Making Room for the Spirit

[getty src="535041198" width="519" height="332" tld="com"]Isaiah 6:1-8; John 3:1-17Nicodemus came to learn the truth about Jesus.  But Jesus, exercising zenlike wisdom, turns the search around. He challenges Nicodemus to learn the truth about himself.It’s like a parable told by one of my favorite preachers, Barbara Brown Taylor,[1]who writes that once upon a time, there was a woman who set out to discover the meaning of life. First she read everything she could get her hands on – history, philosophy, psychology, religion. While she became a very smart person, nothing she read gave her the answer she was looking for. She found other smart people and asked them about the meaning of life, but while their discussions were long and lively, no two of them agreed on the same thing, and still she had no answer.Finally, she put all her belongings in storage and set off in search of the meaning of life. She went to South America. She went to India. Everywhere she went, people told her they did not know the meaning of life, but they had heard of a man who did, only they were not sure where he lived. She asked about him in every country on earth until finally, deep in the Himalayas, someone told her how to reach his house – a tiny little hut perched on the side of a mountain near the tree line.She climbed and climbed to reach the front door. When she finally got there, with knuckles so cold they hardly worked, she knocked.“Yes?” said the kind-looking man who opened it. She thought she would die of happiness.“I have come halfway around the world to ask you one question,” she said, gasping for breath. “What is the meaning of life?”“Please come in and have some tea,” the old man said.“No,” she said. “I mean, no thank you. I didn’t come all this way for tea. I came for an answer. Won’t you tell me, please, what is the meaning of life?”“We shall have tea,” the old man said, so she gave up and came inside.While he was brewing the tea she caught her breath and began telling him about all the books she had read, all the people she had met, all the places she had been. The old man listened (which was just as well, since his visitor did not leave any room for him to reply), and as she talked he placed a fragile tea cup in her hand. Then he began to pour the tea.She was so busy talking that she did not notice when the tea cup was full, so the old man just kept pouring until the tea ran over the sides of the cup and spilled to the floor in a steaming waterfall.“What are you doing?!” she yelled when the tea burned her hand. “It’s full, can’t you see that? Stop! There’s no more room!”“Just so,” the old man said to her. “You come here wanting something from me, but what am I to do? There is no more room in your cup. Come back when it is empty and we will talk.”It’s a fine story, and offers a fitting image for this new season of Pentecost. It’s a time when we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit at the first Pentecost, the birthday of the Church, and, by extension, the opportunities we have to welcome God’s Holy Spirit.In the quest for spiritual truth, it seems to me that the Presbyterian Church commonly has chosen one of two treacherous theological paths.One is the path of Fundamentalism, which usually leads toward one unified, inflexible interpretation of scripture. Often, a skillful and passionate defense of that particular interpretation leaves no room for the spirit of love and grace to which scripture bears witness. The Fundamentalist cup is so full of a particular ideological position that there is no room left for Jesus’ compassion or humility.Another treacherous path is the one toward Liberalism. It often starts with good motives, perhaps as a reaction to the excesses of Fundamentalism. But often it ends up exhibiting a similar problem, its cup so full of ideology about general tolerance that there’s no room left for the special way, truth, and life found in Jesus.There’s a story about the pastor search committee from the sophisticated, affluent Liberal congregation, in which the pastor candidate was asked this interview question: “Do you use the ‘J’ word very often?” The question left the candidate wondering exactly what “J” word, “jerk” and “justice” came to mind, and so she asked for clarification.  “Well, you know, do you talk about Jesus often?” The candidate smiled, and ventured that yes, she did talk about Jesus, whenever she could work him into the conversation. The committee was not amused, and she did not get the job.[2]Some places, it seems people just want to put only a toe in the water, to have

• a social-political affinity club, with a little bit of religion,
• a place for the children to get moral training, with a little bit of religion,
• a concert hall for musical performances, with a little bit of religion.

It’s like when a pastor is invited to offer a prayer at a community event, not because moral dialogue is going to happen, not because a connection to a faith community is considered all that important anymore, but because the pastor’s prayer puts a nice little cherry on top of the cake someone else has baked, makes the event look all neat and pretty, and places the church’s stamp of approval on what the group has already decided it’s going to do, anyway.Kyle Childress reminds us that at the real core of the Church’s purpose are essential practices like prayer and worship, “deep work …. God is not for those content to paddle around in the shallow end. Jesus Christ calls us out into the deep, where we come face to face with who God is and who we aren’t ….”[3]It is the God who, in a conversation, gazed into Nicodemus and understood the condition of his soul, the God who inspired awe and reverence in Isaiah, a mysterious, magnificent, single substance in three persons.I have a confession to make. I did NOT get up early to watch the royal wedding. I wasn’t even mildly interested. Thank goodness some of you were, and alerted me to the sermon delivered by the Rev. Michael Curry, presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church.This week, I watched video of his sermon. It was a remarkable effort. Like most preachers, he was serving as a sojourner in a strange land, preaching to people of mixed experiences, some of whom probably couldn’t have cared less about hearing a sermon at a wedding. In his own way, Curry seemed aimed at getting listeners with rather full cups to empty them a little, to allow the Spirit who comes as the “fire of love” to instill in them new ways of being and acting.“There's power in love,” he said. “Don't underestimate it. Don't even over-sentimentalize it …. There's power in love to help and heal when nothing else can. There's power in love to lift up and liberate when nothing else will. There's power in love to show us the way to live.”“…When love is the way, we actually treat each other, well... like we are actually family. When love is the way, we know that God is the source of us all, and we are brothers and sisters, children of God … that's fire.”Sometimes, I say, that fire may even come in the form of hot water pouring over our hand, waking us up to the realization that our cup is too full. Like Nicodemus, we may want certain thoughtful formulas about who God is, or algorithms to ensure answers to our prayers.  Jesus says there is truth that is deeper and more important, truth that isn’t just the facts, but the truth of someone’s character, the truth of a loving and grace-filled relationship upon which you would bet your life. As Barbara Brown-Taylor says, “Turn your cup upside down. Turn your mind inside out. Step into the air. Ride the wind. Be born anew, and live.”[4][1]Barbara Brown Taylor, “Stay for tea, Nicodemus,” Living By The Word, Christian Century, 21 Feb. 1996, p. 195.[2]Kyle Childress, “It’s about God,” Living By The Word, Christian Century, January 23, 2007, p. 16.[3]Childress, p. 16.[4]Brown Taylor, p. 195.