May 1, 2005

Seeking God's Face

by Julianne Stokstad

Back when I was young, when our parents thought the world was a safer place, we used to walk to school. One of my favorite memories is walking home from school in the rain, with my yellow goulashes on, jumping and splashing in the puddles. Here's a story I received this week about such a child. On one particular morning, even though the sky was gray, the child walked to school. During the day a storm moved in and her mother began to be concerned that her child would be scared of the lightning. Worried, the mother hopped in her car and drove along the route her child walked to school. When she saw her child she noticed at each flash of lightning the child would stop and look up and smile. More lightning and at each flash, the child would look up and smile. Puzzled the mother approached her in her car and asked, what are you doing? Her daughter answered, "I am trying to look nice, God keeps taking my picture."

Children naturally seem to have a curiosity and wonder about God and an easy comfortable sense of God's presence. I remember one of our sons when he was quite young asking me about God and then saying"Well," he said, "God must be like electricity then, because you can't see God, you can only see what God does."

People have, and always have had religious impulses. Paul in our scripture today expressed distress at the great variety of religious opinions and expressions in Athens. He argued with the Jews, debated with philosophers. The Greeks, of course, had many gods, and Paul saw the idols everywhere. It is a credit to their openness that they invited him to speak to them. I think of Paul as a passionate fiery evangelist, a skilled debater and as a teacher.

It is interesting to take a look at his sermon, probably the shortest one he ever gave. It began with him flattering them, "I see how extremely religious you are." Then he connects the altar he'd seen to an unknown god, to the God he comes to tell them about. Since the Greeks saw God in creation, he talks about God as Creator. Because he uses their language and examples they can relate to what he's saying. They probably thought he was talking about Zeus. I find it interesting that he never mentions Jesus at all. He knows his audience, they're Greek not Jewish, so he doesn't quote any scripture for his authority, but rather quotes their own poet. But when he got to the resurrection, they scoffed and laughed at him. His hearers were curious about his strange ideas, but this was too much.

By most standards, his sermon was a failure. They didn't get what he was trying to tell them about. This set me on a path of wondering how people know what they know, how they come to change or not change what they believe. As children, what we know is fairly simple and most early learning comes from family, sibling and cultural experiences. I find most adults are very resistant to changing any of their views, especially when compared with teens with whom I worked for so long. I've done a little informal survey to find out how adults come to know what they know: I figured the choices were learning from some authority or direct experience. Most said their own direct experience was how they knew things.

So I wondered why Paul, who never met Jesus, didn't refer to his conversion experience where he met the Risen Christ and was literally knocked off his horse. That experience totally changed him from a tax collector who persecuted Christians into a Christian. Maybe experiences like his, ones that under gird our lives, aren't told in words, but in how we live our lives. He was out to tell anyone who would listen in the best way he knew about God, the God that Jesus knew and loved.

One of the reasons I moved from teaching, which I greatly loved, into ministry was my yearning to be able to speak about love and God more openly. Like most teachers and parents who've taught for a long time, I began to realize that what was really important that I was teaching to my students were not so much the biology concepts and facts, but rather I was modeling in everything I did how to treat people, who I was as a person. Everything I did in the classroom and beyond was carefully watched. I began to realize the energy of my teaching was love and I wanted to talk about it. I began to see that we are all teaching each other all the time.

The Buddha says, "Imagine that every person in the world is enlightened but you. They are all your teachers, each doing just the right things to help you learn patience, perfect wisdom, perfect compassion." I find it is a daunting thought to imagine we are all teaching each other.

Jesus was a master teacher. He taught using story and parables. He knew just the right question to ask which would lead to growth. He didn't lecture or tell people what to do, rather he made them figure it out for themselves. And mostly Jesus taught by the example of his life.

I've just finished Parker Palmer's latest book A Hidden Wholeness. In it he describes a way of being together in what he calls "circles of trust." These are groups where nobody tries to fix anyone else, where no one gives advice to anyone. In such a circle, people honor and respect each other and listen attentively and deeply so that each person in the circle can become more aware of his/her own soul's yearning. His concept is based on the assumption that deep within each of us our soul's quiet voice is our best teacher. To be sure each soul is connected to God. Forming a circle, writes Jungian writer Alice Howell, "is a symbolic way of asserting that the true teacher is always invisible in our midst."

I began to see in my mind's eye our church family coming forward for communion like you will today. I've told some of you this sight is one of the most beautiful things I see. As I stand here, I see you reach out tenderly to help each other, you hold each other's children, and you greet each other with great kindness and respect, you welcome the stranger. Today as you stand in our circle for communion, look around; see this as a circle of love and trust. Bless each other silently and open yourself to your own soul's voice. Listen. Be grateful. And look around for God's presence here among us.

Amen