Photo by: Brian Davies/AP, www.guardian.co.uk/ environment/gallery/2010/jul/ 30/week-in-wildlife
Shalom
Mennonite Church
Sunday,
May 19, 2013 – Pentecost Sunday
God
With Us, God Within Us
Texts:
Acts 2:1-21 and John 14:8-21
Eric
Massanari
"fledglings”
I
have grown to appreciate, more and more,
these
silent spaces in our worship time together—
moments of resting together,
if
for only a minute or two,
in
silence and stillness
in
the midst of a noisy and busy world.
In
such moments I am reminded
that
all words coming out of our mouths—
these
words I speak in this moment—
emerge
from a Ground of Silence.
And,
in the end, all of our words return
to
that same Ground of Silence.
I'm
reminded that all movements and actions—
the
waving of my hand and the movement
of our eyes across each other's faces in this moment—
move
out from a Deep Stillness.
And,
in the end, all our movements and actions return
to
that same Deep Stillness.
This
Ground of Silence out of which rises all words,
this
Deep Stillness from which emerges all action,
is
the great Center of Life that
in one sense we carry within us,
and
in another sense we dwell in it,
all together.
Some of us name this Center “God” or “Spirit.”
Hopefully we do so remembering that
even
these names cannot fully describe
the
Truth that is alive within us
and
among us.
Just
the same,
we
need our inadequate names,
we
need the reaching, stammering words,
and
the imperfect attempts at right action,
because
these are ways we step out
and
explore the heart of our life in God.
These
are the ways we trust
and
risk living the life of the Spirit
here
and now in this world as it is.
Given
the shape of the world as it is,
given
what we see in humanity,
it
isn't always easy to trust that
this
is indeed true, that God does in fact
dwell
here within us and among us.
Sometimes
it appears a rather foolish
thing
to live with such faith.
It is also true that
we are often too distracted
to see this truth which lies
at
the heart of Life.
Philip
says to Jesus: “Teacher, I will be satisfied
if
you just show me God before you leave.” (John 14:8)
"Philip,
have you been with me all this time
and
missed what is right here with you?
To
see me is to see God,” Jesus replies.
But
Jesus does not stop there.
he
goes on to add this:
"Believe
in me,
believe
that I am in God
and
God is in me.
Or,
if that is too difficult,
believe
in the Way I have shown you:
believe
in my words and actions,
test
them through your own life,
and
you will know that the same Spirit of God
dwells
with you,
and
within you."
It
seems that as far as Jesus was concerned,
“spirituality”
could be described
in
some rather clear terms:
The
Spirit of God is a gift that is freely given,
an
overflow of God's own love into all of life.
We
are hosts of the Spirit at the center of our lives,
and
the Spirit is present wherever we might go.
Spirituality,
then, is learning to pay attention to
and
respond to the Presence of God
already
with us, within us, and among us.
Over
the last few weeks our family
had
the pleasure of watching
two
robins build a nest
under
the eave of our house.
After
building it, the two adults spent
furtive
days going back and forth,
sitting
on the nest, and bringing extra
grass
and straw to patch it and enlarge it.
Then
one day three tiny beaks could be seen
reaching
up just above the edge of the nest,
waiting
for the adults to bring the next meal.
Sooner than we thought possible,
we
watched as three fledglings piled on top
of
one another, vying for space in
a
nest that had quickly become too small.
What
we missed were those miraculous moments
when
each of the fledglings stood
on
the edge of the nest,
trusted
some deep message
imprinted
at the heart of their being,
and
stepped off.
Even
though the ground was far below,
even
thought there was a 60-pound, ever-hungry,
yellow
Labrador Retriever standing
down
there watching,
even
though they knew nothing yet
about
the power and joy of flight,
they
stepped off,
they
chose to fall.
As
the poet Ranier Maria Rilke once put it,
those
fledglings had to
"patiently
trust their own heaviness”
before
they could fly.
I
have a friend.
Actually, this friend has several
different
names because she represents
different
people I have met along my journey.
My
Friend has suffered greatly.
She
has suffered the violent abuse
of
men who have not learned how
to
live with their own fear,
and
pain and anger.
And
in their pain and fear
they
beat her, and raped her,
and
neglected her in her pain.
These
same men took my Friend to church, regularly.
And
the church always looked the other way.
It
was not a sanctuary for her. It was not safe.
Later
in her life my Friend tried to go to church on her own,
because
she hoped it might just be
a
place of healing and hope.
And
there in the church, more men
told my Friend that the problem was really
with
her, inside of her.
And
again she was neglected in her suffering,
and
again violence was done to her there, in the church.
Time
passed.
And
in that passage of time my Friend has done
courageous
work in truth-telling,
healing
and integrating.
She
has had to learn to trust
that
deep Center in her own being,
and
to trust a small handful of others
who
recognize that truthful Center in her,
and
who try to live from that place themselves.
She
is like that fledgling on the edge of the nest,
venturing
out each day into a world
that
in her experience has been terribly hurtful.
She,
too, has to trust her own heaviness,
trust
that Spirit of Life and Love
is
indeed at the center of her being
and
at the heart of the world.
For
me, to see my Friend is to see Christ;
it
is to know, deep in my heart,
that
the Spirit of the living God is indeed
alive
within us and among us.
She
reveals to us, the church—
the
church that contributed to her suffering—
the
very truths that we stammer to proclaim,
and often fail to perceive or practice.
The
truth is, being
quiet for a few minutes
on Sunday morning together,
gathering
here for an hour or two
of worship and fellowship,
are
not enough to root our lives in the Spirit,
and
orient our words, actions, choices
to
the Way of God's love.
It just isn't enough.
There
are too many other things—other “gods”—
in
our daily lives vying for our attention and allegiance.
Spirituality
easily becomes one of many compartments of life,
rather
than the very Ground of Being.
In
this culture hellbent on productivity and efficiency
and
information, we even turn spiritual practice
into
a commodity and competition.
Jesus
called his friends to a whole-life practice
of deepening, centering down and living with
heartfelt
attention to the Spirit.
He
taught them to pay attention to the Spirit
by
learning how to sometimes be still and quiet,
and
look and listen.
He
taught them to test their sense of the Spirit
within
community, including with people
who
think, act and believe differently.
He
taught them to break silence with words of truth
when
that is what the Spirit calls for.
He
taught them to boldly enact the call of the Spirit
in
their lives when they had sensed it's pull.
And,
by example, he taught that
living
a life centered in the Spirit
calls
us into more honest engagement
with
our own selves and with the world.
A
Spirit-centered life is not an escape,
it
is an entrance into life as it is,
a
willingness to risk everything for love.
Jesus
said:
This
is my body, given for you
This
is my blood, shed for you
This
is the Spirit of Life given to all.
Amen
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