Rejoicing In Life's "Melissa Moments"
Sermon
Rejoicing In Life's 'Melissa Moments'
The Joys Of Faith And The Challenges Of Life
What do you do with your mind when you are engaged in some routine task? How do you occupy yourself when washing dishes, mowing the lawn, or vacuuming the rug? I think about things -- big things, little things, worrisome things, funny things, intellectual puzzles, practical problems. I reflect on whatever happens to pop into my head at the time. Of course, there may be a price to pay for this. Concentration on the task at hand may be diminished. Inadvertently you may not do the job as well as you might were you focused intently on what you are supposed to be doing. I myself have heard such remarks from my spouse as, "You didn't get this glass clean; orange pulp is clinging to the sides." My typical response is, "How can you be concerned about such trivial things? I almost resolved the ontological argument for the existence of God while I was almost washing that glass." There may be a cost for trying to think on the job. Yet the pleasure of getting some mental benefit out of what is merely routine is worth it -- in most cases anyway.
Some years ago I was practicing the art of thinking-while-doing when I experienced a "Melissa moment." I was standing at the kitchen sink looking out the back window while washing the dishes. On this particular occasion I was engaged in some ruminations about a matter that often concerns me. Why, I asked myself, do I always seem to have mixed feelings about everything? Why am I always on the fence, leaning first this way and then the other? I seem to be of at least two minds about most things. I know so many difficulties with every possible solution to problems that I cannot get excited about any of them. I believe in a lot of things a little bit. I find it hard to believe in anything wholeheartedly. It worries me that I seem always to be overwhelmed by ambivalence, ambiguity, and complexity. It must be granted that being able to take into account all sides of issues is useful for some purposes. It is helpful in thinking about things. Whitehead was on the right track when he said, "All truths are half-truths." But going back and forth, seeing a little good everywhere, makes decision-making difficult. Finally, you have to do this or that. Thinking can make fine distinctions and assign proportionate validity to propositions. Helping students see that a theory accounts for some but not all the evidence can be useful in the classroom. I am good at that. But action is specific and definite. Will you vote for capital punishment or not? Is abortion to be a matter of freedom of conscience or a matter of legislation? Do you go for it when it is fourth down and inches to go, or do you kick the ball away? Do you get married or stay single? At vacation time do you go to the mountains or to the beach or to the big city? I was in the midst of some such cogitations at the time. I was feeling pretty depressed about my sense of always being on the boundary, betwixt and between, for and against every position, seeing a bit of truth in everything but finding the whole truth nowhere.
At that moment the front door burst open and in rushed a bundle of energy that moved quickly through the room and up the stairs. From the flurry of activity came a familiar voice. I heard these cheerful words, "Hi, Dad!" It was my daughter Melissa. As she bounded up the stairs to her room, I burst into tears with a great sense of relief. "Thank God, at least there are some things I don't have mixed feelings about." For if I know the deep interior of my heart, I feel for Melissa nothing but pure unbounded love, unqualified affection, and total joy. When I look back on that event, I call it "a Melissa moment." It was this same daughter who called me years later from Athens, Georgia. She began her conversation like this, "Hi, Dad, this is your daughter Melissa. Have you been hearing about the Freedom March today in Forsyth County? Well, I was there. I was too young during the '60s, so I wanted to be a part of this."
What is a "Melissa moment"? I mean those experiences now and then that bring clarity and conviction and assurance in the midst of situations otherwise riddled by ambiguity, ambivalence, confusion, and uncertainty. I mean those bright and shining moments which bring illumination and order into the midst of darkness and chaos. They are those times when we come to know who we are, what we believe, what we trust, and to what we are committed. They are those occasions on which we are unexpectedly surprised by joy with a simple reminder of what is unambiguously good and marvelous. A "Melissa moment" is any reordering of life that restores equilibrium and perspective, that refreshes and renews, that gets us back on track. Such experiences are precious. They are both revelatory and redemptive. They renew our motivation to get back into the thick of things to wrestle with stubborn facts that don't always fit into a neat pattern. They give us the courage to make choices and to do something that may make things a little better, although nothing we can do will make them perfect.
I need those moments. I struggle with faith and doubt. I live with ambiguity, ambivalence, and the necessity of compromise all the time. I read with envy the story of Sherwood Eddy. He was a wealthy philanthropist of a generation ago who supported many good causes that we would applaud. He was involved in getting Reinhold Niebuhr to Union Theological Seminary. He says that at one time he went through a period of great conflict, doubt, and despair. Then he had a great moment of transformation. He reports that he never had a moment's doubt about God since that time. I know there are people who have a once and for all sense of conviction about life and destiny. I am not among them. I feel more at home with those who live perpetually with a divided mind. I resonate with the sentiments conveyed by the father who brought his son to Jesus for healing. When told that faith would save his child, he cried out, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24).
Moreover, it is not only in matters of faith that I struggle with mixed opinions. When it comes to ethics also, I find myself much less sure than many of my friends about the right course of action. Some people are just sure that nuclear power plants are nothing but pure evil, trouble in the making. Yet I sat in Boston at the World Council of Churches Conference on Faith and the Future and heard two distinguished physicists debate the issue. They took opposing sides. One argued that given all the alternatives, the careful and cautious use of nuclear power is a reasonable choice. The other was convinced it was the path to sure ruin. If scientists from MIT can't agree, how can I choose intelligently? Did not the accident at Chernobyl settle all that? Maybe, but when the Titanic sank on its maiden voyage, should we have stopped building big ships? And the next time 50,000 people are killed on highways in one year, should we outlaw automobiles? Some of those who are so sure that nuclear power is of the devil seem to forget that thousands and thousands have died in coal mines during the last century. Many more will die if we continue to burn coal.
Moreover, I heard another scientist at MIT scare the daylights out of everybody talking about the dangers to health and safety involved in burning large amounts of coal. And we all know about the possible long-term dangers from using fossil fuels that might alter the climate with catastrophic consequences. If coal or nuclear energy pose such hazards, what are the alternatives? What should we be doing now? Who knows what is best? The situation seems awfully complex to me.
Some people are quite sure that abortion is murder pure and simple. Others are equally insistent that a woman's right to full control over her reproductive processes takes precedence over any rights the fetus might conceivably possess. Meanwhile, I agonize over the fact that both positions claim too much. I conclude that no resolution of this issue is available that does not seem to be about as much wrong as it is right. Either way suffering will result.
Some people seem to know that preferential policies to benefit groups previously excluded from jobs and other opportunities have all the right on their side. Others contend with equal vehemence for race- and sex-neutral policies that consider individuals as individuals. Am I wrong in thinking that most people take the position that is in their self-interest? Are the moral arguments and the ethical principles themselves decisive? I have a son and two daughters. All three will now and then be in the job market. As a parent, I hope that when Paul applies for a position, he will be considered on his own individual merits and not be treated as a member of a group. When my daughters are up for consideration, I hope they will be given preference because they are women. As a parent I hope for whatever benefits my children. As a moral philosopher trying to think clearly about the matter based on principles of justice, I find the situation to be fraught with all sorts of complexities and ambiguities. Neither policy is without negative features that border on injustice. Either policy hurts somebody. Both rest on sound ethical principles.
President Harry Truman wished that just once he could find a "one-handed" economist. Every time he called in the experts for advice, all he heard was that, on the one hand, option A would have thus and so benefits but would also have a number of unwanted consequences. On the other hand, option B would have a different set of good and bad outcomes. Reducing the capital gains tax might increase investment, but it is a gift to the rich. Raising the minimum wage benefits some but may cause others to lose their jobs. Measures to reduce inflation may increase unemployment. He got tired of all this "on the one hand" and "on the other hand" business. "Please give me a 'one-handed' economist," he pleaded.
We all wish for some "one-handed" moral advice on a lot of issues that baffle us. Unfortunately, life is complicated. Justice is not always totally and wholly on one side and injustice completely on the other side. Good and evil grow together like the wheat and the tares. If we are tossed about by many winds of doctrine, it may be because there is a little bit of truth in a lot of positions but not the whole truth in any. Our mixed feelings may simply represent the world as it is in all its stubborn and irreducible complexity.
So we need those "Melissa moments." In the midst of ambiguity it helps to be suddenly and unexpectedly surprised by something in which we can simply rejoice and celebrate with thanksgiving and praise to God. We need those times when complexity can be put aside so that we can wholeheartedly embrace the simple things that make us happy. We need those occasions when we can let go in an ecstatic and playful abandonment to something that makes our hearts sing. We need those hallelujah times now and then that lift our spirits to the heights. We need those periods of refreshing in which wrestling in grim solemnity with the moral perplexities of life gives way to moments of merriment and sheer enjoyment.
It helps if along the way we can have some "Melissa moments" that surprise us in the midst of our burdened seriousness with a revelation of what the heart really believes without reservation. Just when we think that there is nothing in life but uncertainty and weary striving, we are suddenly projected into those luminous moments in which we experience pure joy in something we knew all along but had forgotten in the midst of struggle and strife. In such times we can laugh at taking ourselves too seriously. We can see the comic elements where we had seen only tragedy. We can find peace and contentment even though the world is still full of suffering and absurdity.
Jesus said there is joy in heaven when even one sinner repents. Perhaps the angels rejoice also when some poor soul who frets too much about life's vicissitudes has a few moments of fun. In any case life on earth is impoverished without "Melissa moments." They give us a little time off from reforming the world and let us do a little crazy dancing. Life is dreary without experiences of renewal in which we stop worrying that the world is going to hell if we don't prevent it. Sometimes heaven itself may enjoin us to relax and be happy with the goodness that is right before us. Sometimes all it takes to put a spark back into our smile is a cheery "Hi, Dad" from a bundle of energy named Melissa.
It had been six days since Peter made his confession that Jesus was the Christ. Jesus took Peter, James, and John up a high mountain and was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun. His garments became like white light. Moses and Elijah appeared with him. Whatever the origin of this story, it seems to have served the purpose of confirming the witness of Peter that the one now transformed before them was indeed the expected Messiah. Jesus was the long-awaited Savior sent from God. A voice came from the cloud and said, "This is my beloved Son, listen to him." Maybe they were startled by all this and didn't know what to say. Perhaps they thought the New Age had arrived finally. In any case, Peter spoke for them and said in effect, "Lord, if you want, we can make three booths and all stay here." This was not the right move. This experience of illumination and confirmation for the disciples could not be captured and held on to permanently. They had to get back to their preaching and healing.
So it is with the "Melissa moments" in our own lives. These transforming times on the mountain top are precious and wonderful beyond measure. They serve their purpose by preparing us for the journey back down the mountain into the world of stubborn facts, ambiguous moral choices, and the continuing struggle with suffering and injustice. These occasions when ordinary experience is transfigured provide the renewing and energizing grace that enables us to do the routine tasks of our witness and calling. Let us rejoice in life's "Melissa moments." They sustain us in the ordinariness of daily life when somebody has to wash the dishes.
Some years ago I was practicing the art of thinking-while-doing when I experienced a "Melissa moment." I was standing at the kitchen sink looking out the back window while washing the dishes. On this particular occasion I was engaged in some ruminations about a matter that often concerns me. Why, I asked myself, do I always seem to have mixed feelings about everything? Why am I always on the fence, leaning first this way and then the other? I seem to be of at least two minds about most things. I know so many difficulties with every possible solution to problems that I cannot get excited about any of them. I believe in a lot of things a little bit. I find it hard to believe in anything wholeheartedly. It worries me that I seem always to be overwhelmed by ambivalence, ambiguity, and complexity. It must be granted that being able to take into account all sides of issues is useful for some purposes. It is helpful in thinking about things. Whitehead was on the right track when he said, "All truths are half-truths." But going back and forth, seeing a little good everywhere, makes decision-making difficult. Finally, you have to do this or that. Thinking can make fine distinctions and assign proportionate validity to propositions. Helping students see that a theory accounts for some but not all the evidence can be useful in the classroom. I am good at that. But action is specific and definite. Will you vote for capital punishment or not? Is abortion to be a matter of freedom of conscience or a matter of legislation? Do you go for it when it is fourth down and inches to go, or do you kick the ball away? Do you get married or stay single? At vacation time do you go to the mountains or to the beach or to the big city? I was in the midst of some such cogitations at the time. I was feeling pretty depressed about my sense of always being on the boundary, betwixt and between, for and against every position, seeing a bit of truth in everything but finding the whole truth nowhere.
At that moment the front door burst open and in rushed a bundle of energy that moved quickly through the room and up the stairs. From the flurry of activity came a familiar voice. I heard these cheerful words, "Hi, Dad!" It was my daughter Melissa. As she bounded up the stairs to her room, I burst into tears with a great sense of relief. "Thank God, at least there are some things I don't have mixed feelings about." For if I know the deep interior of my heart, I feel for Melissa nothing but pure unbounded love, unqualified affection, and total joy. When I look back on that event, I call it "a Melissa moment." It was this same daughter who called me years later from Athens, Georgia. She began her conversation like this, "Hi, Dad, this is your daughter Melissa. Have you been hearing about the Freedom March today in Forsyth County? Well, I was there. I was too young during the '60s, so I wanted to be a part of this."
What is a "Melissa moment"? I mean those experiences now and then that bring clarity and conviction and assurance in the midst of situations otherwise riddled by ambiguity, ambivalence, confusion, and uncertainty. I mean those bright and shining moments which bring illumination and order into the midst of darkness and chaos. They are those times when we come to know who we are, what we believe, what we trust, and to what we are committed. They are those occasions on which we are unexpectedly surprised by joy with a simple reminder of what is unambiguously good and marvelous. A "Melissa moment" is any reordering of life that restores equilibrium and perspective, that refreshes and renews, that gets us back on track. Such experiences are precious. They are both revelatory and redemptive. They renew our motivation to get back into the thick of things to wrestle with stubborn facts that don't always fit into a neat pattern. They give us the courage to make choices and to do something that may make things a little better, although nothing we can do will make them perfect.
I need those moments. I struggle with faith and doubt. I live with ambiguity, ambivalence, and the necessity of compromise all the time. I read with envy the story of Sherwood Eddy. He was a wealthy philanthropist of a generation ago who supported many good causes that we would applaud. He was involved in getting Reinhold Niebuhr to Union Theological Seminary. He says that at one time he went through a period of great conflict, doubt, and despair. Then he had a great moment of transformation. He reports that he never had a moment's doubt about God since that time. I know there are people who have a once and for all sense of conviction about life and destiny. I am not among them. I feel more at home with those who live perpetually with a divided mind. I resonate with the sentiments conveyed by the father who brought his son to Jesus for healing. When told that faith would save his child, he cried out, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24).
Moreover, it is not only in matters of faith that I struggle with mixed opinions. When it comes to ethics also, I find myself much less sure than many of my friends about the right course of action. Some people are just sure that nuclear power plants are nothing but pure evil, trouble in the making. Yet I sat in Boston at the World Council of Churches Conference on Faith and the Future and heard two distinguished physicists debate the issue. They took opposing sides. One argued that given all the alternatives, the careful and cautious use of nuclear power is a reasonable choice. The other was convinced it was the path to sure ruin. If scientists from MIT can't agree, how can I choose intelligently? Did not the accident at Chernobyl settle all that? Maybe, but when the Titanic sank on its maiden voyage, should we have stopped building big ships? And the next time 50,000 people are killed on highways in one year, should we outlaw automobiles? Some of those who are so sure that nuclear power is of the devil seem to forget that thousands and thousands have died in coal mines during the last century. Many more will die if we continue to burn coal.
Moreover, I heard another scientist at MIT scare the daylights out of everybody talking about the dangers to health and safety involved in burning large amounts of coal. And we all know about the possible long-term dangers from using fossil fuels that might alter the climate with catastrophic consequences. If coal or nuclear energy pose such hazards, what are the alternatives? What should we be doing now? Who knows what is best? The situation seems awfully complex to me.
Some people are quite sure that abortion is murder pure and simple. Others are equally insistent that a woman's right to full control over her reproductive processes takes precedence over any rights the fetus might conceivably possess. Meanwhile, I agonize over the fact that both positions claim too much. I conclude that no resolution of this issue is available that does not seem to be about as much wrong as it is right. Either way suffering will result.
Some people seem to know that preferential policies to benefit groups previously excluded from jobs and other opportunities have all the right on their side. Others contend with equal vehemence for race- and sex-neutral policies that consider individuals as individuals. Am I wrong in thinking that most people take the position that is in their self-interest? Are the moral arguments and the ethical principles themselves decisive? I have a son and two daughters. All three will now and then be in the job market. As a parent, I hope that when Paul applies for a position, he will be considered on his own individual merits and not be treated as a member of a group. When my daughters are up for consideration, I hope they will be given preference because they are women. As a parent I hope for whatever benefits my children. As a moral philosopher trying to think clearly about the matter based on principles of justice, I find the situation to be fraught with all sorts of complexities and ambiguities. Neither policy is without negative features that border on injustice. Either policy hurts somebody. Both rest on sound ethical principles.
President Harry Truman wished that just once he could find a "one-handed" economist. Every time he called in the experts for advice, all he heard was that, on the one hand, option A would have thus and so benefits but would also have a number of unwanted consequences. On the other hand, option B would have a different set of good and bad outcomes. Reducing the capital gains tax might increase investment, but it is a gift to the rich. Raising the minimum wage benefits some but may cause others to lose their jobs. Measures to reduce inflation may increase unemployment. He got tired of all this "on the one hand" and "on the other hand" business. "Please give me a 'one-handed' economist," he pleaded.
We all wish for some "one-handed" moral advice on a lot of issues that baffle us. Unfortunately, life is complicated. Justice is not always totally and wholly on one side and injustice completely on the other side. Good and evil grow together like the wheat and the tares. If we are tossed about by many winds of doctrine, it may be because there is a little bit of truth in a lot of positions but not the whole truth in any. Our mixed feelings may simply represent the world as it is in all its stubborn and irreducible complexity.
So we need those "Melissa moments." In the midst of ambiguity it helps to be suddenly and unexpectedly surprised by something in which we can simply rejoice and celebrate with thanksgiving and praise to God. We need those times when complexity can be put aside so that we can wholeheartedly embrace the simple things that make us happy. We need those occasions when we can let go in an ecstatic and playful abandonment to something that makes our hearts sing. We need those hallelujah times now and then that lift our spirits to the heights. We need those periods of refreshing in which wrestling in grim solemnity with the moral perplexities of life gives way to moments of merriment and sheer enjoyment.
It helps if along the way we can have some "Melissa moments" that surprise us in the midst of our burdened seriousness with a revelation of what the heart really believes without reservation. Just when we think that there is nothing in life but uncertainty and weary striving, we are suddenly projected into those luminous moments in which we experience pure joy in something we knew all along but had forgotten in the midst of struggle and strife. In such times we can laugh at taking ourselves too seriously. We can see the comic elements where we had seen only tragedy. We can find peace and contentment even though the world is still full of suffering and absurdity.
Jesus said there is joy in heaven when even one sinner repents. Perhaps the angels rejoice also when some poor soul who frets too much about life's vicissitudes has a few moments of fun. In any case life on earth is impoverished without "Melissa moments." They give us a little time off from reforming the world and let us do a little crazy dancing. Life is dreary without experiences of renewal in which we stop worrying that the world is going to hell if we don't prevent it. Sometimes heaven itself may enjoin us to relax and be happy with the goodness that is right before us. Sometimes all it takes to put a spark back into our smile is a cheery "Hi, Dad" from a bundle of energy named Melissa.
It had been six days since Peter made his confession that Jesus was the Christ. Jesus took Peter, James, and John up a high mountain and was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun. His garments became like white light. Moses and Elijah appeared with him. Whatever the origin of this story, it seems to have served the purpose of confirming the witness of Peter that the one now transformed before them was indeed the expected Messiah. Jesus was the long-awaited Savior sent from God. A voice came from the cloud and said, "This is my beloved Son, listen to him." Maybe they were startled by all this and didn't know what to say. Perhaps they thought the New Age had arrived finally. In any case, Peter spoke for them and said in effect, "Lord, if you want, we can make three booths and all stay here." This was not the right move. This experience of illumination and confirmation for the disciples could not be captured and held on to permanently. They had to get back to their preaching and healing.
So it is with the "Melissa moments" in our own lives. These transforming times on the mountain top are precious and wonderful beyond measure. They serve their purpose by preparing us for the journey back down the mountain into the world of stubborn facts, ambiguous moral choices, and the continuing struggle with suffering and injustice. These occasions when ordinary experience is transfigured provide the renewing and energizing grace that enables us to do the routine tasks of our witness and calling. Let us rejoice in life's "Melissa moments." They sustain us in the ordinariness of daily life when somebody has to wash the dishes.
