Sermon for September 27, 2015
Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost
(proper 21B)
The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse
St. Philip’s In The Hills, Tucson,
AZ
Lord, open our lips, that our mouth
shall proclaim your praise. Amen
Listen here.
Over
the last four weeks,
I
have said goodbye
to
many people, places and things
around
St. Philips and the wider Tucson region.
What
has been difficult is
the
finality that comes with saying that
word.
The
finality that comes
in
closing one season of life.
The
finality that comes
from
redefining treasured relationships.
Goodbyes
are tough.
It’s
been hard and emotional
and
liberating and complicated.
So
this week,
I
turned to one of my favorite podcasts for solace:
Krista
Tippett’s “OnBeing.”
In
2013, she interviewed[1]
Dr. Ira Byock,
a
leading figure in palliative care and hospice.
He
shared lessons from his clinical practice,
working
with families
in
the very personal and human event
called
“dying.”
In
the interview, we hear his wisdom
for
dealing with transitions
and
how his approach applies
to
any transformative experience,
whether
in celebrating or in saying goodbye.
And
so he coined a phrase,
“the
four things that matter most.”
The
four things that matter most,
according
to Dr. Byock:
Please
forgive me. I forgive you.
Thank
you. I love you.
Byock
said,
“…the
times are that you easily can say
[the
things that matter most]
include
when you've just slammed on the brakes
and
just narrowly missed getting killed
and
you're shaking like a leaf
and
you're in a cold sweat,
and
everything just almost ended.
You
pick up your cellphone
and
it becomes really easy to call your partner
or
your mother or father or your child
and
just say those [four] things.”
And
in saying these things, it just shakes us free.
When
we say the four things that matter most –
when
we have just slammed on the brakes
or
when we say goodbye, in whatever form –
there's
going to be real work involved.
Why?
because
these eleven words – they are not words.
They
are entry points for sacred connections.
They
are admissions of our humanity.
They
are words made flesh in our incarnate God.
So,
in this vein,
I
offer “four things that matter most”
to
you, today,
as
we find ourselves slamming on the brakes
and
shaking like a leaf, saying goodbye.
First, Please forgive me.
In today’s gospel,
Jesus turned the
focus on the disciples themselves.
They had
complained about a rival exorcist
and they had
tried to stop that person.
Jesus said, cut
it out you guys,
because “whoever
is not against us is for us.”
The disciples wanted
to show how great they were
by bringing
judgment on outsiders.
Jesus wanted them
to look instead
to their own
behavior.
Jesus warned the
disciples:
they are the ones in danger of doing harm.
“Dudes,” he said,
“the problem is
not folks outside of our group!
Don’t worry about
others; look at yourselves.
How are you
getting in the way of the gospel?
How are you, (with
your hand, or foot, or eye)
a stumbling
block?”
A stumbling
block.
All week I’ve
been thinking about
stumbling blocks,
because from this
gospel text,
I felt convicted
for the various ways
that I might have
created stumbling blocks;
how I might have
gotten in the way of the gospel.
I may have spoken
in haste.
I may have not
met your expectations.
I may have
fostered a misunderstanding
that still has
not been resolved.
I may have used
insider language.
I may have chosen
wrongly.
There are things
that I have done
and things that I
have left undone.
And this is why
we say the confession
every week.
For God forgives
me, this I know.
The
great philosopher Lily Tomlin once said,
“Forgiveness
means giving up all hope
for
a different past.”[2]
This
means accepting that
the
past cannot be changed
and
at the same time
the
past need not control our future.
And
so, second, I forgive you.
I
forgive you for any times that
you
might have created a stumbling block.
I forgive you for
things you have done
and things you
have left undone.
I forgive you for
putting me in the dunk tank.
I forgive you for
serious and for simple mistakes.
I forgive you for
your outrageous hopes,
expansive dreams,
and brazen humanness.
I forgive you for
challenging me
to imagine
greater, to love quicker,
to grasp lighter.
For God forgives
you, this I know.
That being said,
I do not have to forgive
you for being you.
The authentic
you.
The colorful,
quirky you.
The very human you.
You have been,
and are, a gift,
individually and
as a community.
Sufi poet Rumi
once said,
This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond. – Rumi
Rumi’s sense of
gratitude leads us to
The third “thing
that matters most:” Thank you
When
I came here three years ago,
you
welcomed me and my partner Leah
with
expansive hospitality.
You
taught me about The Church,
witnessed
my ordination,
endured
my first sung mass,
participated
in weekly communion,
risked
showing up at Ashes to Go
and
prayed with and for me.
You
even told me your name
at
least three times before I got it.
You
shared your gifts
beauty
and art and music, and
your
grace to catch each other when you fall.
You
have continually proclaimed the gospel in your lives. Thank you.
Thank
you for not creating stumbling blocks
to
me in ministry here;
By
the grace of God,
you
have made a launching pad.
And
so we especially thank God
for
calling us to serve together in this place,
with
this congregation,
And we thank God for the intimacy of Jesus
and the inspiration of Spirit.
In
closing, I offer the fourth
“thing
that matters most:” I love you.
I love you for
being the hands and feet and eyes
of Jesus in the
world.
I love you for
being Love,
for offering
yourselves to this place
with generosity
and care.
I love you
because Jesus loves you.
And that love knows no
bounds.
That love arises
from the One who
loved
at the dawn of
creation.
That love moves in our tears
and catches in
our throat
and spills out
through our smiles.
I love you. God loves you.
Even when we stumble
on our own blocks
and even when we
say goodbye
and even when we
don’t have the words.
My sisters and
brothers in Christ,
You are signs
toward God’s grace
and beacons of
the Spirit
and entry points
for sacred connections.
And through you,
God’s unbounded,
expansive and steadfast love
will continue to
cascade into your lives.
Please forgive
me. I forgive you.
Thank you. I love
you.
May you know,
that nothing,
not even
stumbling blocks,
not even goodbyes,
can separate us
from God’s love.
So be at peace
with each other,
be forgiving of
each other and
be extravagant
with God’s love.
Amen
[1] Cited at http://www.onbeing.org/program/contemplating-mortality/transcript/6045 on September
26, 2015
[2]Cited at http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/87427-forgiveness-means-giving-up-all-hope-for-a-better-past
on September 26, 2015
