| Rector’s
Sermon
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| Every year on this day of all days I am convicted by the wisdom of Jesus. He tells me I am anxious about too many things. I don’t give up without a fight, however, by reminding Jesus I have good reason to be anxious or “worried,” as in when he says, “I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink…” Now I never argue with Jesus about what I will eat or what I will drink today, but I am a product of the culture T.S. Eliot coined “The Age of Anxiety.” Let’s start with the obvious ones: the economy. Despite the recent stock market gains I know for a fact that all of us continue to be anxious about the length and depth of this recession, the fact that we are still in double-digit unemployment, that the housing market teases us with some upticks only to concede that foreclosures are still a reality and tons of people owe more than their houses are worth. So even if we’re not worried for ourselves necessarily, there is a general sense of dis-ease when so many others are suffering and disheartened. Then there’s global instability and warfare that feels like a Cold War leftover with that period in our history which threatened nuclear annihilation. Quite apart from North Korea and Iran’s nuclear capabilities, the United States, Russia, the Ukraine, Western Europe, not to mention India and Pakistan and China, when put all together do not spell “M-o-t-h-e-r.” The world still possesses the capacity for total annihilation. Add to that the continuing war in Afghanistan where some 30,000 more troops will be sent, a war that will add $1 million per year per soldier to our horrific budget deficit, a war that could prove to be Barack Obama’s Viet Nam. I am anxious to hear his strategy speech next week. Then there is the environment. I am anxious about the 27,000 plant and animal species per year that are threatened with extinction. I am anxious about global warming and its effect on weather patterns that are already proving to be so destructive and unpredictable. I read somewhere something about the state of Florida either having an average of 23’ above sea level or the fact that the highest point in the entire state is 23 ‘ above sea level (?). What would a 2 or 3-foot rise in the ocean levels do to all of Winnetka’s snowbirds? It’s frightening to consider how billions and billions of years of evolution that has created such beauty and variety and a harmonious habitat for animals and humans alike could in just a few years be altered irrevocably because of human hubris run amok. So, Jesus, I’ve got lots of reasons to be anxious and what do you know of recession or terrorism or global warming? In all honesty, I can well imagine Jesus responding to me, “I had plenty to worry about, you little snot! I’ve got all these people thinking I’m going to save them from the crushing oppression of Roman occupation by—guess what—terrorism. Who do you think are getting crucified, literally, by the Romans? Jewish zealots, patriots, like Barabbas who are arrested for murder and insurrection. And I have the Temple to worry about because once again the Temple and Jerusalem will be leveled to the ground and faithful, innocent people will be homeless and dispersed, people who thought I might have saved them from that particular holocaust. Plus I have disciples who cannot understand the nature of the kingdom I have come to proclaim and who are just as anxious as you are, so don’t tell me I don’t have my fair share of reasons to worry. And pay attention to my insistence that your opportunity is gratitude, that your healing is thanksgiving.” So here we are. It’s Thanksgiving Day, and I have reason to breathe slowly, to lower the temperature, as it were, on my worryometer, to take stock of the fact that I can breathe in and that I can breathe out and that every breath can be in praise of God who created and sustains me. Elsewhere in the Bible I am also told to be thankful in everything. I remember the story of Corrie ten Boom, a Dutch Christian who was arrested and sent to a concentration camp for harboring Jews. She wrote of her experiences in The Hiding Place, and how when she was arrested and placed in a concentration camp her Christian faith sustained her in even the most degrading conditions. She remembered how the Bible had taught her to give thanks in everything, and she decided that even the bedbugs that made their lives a misery deserved thanks for some as yet unknown purpose in her life. She later came to understand that her little group of Christians were left free to pray because the German guards did not want to incur the bedbug infestation their prisoners were forced to endure. Now I don’t believe God is asking us to be thankful for the recession or for international hostility or for environmental disaster. Quite the opposite. Nonetheless, Jesus says if I can keep my eyes and my heart fixed upon the Kingdom of God, I will find a way through those valleys of the shadow of death with tastes of that kingdom available to me at every turn. I have that opportunity here, this morning. We have a wonderful church, both its building and its people, that strives for beauty and compassion and nurture for the soul. And whether or not I have my family here—I do have Bev and Elizabeth and Mike but not Marnie and Matt—nonetheless, I have the knowledge of their love for me that despite my failures they can forgive me and enjoy my company and appreciate my successes. That’s the Kingdom of God for me. And atwhatever tables we will be gathered around later today, I am assured that this table welcomes me and feeds me whether I deserve it or not. It is these kinds of realizations that for me represent seeking first God’s kingdom and God’s righteousness. It is these kinds of things that reduce my anxiety and increase my “attitude of gratitude.” And the more I dwell on these things the stronger I am, the more equipped I become to face all those other challenges that are oh so very real and will not go away. But perhaps because I am thankful I can be a part of the solution rather than part of the problem, finding some peace where there is so often no peace, counting my blessings and my riches in a culture convinced of its deprivation, enjoying God’s creation so as to position me just a little bit better to sustain it. Those things are the Kingdom for me, a lavish spread of good things God wants me to enjoy. |
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