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Jesus & the Wood Wide Web (Rooted & Rising Series, Week 2 of 4)

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Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 11, Year C)

Rooted & Rising series, Week 2

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In 1919, just after the end of the first World War, the Irish poet W.B. Yeats penned the following lines:

“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world…
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.”

W.B. Yeats, The Second Coming

Yeats was lamenting the spirit of his own time, when crowns, creeds, and customs seemed to be drowning in the rising tide of modern advancement. Yeats expressed concern about what new thing would rise to take the place of traditional social values. As it turned out, his concern was justified.

The years following the composition of this poem saw the rise of Communism in Russia, where the Soviets overthrew one iron-fisted regime, only to replace it with another that was just as oppressive. In Germany and Italy, fascist dictators seized power and manipulated their citizens into committing unspeakable acts of genocide. Even W.B. Yeats himself flirted with similar authoritarian movements in his own native Ireland.

When things seem to be falling apart, it is only natural to want to grab onto some source of comfort that promises to maintain a sense of normalcy. The temptation to watch out for in such moments is the temptation to force solutions through the exercise of raw power.

Strongmen take that opportunity to exert their will over the people by scapegoating those who dissent or differ from familiar norms. They claim that, by electing their party to office, impeaching the president, deporting immigrants, and somehow stopping people from being gay or trans, they can lead the country back into some imaginary golden age that never really existed.

The Stalinist purges of Soviet Russia and the book burnings of Nazi Germany have this faith in common. Hitler came to power by promising to protect Germany from the threat of Communism. Stalin came to power by claiming to save Russia from Fascism. This should tell us that the problem is not “right vs. left” and the solution will not be some kind of Satanic compromise between Hitler and Stalin. The problem is much deeper and simpler than that.

What these dangerous ideologies have in common is a shared faith in the power of power itself. They both claim that the solution to the problem of social disintegration is more control over people. The epistle to the Colossians disagrees with that conclusion.

Today’s epistle reading forms the theological core of the book of Colossians. Biblical scholars sometimes refer to this passage as “The Hymn of the Cosmic Christ.” In this passage, the author is talking about Jesus, but not the carpenter from Nazareth who started a grassroots movement on the back roads of Galilee. The Jesus that this passage talks about is Jesus as the early Church began to see him in the years after his death. In the eyes of these first Christians, Jesus was more than just a man who started a movement; he was an icon of the meaning of life itself.

The text says:

“[Jesus Christ] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers, all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”

Colossians 1:15-17

The Jesuit priest and paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, one of my personal heroes, takes this passage very seriously. He says that Christ, when looked at through the lens of faith, is the Ground, Guide, and Goal of the entire universe. In the New Testament book of Revelation, the Cosmic Christ says, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end” (Revelation 21:6). Therefore, the solution to the problem of disintegration is not an increase of control, but an increase of connection. This flies in the face of every partisan ideology that human beings have thus far conceived. In continuity with the historical Jesus of Nazareth, the Cosmic Christ says that the answer is not to “get rid of those people,” but to “love your neighbor as yourself.”

So, I’ll say it again: the solution is not more control, but more connection.

To illustrate this solution, I’d like to take you into the forest, beneath the apparently separate existence of individual trees. Underneath the surface, scientists have discovered something that stretches between the root systems of these individual trees. It’s called the mycelium.

The mycelium is a vast communication network of fungus that connects the trees to one another. Through it, trees are able to share information and resources with one another. Older trees send nutrients to younger trees through the mycelium. Trees infected by parasites send warnings to their neighbors about the infection. What’s even more amazing is that this network is even able to send messages between trees of different species. For this reason, scientists have begun referring to the mycelium as the “Wood Wide Web.”

If you go walking in the forest today, you probably won’t be able to see it with your eyes. It lives beneath the surface of the ground. The most you might be able to see is the fruit of the Wood Wide Web, which takes the form of mushrooms, but these are not the web itself; they are but the fruit of it.

In the same way, humans cannot directly see the Cosmic Christ “in whom all things hold together,” but we can see the fruit of the Spirit, which is “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23). Millennia before the invention of computers, these moral principles kept human beings connected to each other around the world. It’s amazing to realize that modern technology is still trying to catch up to what the Holy Spirit revealed centuries ago.

The Cosmic Christ has always existed. Today’s epistle reading calls the Christ, “the firstborn of all creation,” that existed, “before all things.” Spiritual author Richard Rohr writes, “Christ is not Jesus’ last name.” He describes “Christ” as “another name for every thing.”

Christianity is not the first or the only spiritual tradition to recognize this all-pervasive presence in the universe. Greek philosophers talked about the Logos as the organizing principle of the cosmos (in fact, that’s where we get the word logic from). Similarly, Chinese philosophers spoke of the Tao as the un-nameable flow of nature. Hindus and Buddhists refer to this mystery as Dharma. For our Jewish neighbors, the Torah is not just the first books of the Hebrew Bible, but the divine Teaching that has been woven into the very fabric of creation.

Logos, Tao, Dharma, Torah, Christ. One song, with different lyrics, but the same music.

For Christians, the ineffable mystery of the Cosmic Christ is revealed through the historical Jesus of Nazareth and the traditions that rose up around him. Most notably, we encounter the presence of Christ in the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist. In this mystery, the fruits of the Earth, which have been shaped by human labor into bread and wine, are received by the priest, consecrated as the Body and Blood of Christ, and then given back to the people, who receive the Body of Christ into their own bodies. It’s like the dieticians are always fond of telling us: “You are what you eat!” In this case, you are the Body of Christ.

The grace of this Sacrament has profound implications for how we are to live our common life, as members of the Body of Christ in this fragmented world, where things so often fall apart. To us is given the faith that “all things hold together” in Christ, not by the force of human will, but by the grace of God’s all-inclusive love.

When you, the members of the Church, come down the center aisle to receive Communion each Sunday, I know the particular struggles that many of you bring with you. Most of the time, they are questions to which I don’t know the answer and problems to which I don’t have the solution, but I choose to believe that the moment I look you in the eye and place the Body of Christ into your hand is an important starting point, from which we can begin to form those answers and solutions together.

W.B. Yeats wrote, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold,” but we, the members of Christ’s Body, dare to defy Mr. Yeats by proclaiming that the center does hold. The center holds, not by forcing control, but by receiving Communion with God and each other. We need not rely on the empty promises of self-proclaimed saviors of any political party because the truth is that we already have a Savior who has promised to give us all things necessary as we “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness” (Matthew 6:33).

Kindred in Christ, our Communion is our connection. Beginning with the Sacrament, it extends outward to small and large acts of mutual aid between ourselves and our neighbors.

The offer of free childcare to a single mother, the ride to the doctor for a cancer patient, the quick phone call to check in with an elderly shut-in, and the shoulder to cry on for a grieving widow are all powerful acts of love that have the power to change the world. Not all at once, but slowly and surely.

These things don’t make for good television or headlines. They won’t win elections or solve the big problems of the world, but they still matter. They matter in the eyes of God. And I know, for a fact, that they also matter in the eyes of those for whom you care.

Last week, I made reference to the words of Samwise Gamgee from the Lord of the Rings films, based on the books by J.R.R. Tolkien. Today, I would like to do the same thing again, quoting this time from the wizard Gandalf. Once again, this line comes from the movies, but does not actually appear in the books.

Gandalf says, “Some believe it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that is not what I have found. It is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.”

Friends, I invite you to go out into the world this week, looking not for self-proclaimed saviors from the right or the left, who promise in vain to exert their control over the world and hold it together by force, but looking for the already-present Christ, in whom everything holds together by the gentle power of love.

As Christians, we do not place our faith in the empty promises of any politician, party, or platform; we accept Jesus Christ as our only Lord and Savior, and it is to Christ that we will be faithful unto death and beyond.

Amen.

From Cynic to Samwise (Rooted & Rising Series, Week 1 of 4)

On By J. Barrett LeeIn SermonLeave a comment

Sermon for the fifth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 10, Year C)

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Back in the 1990s, we used to have a famous TV show called Seinfeld. On that show, there was a character named George Costanza, played by Jason Alexander. If you’ve never seen the show, all you need to know is that George was a miserable and selfish little man.

One day, during a child’s birthday party, George noticed that a small fire had broken out in the kitchen. Rather than reach for a fire extinguisher, George screamed at the top of his lungs, “Fire! There’s a fire!” Naturally, the whole room of kids erupted into chaos at that moment. And George, rather than calmly directing people to the nearest exit, proceeded to shove the kids to the ground and step over them as he ran out of the apartment.

Later, when the parents of those children confronted George about his selfish behavior, George proceeded to defend his actions and twist the facts, claiming that he was not a coward, but a hero and a leader. George was cynical, fearful, and completely indifferent to the needs of other people.

After his pathetic attempt at self-justification, a firefighter stepped up and asked George, “How do you live with yourself?”

George replied, “It ain’t easy.”

If you’ve seen the show, or even if you only know George through the story I’ve just told, you’re probably shaking your head in disgust right now. But the truth is that there is a little bit of George Costanza in each of us. In the very least, I am absolutely sure there is in me.

When I turn on the daily news, I often feel terrified at what this world is becoming. In a vain attempt at self-protection, I take up the shield of sarcasm and fasten the breastplate of cynicism over my heart. And then, when I am thoroughly suited up, I turn a blind eye and an apathetic heart to the suffering of those around me. I pretend that, if I can’t feel it, it isn’t real.

Fear, cynicism, and indifference claim to be the defenders of human life, but in reality, are the enemies of the human spirit. Thankfully, there is a better way to defend both our lives and our souls from the onslaught of danger that the world sends our way.

Scientists have recently discovered that biological evolution is far less random and competitive than they previously thought. To be sure, random mutation and competition still play a role, but they are not the only factors that matter. As it turns out, evolution seems to be moving in a direction: toward greater and greater complexity of life. Single-celled bacteria gave rise to multi-cellular organisms. These multi-cellular organisms formed complex ecosystems and organized societies, which leads to the second stunning realization: That cooperation is at least as important to the progress of life as competition. We previously thought that evolution was only about “survival of the fittest,” but it turns out that it is also about “survival of the friendliest.” A single Neanderthal hunter cannot bring down a wooly mammoth by himself, but a cooperative hunting party can! It’s like they say: Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day; teach a man to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime; teach a community to fish and everybody eats! We can do more together than any of us can separately.

This is not just a biological fact; it’s also a biblical truth.

Today’s epistle reading, from the New Testament book of Colossians, shows us how to counter the negativity of cynicism, fear, and indifference with the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love.

To begin with, we need to look at the context in which the book of Colossians was written. The author claims to be St. Paul the Apostle, but was probably just a student of his, writing in his name. This was a common practice in the ancient world.

In today’s world, we would call that forgery, but the ancient Greco-Roman world called it respect. It was common for a student to write in their teacher’s name as a way of saying, “Anything I know, I owe to my teachers, so I give all credit to them.” The great Greek philosopher Plato did the very same thing in relation to his teacher, Socrates. Modern historians have a hard time distinguishing between the sayings of Socrates and the sayings of Plato because the student wanted to give all honor and respect to the teacher who taught him everything he knows. It’s a beautiful sentiment, but one that also creates problems for modern historians who value accuracy over honor. Unfortunately, the ancient world does not play by modern rules, so we have to work with what we have. The author of the epistle to the Colossians was probably a student of St. Paul who loved their teacher very much and wanted to preserve his legacy for future generations.

The letter itself was probably written sometime after the year 80 CE, about 20 years after St. Paul is thought to have died. St. Paul himself wrote as if he was expecting Jesus to return and the world to end sometime before next Tuesday, so he didn’t bother too much with setting up sustainable systems of church government that could last for several generations. The author of Colossians, on the other hand, writes as if they expect to be here on this earth for a while, so they’d better figure out a way to live that is consistent with their Christian values, but also realistic for the world they have to live in.

It’s kind of like those times when you’re going out to dinner with your kids, and they want to bring their iPad into the restaurant, but you know that you’re about to be seated, so you tell them to leave it in the car. But then, after you check in with the greeter, you learn that there is a thirty-minute wait to be seated, so you begin to consider letting the kids get their iPads from the car. That’s what the author of Colossians is thinking about.

Thankfully, the author of Colossians is wise and knows how to compromise with reality without sacrificing the core ideals of their faith. They don’t start by complaining about what’s wrong, but by pointing to what’s right.

The author, writing in Paul’s name, says, “In our prayers for you we always thank God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, for we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love that you have for all the saints, because of the hope laid up for you in heaven.”

The author starts with thanksgiving for what is already there. Namely: faith, hope, and love. These three moral values are the antitheses of cynicism, fear, and indifference. Taken together, they form the polar opposite of everything that George Costanza stands for in Seinfeld. The author is not trying to instill these values in the Colossians, but giving thanks that they are already present.

What the author does pray for is an increase in wisdom, patience, and joy for the Colossians, so that they might remain faithful to what they already believe to be true.

Throughout this passage, the author repeatedly returns to the agricultural image of “bearing fruit.” They envision the spiritual life as a tree that is both rooted in love and rising to bear the fruit of love in the world.

Over the next three weeks, we are going to stick with this agricultural metaphor of being “Rooted and Rising in Love,” as we explore the epistle to the Colossians and consider what these ancient writings might mean for us today.

For now, I would like to invite you to consider the negative example of George Costanza from Seinfeld, as a person who is consumed by cynicism, fear, and indifference and acts accordingly in relation to his fellow creatures in the world.

On the other hand, I would also like to invite you to consider the positive example of another fictional character from literature: Samwise Gamgee from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. Samwise, or Sam (as he is known to his friends), is the exact opposite of George Costanza in many ways. You need not have read The Lord of the Rings novels or seen the movies to understand what Sam is like. Unlike George Costanza, Sam is not concerned with his own self-preservation, but wants only to support his friend, Frodo the Ring Bearer. When his friend is in danger, Sam rises to protect him. When his friend is hurting, Sam rises to comfort him. When his friend falters in the task that has been given to him, Sam rises to carry him toward its completion.

In all things, Sam is Rooted and Rising in Love. He embodies the wisdom, patience, and joy that the author of Colossians prays for in the readers of this epistle.

In the film version of The Lord of the Rings, Frodo declares, “I can’t do this, Sam,”

And Sam then says to his friend:

“I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy. How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened. But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something… That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.”

Kindred in Christ, that’s the message that the author of Colossians means for us to hear today. Over the next few weeks, we will unpack that message in greater detail.

Until then, I want to encourage you to hold on to these words from Samwise Gamgee. Hold onto them when you read the news headlines and are tempted to give in to the demons of cynicism, fear, and despair. Hold onto them in those moments when George Costanza seems wiser than Sam Gamgee. Hold onto them because the truth of the gospel of Jesus Christ trumps the sinful despair of this world.

Hold onto what the author of Colossians knew, what Sam Gamgee knew, and what you know to be true. Don’t be deceived by the lies of this world, which is passing away. Hold onto the truth that is eternal, the truth that holds you in the strong arms of love itself. Hold onto the truth of Jesus in the midst of the lies of this world, so that you too might be “rooted and rising in love.” Hold onto it because it is already holding onto you with a love that will not let you go.

Amen.

Nevertheless, She Persisted…

On By J. Barrett LeeIn Sermon4 Comments

Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 16, Year A).

The text is Exodus 1:8-2:10.

The phrase that comes to mind when I think about our first reading, from the book of Exodus, is the old adage, “Well-behaved women rarely make history.” The five women in this story were certainly not well-behaved (according to the standards of their time) and they most certainly did make history.

To put their contribution into perspective, I’d like to compare them to a more modern example. If Moses is Martin Luther King, then the women in this story, together, are Rosa Parks. Martin Luther King was the face of the Civil Rights Movement, but there would be no movement without Rosa Parks. The same could be said about the women of this story and their relationship to the rest of the book of Exodus.

First, we have Shiphrah and Puah the Hebrew midwives. When the Pharaoh issued his genocidal proclamation, they just looked at each other and said, “Nah. Not today, Satan!” They knew it was dangerous to go directly against an edict of the Pharaoh, so they made up an excuse to get out of it. They were the first to stand up against this oppression because they were the first to be impacted by it. The risk they incurred was the greatest because no one had dared to go against the Pharaoh like this before.

Next, we have Jochebed and Miriam, Moses’ mother and sister. They too did their part to resist the government-mandated murder of children. Jochebed hid Moses from the authorities for as long as she could and, when the jig was up, technically complied by putting the baby into the river, but only after she had constructed a waterproof basket for him. Miriam, meanwhile, stood close by and kept watch so that her little brother wouldn’t become crocodile food. Who knows? Maybe the plan was for Moses to stay in the river while Miriam kept watch, then for Jochebed to come back and get him later? That way, she could tell the Pharaoh that she complied with the order to “throw the baby into the river,” but the river threw him back!

Finally, we have Thermouthis, the daughter of the Pharaoh. Her story is quite interesting, because she had all the advantages of a privileged upbringing that would normally shelter her from the harsh reality of Hebrew suffering. Not only that, she was in the middle of a very personal moment, having come down to the river to bathe. Just imagine what it would be like to be in her place: You’re in the shower one day when the doorbell rings. Nobody would blame you if you just stayed where you were and said, “It’s not a good time; please come back later.” But just imagine, if you didn’t do that, but threw on a towel and answered the door anyway, only to find that someone had left a baby on your doorstep! My goodness!

It says a lot about the kind of person Thermouthis was, that she answered the door and sprang into action. For all we know, she may have already been secretly opposed to her father’s policy of genocide and was just waiting for an opportunity to act on those feelings?

What the brave African women of this story have in common is the fact that they all lived in the middle of an unjust situation that they were powerless to change. Under those circumstances, any or all of them could have thrown up her hands in the name of despair or cynicism. Each one risked terrible consequences by going against the Pharaoh’s proclamation, but nevertheless, she persisted.

In this way, the women of Exodus remind me of the hobbit Frodo Baggins from Tolkien’s novel The Lord of the Rings.

When the wizard Gandalf explains to Frodo the enormity of the task before him, Frodo says, “I wish it need not have happened in my time.”

Wise old Gandalf replies, “So do I… and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

That is the question that was set before these five women of Exodus. They were powerless to change their circumstances, but they were not powerless. They could not stop the genocide, but they did plant seeds that led to the end of genocide and enslavement against the Hebrews.

Mother Teresa of Calcutta is thought to have said, “Not all of us can do great things, but we can all do small things with great love.”

When these women lived, the time was not yet ripe for the liberation of the enslaved Hebrew people. It would be several decades before the baby they saved would stand before the Pharaoh and order him in God’s name, “Let my people go!”

Like Rosa Parks and Mother Teresa after them, the divine calling of these holy women was to do “small things with great love,” and thus set in motion the movement that would put an end to the genocide and bring about the liberation of God’s people.

Of those five women, only Miriam lived long enough to see the result of her efforts. I wonder if Miriam, as she watched the tribes of her people crossing over the Red Sea on dry ground, thought about that day by the river, when Princess Thermouthis picked her baby brother up out of the basket their mother had made. She could not have imagined what would come about as a result of that moment.

There is another story, which happened several thousand years later. It takes place in South Africa, during the reign of the racist Apartheid regime. During that time, there was a law on the books that said people of color had to step off the sidewalk and into the gutter, lifting their hat in respect whenever a white person walked by.

A certain Anglican priest, a white man by the name of Father Trevor Huddleston, hated this law and the rest of the Apartheid system that so brutally degraded God’s people because of the color of their skin. In addition to his many sermons and books against Apartheid, Father Huddleston made it his personal practice to do the exact opposite of what this law required. Whenever he was walking down the street and a person of color was coming the other way, Father Huddleston would step into the gutter and lift his hat in respect.

One day, a young mother and her son were walking down the sidewalk and noticed Father Huddleston coming toward them. Per his usual practice, he stepped aside and lifted his hat as they went by. The little boy, then about five years old, asked his mother, “Mummy, who was that man?”

She replied, “Son, that man is an Anglican priest and furthermore, he is a man of God.”

The little boy would later say, “That was the day I decided that I wanted to be an Anglican priest and furthermore, a man of God.”

That little boy grew up to become Archbishop Desmond Tutu who, along with President Nelson Mandela, would dismantle the Apartheid system and usher South Africa into a new era of equality.

Father Huddleston was not able to end Apartheid by himself, but he was able to do “small things with great love” that made South Africa’s soil ready for the seeds of liberation. In the same way, God used Shiphrah, Puah, Jochebed, Miriam, and Thermouthis to prepare North Africa for the freedom that God intended for the people of Israel.

When we look at our lives in this world today, we can see many things that do not line up with God’s will. We are concerned about gun violence, systemic racism, runaway climate change, erosion of family values, decline in church attendance, and any other number of social issues that are worthy of our attention. All of these are problems that are too big to solve by ourselves or in our lifetimes. As much as we would like to do so, we cannot snap our fingers and make these problems go away. Like the five women of Exodus, we are powerless to change our circumstances, but we are not powerless. We can do “small things with great love,” as Mother Teresa said. We can plant seeds of liberation that may bear fruit in future generations.

Who knows? Maybe the seed you plant today will become the tree that bears fruit for tomorrow. Do not give in to the temptations of despair or cynicism. Do what good you can today and trust God to keep it going in the future. That’s the most that any of us can hope for. In the words of gospel singer Keith Green, “Keep doing your best and pray that it’s blessed; let God take care of the rest.”

Amen.