2020-08-03
Brooke Strong
This service was livestreamed due to COVID-19 restrictions.
Sermon Text
"Mud, Spit & Tears"
Scripture: Psalm 23; John 9:1-7
The first seven verses of today’s Gospel reading beg the question that I suspect all of us would like answered, which is, simply put, why bad things happen to good people. Jesus and his disciples are walking along and see a man who has been blind since birth. The disciples ask Jesus, “who sinned? this man or his parents?” Notice they assume that somebody sinned, and that this is what caused the man’s blindness. But Jesus nips that interpretation right in the bud by proclaiming that neither the man nor his parents sinned. In other words, our bad behavior does not cause God to zap us and inflict tragedy on our lives. Now, sometimes our poor choices, by way of logical consequence, result in tragedy, like choosing to drive drunk and then getting into a crash. But that is totally different than saying that God zaps us with unrelated punishment after we sin. And I suspect that Jesus could have gone on to denounce some of the other erroneous theories about why tragedy happens as well. But what he does say is that given that it did happen, given that the man was born blind, that God’s glory could be made manifest through the saga. Notice he didn’t say that God premeditated the man’s blindness in order to showcase God’s power. Only that given the situation, God’s power could shine through.
So then Jesus makes mud of dirt and spit, spreads it on the man’s eyes, and tells him to wash in a nearby pool. Soon thereafter, the man comes back able to see.
Well, first of all, by way of a little teaching, let me say that there are many ways to interpret this story, as with all the miracle stories. Some view it historically, as a historical event that happened in time and place, including the miracle of the sudden restoration of the man’s literal sight. And I am personally inclined to go with that interpretation. I personally don’t struggle too much with the historicity of the miracle stories, because I think Jesus was so whole, so spiritually evolved, so in tune with the infinite source, that those fortunate enough to sit in his presence were often healed by a kind of metaphysical proximity to his translucent energy. I know, it probably sounds a little wu-wu, but in this huge, complex universe where there doubtless are lots of phenomena that we just don’t understand yet, I am certainly open to a metaphysical explanation for miracles. And I know many of you say you believe in miracles because you’ve seen them. But even if you are unable to swallow the miracle stories as history, and I know some of you fit that description as well, because you have told me so. Even if you struggle with belief in miracles, theologian Marcus Borg tells us that they too can be received and used as as parables, as metaphors. In this case, perhaps a story about a man who learned to see things in a whole new way; a man who suddenly gained healing insight! In either case, whichever way you take the story: history or metaphor, there is something that can be powerfully attested, and it is this: That Jesus, the manifestation of God’s wholeness, was able literally or symbolically to take dirt and spit and make mud and that somehow through this, the man’s sight was restored. In other words, this story was at the very least, a telescoped, condensed representation of the way God always heals us- which is to use the raw materials of our lives, the mud and spit, the blood, sweat and tears, if you will, the ragged fragments of our lives, even, and maybe especially, it would seem…the painful ones. Mud and spit indeed.
Perhaps an illustration will help, and it has to do with one of my own mud and spit stories. It is one I have told before here, and because of that, along with the fact that I think preachers should use personal stories sparingly, I hesitate to repeat it. But it is a formative story in my own life, and represents a spiritual milestone that I pray will illustrate my central point here, so I trust you will forgive me if you are one of the ones who has heard it before. It starts with a word of two of personal background, which is to say I have always been a worrier. I attribute that to the fact that my father died when I was six, and I learned early that life seemed to be built on shifting sands. Fast forward a few decades to a windy day, while camping, when my son, then about ten, and I went swimming in Lake Erie. Lake Erie, incidentally, is called the graveyard of the Great Lakes because it is shallow, and kicks up frequent, strong storms. Well, this day was sunny, but there was a steady wind creating waves perfect for body surfing. In my younger days I was a lifeguard and had taught Jackson to swim well, and I thought it was safe, even given the wind that day, to swim in the shallows. Little did I know that the locals knew never to swim on that side of the peninsula when the wind was coming from that particular direction. And sure enough, after playing in the surf for a good while, we failed to notice that we had been carried out to significantly deeper water. When we tried to swim back to the beach, we soon realized that we weren’t making any headway. Turns out that the Great Lakes can have rip currents. Luckily there were buoys marking the edge of the designated swimming areas, and we were able to make our way to one of those and hang on. Jackson clung first, and I wrapped myself more or less around him, to further secure him, and hung on as well. The large waves were coming regularly, and each one dunked the buoy with us clinging to it, underwater. I counted down each wave by way of telling him when to take a big breath for the immersion. I’m not sure how long we were there. Time sometimes telescopes in these situations. But I think it was at least twenty minutes or so of hanging on and screaming for help. And then something amazing happened, a man came walking along the otherwise deserted beach, out for his daily walk. He saw us, quickly realized we were in trouble, and called the Coast Guard, which sent a rescue boat and saved us, with some stern words for me for swimming on that side of the peninsula on a windy day, and chastised and grateful, we landed on shore and called Brian who had been asleep in our camper throughout the whole episode.
Perhaps you are wondering how this event became a spiritual milestone in my life? I suspect you think I am going to say that it was somehow a miracle that the man came along, and I learned that God would always take care of me. Probably most people would learn that lesson, and it’s a good one! But being the Queen of existential anxiety, I couldn’t leave it at that. I had to go one step further and ask what if the man hadn’t come? That is the end of the story for plenty of good people who do die by drowning, after all. I was haunted by this question, especially as it applied to my son, for long weeks to come, and was finally diagnosed with an isolated case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and was succesfully treated. And the life changing spiritual lesson I did learn from that harrowing event was this- that even if the man on the beach hadn’t come, and even if Jackson and I had drowned, even with the horrific tragedy that would have been, and especially for Brian, even with all of that, when taken from the broader, more universal perspective, all still would eventually have been well. Because you see, we all do eventually die, some of us prematurely and tragically, it happens all the time. And I think this is the central “Hero’s Journey” lesson we all must learn. Some have said that fear of death is the root of all other fears, and for me I know it was true. And it was somehow only when I was forced into confronting it directly, into facing it head on with all its terror and out-of-controll-ness, that I was somehow able to get free enough from it to begin living without all the compulsive worry. And I have been fundamentally changed since God took the mud and spit of that experience, and gradually healed my way of seeing; not that I don’t still struggle, but the tipping point was reached. I realized that all my life I had been worrying about things, for the most part none of which happened. And then a truly terrible thing that I never thought to worry about, did happen. And it finally got into the marrow of my bones that worry is pointless, and that ultimately, ultimately, even in the face of our mortality, all shall somehow be well. It was painful mud and spit, but probably the only thing that could have done its transforming work. Again, I want to be clear. I am not saying God caused this event in order to teach me. My own ignorance or stupidity, or life’s randomness caused it. But the precious and hard won faith statement I want to witness to today, is that given whatever happens, our God can use it, and in love and creativity can weave it into the overall tapestry that is our life.
Harriet Tubman made the same assertion. After she escaped slavery and landed, free, in Philadelphia, she was compelled by homesickness for her husband to go back to where she had been enslaved, and get him. When she arrived, she learned to her devastation that he, having been told she had died, had remarried. She felt betrayed and heart-broken. It lead to a crisis of faith for her. But she finally realized that God had used her passionate love of her husband to guide her back so that she could free, finally, over seventy other enslaved people by bringing them north on the underground railroad. God used the mud and spit of her life to work a far greater good, not only freeing dozens of enslaved people, but growing Harriet’s faith to the point where she became a spiritual giant, able to be guided by God in dramatic ways.
And what is the ultimate end of all this gradual spiritual transformation, this Hero’s Journey we are all on, though we may all use different terminology to describe it? I think the goal, the image we are growing into bit by bit is seen in Psalm 23. Ultimately, as God or life or the Universe uses the raw material of our lives, and sands off our rough edges or interweaves all the random strands, as this work is gradually done in our lives, we increasingly become like the person portrayed in Psalm 23 who becomes content with what he has, and so free from fear that he could sit and dine even when surrounded by enemies. Now that is freedom!
What are the enemies you deal with? Are they literal or internal, compulsions or tapes you play in your head that undermine you? Things that enslave you? And how can you gradually get free of them, and from that underlying anxiety that infiltrates most of our lives? How can you become content, as it says in Psalm 23, and stop compulsively looking for the next panacea? How can you have the peace, the serenity, the joy that that Psalm exudes?
I’m sorry, but I don’t know any other way than by learning from your life, from its mud and spit experiences, from its ragged fragments, and asking and trusting God to make those fragments useful, and work them together for good. By asking in any painful situation, what do I need to learn about myself from this, toward my own spiritual evolution?
What are your mud and spit stories? Your ragged edge scenerios? Your painful memories or painful current situations? Where are you blind in your life? or hopeless or overwhelmed? What waves are dunking you under? Do you believe God can work them into a greater good? Not that there won’t still be pain or grief or confusion. I don't want to suggest simplistic or cliche solutions. But our central Christian belief in resurrection says God can make a difference in these things, even the big ones. That from the tragedy of a good Friday can ultimately come Easter! That even from the midst of that most heinous, oppressive tragedy can come at least some measure of new life.
And it works on the macro-level as well. We are seeing it right now in the tipping point that has been reached in race relations as a result of George Floyd’s death. In no way did God cause that event, but given that it happened, I believe God, the universe, has used it to wake us up to deep reality of structural racism that has been in place for centuries.
I close with one more assertion that at least some healing can come from even unspeakable tragedy. Some years ago, a twelve year old girl was abducted and murdered. Her parents were friends of the spiritual guru, Ram Das, of 1970’s “Be Here Now” fame. Ram Das wrote Rachel’s parents the following letter, which they have since said was really the only thing that substantially helped them. I don’t necessarily agree with all of it, but I think it poignantly fits with my theme:
Dear Steve and Anita,
Rachel finished her work on earth, and left the stage in a manner that leaves those of us left behind with a cry of agony in our hearts, as the fragile thread of our faith is dealt with so violently. Is anyone strong enough to stay spiritually conscious through such teaching as you are receiving? Probably very few. And even they would only have a whisper of equanimity and peace amidst the screaming trumpets of their rage, grief, horror and desolation.
I can’t assuage your pain with any words, nor should I. For your pain is Rachel’s legacy to you. Not that she or I or God would inflict such pain by choice, but there it is. And it must burn its purifying way to completion. For something in you dies when you bear the unbearable, and it is only in that dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees, and to love as God loves.
Now is the time to let your grief find expression. No false strength. Now is the time to sit quietly and speak to Rachel, and thank her for being with you these few years, and encourage her to go on with whatever her work is, knowing that you will grow in compassion and wisdom from this experience. In my heart, I know that you and she will meet again and again, and recognize the many ways in which you have known each other. And when you meet you will know, in a flash, what now it is not given to you to know: Why this… was.
Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts – if we can keep them open to God – will find their own intuitive way. Rachel came through you to do her work on earth… Now her soul is free, and the love that you can share with her is invulnerable to the winds of changing time and space.
In that deep love,
include me.
In love,
Ram Dass
If I know nothing else for sure, I know this: Our God, life, the Universe, can take even the most heinous moments and work them into our soul-making journeys, our spiritual evolution as individuals and as the human race, into the fullest manifestation of who God made us to be, which ultimately is what we are here to do. May we allow God to use the unavoidable mud and spit in our lives to heal our blindness, and to heal the world. For therein lies our healing.