February 19, 2006

The Gateway to Joy

by Julianne Stokstad

Today I continue the series of sermons based on Henri Nouwen's book Life of the Beloved. His premise is that our spiritual lives can be understood by the pattern seen in communion where Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to his disciples. We are chosen as God's beloveds by virtue of just being alive, we are blessed if we choose to accept the blessings, but all of us are also broken, not by God but by life.

Brokenness is not an easy topic. Hard things happen to each and every one of us in our lives. We cannot avoid this. The most obvious are the physically apparent: diseases, accidents that break bones and bodies, and genetic conditions that bring illness to our bodies. We can't hide this kind of brokenness very easily. I used to tell my biology students statistically each one of us carries at least three or four mutations in our genes. There are other ways in which we become broken. We make bad choices.

An old nursery rhyme "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" implies physical brokenness is all there is. In fact, it's a big lie. Nouwen speaks personally and profoundly about suffering from emotional hurts such as loneliness, fears, isolation and abandonment, insecurity and betrayal.

Most of us do whatever we can to hide, to cover up and avoid any reference to our brokenness. Nouwen says our brokenness reveals something about who we are. It's ours, unique to each of us, and we experience it as highly personal. We can't compare ours with others. We must claim it as our own. Nouwen speaks through the lens of his own experience saying, "Although many people suffer from physical or mental disabilities and although there is a great amount of economic poverty, homelessness, and lack of basic human needs, the suffering of which I am most aware on a day to day basis is the suffering of the broken heart." There is immense pain in many of us from broken and hurting relationships. Nouwen knew he was a homosexual but had to hide it his whole life. The pain of suffering alone and in silence is profound.

How can we begin to respond to this? We can't control or chose what happens to us, but we do have the choice of how we will respond. Nouwen suggests two ways. First we need to face our hurt, befriend our pain. He says, "This may seem quite unnatural. Our first, most spontaneous response to pain and suffering is to avoid it, to keep it at arm's length, to ignore, circumvent or deny it. Suffering--be it physical, mental or emotional--is almost always experienced as an unwelcome intrusion into our lives, something that should not be there. It is difficult, if not impossible, to see anything positive in suffering; it must be avoided at all costs." (p. 92-3)

Humor, perspective and inspiring examples can help us to face the hardest things. If you read Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Ablom you have a wonderful example. Here's another from a former parishioner. Merrill had terminal liver cancer with a six-month prognosis. One day I went to visit him and he told me he was writing a book about belly buttons. "Belly buttons?" I asked him. "Yes, belly buttons. That's all I see when I'm in my wheel chair. I never knew how people in wheel chairs have such a different perspective." Like many plucky spirited people, Merrill knew how to face his pain and even to present it with lightness and humor.

Nouwen says, "The great secret of the spiritual life, the life of the Beloved Sons and Daughters of God is that everything we live, be it gladness or sadness, joy or pain, health or illness, can all be a part of the journey toward the full realization of our humanity...real care means the willingness to help each other in making our brokenness into the gateway of joy." (p.96) Joy and grief are not opposites, but companions in our souls. When something wonderful happens to me, I find it very hard to fully take it, and as I think of it, my eyes will tear up at odd times, and a wave of emotion overcomes me. It is indeed, while fully joyful, rather like processing a deep grief.

The second response is to put our brokenness under the light of blessing, not the shadow of curse. Let me give an example from my recent trip to India. I have spoken about the immense poverty, the aggressive begging, the awful pollution of air, land and water; all these are indeed examples of brokenness, for individuals and for systems. But it is about how our little group literally broke apart that I want to speak. Our leader intentionally planned to have us stay in modest accommodations. He said since the poverty is so immense in India, he wanted to be sensitive. Also some of the folks were on a tight budget so the places we stayed were cheap-- $10 to $40 per night for a double room. We got used to simple rooms that were not especially clean. We got used to having to ask for towels and toilet paper. We got used to having the hot water not working and to intermittent electricity. But at the Rahi Tourist Bungalow in Sarnath, we hit the low point of the trip. This was the night after most of the women had been sick. But it turned out several women did not ask for help and were still quite sick. Our leader made the decision for us to continue our travel, with a several hour train ride and then a long bus ride on the assumption all of us were well enough to travel. Arriving at this hotel after dark, each one of us was already stressed in different ways. The place was extremely dirty. Not only was there was no heat, and it was cold, but there was only one dirty sheet on the bed and my blanket smelled of greasy, dirty hair. I noticed the locks were on the outside of all the doors. Some of the men complained and got a different room. The meal we were served was not fresh and therefore dangerously suspect; the staff was surly and depressed. I learned the place was a former British prison and I think the oppression of the place added to our stress. The mood of our group grew dark and depressed.

The next morning, I was surprised that half our group decided to leave for various reasons, fleeing to a nearby five star hotel. The tension for me was between self-protection and responsibility to the group. Each one of us made the decision we needed to make. Several were not strong enough to face the long ride to Nepal. One wanted to buy a sitar. Another was stressed about her daughter's illness. Some were angry with the leader. Our group as it had been was broken. Only seven of us continued on. All of us understood there was no one right action. The brokenness happened and each of us responded from our own experience, values and needs. For me, the blessing is that there was no judgment and that put the light of blessing upon the brokenness. Our small group became closer and experienced great blessings visiting Buddha's birthplace in Nepal and his death place in Kushinagar, both very holy Buddhist sites.

When hard things happen to us that we don't want, if we curse ourselves or allow others to curse us, the difficulty is much harder to bear. It is always tempting to explain a loss or illness or divorce as a confirmation of our curse, "You see, I always thought I was no good, now the facts prove it." Physical, emotional or mental pain lived under blessing is experienced radically differently from pain lived under a curse. The smallest burden under worthlessness is intolerable, while great heavy burdens lived under blessing can be borne.

It is very important for us all to stand with each other and to stand without the curse of judgment. We don't need to know the intimate details of each other lives, that is invasive and at times very disrespectful, but to understand that everyone experiences brokenness can bring compassion.

I think we are on the right road, but we still have a ways to go to learn how we can help each other and stand with each other. I hope we are courageous and compassionate enough to speak the truth about our suffering. I hope that we have created and can create a safe place here at church: a place of blessing, not curses, a place of love and acceptance, not judgment and rejection, a place of kindness and peace where God's presence is felt. It is through our brokenness that God's light shines out.

Amen