A few weeks ago I woke to the sound
of something
pounding against the window in my living room.
Even though I was waking from a deep sleep and was still a bit groggy,
I knew the
sound was coming from a robin
who
had been attacking the window for the last two days.
Robins, the Michigan state bird, are extremely territorial.
Only six robins can live within the space of a football field –
American
rules or Australian rules, it doesn’t matter to the robins –
defending
their territory is a matter of life and death.
This particular robin saw its reflection
in the glass
of my window and perceived a threat to its territory.
Something about this robin drew me in
and I got
out of bed and sat on the couch to watch him for a while.
The robin would begin his territorial dance
by stamping
around on the railing of the deck;
back
and forth, back and forth he pranced,
and
he fluff up the feathers on his body and head
to
make himself appear larger than he really is.
Then he would take a flying leap at his perceived enemy in the window.
Bang!
Stunned, but still flying,
the robin
would flutter backwards
with
his feet sticking out toward the window.
When an immediate counter attack didn’t come from the bird in
the glass,
he would
fly to a nearby maple tree,
assess
the situation, fly back to the railing,
and
begin the battle all over again: stomping, fluffing, attacking, fluttering…
As I watched, I started to see myself in that robin.
I could recall my own times of misperception:
times when
I sensed threat where none existed,
or defended
self-righteous opinions with puffed up feathers,
or did battle
against myself at the cost of self.
In these times it is nearly impossible
to be doers
of liberating love
because
our actions are coloured by misperception about ourselves and others.
Jesus taught the Pharisees that having the right heart-set is essential
to faith.
When the heart does not see and remember that it is love
our attempts
to do the work of love can be as ineffective, and even destructive,
as
a bird throwing itself against a window.
Thankfully, every once in a while,
we have
a mirror placed in front of us that gives us an image of who we truly are.
Through significant people and events we can see a reflection of our
heart –
and there
we find the very presence of God shining out.
Then we can let go of that which we are not
so our actions
flow from the sacred radiance within.
One such mirror was held up to me when I witnessed my first infant
baptism.
I was raised in an evangelical, holiness tradition
that stressed
the importance of living a Christian life
which,
as a zealous child, I understood to mean
the
achievement of moral perfection.
I don’t know how many of you have ever tried to be perfect
at the tender
age of 14, 15, 16… or 40, 50, 60…
but,
as we all know it is impossible.
At the age of 23, I already felt worn out
from the
effort, the failing, the bargaining, the guilt.
In fact, even though I was getting ready to go to seminary that fall,
I had yet
to be baptized because it felt like
one
more thing I had to do gain approval.
I decided to get a fresh perspective on faith
by attending
a different church for a while
and,
on one of these Sundays, the community celebrated a baptism.
I watched intently as the young family gathered around the font,
holding
their 6 month-old daughter, Sarah.
The parents answered some questions
and the
pastor spoke of a steadfast love without conditions.
I distinctly remember hearing the words,
“We
can do nothing to earn God’s love,”
and
it was like I was hearing them for the first time.
Water was poured from a pitcher into the font
and Sarah
was carefully placed in the pastor’s arms.
Holding Sarah tenderly, the pastor reached into the font,
brought
water out with her cupped hand,
and
gently dripped it down Sarah’s head three times.
As the water poured back into the font,
I caught
a glimpse of my own reflection in the shining water
and
knew that I, too, was already loved by God.
I left that service more aware of the sacred beauty within me
than in
all the years of striving for some illusive goodness.
And it was through Sarah’s baptism
that I was
actually able to begin living a liberated love
in
my relationships, in my ministry, and in my daily interactions with others.
Such mirrors of transformation come in the shape of a word of love,
a sacred
relationship, a profound experience,
a
vision that comes during a moment of stillness,
or
a pilgrimage to someplace like Australia.
In these times the love within becomes obvious to us
like the
pure white petals of a lily
or
the gold blooms on a wattle bush
and
we can do no other than live out of this love.
We have already remembered what we look like on the outside,
now I invite
you to remember your inner beauty;
the
beauty of your heart.
In these few moments of silence,
I encourage
you to hold the heart-shaped mirror –
look
into it if you like –
and
listen to the voices that affirm your beloved nature.
Who or what reminds you that you are love?
What is the colour and shape of the presence of God within you this
day?...
May we become doers of the sacred love within us. Amen.
