All the Light We Cannot See is a recent novel that is set in occupied France during World War II. It tells the story of Marie-Laure LeBlanc who, at the age of six, becomes blind from a degenerative condition. Her widowed father is a master locksmith at the Museum of Natural History in Paris. To help her navigate the world and live independently, Marie-Laure’s father builds her a scale model of her neighborhood, and then walks her through the streets, teaching her to count her steps. He also has her learn Braille and brings her books that open up her world.
When the Nazis invade France in 1940, Marie-Laure and her father flee to Saint-Malo on the Atlantic coast, where they live in the house of great-uncle Etienne, a recluse. Again Marie-Laure’s father builds her wooden scale models and teaches her to navigate Etienne’s house and neighborhood. Although her father is arrested by the Nazis, partly because of his diligence in mapping Saint-Malo, Marie-Laure is able to function without him, draw out Etienne, help her neighbors, and change the life of Werner, a young German soldier of the occupation. There’s much more to the story, and I highly recommend that you read it for yourself. And why do I recommend it? It is not only the character of Marie-Laure that captivates us. What is more important is that the novel reminds us that there are different kinds of blindness, and that physical blindness does not necessarily lead to a life of misery, but only if the world around us is willing to support us and enable us to “see” differently.
Today’s readings from Scripture also ask us to consider the meanings and varieties of blindness. As you heard the reading from the first book of Samuel about the choice of a king to succeed Saul, couldn’t you just picture the parade of Jesse’s sons passing by the prophet Samuel? Tall, strong, probably accomplished horsemen, hunters, and fighters, wouldn’t they all have made excellent kings? No one in the story here is physically blind, but all are inwardly blind, as they seem to focus only on outward physical appearance. Even Samuel, when he sees tall Eliab, thinks that Eliab must be God’s choice. However, Samuel is also attuned to God, and so he is able to hear God say, “Do not look on his appearance … for the Lord does not see as mortals see….” When David is finally summoned from tending the sheep and is brought before Samuel, Samuel is able to hear God say, “Rise up and anoint him; for this is the one.”
Our Gospel story from the Gospel according to John similarly intrigues us with its depiction of different kinds of blindness. But first, there are some caveats, or warnings, when we talk about this gospel. Remember that it was written in the 90’s, i.e., sixty years after Jesus’ death. More important, it was written for a community in conflict with the mainline Judaism of its day. “The Jews” in this text are the religious leaders opposed to Jesus, not all Jews and not even all religious leaders. When this particular story mentions that followers of Jesus were “put out of the synagogue,” it refers to what Jesus’ followers in the 90’s were experiencing, not the experience of Jesus’ first disciples. And finally, remember that the overarching theme of this gospel is proving Jesus’ divinity, which you can hear here in “If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”
So keeping that all in mind, let’s look at this challenging story. Here we see different kinds of blindness and different ways of responding to what is plainly in front of us. To begin with we see the man born blind, i.e., physically blind like Marie-Laure. However, unlike Marie-Laure, this man is stigmatized by his community because of his disability. Considered unclean, he is forced to become a beggar. Yet by God’s grace he is able to allow Jesus to touch him with a mixture of mud and saliva, and to follow Jesus’ instruction to wash in the pool of Siloam. Knowing he has been healed, he declares Jesus to be a prophet and one who had surely come from God.
Meanwhile, everyone else in the story is unable to see what has happened. The bystanders waffle: maybe it was he who was healed, maybe it wasn’t. The man’s parents cannot or will not say that their son has been healed. And the religious leaders, like so many people we know, cannot believe what they see and hear. Why? Because what has happened does not conform to their view of the world, the Law of Moses, or what are permissible activities on the Sabbath. While the evangelist seems to portray these religious leaders negatively, I can easily understand their desire to hold on to tradition, their inability to accept a changed reality, and their certainty that they are right.
And more important, aren’t we too in these stories? We are surely in the story from first Samuel. So many of us are just like Samuel! We too can’t see beyond outward characteristics! Don’t we judge other people on the basis of looks? Actually, our culture is obsessed with looks, especially how women look. Just look at the ads in any magazine! But don’t we also judge people on the basis of gender, age, religion, ethnicity, nationality, social class, and disability? “You only get one chance to make a first impression,” the how-to-succeed books say. But so often that first impression is so wrong. For most of us, it takes more than one encounter for us to see the real person beneath the outward trappings. How hard it is to see “as God sees.”
And don’t we also find it hard to see that God has done and is doing a new thing in our lives or in our world? Do we find it difficult to accept the reality of God’s actions because, like the bystanders, we don’t trust the evidence right in front of us, or because, like the beggar’s parents, we are afraid of what others might say if we commit to some new understanding? Or more than likely, we find it hard to see God at work, doing a new thing, because we are still looking through the lenses of the past. Like the religious leaders, we dismiss the possibility that God is changing our lives or our world, because we can’t let go of cherished beliefs and practices. “Tradition!” says Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof, when he attempts to explain life in his village. Do we still cling to outmoded traditions and beliefs?
We don’t have to stay blind! Marie-Laure learned to “see” through her father’s models and measured walks. Samuel learned to see by trusting God’s voice inside him, as he rejected all of Jesse’s older sons. The blind man was able to see through trusting a strange rabbi. The bystanders, the man’s parents, and the religious leaders were not able, at least in this story, to learn how to see.
How do we learn to see more clearly? To me, we begin to see more clearly when we give up our own sense of “how things are” and allow for the possibility that God does see differently than we do. We see more clearly when we can grasp that reality might be different than we think it is. We see more clearly when we are willing to give up our intense control of our lives and admit that we are not always right. For some of us, that is very difficult!
And how do we cultivate discernment and inner sight? How do we learn to let God help us see more clearly? There are lots of formal processes and good books about discernment out there. The Jesuits are especially good at teaching us discernment through meditating on Scripture. They also teach an especially good practice of walking through our day, watching for where God might have shown up. In the secular world, strategic planning, especially when it includes visioning exercises, can lead to clearer sight. Parishes can engage in communal discernment practices, and, again, there are many good books, consultants, and programs out there for that. Some of you are familiar with the discernment processes that accompany a felt sense of call to ordained ministry.
For us as individuals, perhaps the best way to learn to see more clearly is to spend some time, preferably every day, in intentional silence. Lectio divina, i.e., slow reading of Scripture, intentionally listening for God’s word to us, is one practice that, like new eyeglasses, can improve our sight. Or just sit in silence, even for five or ten minutes, setting aside your own thoughts and even conscious prayers, just listening for God’s word. Have you ever considered a silent retreat? They are wonderful for bringing us to a place of openness to God and for enabling us to consider how God might want to do something new in our lives. If you’re not ready for a week in silence – even though I highly recommend it – I invite you instead to try this spiritual exercise. Sit quietly. Take a few deep breaths. Ask yourself: what does God see in me? What does God see in N? Is there anything about N that I might not be seeing?
Ultimately, our goal as followers of Jesus is to cultivate wisdom, about ourselves, the world, and God, which is how we truly see. As we listen for the Word made flesh, i.e., God present to us in Jesus, we will learn wisdom. We will not be blind, but we will truly see God at work in ourselves and in all whom we encounter.
Sunday, March 26, 2017
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Serve and Protect
It’s a fable. The enchanting – or perhaps frightening – story of Eve, Adam, the serpent, and the tree is a fable. We know that the earth isn’t just 6,000 years old. We accept the Big Bang theory and believe that our cosmos came into being about thirteen billion years ago, and that it’s still continuing to expand. The theory of evolution tells us that human beings didn’t just appear exactly fully formed as we are today. We know that the first woman was not formed out of one of the ribs of the first man. If anything, scientists tell us that the first humanoid might have been a woman. We even know that there were alternate humans, the Neanderthals, who eventually blended in with our species, homo sapiens. (If you’re interested in humans and Neanderthals, look into Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari.)
It’s a fable. The sages who finally included the story in the Torah, and all the rabbis who have commented on it since, knew it was a fable and not to be taken literally. But the sages who compiled the Hebrew Bible included the two stories of human creation because both of them contain deep truths – truths to which we must still pay attention. Today’s story in the reading from the book of Genesis especially contains within it lessons about our place in creation and God’s expectations of us. As we begin our Lenten journey to the Cross, it is important that we not miss what the story of Adam, Eve, the serpent, and the tree has to tell us.
Today’s reading comes from the second creation story in Genesis. What you heard is actually two disconnected pieces, with an important piece missing. In the first part of the story, God has made the first human being “Adam” from the dust of the earth, “adamah” in Hebrew. In the Bible, yes, we truly are “dust.” Then God created a garden and placed the first human in it. God gave the first human two instructions: what our translation renders as to “till and keep” the garden (“dress it and keep it” in the KJV), and to refrain from eating from a certain tree. After this, there is the story of the creation of a second human, a woman, which our reading skips over. Then we have the second part of our reading, the story of the interplay among the woman, the man, the serpent, and the fruit of the forbidden tree.
So what are we supposed to learn from this fable? Both creation stories, and especially the first one, give us a breath-taking picture of God speaking creation into being. “Let there be light,” God thunders in the first creation story, and there was light. Let the waters recede, and let there be sun and moon, and vegetation, and animals, and – finally – humans created in God’s own image. And it was all good.
The second creation story, the one we hear about this morning, begins right with the creation of the first human being, followed by the creation of the Garden of Eden. Why did God create the human being? Here is the answer: to “till and keep” the garden, and by implication all of creation.1 In the context of ancient creation myths this reason is quite amazing. Other creation stories show humans as an accident, or an after-thought, or even a mistake. In our modern creation myth, we humans tend to see ourselves as the apex of creation, the point of it all. In contrast to both these points of view, the Genesis story says that humans are not created for themselves, but are created to till and keep the garden.
Do you wonder what “till and keep” means? Actually, this isn’t a good translation of the Hebrew. A better translation would be to “serve and protect.” In other words, we humans were created, as the teller of the Genesis story understands it, to take care of creation – not to exploit it. We were created so that we could pay attention to the needs of creation, rather than to our own needs, to love creation as God loves it. And we are responsible for its well-being, both now and into the future. We are to be concerned “for those who come after us.”. In a word care for God’s garden is our mission as human beings.
And how well are we fulfilling our mission as human beings? The story of Adam, Eve, the serpent, and the tree suggests that we are not doing very well. In a word, we let ourselves get distracted and forget about God’s mission. We get distracted by our physical needs. Eve thought that the forbidden tree was “good for food.” Those in our country who still worry about where their next meal is coming from – and whether their SNAP dollars will last through the end of the month – are very appropriately distracted by physical needs. Most of us, though, are distracted by our desire for “stuff,” for clothes, cars, electronics, airplanes, weapons – you name it. Do really need the latest style of tennis shoes, or a new cell phone every two years? Our landfills are bursting, and still we keep buying – and tossing out. Worse, we get distracted by physical substances that do us real harm, especially alcohol and drugs. You have only to open the daily newspaper to know that, despite the “war on drugs,” our opiate addiction is killing us – right here in southern Ohio. (If you’re interested in the drug problem right here at home, look into Dream Land: The True Story of America’s Opiate Epidemic by Sam Quinones.)
If we are not distracted by physical needs, many of us are distracted by things that dazzle and entertain us. For Eve, the forbidden tree “was a delight to the eyes.” Well, sometimes I get dazzled by flowering trees, but most of us are more likely to become dazzled and enthralled by football games or other spectacles. Or maybe you’re hooked on video games. For some of us it’s social media. Am I the only one who looks around after an hour or so and says, “Did I just spend all that time on Facebook?”
Aren’t we also distracted by our need for control? Eve thought that the forbidden tree would “make one wise,” i.e., that it would allow her and Adam to be like God. Do we think we can know all the variables that will affect our lives and then control them? We know we cannot, yet we can get seduced into thinking that we can.
And finally, of course, we get distracted by the illusion that we will not die. This is the serpent’s most perverse lie: “You will not die.” But we believe it! Or we live as if we do. We live as if there’s still time to turn our lives around. We live as if there’s yet another day to do the right thing. We think we have plenty of time to apologize and make amends to those we have hurt – or to forgive and reconcile with those who have hurt us. We put off working for peace and justice, because there’s still plenty of time for us to do those good things. We don’t take care of our bodies, nor do we care whether our neighbors have enough to eat or have access to decent healthcare. We don’t make wills. And we don’t prepare for the day when we will actually take our last breath.
My brothers and sisters, it’s just a fable, but it’s a fable that is also describing our lives. What happened in that garden also happens to us. The story of Adam, Eve, the serpent, and the tree is also a story about us. We still have a responsibility to serve and protect the earth, in the 21st century now perhaps more than ever. The Paris agreement on climate change still matters, as does the ability of our federal and state agencies to fund research. In our relatively under-populated country, we may still think that the earth will regenerate itself after we’ve harmed it – or that we can just move further west. The truth is that the network of mines under southeast Ohio will last forever. The mountains in Kentucky and West Virginia that were flattened by the mining companies will be scarred for centuries. The fracking water that we’ve pumped underground will stay there forever – we hope.
Lent is a time to acknowledge and recommit ourselves to stewardship of the earth – and to remind our elected representatives to be mindful of the needs of “this fragile earth, our island home.” Lent is a time to recognize and repent of all the things that distract us from our responsibilities. It is a time to turn our backs on the blandishments of the serpent and return to our responsibility for creation and its inhabitants. It is a time to read Scripture attentively and note, for example, how Jesus responded to the distractions from his mission that he was offered. Lent is a time to examine our lives and ask how we, as individuals, as a parish, and as a community, need to change. Lent is a time to pray that now, in this mortal life, God’s Holy Spirit will lead us to amendment of life and commitment to God’s holy mission. Lent is time to be confident in God’s mercy and open to God’s leading. May it be so.
1. With thanks to Jon Berquist in Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 2 (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox), pp. 27ff., for suggesting the theme of “till and keep” for this story.
It’s a fable. The sages who finally included the story in the Torah, and all the rabbis who have commented on it since, knew it was a fable and not to be taken literally. But the sages who compiled the Hebrew Bible included the two stories of human creation because both of them contain deep truths – truths to which we must still pay attention. Today’s story in the reading from the book of Genesis especially contains within it lessons about our place in creation and God’s expectations of us. As we begin our Lenten journey to the Cross, it is important that we not miss what the story of Adam, Eve, the serpent, and the tree has to tell us.
Today’s reading comes from the second creation story in Genesis. What you heard is actually two disconnected pieces, with an important piece missing. In the first part of the story, God has made the first human being “Adam” from the dust of the earth, “adamah” in Hebrew. In the Bible, yes, we truly are “dust.” Then God created a garden and placed the first human in it. God gave the first human two instructions: what our translation renders as to “till and keep” the garden (“dress it and keep it” in the KJV), and to refrain from eating from a certain tree. After this, there is the story of the creation of a second human, a woman, which our reading skips over. Then we have the second part of our reading, the story of the interplay among the woman, the man, the serpent, and the fruit of the forbidden tree.
So what are we supposed to learn from this fable? Both creation stories, and especially the first one, give us a breath-taking picture of God speaking creation into being. “Let there be light,” God thunders in the first creation story, and there was light. Let the waters recede, and let there be sun and moon, and vegetation, and animals, and – finally – humans created in God’s own image. And it was all good.
The second creation story, the one we hear about this morning, begins right with the creation of the first human being, followed by the creation of the Garden of Eden. Why did God create the human being? Here is the answer: to “till and keep” the garden, and by implication all of creation.1 In the context of ancient creation myths this reason is quite amazing. Other creation stories show humans as an accident, or an after-thought, or even a mistake. In our modern creation myth, we humans tend to see ourselves as the apex of creation, the point of it all. In contrast to both these points of view, the Genesis story says that humans are not created for themselves, but are created to till and keep the garden.
Do you wonder what “till and keep” means? Actually, this isn’t a good translation of the Hebrew. A better translation would be to “serve and protect.” In other words, we humans were created, as the teller of the Genesis story understands it, to take care of creation – not to exploit it. We were created so that we could pay attention to the needs of creation, rather than to our own needs, to love creation as God loves it. And we are responsible for its well-being, both now and into the future. We are to be concerned “for those who come after us.”. In a word care for God’s garden is our mission as human beings.
And how well are we fulfilling our mission as human beings? The story of Adam, Eve, the serpent, and the tree suggests that we are not doing very well. In a word, we let ourselves get distracted and forget about God’s mission. We get distracted by our physical needs. Eve thought that the forbidden tree was “good for food.” Those in our country who still worry about where their next meal is coming from – and whether their SNAP dollars will last through the end of the month – are very appropriately distracted by physical needs. Most of us, though, are distracted by our desire for “stuff,” for clothes, cars, electronics, airplanes, weapons – you name it. Do really need the latest style of tennis shoes, or a new cell phone every two years? Our landfills are bursting, and still we keep buying – and tossing out. Worse, we get distracted by physical substances that do us real harm, especially alcohol and drugs. You have only to open the daily newspaper to know that, despite the “war on drugs,” our opiate addiction is killing us – right here in southern Ohio. (If you’re interested in the drug problem right here at home, look into Dream Land: The True Story of America’s Opiate Epidemic by Sam Quinones.)
If we are not distracted by physical needs, many of us are distracted by things that dazzle and entertain us. For Eve, the forbidden tree “was a delight to the eyes.” Well, sometimes I get dazzled by flowering trees, but most of us are more likely to become dazzled and enthralled by football games or other spectacles. Or maybe you’re hooked on video games. For some of us it’s social media. Am I the only one who looks around after an hour or so and says, “Did I just spend all that time on Facebook?”
Aren’t we also distracted by our need for control? Eve thought that the forbidden tree would “make one wise,” i.e., that it would allow her and Adam to be like God. Do we think we can know all the variables that will affect our lives and then control them? We know we cannot, yet we can get seduced into thinking that we can.
And finally, of course, we get distracted by the illusion that we will not die. This is the serpent’s most perverse lie: “You will not die.” But we believe it! Or we live as if we do. We live as if there’s still time to turn our lives around. We live as if there’s yet another day to do the right thing. We think we have plenty of time to apologize and make amends to those we have hurt – or to forgive and reconcile with those who have hurt us. We put off working for peace and justice, because there’s still plenty of time for us to do those good things. We don’t take care of our bodies, nor do we care whether our neighbors have enough to eat or have access to decent healthcare. We don’t make wills. And we don’t prepare for the day when we will actually take our last breath.
My brothers and sisters, it’s just a fable, but it’s a fable that is also describing our lives. What happened in that garden also happens to us. The story of Adam, Eve, the serpent, and the tree is also a story about us. We still have a responsibility to serve and protect the earth, in the 21st century now perhaps more than ever. The Paris agreement on climate change still matters, as does the ability of our federal and state agencies to fund research. In our relatively under-populated country, we may still think that the earth will regenerate itself after we’ve harmed it – or that we can just move further west. The truth is that the network of mines under southeast Ohio will last forever. The mountains in Kentucky and West Virginia that were flattened by the mining companies will be scarred for centuries. The fracking water that we’ve pumped underground will stay there forever – we hope.
Lent is a time to acknowledge and recommit ourselves to stewardship of the earth – and to remind our elected representatives to be mindful of the needs of “this fragile earth, our island home.” Lent is a time to recognize and repent of all the things that distract us from our responsibilities. It is a time to turn our backs on the blandishments of the serpent and return to our responsibility for creation and its inhabitants. It is a time to read Scripture attentively and note, for example, how Jesus responded to the distractions from his mission that he was offered. Lent is a time to examine our lives and ask how we, as individuals, as a parish, and as a community, need to change. Lent is a time to pray that now, in this mortal life, God’s Holy Spirit will lead us to amendment of life and commitment to God’s holy mission. Lent is time to be confident in God’s mercy and open to God’s leading. May it be so.
1. With thanks to Jon Berquist in Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol. 2 (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox), pp. 27ff., for suggesting the theme of “till and keep” for this story.
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