Knocking in the Silence
Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
July 24, 2010; 9 Pentecost; Proper 12, Year C
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary
(Luke 11:1-13) – Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples." He said to them, "When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread.
And forgive us our sins,
for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
And do not bring us to the time of trial."
And he said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, `Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.' And he answers from within, `Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.' I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.
"So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
July 24, 2010; 9 Pentecost; Proper 12, Year C
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary
(Luke 11:1-13) – Jesus was praying in a certain place, and after he had finished, one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples." He said to them, "When you pray, say:
Father, hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
Give us each day our daily bread.
And forgive us our sins,
for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
And do not bring us to the time of trial."
And he said to them, "Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, `Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.' And he answers from within, `Do not bother me; the door has already been locked, and my children are with me in bed; I cannot get up and give you anything.' I tell you, even though he will not get up and give him anything because he is his friend, at least because of his persistence he will get up and give him whatever he needs.
"So I say to you, Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for a fish, will give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will give a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"
____________________________
I get a kick out of the story Jesus tells in this gospel, the story about the midnight friend. The image Jesus starts with is an image of God as a sleepy friend who needs to be shaken awake by a shameless friend.
Jesus sets up the story this way. He says, Could this happen to you? Suppose you are out of food when someone arrives at your house late at night, and you go to your neighbor to ask, 'Lend me three loaves of bread,' and the neighbor says, 'Get lost. I'm in bed. Go away!" Could this happen to you?
"No way!" would be the resp0nse. "Impossible," they would laugh. "Ridiculous. Of course not. Who could imagine?" In a culture of hospitality such as the Middle East, it would be shameful beyond imagination for a neighbor to refuse such a request. In fact, the request itself would be remarkably shameful – no one would want a neighbor to know that he was unprepared or unable to welcome a guest or stranger.
So to Jesus' listeners it's a hilarious story. Instead of getting up out of bed as custom and respect demands, the lazy neighbor scandalously turns over on his sleeping mat. But the breadless-one makes a scene. He will wake the whole village if he has to. He is shameless. "Wake up. I'm out of bread. I've got a guest. Get up and give me three loaves." No "please, would you mind, I'm so sorry to disturb you." He demands his needs be met, as hospitality requires. Aggressive, forward, brazen, persistent.
Jesus makes this a story about God. Ask. Search. Knock. Rotten parents give bread and fish and egg, not snakes and scorpions, to their rotten kids. "How much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"
But sometimes that's real hard to see. God can seem so silent, so distant, withdrawn. God has chosen to remain unknown to us, to be Mystery, Ultimate Mystery. When Jesus himself went through his deepest "time of trial," he met that silence, that sense of absence. It was so profound that he cried out from the cross in agony, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" The scripture does not say that his plea was answered, at least not until after Jesus had died.
I preached a sermon a few years ago about the letters of Mother Teresa, published after her death. Her writings show that for nearly fifty years she felt no presence of God whatsoever. Except for a brief, five-week period of spiritual refreshment in 1959, she lived in an enduring state of deep and abiding spiritual pain. Here are some of her words, her prayer, her knocking at God's door:
Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me? The Child of your Love – and now become as the most hated one... unloved. I call, I cling, I want – and there is no One to answer – no One on Whom I can cling – no, No One. – Alone... Where is my Faith – even deep down right in there is nothing, but emptiness & darkness – My God – how painful is this unknown pain – I have no Faith – I dare not utter the words & thoughts that crowd my heart – & make me suffer untold agony.
Yet Mother Teresa could also declare: I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world... Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier... Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing... Good works are links that form a chain of love... Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within reach of every hand... Many people mistake our work for our vocation. Our vocation is the love of Jesus. (1)
"Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me?" "I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world."
Jesus invites us to pray to God as a child would tug on a parent's sleeve in front of the gum and candy at the grocery check out: "I want that! I need that!" Unabashed, unapologetic, shameless and demanding. The Lord's Prayer is full of demands. "Give us... Forgive us... Lead us... Deliver us..." Ask, search, knock, Jesus says. Keep screaming and pulling on the sleeve like a demanding child until you get some attention.
Jesus starts us in the Lord's Prayer asking for the basic needs – food, forgiveness, and courage. Daily bread; forgive us our sins and debts; save us from the time of trial. Basic needs: food, forgiveness and courage. And God help us help those who don't have food, forgiveness or courage.
Underneath all of that is the cry "thy kingdom come!" Sometimes I find myself begging, imploring God to take charge. Do something! Bring justice and peace! Do it now! Help us! Save us from the time of trial! I whimper like a child, "You're the only one who can."
At some point in my life, and I don't know when, I crossed a tipping point. I decided that fundamentally, deep down, things are good. Creation is good. The earth is good. Each of us, as we get started, is a good creation. Each of us, deep down, has goodness at the center of our being, no matter how defaced we may appear.
Oh, I see and recognize that things have gone terribly awry. We all mess up and do terrible things. We destroy goodness. We destroy our lives and our planet. At some point you've got to come back to God about these things. You've got to look at God and say, "What a mess!"
Then, what do you do about the great silence? ...when there seems no response?
Sometime, somewhere, I let God off the hook about all of that. Maybe I forgave God for how bad things are. Maybe I just decided to cast my lot with hope rather than with despair. Maybe I felt a cosmic scale tip just enough toward goodness, justice, love and compassion, that I believed they would ultimately prevail. So I've decided to keep knocking, seeking, asking. I keep on demanding, like a kid at a check-out counter. I'm trying to cast my lot with goodness, justice, love and compassion. Even when there only seems a sleeping dark silence in response.
Anne Lamott says, "The problem with God – or at least any rate, one of the top five most annoying things about God – is that He or She rarely answers right away. It can take days, weeks. Some people seem to understand this – that life and change take time." (2)
Sometimes I try to think about these things from God's perspective. God's got all the time in the universe. I don't. I get panicked because my time is short and my world is small. It helps to let go of my self. It helps to detach from my needs, my thoughts, the press of feelings. Sometimes I can do that in contemplation, and for a while, I disappear. I don't experience myself as separate from the all. All is one. Time stands still. When I come back from that prayer, there remains a sense of peace. Maybe it all really is good. Maybe love really does make the world go 'round.
Anne Lamott also says that for her there are two basic prayers. "Thank you, thank you," and "Help me, help me." (3)
Each week we structure our prayers that way here. We start with praise: "Thank you, thank you." Then we bring God our needs: "Help us, help us." Then we bring some of the basic gifts of hospitality, bread and wine, and we say "Thank you, thank you" over them. They are consecrated, and we are fed. Help has arrived. We are forgiven, loved and free. We are one. We say again, "Thank you, thank you."
Like the midnight neighbor knocking at the front door, we persevere in this prayer. We're going to keep doing this too. We're going to keep on doing this same Eucharist thing every week, week in and week out. We're going to keep on saying "Help us, help us," and "Thank you, thank you," over and over again. We're going to keep on knocking on the door, 'til kingdom come.
Jesus sets up the story this way. He says, Could this happen to you? Suppose you are out of food when someone arrives at your house late at night, and you go to your neighbor to ask, 'Lend me three loaves of bread,' and the neighbor says, 'Get lost. I'm in bed. Go away!" Could this happen to you?
"No way!" would be the resp0nse. "Impossible," they would laugh. "Ridiculous. Of course not. Who could imagine?" In a culture of hospitality such as the Middle East, it would be shameful beyond imagination for a neighbor to refuse such a request. In fact, the request itself would be remarkably shameful – no one would want a neighbor to know that he was unprepared or unable to welcome a guest or stranger.
So to Jesus' listeners it's a hilarious story. Instead of getting up out of bed as custom and respect demands, the lazy neighbor scandalously turns over on his sleeping mat. But the breadless-one makes a scene. He will wake the whole village if he has to. He is shameless. "Wake up. I'm out of bread. I've got a guest. Get up and give me three loaves." No "please, would you mind, I'm so sorry to disturb you." He demands his needs be met, as hospitality requires. Aggressive, forward, brazen, persistent.
Jesus makes this a story about God. Ask. Search. Knock. Rotten parents give bread and fish and egg, not snakes and scorpions, to their rotten kids. "How much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"
But sometimes that's real hard to see. God can seem so silent, so distant, withdrawn. God has chosen to remain unknown to us, to be Mystery, Ultimate Mystery. When Jesus himself went through his deepest "time of trial," he met that silence, that sense of absence. It was so profound that he cried out from the cross in agony, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" The scripture does not say that his plea was answered, at least not until after Jesus had died.
I preached a sermon a few years ago about the letters of Mother Teresa, published after her death. Her writings show that for nearly fifty years she felt no presence of God whatsoever. Except for a brief, five-week period of spiritual refreshment in 1959, she lived in an enduring state of deep and abiding spiritual pain. Here are some of her words, her prayer, her knocking at God's door:
Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me? The Child of your Love – and now become as the most hated one... unloved. I call, I cling, I want – and there is no One to answer – no One on Whom I can cling – no, No One. – Alone... Where is my Faith – even deep down right in there is nothing, but emptiness & darkness – My God – how painful is this unknown pain – I have no Faith – I dare not utter the words & thoughts that crowd my heart – & make me suffer untold agony.
Yet Mother Teresa could also declare: I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world... Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier... Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing... Good works are links that form a chain of love... Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within reach of every hand... Many people mistake our work for our vocation. Our vocation is the love of Jesus. (1)
"Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me?" "I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world."
Jesus invites us to pray to God as a child would tug on a parent's sleeve in front of the gum and candy at the grocery check out: "I want that! I need that!" Unabashed, unapologetic, shameless and demanding. The Lord's Prayer is full of demands. "Give us... Forgive us... Lead us... Deliver us..." Ask, search, knock, Jesus says. Keep screaming and pulling on the sleeve like a demanding child until you get some attention.
Jesus starts us in the Lord's Prayer asking for the basic needs – food, forgiveness, and courage. Daily bread; forgive us our sins and debts; save us from the time of trial. Basic needs: food, forgiveness and courage. And God help us help those who don't have food, forgiveness or courage.
Underneath all of that is the cry "thy kingdom come!" Sometimes I find myself begging, imploring God to take charge. Do something! Bring justice and peace! Do it now! Help us! Save us from the time of trial! I whimper like a child, "You're the only one who can."
At some point in my life, and I don't know when, I crossed a tipping point. I decided that fundamentally, deep down, things are good. Creation is good. The earth is good. Each of us, as we get started, is a good creation. Each of us, deep down, has goodness at the center of our being, no matter how defaced we may appear.
Oh, I see and recognize that things have gone terribly awry. We all mess up and do terrible things. We destroy goodness. We destroy our lives and our planet. At some point you've got to come back to God about these things. You've got to look at God and say, "What a mess!"
Then, what do you do about the great silence? ...when there seems no response?
Sometime, somewhere, I let God off the hook about all of that. Maybe I forgave God for how bad things are. Maybe I just decided to cast my lot with hope rather than with despair. Maybe I felt a cosmic scale tip just enough toward goodness, justice, love and compassion, that I believed they would ultimately prevail. So I've decided to keep knocking, seeking, asking. I keep on demanding, like a kid at a check-out counter. I'm trying to cast my lot with goodness, justice, love and compassion. Even when there only seems a sleeping dark silence in response.
Anne Lamott says, "The problem with God – or at least any rate, one of the top five most annoying things about God – is that He or She rarely answers right away. It can take days, weeks. Some people seem to understand this – that life and change take time." (2)
Sometimes I try to think about these things from God's perspective. God's got all the time in the universe. I don't. I get panicked because my time is short and my world is small. It helps to let go of my self. It helps to detach from my needs, my thoughts, the press of feelings. Sometimes I can do that in contemplation, and for a while, I disappear. I don't experience myself as separate from the all. All is one. Time stands still. When I come back from that prayer, there remains a sense of peace. Maybe it all really is good. Maybe love really does make the world go 'round.
Anne Lamott also says that for her there are two basic prayers. "Thank you, thank you," and "Help me, help me." (3)
Each week we structure our prayers that way here. We start with praise: "Thank you, thank you." Then we bring God our needs: "Help us, help us." Then we bring some of the basic gifts of hospitality, bread and wine, and we say "Thank you, thank you" over them. They are consecrated, and we are fed. Help has arrived. We are forgiven, loved and free. We are one. We say again, "Thank you, thank you."
Like the midnight neighbor knocking at the front door, we persevere in this prayer. We're going to keep doing this too. We're going to keep on doing this same Eucharist thing every week, week in and week out. We're going to keep on saying "Help us, help us," and "Thank you, thank you," over and over again. We're going to keep on knocking on the door, 'til kingdom come.
___________________
(1) from my sermon Mother Teresa's Darkness
(2) Anne Lamott, from Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith
(3) Anne Lamott, from Traveling Mercies___________________________________________________________________________
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posted by Lowell @ 7/24/2010 09:51:00 AM
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