Living with the Weeds

Living with the Weeds

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

July 20, 2014; 6 Pentecost, Proper 11, Year A, Track 2

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Matthew 13:24-30)  Jesus put before the crowd another parable: "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, `Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?' He answered, `An enemy has done this.' The slaves said to him, `Then do you want us to go and gather them?' But he replied, `No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.'"

_____________________

Last week’s sermon focused on Paul’s paradoxical message:  we are all a mess, and we are also all united within God. It’s a both-and situation. We’re a mess: I can will what is right, but I can’t do it!, Paul cries. And simultaneously, There is no condemnation. The Spirit of God dwells in you.

Today’s gospel about the wheat and weeds continues in the same spirit. There are a couple of ways to look at it. You can look at the field of wheat and weeds as your own internal condition – each of us is both wheat and weeds; the Spirit of God dwells in each of us, and each of us is a mess. Or we can look at the field as the human condition. We’re all wheat and weeds together; the good and bad coexist on this earth.

I’d like to borrow from the spirituality of contemplative prayer and talk a little more about this experience of the weeds.

If you try something like Centering Prayer, staying still and silent for a period of time, you will experience the weeds. If you set your intention on something of the Spirit – like spending twenty minutes consenting to God’s presence and activity within – you will find yourself assaulted by a multitude of thoughts and feelings. Some people call it “monkey mind,” like the chatter of a thousand monkeys in the branches of your mind. Some call it “mind-tripping.” It’s like someone hit a button and an inner video starts up. It runs like tape loops that chatter and repeat over and over, snagging our emotions. We are simply being still and silent for a time, then something pops into our consciousness, and we start playing our reactive tape loops.

These thoughts – these emotionally charged tape loops – are nearly always playing somewhere in our consciousness, and part of us is always listening. Most of us think we are our thoughts and feelings.

We live so much of our lives reactively – stimulated by a thought or feeling, we start our tapes, “talking, talking, talking, talking to ourselves about life and love and how everybody ought behave and vote.”[i]

You are standing in the grocery line. A kid starts whining for candy, trying to get a distracted parent’s attention. Tell me your tapes won’t start. Are you irritated? Isn’t there a bit of judgment. The tapes start with all the advice you’d give to straighten them out. You might even expand into a full mental commentary on the horrible way people are raising children today. You are in the weeds.

Contemplative prayer teachers have a way of dealing with these conflictive thoughts and emotions that bombard us. It’s a practice that works in contemplative prayer, but it’s also available when you are in the grocery line or whenever you are hooked by those nearly constant thoughts and emotions that distract us from being simply present.

Benedictine monk Thomas Keating offers this technique for gently releasing ourselves from our attachment to our afflictive emotions and thoughts: the Four-R’s. Resist no thought. Retain no thought. React emotionally to no thought. Return ever-so-gently. In Centering Prayer, you return to your sacred word. In ordinary life, you return to your center, the givenness of your union with God as God’s beloved child. Resist not. Retain not. React not. Return.

What contemplative spirituality says is that we are not our thoughts and feelings. We are much more than our thoughts and feelings. Behind and beyond our thoughts and feelings we are one with God. Our deepest, truest, authentic self is continually one with God at the center of our being. That’s the wheat. The Spirit of God manifest uniquely in you. The wheat is always growing.

But the weeds are also always present. They are present in our inner consciousness. They are present in the wider external world. The weeds are not unlike what Paul calls “the flesh.” I preached about that last week.[ii] The weeds are related to what some call our “shadow.”

Parker Palmer says that there are four common expressions of our shadow – four species of weeds, if you will.  The first is a deep insecurity about our own identity, our own worth. Sometimes we attach our identity with something external — a title, a relationship. If that role or relationship is threatened, our very being feels threatened. The internal tapes bombard us.

A second shadow inside many of us is "the perception that the universe is essentially hostile to human interests and that life is fundamentally a battleground." Listen to the battle language that pops up in casual conversation — "we’re going to fight for that; let’s bring out the big guns; if I don’t finish this I’m afraid it’ll kill me."

A third shadow is the belief that "ultimate responsibility for everything rests with me." You may say you believe in God, but you work like it’s all up to you. Parker Palmer calls that "functional atheism" – "if anything decent is going to happen here, I am the one who needs to make it happen."

And a fourth shadow is fear, especially fear of the natural chaos of life. If I can just get things organized... If we can get some functional rules around here... We forget that God created out of chaos, "chaos is the precondition to creativity, and any organization (or any individual) that doesn’t have an arena of creative chaos is already half dead." Of course, the biggest fear is fear of death, and its cousin failure. Yet, chaos and death are natural; failure and death is never the final word.[iii]

The weeds:  Insecurity, defensiveness, control needs, and fear. If you are like most people, the weeds of insecurity, defensiveness, control, and fear are deeply rooted in your consciousness, particularly in your unconsciousness, below the ground of your awareness.

The Gospel speaks to us with disarming acceptance. Jesus tells us that we are each held in a wholly loving gaze. We are known, and we are infinitely loved. Therefore we don’t have to be anxious about our insecurity, defensiveness, control needs and fears. The gaze of God loves the whole tangled bundle that is you, loves with an utterly free, utterly selfless love. So, you need not be anxious about your weeds. Leave them alone. Relax. You don’t have to pull them out. You don’t have to fix yourself. You don’t have to feel defensive. Resist not. React not. Retain not. Return to God’s love at the center of your being.

In fact, it is that gaze of love that disarms us. We are held by a gracious love "which undermines and overthrows the selves we have built from defensiveness and calculation."

The end of this Gospel today says that ultimately the weeds will be collected and bound and burned. We already know what the foretaste of this heavenly fire is. It is the fire of Pentecost. It is the wonderful, purging fire of love which alone can refine and burn away all that is not Christ, and do so without harming.[iv]

In the meantime, we live in the both-and world of wheat and weeds. We are all a mess of insecurity, defensiveness, control needs, and fear. Whenever the noise of their tapes begins to roar in our consciousness, we can leave the weeds alone. Resist not. React not. Retain not. Return.

---

[i]  Martin Laird, A Sunlit Absence, Oxford, 2011, p. 18.

[ii] http://stpaulsfay.org/14-07-13We'reAMess.pdf

[iii] Parker Palmer, Leading from Within, http://www.couragerenewal.org/parker/writings/leading-from-within/

[iv] Beginning with the Parker Palmer material, much of this comes from an old sermon of mine that I’ve lost, but it is archived with goodpreacher.com: https://www.goodpreacher.com/backissuesread.php?file=6356

_____________________

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 its life and mission, please contact us at

P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373

More sermon texts are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org

Click the “Video Online” button to watch full services and sermons live-streamed or archived. 

We're a Mess, and There is No Condemnation

We’re a Mess, and

There is No Condemnation

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector

St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas

July 13, 2014; 5 Pentecost, Proper 10, Year A, Track 2

Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Romans 8:1-11)  There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.  For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.  For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do: by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and to deal with sin, he condemned sin in the flesh,  so that the just requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.  For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit.  To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.  For this reason the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God's law-- indeed it cannot,  and those who are in the flesh cannot please God.

But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him.  But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness.  If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.

______________________________

Last week we heard Paul moan, I don’t understand myself. I can will what it right, but I can’t do it. I decide to do good, but I don’t come through. I decide not to do bad, but then I fall right in the same trap again. Sound familiar? It does to me.

Paul continues: I truly delight in God, but part of me sabotages myself. I’m my worst enemy. Wretched man that I am!

Now if Paul stays there, he’s stuck. Maybe even doomed. When we get a true glimpse of our darkness and our potential for evil, when we get a big taste of our own weakness, it can be overwhelming. We can feel worthless. Like a fraud. We can feel powerless. Maybe even helpless. There is an urge to give up. If I can’t even control myself, what good am I?

But the whole thing turns when Paul cries, “Who will rescue me from this body of death? At the moment of his anguished question, he already knows the answer. “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” That’s where we ended last week.

We read today what he says next: “There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus!” I want to unpack some of that today.

Here’s Paul’s version of the cosmic story. God gave Israel the Law, the old covenant – a good gift. But it was a total failure. No one completely obeyed the law. Paul came as close as you can, and he was miserable.

God saw all of this, Paul says, and God decided humans just couldn’t keep the covenant, so God came to us in Christ Jesus in a one-sided covenant. God gives everything; human beings just receive.

In Christ, God assumed our human condition completely. Christ enacts God’s full union with humanity. Jesus experiences the consequences of all of our brokenness and evil, and returns only love. Finally, he hangs between heaven and earth, completely identified with the cursed – a victim of not only of personal evil, as people spat and struck and cursed him, but also of structural evil, as religion and state legally conspired to kill him. Jesus took all of this into his heart. He took the whole human experience into his very being, including all that is wrong with us, and he willingly entered into our death. Human death. He died, offering all to the Father. God received Jesus’ offering into the very life of the divine, and God raised Jesus from the dead.

And now, Paul says, the risen life of Christ is expressed in the life of all humanity. All humanity is assumed; all humanity it raised. Paul identifies the presence of Christ with humanity itself. And there is no condemnation. There is no Jew or Gentile. That’s everyone. 100% of the human race. All are one, because the risen Christ lives in all humanity.

We’re still all a mess. But we are also all alive in Christ. It’s a both-and situation for everyone. We’re a mess: I can will what it right, but I can’t do it. And simultaneously, There is no condemnation. The Spirit of God dwells in you.

Paul insists: It is the same for every one of us, every human being. We’re all a mess. And there is no condemnation.

To try to explain that, Paul uses the metaphor of “flesh” and “Spirit.” We are both flesh and Spirit. But the flesh is simply inadequate, and life in the flesh leaves us miserable. We were created for life in the Spirit.

But what in the world does that mean? Flesh? Is he talking about sex?

No, not really. That word “flesh” needs some fleshing out. Translator and interpreter Eugene Peterson uses these more contemporary words and phrases in the places where Paul uses the Greek word sarx – flesh: The human condition, fractured human nature, obsession with self, focusing on the self, absorbed with self, thinking more of yourself than God, compulsions of selfishness, erratic compulsions, trying to get your own way all the time, needing to look good before others, the disordered mess of struggling humanity. That’s our problem – our sin.

For Paul, sin is a corporate state, like a force field we live in. It’s our fractured human condition that plays out in our self-centeredness. We’re all infected. We’re all stuck in flesh.

We’re also all living in the Spirit. We are infinitely loved and accepted. We don’t have to do anything to earn that. It’s a gift. We are beloved. Bulletproof. We can’t fail because we belong to God. God dwells in us. God is one with us.

So the issue becomes one of attention. Where will my attention be?

Will I forget that I am perfectly loved, perfectly safe and secure? Whenever I forget, I start living in the flesh – self-absorbed and compulsive. What a waste. But that’s all it is.

When I relax into my True Self, all is well, all is given. I can simply be, and enjoy.

I have two selfs – my false self and my True Self. Flesh and Spirit. Where will my attention be? My real self or my cartoon self? My anemic, insecure, proud, anxious, preoccupied, worried, distracted, score-keeping self or my grounded, relaxed, humble, grateful, trusting, and open Self? They are both part of me. But I’m most alive, most really me, when I’m in my real Self.

How do I know the difference? The false self is easily offended. That’s a great clue. Whenever I take offense or my feelings get hurt, I’m probably living in my little cartoon self.

The false self makes decisions with only part of us. Like when you intellectualize something and act without heart. Or when you get sentimental and act stupidly. Or when you let your sex drive or your appetites overrule your wisdom.

We’re most alive when we bring all of ourselves to the moment – we use our reason, our emotions, the wisdom of our bodies, and our intuition. Then, completely engaged, we act freely, humbly.

I’m most likely to live in the True Self when I’m looking for the good. Whenever I’m grounded in my own best space, and I’m looking actively for anything that is good or true or beautiful, I usually see what I am looking for. Whenever I live in my small self, my attention tends to gravitate toward the little stuff that ticks me off. Often it’s only a matter of attention and expectation.

Living in the Spirit is like being in the zone. I experience it sometimes. I’m in the present. I let God run the world. I know I’m loved, so I can love. I’m safe, so I can be open. Sometimes even the colors change.

I remember one Sunday morning that started very anxiously. I had written a sermon. It was a stinker. I decided to throw it away and just wing it. I moved into a trusting space. This was in Jackson, Mississippi, and I had to drive on I-55 to get to church. Releasing my worry about what I was to say, I passed one of those green interstate signs. It was so beautiful. Have you ever really looked at one of those signs? What an exquisite, exciting, alive color of green it was. In an expression of awe, I found myself laughing out loud. Then the sun rose over the trees and everything was unspeakably beautiful. I don’t remember what I preached that day, but it was just fine.

Yesterday I woke up anxious. I didn’t have an idea for a sermon. There was an interment at 10:00 and Chuck’s wedding was at 2:00. So I started looking for the good, thinking about how happy he and Betty are, and how much fun we were going to have celebrating their love. And I relaxed and wrote some stuff. More words than I needed. That’s why this sermon is too long. But I reminded myself, it will be just fine. The congregation will hear what you will hear. God knows. I don’t have to save anybody. God’s already done that.

I’d just like to use this sermon to remind everyone that in your inmost being, you are continually one with God. St. Theresa of Avila says it “is like rain falling from the sky into a river or pool. There is nothing but water. It’s impossible to divide the sky-water from the land-water.” Not the same, but one.

There is no condemnation. There’s only the curiosity. What kind of soil will we be as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout..; so shall [God’s] word be that goes out…; it shall not return… empty, but it shall accomplish that which [God] purposes, and succeed in the thing for which [God] sent it. Go forth in peace, and simply be, in Christ.

__________________________

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 its life and mission, please contact us at

P.O. Box 1190, Fayetteville, AR 72702, or call 479/442-7373

More sermons are posted on our web site: www.stpaulsfay.org

Visit our web partners at www.explorefaith.org

Videos of sermons are posted at http://is.gd/tiwuyu

And services are archived at www.stpaulsfay.org