Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits

a sermon given by the Rev. Roger Paine

on the Fourth Sunday in Lent, March 2, 2008

 at The First Parish in Lincoln

To listen to this sermon click here.

“I hope that I may always desire more than I can accomplish.”

– Michelangelo

READINGS:

1.  Our first reading is from chapter 8 in the Gospel of Luke, verses 1-15.  Jesus is on the road with his disciples, going from town to town, and they have been joined by a number of women who are traveling with them – the inner circle around Jesus always included both men and women. Here is Luke 8:1-15:

Jesus traveled about from one town and village to another, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God. The Twelve [disciples] were with him, and also some women who had been cured of evil spirits and diseases: Mary (called Magdalene) from whom seven demons had come out; Joanna the wife of Cuza, the manager of Herod's household; Susanna; and many others. These women were helping to support them out of their own means.

While a large crowd was gathering, Jesus told this parable:  "A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path; it was trampled on, and the birds of the air ate it up.  Some fell on rock, and when it came up, the plants withered because they had no moisture.  Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up with it and choked the plants.  Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up and yielded a crop, a hundred times more than was sown." When he said this, he called out, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear."

His disciples asked him what this parable meant.  He said,  "The seed is the word of God.  Those along the path are the ones who hear, but then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe.  Those on the rock are the ones who receive the word with joy when they hear it, but they have no root. They believe for a while, but in the time of testing they fall away.

The seed that fell among thorns stands for those who hear, but as they go on their way they are choked by life's worries, riches and pleasures, and they do not mature.  But the seed on good soil stands for those with a noble and good heart, who hear the word, retain it, and by persevering produce a crop.”

2.  Our second reading is a short poem called “The Three Goals” by David Budbill, a poet and playwright who lives in the mountains of northern Vermont.  

The Three Goals

David Budbill

 

The first goal is to see the thing itself

in and for itself, to see it simply and clearly

for what it is.

No symbolism, please.

 

The second goal is to see each individual thing

as unified, as one, with all the other

ten thousand things.

In this regard, a little wine helps a lot.

 

The third goal is to grasp the first and the second goals,

to see the universal and the particular,

simultaneously.

Regarding this one, call me when you get it.

As you know, this is Stewardship Month here at The First Parish.

We collectively pledge about $450,000 to our church,

but I don’t know how we get there – I don’t know what you write on your pledge card.

And I don’t want to know – not the amount.

I’ve discovered that I’m different in this regard, because most ministers do know –

the parishoners at The First Parish in Concord, for example,

get a thank-you letter signed by the minister, who hand-writes in what they pledged.

But all I really want to know about your support for this church

is that whatever you give, in time, in talent, and/or in money,

you’re doing the best you can.

Because I believe that if we’re all really doing the best we can, we’ll be fine.

I hope that you really think about what you can give – that you think it through.

And I know it’s not easy to do that.

For couples, it means finding the time to talk about it together.

One of you may care more about the church than the other – so you have to deal with that.

But for any of us, thinking through what to give is a hard thing to do.

It’s easier just to look at last year’s number and write it down again – and keep on doing that for years.

I asked Kay’s permission to use the two of us as an illustration for this sermon.

I’m married to a woman who never had much use for the church – until we came here.

I’m amazed that she actually comes almost every Sunday.

And when we talk about our pledge, she often suggests a higher number than I was thinking.

Two years ago, all of us were being challenged to raise our pledge – significantly, if possible.

So we decided to raise our pledge from $3,000, where it had been, to $5,000.

It’s by far the most we’ve ever given to one cause – but we knew we could do it.

We were both working, we weren’t putting any kids through college,

and we’re not big spenders, except on vacation – that’s our main luxury.

But by this time last year, our situation had changed.

After many years in an engaging, high-intensity job, Kay decided to resign

and give herself a sabbatical to go with the one that you were giving me,

so last year at this time we had gone from two incomes to one.

This meant that thinking about what to give – thinking it through – had a new edge to it.

The stewardship committee was asking all of us to hang in there and add 5% or more if we could.

Like most people, Kay and I live on what we earn.

So last year didn’t feel like a year when we could add anything.

The big question was: could we stay at the same level we’d gone to?

And if we did that, would we still be able to give to the other causes we like to support?

We decided to keep our pledge at $5,000.

I wrote a note to our treasurer, Chris Andrysiak, saying: I think this is the best we can do this year.

I know it’s not easy to think through what we give to the church.

But thinking it through is a really important part of the gift.

If you’ve done that in the last year or two, you could be at a place that feels about right to you.

Or you could look at the letter and the brochure you’ll get in the mail this week and realize,

all things considered, that the church deserves more support from you than you’ve been giving.

Or your situation may have changed, like ours had a year ago, and so you have to ask

whether you can keep your pledge where it was, or need to lower it this year.

For me, what counts, what matters, whatever your situation may be,

is that we all take the time to think it through and then do the best we can.

I’m only going to say one more thing about what we give, and to me, it’s very important:

just as there is a wide range of spiritual beliefs in this congregation,

so also there is wide range in our financial ability to give to the church.

Some of us can and do give a lot – between ten and twenty thousand dollars a year.

For some of us, a $500 pledge is the equivalent of a $5,000 pledge.

And for some of us, there really is no money to spare, and so we give time and talent – a lot of it.

All of these gifts come together make us who we are as a church.

Without all of them, we would be greatly diminished.

So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for what you do to co-create who we are.

Which brings me to the most interesting question in a sermon like this: Why?

Why does the church matter?  Why keep it going?

I, of course, can’t be counted on to give an objective answer.

Your answer is the one that the religious pollsters want to know.

But here’s mine, so you can see how it stacks up with yours.

I think our church is both a refuge and a platform – it’s a harbor and it’s a launching pad.

This is where we bring our babies to be baptized and dedicated – to be welcomed into the world.

This is where the new parents tell us how they chose their sons and daughters names.

This is where we are all reminded that God loves us, all of us, right from the start.

At a baptism, we are living out the poet’s goals in our second reading:

to see the baby and the parents simply and clearly, in and for themselves,

and to see them as unified, as one, with all of us.

That’s also what we’re doing at the other end of life,

when we come to remember a loved one we have just lost,

to see this life in and for itself and tell each other the stories that matter,

to see the person we have lost simply and clearly and as unified, as one with all of us.

And think about all that happens here in the years between the baptisms and the memorials.

Last Tuesday there were 28 of us down at the State House lobbying on behalf of homeless families.

We were there to try to see what it means to be homeless – and how it happens to people –

to see it as simply and clearly as we could, and to see those people as one with all of us.

Without this church, would we have been there?

The Massachusetts Coalition for the Homeless has singled out our church

 as a significant agent for change on this issue.

Here in this sanctuary, over the past twelve years, more than 100 of you have given the morning prayer,

as Dwight Gertz did today and Justin Mundt did last Sunday, and I am sure all those prayers

            have deepened the spirituality of both the givers and those of us who hear them.

Our prayers are one of the many ways in which we minister to one another.

So are the small groups we started launching seven years ago.

And I’ve now heard from enough of you to form a new group this spring – I’ll be in touch.

Our church is a harbor and a launching pad.

Christmas Eve and Sunday School.

Memorial services and weddings.

Candlelight and choir practice.

Silent time on Sunday morning and noisy Friday night suppers at the Arlington Street Church.

Talking privately with Claire about grief and loss – and organizing a service project.

We are both a harbor and a launching pad,

and every year we give away 20% of our operating budget to worthy causes.

That’s my answer to why our church matters.

And to paraphrase Michelangelo, I hope we will always desire more than we can accomplish.

That’s what the parable in our first reading is getting at.

Jesus used parables first to get people’s attention, and then make them think.

A parable is like a poem – it invites people to find their own meanings –

and that’s what Jesus wanted: he wanted us to think it through.

Galilee was farm country, and Jesus begins by saying, “A farmer went out to sow his seed.”

Some of the seed fell on a path and was trampled or eaten by birds;

some fell on rocky soil and at first it grew, but it never was able to take root;

and some fell among thorns which choked the plants when they tried to grow.

Finally, some of the seed fell on good soil and it grew well, and yielded a bountiful crop.

That’s the parable. 

What are we supposed to make of it?

It’s usually called “the parable of the sower,” but I can imagine myself listening to it and thinking,

“It should be called ‘the parable of the stupid sower” –

I mean, what was that farmer thinking,

scattering good seed on a path and in the rocks and into the brambles and thorns?

Was he just not very good at it?  Because those seeds never had a chance.

I don’t know what the disciples were thinking, but they do ask Jesus to explain what the parable means.

He says that the seeds are both the word of God and each of us – we are all seeds of divinity.

But in life, some of us are out on the road, caught in all that traffic, some of us are stuck in the rocks,

and still others of us are trapped in the thorns.

Either we have no time to develop a spiritual life,

or when we try we don’t get much encouragement – the ground is too rocky –

or we get sidetracked by “life’s worries, riches and pleasures” – those are the thorns.

But there are seeds fortunate enough to fall on good ground.

They have a chance to put down some roots and grow in grace and understanding.

So it’s a parable about the sower – about the cards life deals us.

And it’s a parable about the seeds and the soil.

The farmers in the audience would have smiled at the mention of rocky soil.

An old folk tale in the region at that time explained that when God created the world,

he entrusted all the stones to two angels, giving each angel a full bag,

but as they flew over Palestine one of the bags broke, spilling half the stones

that were intended for the whole world.

The truth is, there’s a lot of rocky soil out there, no matter who or where you are.

There are all kinds of reasons to make a spiritual start and then drop out.

So as a minister, I hear this parable as a challenge to the church:

does our church offer good ground for people – soil that will help you grow?

That’s my hope: that as a congregation,

we help each other navigate our way past the rocks and the thorns and onto good ground.

Later this month, the new picture directory of our members and friends will be available.

It will help us see each other simply and clearly, as individuals and as unified, as one congregation.

And “In this regard, a little wine will help a lot.”

The poet says that the third goal is to see the universal and the particular, simultaneously.

He’s not sure how that happens.

But listen to these beautiful words from the British director and actor, Richard Attenborough.

He and his wife lost both their daughter, Jane, and their granddaughter, Lucy,

in the tsuami that hit Thailand and East Asia in December three years ago.

Looking back on it, he says,

“I still can’t cope with it.  If I stop and think about it, I just cry. 

It was the most terrible day of our lives.”

His eyes glistening, he goes on to say, “You can’t outrun your grief.  The pain doesn’t diminish.

What does happen is that you assemble armor – an ability to compartmentalize your grief,

put it in a place that you can revisit when you choose. 

“Also, you learn to place it in juxtaposition with positive memories. 

We had 50 happy years with Jane, our daughter; and 14 with Lucy, our granddaughter.

So you can suddenly recall joy.  It is available. 

You just have to reach down into your memory to find it. 

I remember when Jinny – we called her Jinny – first visited the seaside. 

I remember the time we took her to a Picasso exhibition. 

I may still weep, but the box of memory no longer seems empty.”

And so the universal and the particular come together.

They come together here, too – every week.

And that’s why what we’re doing here matters so much.

Amen.

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