Character Is A Lifetime Job
Preaching
Gathering Up the Fragments
Preaching As Spiritual Practice
Object:
Some of them have left behind a name, so that others declare their praise. But of others there is no memory; they have perished as though they had never existed; they have become as though they had never been born, they and their children after them. But these also were godly men, whose righteous deeds have not been forgotten ... Their offspring will continue forever, and their glory will never be blotted out. Their bodies are buried in peace, but their name lives on generation after generation.
-- Ecclesiasticus 44:8-10, 13-14
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you."
-- Matthew 5:1-12
In our dining room we have a set of silver candlesticks that belonged to my grandparents. When I light the candles, I think of my grandmother. She loved eating by candlelight, even at breakfast, a love she passed on to my mother and to me. My grandmother was not a great person in the eyes of the world, or, at times, in the eyes of her family. She could be demanding, opinionated, and prickly. I have the distinct impression that it was harder to be one of her children than one of her grandchildren, and being her grandchild was no picnic. But I realize now, as I the light candles, how much I learned from her. She taught me the importance of paying attention to the small, daily tasks and responsibilities upon which a life is built. It was the way she carefully prepared each meal, set the table, and tended to her home. It was how she would rise each summer morning at 6 a.m. to lead an exercise class on the beach for her neighbors, and then go for a swim in the frigid North Sea before returning home to prepare breakfast. It was how she greeted us when we arrived for our visits with hot tea and princess torta (cake) -- the staple of every Swedish celebration -- and how she cried when we left, standing at the edge of the yard waving her handkerchief good-bye until we disappeared from view.
What I hear in the glorious themes of All Saints Sunday is a gentle call to persistence, faithfulness in the small things that help shape our character. Life isn't always easy or kind. While it can be exciting and even glamorous at times, it isn't that way very often and we best not get too attached to that kind of energy, or the rest of our life -- which is to say, most of it -- will seem dull by comparison. It may be that we'll be called upon once or twice in our lifetime for some extraordinary act of heroism or courage. But more likely our lives will be measured by small, steady acts of faithfulness and persistence. "The courage that counts is the courage of the every day," reads a note that someone once gave me. "Most of life involves putting one foot in front of the other. Big leaps have received too much press."
Big leaps have received too much press. The death of Rosa Parks brought back into public consciousness her big leap, when she decided not to give up her bus seat to a white person. "Rosa Parks was sick and tired of being sick and tired," the Secretary of State, Condoleezza Rice, said in her honor. It's a common, if misleading tribute to Rosa Parks' contribution to the Civil Rights Movement, as if merely by sitting down she brought the South to its senses. History tells us otherwise. There were other African-American women arrested in that same year for refusing to give up their seat to a white person. Although NAACP lawyers were looking for a person to be the standard bearer for a legal challenge to the hated bus segregation laws, not one of them sparked a movement. But Rosa Parks did -- less because of what she did and more because of the person she was.
She was a seamstress at a local department store and the secretary of the local NAACP chapter. She worked closely with all the rising African-American leaders of Montgomery who were aching for change. Twenty years ago, this is what the historian Taylor Branch wrote of Parks:
A tireless worker and churchgoer, of working-class station and middle-class demeanor, Rosa Parks was one of those rare people of whom everyone agreed that she gave more than she got. Her character represented one of the isolated blips on the graph of human nature, offsetting a dozen or more sociopaths. A Methodist herself, she served as teacher and mother figure to the kids of the NAACP Youth Council who met at a Lutheran Church near her home.1
It is true that on December 1, 1955, she refused to give up her seat in what was known as "no man's land" -- the open seats that either race could claim -- when the driver demanded it. It is true that she was arrested. But that would have been the end of it were it not for the decision of the NAACP leadership to pursue a legal challenge on her behalf and a bus boycott organized by a new Baptist minister in town. That boycott, you recall, lasted over a year. Nothing would have happened if Parks herself, against the counsel of her family, had not agreed to be at the center of the storm: "If you think it will mean something to Montgomery and do some good," she said, "I'd be happy to go along with it." In other words, surrounding that one act of courage there were countless, largely invisible and forgotten acts of faithful persistence and the presence of a woman known above all for her unassuming, steadfast character. You don't build character in one dramatic moment. Building character is a lifetime job.
That's why so many stood for hours to pay their respects at her funeral, apart from the dignitaries there to bask secondhand in her light. The people came to her because she always came to them. She showed up in their churches and at their dedications; she taught in their schools and marched in their marches. She spent most of her ninety years working behind the scenes, in quiet, steady persistence.
Persistence is one of the most important, yet overlooked virtues. Why is persistence so important? Because life is not always easy or kind. God does not spare us from turmoil and struggle, and anyone who promises otherwise, in the words of Harvard chaplain Peter Gomes, "is either uninformed or lying and perhaps both, and owes no allegiance to the gospel." What God does in turmoil is strengthen us, giving us the capacity to keep going. "God is always by the side of those who need him," Gomes writes. "He is not in front to lead, not behind to push, not above to protect, but beside us to get us through."2
Or hear the gentle words of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, writing his latest book as if to each of us individually:
Dear Child of God, I am sorry to say that suffering is not optional. It seems to be part and parcel of the human condition, but suffering can either embitter or ennoble. Our suffering can become a spirituality of transformation when we understand that we have a role in God's work in the world. If we are to be true partners with God, we must learn to see with the eyes of God -- that is, to see with the eyes of the heart. The eyes of the heart are not concerned with appearances but with essences, and as we cultivate these eyes we are able to learn from our suffering and to see the world with more loving, forgiving, and generous eyes.3
Transformed suffering is the grace that enables us to persevere in love.
I believe this: Before Jesus sat down on the mountain to teach the crowd of people who had gathered to hear him, he first walked among them. He looked into the their faces and saw their struggles. In seeing them, he blessed them. He blessed them in their hardships, sorrows, best efforts, and crushing failures. The purpose of his blessing was to help them keep going. Keep going, he, in essence, said to them. Keep working for what you know is right. You may not see the fruits of your labors now, but I see them, and I see you. You are blessed.
If Jesus were to walk into this church today, I think he'd say much the same thing. Before standing before us to teach, he'd stop at each pew, look at every one of us directly and speak a word of blessing. Blessed are you, and you, and you, and you, and you. You are blessed in your worries, your doubts, and in your grief. You are blessed in your joy, creativity, and compassion. Keep going. Don't' worry about the big leaps. Concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, being faithful in the little things, as those whom you honor today did in their lifetimes. Let my strength and my courage flow through you. It doesn't belong to you, but it is there for you, and through you, for others.
This closing prayer comes from the Book of Common Prayers, page 308.
Heavenly Father, we thank you that by water and the Holy Spirit you have bestowed upon us your servants the forgiveness of sin, and have raised us to the new life of grace. Sustain us, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit. Give us an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works. Amen.
____________
1. Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters: America in the King Years, 1954-63 (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1988), p. 145.
2. Peter Gomes, "Our Turmoil, Inner Strength," in Strength for the Journey (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2003), pp. 143, 147.
3. Desmond Tutu, God Has a Dream: A Vision for Our Time (New York: Doubleday, 2004), pp. 71-72.
-- Ecclesiasticus 44:8-10, 13-14
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you."
-- Matthew 5:1-12
In our dining room we have a set of silver candlesticks that belonged to my grandparents. When I light the candles, I think of my grandmother. She loved eating by candlelight, even at breakfast, a love she passed on to my mother and to me. My grandmother was not a great person in the eyes of the world, or, at times, in the eyes of her family. She could be demanding, opinionated, and prickly. I have the distinct impression that it was harder to be one of her children than one of her grandchildren, and being her grandchild was no picnic. But I realize now, as I the light candles, how much I learned from her. She taught me the importance of paying attention to the small, daily tasks and responsibilities upon which a life is built. It was the way she carefully prepared each meal, set the table, and tended to her home. It was how she would rise each summer morning at 6 a.m. to lead an exercise class on the beach for her neighbors, and then go for a swim in the frigid North Sea before returning home to prepare breakfast. It was how she greeted us when we arrived for our visits with hot tea and princess torta (cake) -- the staple of every Swedish celebration -- and how she cried when we left, standing at the edge of the yard waving her handkerchief good-bye until we disappeared from view.
What I hear in the glorious themes of All Saints Sunday is a gentle call to persistence, faithfulness in the small things that help shape our character. Life isn't always easy or kind. While it can be exciting and even glamorous at times, it isn't that way very often and we best not get too attached to that kind of energy, or the rest of our life -- which is to say, most of it -- will seem dull by comparison. It may be that we'll be called upon once or twice in our lifetime for some extraordinary act of heroism or courage. But more likely our lives will be measured by small, steady acts of faithfulness and persistence. "The courage that counts is the courage of the every day," reads a note that someone once gave me. "Most of life involves putting one foot in front of the other. Big leaps have received too much press."
Big leaps have received too much press. The death of Rosa Parks brought back into public consciousness her big leap, when she decided not to give up her bus seat to a white person. "Rosa Parks was sick and tired of being sick and tired," the Secretary of State, Condoleezza Rice, said in her honor. It's a common, if misleading tribute to Rosa Parks' contribution to the Civil Rights Movement, as if merely by sitting down she brought the South to its senses. History tells us otherwise. There were other African-American women arrested in that same year for refusing to give up their seat to a white person. Although NAACP lawyers were looking for a person to be the standard bearer for a legal challenge to the hated bus segregation laws, not one of them sparked a movement. But Rosa Parks did -- less because of what she did and more because of the person she was.
She was a seamstress at a local department store and the secretary of the local NAACP chapter. She worked closely with all the rising African-American leaders of Montgomery who were aching for change. Twenty years ago, this is what the historian Taylor Branch wrote of Parks:
A tireless worker and churchgoer, of working-class station and middle-class demeanor, Rosa Parks was one of those rare people of whom everyone agreed that she gave more than she got. Her character represented one of the isolated blips on the graph of human nature, offsetting a dozen or more sociopaths. A Methodist herself, she served as teacher and mother figure to the kids of the NAACP Youth Council who met at a Lutheran Church near her home.1
It is true that on December 1, 1955, she refused to give up her seat in what was known as "no man's land" -- the open seats that either race could claim -- when the driver demanded it. It is true that she was arrested. But that would have been the end of it were it not for the decision of the NAACP leadership to pursue a legal challenge on her behalf and a bus boycott organized by a new Baptist minister in town. That boycott, you recall, lasted over a year. Nothing would have happened if Parks herself, against the counsel of her family, had not agreed to be at the center of the storm: "If you think it will mean something to Montgomery and do some good," she said, "I'd be happy to go along with it." In other words, surrounding that one act of courage there were countless, largely invisible and forgotten acts of faithful persistence and the presence of a woman known above all for her unassuming, steadfast character. You don't build character in one dramatic moment. Building character is a lifetime job.
That's why so many stood for hours to pay their respects at her funeral, apart from the dignitaries there to bask secondhand in her light. The people came to her because she always came to them. She showed up in their churches and at their dedications; she taught in their schools and marched in their marches. She spent most of her ninety years working behind the scenes, in quiet, steady persistence.
Persistence is one of the most important, yet overlooked virtues. Why is persistence so important? Because life is not always easy or kind. God does not spare us from turmoil and struggle, and anyone who promises otherwise, in the words of Harvard chaplain Peter Gomes, "is either uninformed or lying and perhaps both, and owes no allegiance to the gospel." What God does in turmoil is strengthen us, giving us the capacity to keep going. "God is always by the side of those who need him," Gomes writes. "He is not in front to lead, not behind to push, not above to protect, but beside us to get us through."2
Or hear the gentle words of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, writing his latest book as if to each of us individually:
Dear Child of God, I am sorry to say that suffering is not optional. It seems to be part and parcel of the human condition, but suffering can either embitter or ennoble. Our suffering can become a spirituality of transformation when we understand that we have a role in God's work in the world. If we are to be true partners with God, we must learn to see with the eyes of God -- that is, to see with the eyes of the heart. The eyes of the heart are not concerned with appearances but with essences, and as we cultivate these eyes we are able to learn from our suffering and to see the world with more loving, forgiving, and generous eyes.3
Transformed suffering is the grace that enables us to persevere in love.
I believe this: Before Jesus sat down on the mountain to teach the crowd of people who had gathered to hear him, he first walked among them. He looked into the their faces and saw their struggles. In seeing them, he blessed them. He blessed them in their hardships, sorrows, best efforts, and crushing failures. The purpose of his blessing was to help them keep going. Keep going, he, in essence, said to them. Keep working for what you know is right. You may not see the fruits of your labors now, but I see them, and I see you. You are blessed.
If Jesus were to walk into this church today, I think he'd say much the same thing. Before standing before us to teach, he'd stop at each pew, look at every one of us directly and speak a word of blessing. Blessed are you, and you, and you, and you, and you. You are blessed in your worries, your doubts, and in your grief. You are blessed in your joy, creativity, and compassion. Keep going. Don't' worry about the big leaps. Concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, being faithful in the little things, as those whom you honor today did in their lifetimes. Let my strength and my courage flow through you. It doesn't belong to you, but it is there for you, and through you, for others.
This closing prayer comes from the Book of Common Prayers, page 308.
Heavenly Father, we thank you that by water and the Holy Spirit you have bestowed upon us your servants the forgiveness of sin, and have raised us to the new life of grace. Sustain us, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit. Give us an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works. Amen.
____________
1. Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters: America in the King Years, 1954-63 (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1988), p. 145.
2. Peter Gomes, "Our Turmoil, Inner Strength," in Strength for the Journey (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 2003), pp. 143, 147.
3. Desmond Tutu, God Has a Dream: A Vision for Our Time (New York: Doubleday, 2004), pp. 71-72.
