Security, Power, & Esteem

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
February 25, 2007; 1st Sunday in Lent, Year C
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Luke 4:1-13) -- Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread." Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone.'"

Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, "To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours." Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'"

Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'" Jesus answered him, "It is said, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'" When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.
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I have a friend who lives in the wilderness of having a debilitating and life-threatening illness. He says it has changed his perspective about so many things. He used to worry a lot about his work and deadlines at the office. Not so much anymore. The numbers from his old financial offices -- cash flow and projections -- have been replaced with different numbers -- numbers that evaluate the state of his disease. He says these new numbers are a lot like the old numbers to him. He's still worrying about numbers and their threatening power over him.

Also, he says, little things are more important now. Not having pain. A day with extra energy. The taste of Jell-O. Family and friends. Being able to sleep. Wondering what life will be like without him. Not knowing how to plan when you don't know whether you're planning for life or death. He's doing his best, but there is so much that he can't control. And he feels so useless. He used to be important; doing important things. People looked up to him. Now, everyone who visits must look down on him in his bed. But the visits feel good. He feels loved. Even when no one knows what to do to help. That's his wilderness.

My wilderness seems very superficial when I compare my desert with his. But it is my wilderness. It has its beasts and thirsts. We all have our wilderness. And every one of us lives with some of the same insecurities and temptations that Jesus confronted.

We have needs for security. The tempter tells the famished Jesus, "Command this stone to become a loaf of bread."

We all have needs for some degree of power and control over our lives. The tempter offers the gifted Jesus, "To you I will give the glory of all the kingdoms of the world and all this authority." Think what good he could do with such power.

We all have needs for esteem and the affection of others. The tempter coaxes the loving Jesus, "Throw yourself down from here, for the angels will bear you up so you will not dash your foot against a stone." If the angels love me, they will take care of me, won't they?

Thomas Keating says that these are the three great energy centers of the False Self: our exaggerated needs for security, power and control, esteem and affection. These are all legitimate needs. But out of fear we exaggerate them and create compensating behaviors to make sure we get more than enough security, power, and esteem. Keating says that our true security, power, and esteem is already given to us by God. It is not something we must struggle to attain.

My friend Jay McDaniel says much the same thing using three different words, all starting with the letter "A": affluence, achievement, and appearance. Jay says that these are the things that our culture values and teaches us to value, until they become compulsive in us.

I know all of that stuff is in me -- the exaggerated need for security, control, and esteem; the compulsive desire for affluence, achievement, and appearance. These are the rocks and sand and scorpions of my desert wilderness. And I'll bet most of you experience your own forms of that wilderness as well.

I create so much of my own wilderness. I do it with check lists -- the "to do" list. Even if I'm not looking at the list, I'll start my day thinking unreasonable thoughts. I'll bet I can get this and that and this done today. And I begin to project my control needs into the future, tempted to believe I can manipulate my day and form it in my own image. The crazy thing is that if I act successfully out of my compulsive need to control, and I check off all those things I thought I should do that day, I'll congratulate myself at the end with a great feeling of achievement. I'm happy. It was a great day. I got my list done.

Now, that's not so bad in itself, except that all of these achievement-based forms of happiness have their flip side. If there are interruptions, if some things are more complicated than I first thought, if I overestimate my competence and underestimate the time -- I'm miserable. I berate myself at the end of the day with a terrible feeling of failure. It was a rotten day. I didn't get it done.

Welcome to my wilderness.

What's your wilderness? How do you get sucked up into whatever exaggerated needs drive you? What does security look like to you? What needs for power and control drive you? What do you do to satisfy your needs for affection and esteem? What part of the energy of your day can you chalk up to a desire for affluence, achievement, or appearance?

I know what my best days look and feel like. My best days are the ones that I enter with a light touch, recognizing that it is a gift to be alive. Those days when I acknowledge that God is in control, and I can relax. Time is right now, not what I need to do in the next hour. Each person is filled with the light and presence of God. People are not things to do on my list. On my good days, I do my best and let it go without evaluating or judging. I stop for prayer. I let interruptions happen with open curiosity. I don't worry about the future. Especially about money. I hate to wake up thinking, will the church make its budget? Will we ever raise a half-million dollars for the Seven Hills project. I have yet to solve any of those problems at three o'clock in the morning.

I think that the way out of the wilderness is to go into a deeper wilderness, a deeper place that is touched in silence and solitude. Where things like fasting and prayer and giving come alive in the experience of perfect security, affection, and power.

Thomas Merton says, "In the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, for which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us. It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the indivisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely. I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is everywhere." (A Book of Hours, p. 152; from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander)

I have experienced this point of nothingness which is pure truth. I'll bet you have too. It is the place where hungers cease, all is given, all is one. It is our true home and our true self. "It is in everybody."

Sometimes it happens in a fraction of a second, between breaths or between thoughts. Sometimes it happens when something catches our attention, and for a moment we are completely absorbed, captured, unselfconscious. It happens when we give ourselves to a task or a story or another so that we are totally concentrated and time stands still. It happens when life is given, not grasped; received, not manipulated.

Jesus left the desert to become a nobody. He led no army, he reformed no religion, he built no home, he raised no family. He was virtually unknown except in an insignificant corner outpost of the Roman Empire. He healed a few people, told a few stories, and when he became a bother, he was brutally dispatched. This was the life he was given. So different from the life he was tempted to grasp.

And what of security, power and esteem? Death could not contain him; the Empire bent its knee to him; he became known as love incarnate. This was the life he was given. He freely gives this life to us.
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The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and it's life and mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373

This sermon and others are on our web site at www.stpaulsfay.org
Please visit our partner web ministry also at www.ExploreFaith.org

Blessed are the Advocates

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
February 11, 2007; 6th Sunday after Epiphany, Year C
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Luke 6:17-26) -- Jesus came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them. Then he looked up at his disciples and said:
"Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
"Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.
"Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.
"Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
"But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.
"Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.
"Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.
"Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.
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One of the members of my church in Jackson, Mississippi lost his rather respectable job at the state's largest newspaper when it became known that he was a leader in the state Nazi party. James left Mississippi for a while, and then returned. When he came back, he was welcomed home for the most part, and reincorporated into the parish life. People knew him well enough to know he really was a nice guy despite his bizarre politics. And his wife was an ex-hippy with decidedly leftist tendencies. The community seemed to accept them as an unusual balancing act.

I talked with James about his political leanings. He said, pretty convincingly, that he wasn't against Jews or blacks or gays, but he really thought someone ought to speak up on behalf of white people. In his winsome way he said, "I'm really not against anyone or anything. I'm just trying to be an advocate."

So he gave me his spiel. White folks have contributed most to what makes this nation and this world great, he said. Look at the great inventions, the institutions that we depend on, the jobs, the literature, classical music. "I just think somebody ought to speak up for us and for our people and what we've accomplished," said James.

I was especially thankful for my friendship with James when I got involved in a rather public church-state conflict. I was standing with some friends defending the principle of separation of church and state when we were picketed by a rather large and energetic group. It was covered pretty extensively by the press. The next day my secretary filtered over twenty hostile telephone calls, a few obscene, vaguely threatening. Then James called to say, "I saw those guys marching on y'all on the TV news last night. I know most of those fellows. They're a bunch of Kluxer buddies of mine. I'll tell them to leave you alone if you'd like." I told him I would like that very much, and the calls dried up.

Where James and I found ourselves having to agree to disagree was over the question of whether white folks like us really needed a lot of advocacy. After all, I argued, we are the majority, we run most of the institutions, we've got most of the money, and nearly all the politicians. We are doing just fine, it seemed to me.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating. Those of us who have inherited some of the dominant positions in our culture need to recognize the advantages we've enjoyed as a result of our unearned privileges. It seems to me that we should use some of the power we have been given to advocate on behalf of those who do not enjoy such privilege. Jesus's words in the Gospel today appear to recognize the inequalities of power and to offer a word of God's preference on behalf of the underprivileged. "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. ...But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation." Some scholars argue that these passages would be better translated "how honorable" and "how shameless." "How honorable are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. ...How shameless are you who are rich, for you have received your consolation."

Lynne Spellman's sermon two months ago has stuck in my mind. Lynne discussed philosopher John Rawls' work, A Theory of Justice. Rawls invites a thought-experiment, imagining that we could return to the "Original Position" and create from their beginnings the principles that will govern the fundamental institutions of our society -- its politics and economics. There is one catch. In this experiment you don't know what race or gender or social class you will be in; you don't know whether you will be talented or healthy or attractive or none of the above. What sort of society might you imagine as being fair? What would be your Theory of Justice? One of Rawls' principles proposes that economic inequalities should be allowed only if, because of those inequalities, the least advantaged person in the society would be better off than that person would be if there were a simple, equal distribution of wealth. I've continued to think about that.

But we can't return to the "Original Position," can we? We live in a world of pre-existing inequalities. It is already given to us. Jesus invites us to join God's work of blessing on behalf of the poor, the hungry, and those who weep and suffer. Such generous advocacy seems to characterize a fundamental Christian perspective. We see consistently in the Gospel stories that Jesus reached out especially to the poor and marginalized. That work is in the tradition of the great prophets whose messages tend to comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable. After all, those of us who are privileged – wealthy, well fed, happy – really need no special advocacy. We have received our consolation. But what about those who inherit prejudice and obstacles instead of privilege? How can we join the work of Jesus and the prophets to create justice?

Years ago I met John Perkins, a civil rights activist and founder of the Voice of Calvary Ministry in Jackson, Mississippi. I said to him that to my mind equality of opportunity was an easy sell, but affirmative action was less convincing. He offered me a parable.

Two teams are in a baseball game. After several innings the score is 15-to-nothing. That's when everyone notices that the team that is losing has been playing with one arm tied behind their back. That's not fair, everyone agrees. So their hands are untied and the playing field is level. "Now," said John Perkins, his eyes filled with intensity. "What is the score?" Is it still 15 to nothing? How about 15 to 15? That would be a level field.

There is some side-taking in the scripture. Liberation theologians speak of "God's preferential option for the poor." But what about people like me? I'm a nice guy. But, I am rich; I am full; I have a happy and fulfilling life. And except for an occasional letter to the editor, most people speak well of me. What about most of us in this room who are not poor and hungry, weeping and reviled?

We have our patrons. Joseph of Arimathea was a rich man who went to Pilate to claim the body of Jesus for burial in his own new tomb. Nicodemus was a member of the powerful Sanhedrin who argued in defense of Jesus at his trial. Lydia was a wealthy merchant of fine cloth who hosted Paul's first church in Macedonia. These are people who used their wealth and position for good.

I am thankful for so many gracious people who are our neighbors and friends who give generously in the tradition of Joseph and Nicodemus and Lydia. Without the gifts from the Willard & Pat Walker Foundation, the new supportive housing facility for the homeless that Seven Hills is building would be impossible. How inspiring is the generosity of Bernice Jones and, maybe less known, our own Betty Lighton.

But you don't have to be wealthy to live generously. How wonderful are the volunteers who were here before 6:00 a.m. yesterday morning to help with our Angel Food distribution. And others in this congregation who help in countless ways to reach out and bless those who are weeping or hurting, those who experience poverty or hunger in all of its many guises. Whenever you give even a cup of water to one of the least of these, you have given it to Christ. The real privilege then is revealed. Those of us who are rich and full and respected get to participate in the blessing that God is giving to the poor and hungry and hurting.

The call to advocacy is clear. For those of us who have received our consolation, the path of blessing is in giving and advocacy. We are offered an exquisite invitation to share in the work of advocacy and blessing that God is accomplishing on behalf of the poor, the hungry, the sad, and the reviled. But notice. Unless we get near enough to the poor, the hungry, the sad and the reviled, we'll miss it. We'll miss the blessing. We will simply be too distant to share and enjoy the blessing and happiness that Jesus has promised to accomplish. That indeed would be woeful. Yet, what a gift we are offered. We can be the Good News that Jesus is bringing to all who experience bad news. How happy, how honorable, how blessed it can be to have the opportunity to share in God's beatitudes -- from either the giving or the receiving end. What a great and fulfilling reward it is to be part of that divine work of blessing.

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The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and it's life and mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373

This sermon and others are on our web site at www.stpaulsfay.org
Please visit our partner web ministry also at www.ExploreFaith.org

Fishing in Deep Waters

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
February 4, 2007; 5 Epiphany, Year C
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Luke 5:1-11) -- Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch." Simon answered, "Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets." When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people." When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.
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I got an email from Linda Jones this week. Many of you know Linda. She just finished a three-year term on our Vestry; she sings in our choir and often in quartet. Recently she's developed a music ministry with our Healing Touch work. Linda has given me permission to let her email be the bulk of my sermon today. Recently she's been fishing in some of the deep waters that Jesus invited Simon Peter into. But the story starts with a childhood prayer.

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When I was a child growing up in Louisiana, one of my greatest prayers of all was that God would give me an aqua blue, Betty Crocker Easy Bake Oven. I'd pray on my way home from my Grandparents; I'd pray at Christmas time; I'd pray in church: "God, give me an Easy Bake Oven!"

Well, I never did get my Easy Bake Oven, and while I don't recall my exact emotions at the time, I would imagine there was some part of me that felt like God just didn't hear me, or that God was "fresh out," and that I'd just have to keep praying -- "God, my Easy Bake Oven, please!!" As adults, we may pray similar things such as: "God, give me a new car"; "God, bring me my Knight in Shining Armor"; "God, help the Colts beat the Bears"!!

But, what do you do when something that surely demands prayers for intervention from God confronts you? What do you do when you are confronted with the possibility of cancer? I thought about this a lot today as I went to and from my CA-125 blood test to find out, perhaps tomorrow or Wednesday, if I have cancer. On my way to the test, I wondered what clever statement I could make to Greg, the lab technician? Could I say: "Greg, you make sure there's no cancer in there, ok?" or "Greg, if there's cancer in me, you make sure you get it in that syringe so I can face this sooner, rather than later, ok?" I uttered neither comment to him and only said that I was nervous about the test. Though he is normally an exceedingly happy-go-lucky fellow, his silence only resonated the seriousness of this exam. As I departed, I again thought about the test, the possibility of cancer and then wondered what I should now pray. Do I pray: "God, make sure there's no cancer; keep the cancer away"? Or, do I pray: "God, give me the strength to face whatever challenge comes my way"?

The answer is clear to me, and I've been working on that in recent days. When you look at this week's Gospel, Jesus has spotted two boats and has asked Simon to go out into the deeper waters and see what he can catch. Simon has this ho-hum response that they've tried everything and nothing worked. However, at Jesus' suggestion, he takes the boat out and when he reaches deeper into the sea, suddenly he has caught so many fish that it is quite overwhelming. The men present are humbled by what has occurred; they do not feel worthy. Yet Jesus replies: "Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people".

Putting out into deeper water can sometimes be a huge and unimaginable risk, but it can also be a deep, mystifying prayer that brings you closer to God's love. I'm not one to share myself so deeply with others. It always feels huge, unmanageable -- but not unimaginable -- as I have thought about it all my life, tried at times to trust and share so deeply, but have always pulled up the net out of fear of the net's breaking from the sheer overwhelming weight of it all.

In the last month, I've taken this risk anew, almost exclusively because something deep inside my soul has told me that I have to and perhaps want to. When this health scare started about a month ago, I just wanted to keep it under my hat; I wanted to fully believe that I could be that "Old Girl and the Sea" and survive without having to share this struggle with anyone. Albert Gray changed that in my recent visit to the ER when he urgently said, "you have to let someone know you are here".

Since that long day, and the last six months of beautiful conversations with Suzanne Stoner, and the sharing of my current battle with others, and my support for others who are also in their own personal battles -- the nets have flowed deep in the water, "catching" and pulling up human treasures who time and time again have nourished my soul with nothing but love and given me support in ways I could not imagine.

Yes, though a risk, the "catch" has been overwhelming. Perhaps it feels undeserved in some ways, much like Simon who basically said "We're not worthy." But truly, the "catch" has been so rewarding, so magnificent, that I am not so afraid. I have felt that "catching people" symbolizes catching or rather receiving the gift of God's love in others, and that no matter what happens in the coming days, God is giving me the strength I need to get through whatever comes up.

Do I feel undeserving? A few months ago, yes; but not any more. I had a dream a few months ago. I talked about it with Suzanne, who helped me relate the dream to my soul. In the dream I am fishing; the fish are just under the cold water; I catch glimpses of them but am not able to catch them; I cast the bait but nothing latches on. Maybe I wasn't fishing deep enough?

But, now that I have fished more deeply, I am catching God's love in others, and I am more filled with love. I am not in that cold environment that I was in, in the fishing dream.

Back to Easy Bake Ovens and cancer:
You see, if I pray "God, please don't let me have cancer", well, then if I don't, GREAT! But, what am I left with? Good health, yes, perhaps a belief that God gives us the things we ask for, but nothing more. If I pray "God, please don't let me have cancer," and then I have cancer, chances are I have great work to do. Perhaps I would feel tremendous discouragement and a lack of faith with God. God didn't grant me my prayer. In either outcome, I have only cast my net into shallow, cold waters and will probably not find enough nourishment to live richly in the depths of God's grace.

On the other hand, when I pray, "God, give me the strength to face whatever challenge comes my way", then I am left with something so beautiful -- God's grace, God's love, the love and support of so many -- that I am stronger and more alive, more loving and more loved, no matter what the outcome is. God's grace is humbling, but God's grace exists in all of us, and it is ours to call upon in the best and worst of times.

So, though I've never gotten my Easy Bake Oven, and though the presence of cancer is still a huge unknown, what I absolutely do know is that I have love.

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Linda's note then ended with her quoting, in full, the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, the love chapter, which we read as our epistle last week. It begins, "If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And ...if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing." In my mind's ear, I could hear Linda's voice claiming Paul's familiar words as her own. "[Love] does not insist on its own way... It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends." Everything comes to an end, says Paul, but "faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love."

Jesus invites us all. "Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch." It seems like the infinite ocean where we are invited to fish is the infinite love of God.
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The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

For information about St. Paul's Episcopal Church and it's life and mission, please contact us at
P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373

This sermon and others are on our web site at www.stpaulsfay.org
Please visit our partner web ministry also at www.ExploreFaith.org

Our Rule of Life: We aspire to...
worship weekly
pray daily
learn constantly
serve joyfully
live generously.