It was Christmas 1992 – 32 long years ago -- and I was the parish administrator at St. Paul’s in Ventura where I was just beginning to think about thinking about thinking about what it might mean to enter the ordination process. I received as a Christmas gift from the rector a copy of Sister Joan Chittister’s just published book: Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today.
While I think I mustered a polite murmur of gratitude I know I quickly set the book aside on the pile of flannel PJs and See’s Candy under the Christmas tree. And because the memory fades I can’t honestly remember when I finally picked it up to read. But I can honestly say that when I did, it changed my life.
Sister Joan was my first introduction to the radical notions of personal faith connected to faith in action, of communities committed to challenging the status quo rather than conforming to it, of monasticism that is about embracing the world rather than escaping from it.
It is fair to say that my theological education really began in earnest with this slender, initially unappreciated, eventually devoured volume with its series of reflections on what it is to live a life of faith and internalize a quote which you have heard me offer more times than I can count from this pulpit:
“We are
each called to go through life reclaiming the planet
an inch at a time until the Garden of Eden grows green again.”
An inch at a time.
On this New Year’s Eve as we teeter on the cusp between the year-just-finished and the year-about-to-begin I find both comfort and challenge in those words. An inch at a time. It doesn’t seem so much – an inch. The comfort is that when the obstacles that surround seem overwhelming, the work ahead is daunting and the miles-to-go-before-we-rest loom exhaustingly-before-we-even-start an inch at a time seems pretty doable. That I don’t have to fix it all – solve it all – figure it all out – just the inch in front of me – can be vastly reassuring. Empowering even.
An inch at a time. It doesn’t seem so much – an inch. The challenge is that when the obstacles that surround seem overwhelming, the work ahead is daunting and the miles-to-go-before-we-rest loom exhaustingly-before-we-even-start an inch at a time seems not enough to matter – too little to bother with.
Who
am I – who are WE – to think we can actually make a difference – much less
reclaim the planet! Sometimes, rather than empowering, the inch in front of me
can be discouraging. Immobilizing even.
Thankfully – in this cusp moment between a year that was full of challenges and year that is rife with uncertainties – Joyce Rupp offers an antidote to that immobilization in the prayer of meditation in our service leaflet this evening:
Be not wary of what awaits
you
as you enter the
unknown terrain,
be not doubtful of
your ability
to grow from its joy
and sorrows.
For I am with you.
I will be your Guide.
I will be your
Protector.
You will never be
alone.
There
is no inch we will be left to claim on our own.
There
is no mountain we will be called to climb on our own.
There
is no obstacle we will be left to overcome on our own.
There
is no oppression we will be abandoned to dismantle on our own.
That is hope and promise we claim on this New Year’s Eve 2024 … waiting to enter the unknown terrain of 2025. The guarantee that we will never be alone … in either the joys or the sorrows that lie ahead.
And
-- as we gather in this sacred space this evening -- let us not forget that it
is not just New Year’s Eve … it is the 7th day of Christmas … and we
continue to celebrate the gift of the word made flesh in the birth of Christmas
baby … the love that came down at Christmas.
The Word made flesh in order to convince us that
we are never alone because
we
are so loved by God that
God became one of us in order to show us how to love one another.
And it is out of that sure and certain knowledge that absolutely nothing can separate us from that love – that we can risk – we can dare.
We
can be the change we want to
see in the world that
is crying for change:
for
hope, for light and for joy as
we enter the unknown terrain ahead … together
as we continue to celebrate the incarnation – as
we continue to strive to live up the high calling of
being the Body of Christ in the world ... of
loving one another as God loves us.
In the words of Howard Thurman we heard Lori read just a few minutes ago:
This is the basis of hope in moments of despair,
the
incentive to carry on when times are out of joint
and
men have lost their reason,
the
source of confidence when worlds crash
and
dreams whiten into ash.
The
birth of a child —
life’s
most dramatic answer to death —
this
is the growing edge incarnate.
Look
well to the growing edge!
On this New Year’s Even 2024, Dr. Thurman’s words ring as true for us as they did when he wrote them in the 1940’s -- a time of global strife, war, division and the rising tide of fascism – calling us to “look well to the growing edge.” But where do we even start?
For that, I want to return to the wisdom of Angela Glover Blackwell – social justice advocate, attorney, and leader in the fight for racial and economic equity – who recently gifted our All Saints leadership team with a time of teaching on how to take her learnings of a lifetime in the struggle and apply them to the challenges of the moment.
Among the notes I scribbled while listening to Dr. Blackwell was this quote:
- “If
you want to build success in the chain you have to start with the link
that is the most vulnerable in order to strengthen the entire chain.”
If we are looking for the growing edge … looking for which inch to start reclaiming – looking for where to begin – we need look no further than the most vulnerable … not just for the sake of the most vulnerable but for the sake of the entire chain. For the sake of what Dr. King called “the inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” For whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.
In this moment we start with
immigrant neighbors facing threats of deportation, with transgender siblings
being targeted for discrimination and with women being denied access to
life-saving health care.
We look well to those places – these growing edges – where God is yearning to be made present to the least, the lost and the last – and where we are called to make God’s presence known as beacons of God’s love, justice and compassion even – or perhaps especially – in these times of challenge. Times described by Bishop Steven Charleston this week in one of his daily reflections:
“Some will say: how sad a season, so much sorrow, so little joy. But if so little, then so precious. If so rare, then so valued. So much the essence of all our hopes. A single drop of love like that can light up the sky for more dreams than we can count. So release your joy. You will shine among so many others who share your hope, as your love begins to light up the world.”
A single drop of love like that can light up the sky …
Or light up an email inbox!
Which brings me to this story … not from once upon a time, long, long ago but from this week.
On Boxing Day – the day after Christmas – I was going through the incoming parish email (as one does) and there -- nestled amid all the Spam and year-end fundraising appeals in the general All Saints Church inbox -- was this note from across the pond in Scotland:
"I
saw a picture of you promoting tolerance and love with a progress-pride flag
above your door, and though I'm not a religious person, I wanted you to know
that I feel God's love through you. It's difficult for me to explain, as a
hopelessly rational person, but I think you will understand.
I feel it from
certain churches here in Scotland too, and strangely enough I seem to find
strength in knowing God exists through people like you. So I just wanted to
take a moment to let you know that small gestures from those I consider to be
real Christians brings God into my life in small but meaningful ways. God bless
you."
This is the growing edge we strive to incarnate as All Saints Church – work that transcends the tenure of any rector or priest in charge, the term of any warden or staff or vestry member.
It
is the work we have ALL been called to do … it is work that has been for too
long delayed in the doing … and – if we’re honest about it – it is work that
will not be finished in our lifetimes … it is work we do in community:
Every
time we gather … and every time we go out
Fed
by the holy food and drink of new and unending life
Week
after week … Inch by inch … drop by drop
Sustained
by the community that sends us out and then welcomes us back.
And so as I close this homily and we close
this year … I want to return to Sister Joan and give her the last word:
In community we work out our
connectedness to God, to one another, and to ourselves. It is in community
where we find out who we really are … Alone, I am what I am but in community I
have the chance to become everything that I can be. And so, stability bonds me
to this group of people and to these relationships – so that resting in the
security of each other we can afford to stumble and search, knowing that we
will be caught if we fall and we will be led where we cannot see by those who
have been there before us.
Let
us go forth into this new year
trusting
that as we work to become everything we can be
we
will be caught if we fall
as
we rest in the security of each other
and
in the love that came down at Christmas.
Merry 7th Day of Christmas.
Happy
New Year.
Amen.
