There’s
something about the deep silence of the stars at night and the vast expanse of
the sky above, when we open ourselves to it, that brings out and puts us in
touch with a kind of holiness within ourselves, and about us.
And
there’s something about the happy gurgling of a baby and the unfiltered chatter
of a little child that, when we open ourselves to it, brings out and puts us in
touch with a particular depth and gentleness of humanity within ourselves, and
around us.
I know
when I walk first thing in the morning, often just as the sun is beginning to
rise, it makes a world of difference if I walk with head down and eyes focused
mostly on the sidewalk at my feet, the street alongside me, and the houses on
either hand, or whether I walk with head up and eyes opened to the vastness of
the sky above, the clouds, the rising sun, the darkness gradually giving way to
the changing hues of dawn, the awareness of the world turning surely and slowly
towards the light of a new day.
The
first way, I am very much just a little man bent over, thinking ahead of my
plans and projects for the day, already arranging what I will do, wondering if
I will perform well, worrying if I will succeed, or am I a failure, and what
must I do to prove my worth today. And
isn’t that the way much of life is lived?
Isn’t that the way of much of the world, and the way of many of my own
days?
The
second way, though, I am an upright man, opened to a world and a cosmos beyond
my design and control, grateful for it, aware of a Creator in whose loving
hands all things are held for good, greater than myself, in whom and to whom I
can trust my being. I become aware of
the holiness of Earth and cosmos, grateful to be raised up for one more day to
be part of it, and wanting only to love and care for what I see and what is
around me.
And it
need not be the stars, the sky or the morning sun that draws us into this
grateful and holy humility. It might be
a morning or evening or even mid-afternoon walk by the lake. A walk up the escarpment and a look back at
the view beneath. For me, it was always
the sight of the prairie opening out in all directions forever. It might be a storm of especial ferocity, a
field of sunflowers, the mountains. But
there is something – always something in this world that God has gathered
together, to draw the human soul to a place of wonder, a place of grateful
trust, and a place of longing for right relation with all that is.
And
isn’t that the way of Jesus? The way of
his life, the way of his followers, and the way he says will save us and save
the world around us?
One
thing that was revolutionary about Jesus is the way he sums up all the law and
the prophets, all the rituals and teachings that people try so hard to live up
to, to just two commands – the two great commandments that were there all
along, but had gotten buried under a boatload of other stuff – the two commands
to love God with all our being and doing, and to love our neighbour as ourself.
It is
also Jesus who not only takes a little child – maybe a gurgling baby or a
babbling little toddler, up into his arms to lift them up and bless them as
bearers and images of God, but also tells his followers and his detractors and
all of us to become like them if we want to be healed and made whole, and want
the world to be healed and made whole as well.
Like children, to have our lives be
bracketed behind and before by the love of God, like the psalm this morning is
bracketed with the praise of God’s creative love, beginning with the memory and
the praise of God’s creative love: “O Lord, our
Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” and coming to rest at
the end the exact same praise: “O Lord, our Sovereign,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!”
Like a
child going out in the morning from God’s house, aware of God’s love, returning
in the evening to the same home and same loving embrace, and in the time in
between – the day-time of all our living, opened to a world and a cosmos of
God’s design, aware of its holiness, grateful to be raised and sent out to be
part of it, wanting only to love and care for what is around you, wanting only
to be in right relation with all that is.
It’s a
way of true and truly human living that we and the world are in need of, and
isn’t that at least part of Jesus’ way of being in the world? The kind of opened-ness to Creator and to all
creation that Jesus lives, that he shows, and that he encourages and enables and
expects in his followers as well, and that he helps us get in touch with within
ourselves?
In the
Gospels when people see and hear him, he is like the starry night sky, like the
morning sunrise, like the baby’s innocent gurgle, like a little child’s
unfiltered conversation that helps others get in touch with their own inner
holiness and their own deepest humanity.
And
when the first disciples see Jesus again after he has been put to death on a
cross – when they go to the mountain in Galilee that he told them to go to, and
they see him there raised up from death by God, they simply know again what
they really already knew all along – that they just have to tell whoever they can
that this is the way we all are meant to live, that this is the way the world
is saved.
It
doesn’t mean we need to make everybody Christian, and get all the world signed
up as members of the church – offering envelopes included, maybe put them on a
committee as well.
It
does mean, though, that we live as consciously as we can with the inner holiness
and opened humanity that starry night skies and morning sunrises put us in
touch with. That we live as
intentionally as we can with the kind of compassion and openness to all others and
to all creation that Jesus puts us in touch with.
And
that we let people see it. In the way we
treat others. In the ways we talk about
other people. In the things we give
ourselves to, and the things we care about.
In what we post on Facebook and share by email. In how we spend our time and money. In what we live for, and what we want out of
life. In what we give to life. In what we support and give our energy to,
and what we volunteer for.
In all
these ways, we let people know what gives us real life. We let people be touched by it. We let the world be aware that there is a way
of being human that is good, that we all are capable of, for the good of all
the world that God has gathered together.
And as
Jesus says, there’s no end to all the ways in which true and deep humanity can
be lived out in God’s good and holy world.
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