![Picture](/uploads/5/3/1/4/53145165/published/rubber-band-ball.jpg?1555007139)
Peter JB Carman
March 24 2019
Emmanuel Friedens Church
Schenectady New York
Readings: Isaiah 55:1-9
Luke 13:1-9
From the Readings:
Isaiah 55:1 Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. 55:2 Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. 55:3 Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.
Luke 13: 6 Then he told this parable: "A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 13:7 So he said to the gardener, 'See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?'
13:8 He replied, 'Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.13:9 If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.'"
I.
To bounce back from adversity, to be able to return from defeat, to heal again after being wounded in body mind or spirit—that’s what resilience looks like. Resilience. Merriam-Webster offers two definitions of the word resilience.
The first of these has to do with physical properties.
1 : the capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress (think here of a rubber ball—the definition in action of resilience).
The second definition has to do with the human condition in its less physical forms:
2 : an ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change
(https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/resilience)
I just got back from Austin, Texas, visiting a friend who recently had emergency surgery following a stroke and then, a few months later, open heart surgery. It’s a situation that calls for every kind of resilience. My friend, thankfully, is doing very well. We went for walks and played some music together and talked. And talked. And played some more music and talked some more.
We talked—because I asked-- about what it’s like to dodge death by an inch or so. We talked about what gives our lives meaning and purpose, and no, I am not going to tell you any details of what my friend said. That was between friends. But I can share, I believe, this much.
There come moments in each of our lives when we have to take a pause; life throws us some major change. Who am I? Why am I doing what I am doing? Is this way of living right for me, or right for us? Or am I spinning my wheels, buying food, so to speak, that has no nutrition and drink that doesn’t satisfy, just leaves me thirsty for ever more? And what part DOES have meaning, what am I profoundly grateful for?
When change happens, when adversity hits, it’s hard to bounce back. The human body, and the human spirit are not a rubber ball.
Resilience—and by resilience, I mean living a life that is able to stand up to the pressure, bounces back after defeat, sticks to its conviction even when few agree--resilience requires some sense of purpose. You might think that some experiences are too much for anyone to handle. But that’s not the case. The human spirit is amazing. Friends are amazing. God is amazing! Put them together, and we can emerge from adversity and questions and struggles stronger than we went in. Put them together and we can discover new lessons, encounter amazing blessings, learn to live more fully than ever before. That’s human resilience. That’s the kind of resilience faith helps with.
II.
It isn’t just those of us who have been through physical or psychological trauma recently that require resilience. Let me put it bluntly. If we aren’t passionate about something; if we don’t find deep joy someplace; if we forget to be grateful, even just take our lives for granted, things can go humming along just fine on the surface. But underneath we start to experience some soul decay. We lose our way. And then we get pulled up short. Until something causes us to pause and size up what’s really important. Something makes us pay attention to the moment we are in.
What is it that gives us pause? It could be a mystical encounter with God when we least expect it! However, more often God works in less dramatic ways. It could be a hard decision or a good conversation. But something breaks through the surface of complacency, and we realize that we have some rebuilding work to do.
Bouncing back from complacency and routine. That too is resilience.
III.
Recently I have had a lot of conversations with folk sharing about close visits with death. Sometimes, they’ve been sharing with me out of grief at loss of a loved one. Others have been musing on their own close calls.
It was in one of those other recent conversations, this one with a friend processing the death of a parent, that it came up. She’s fascinated with near-death experiences—they give her hope not so much for herself, but for the loved one she has had to say goodbye to. She was referring to the classic near-death experiences we read about—you know, when the heart has stopped, when someone remembers having been out of body for a while, met celestial beings, etc.
Now I have a healthy curiosity and some skepticism about near-death experiences, but probably less skepticism than some—I have had a lot of end of life conversations with people, you know? But however skeptical you or I may be about the stories of the returnees, we can learn something important even if we don’t have all the answers. We can learn something about what gives the almost dead new life.
My friend and I were talking about why those who almost die choose to return. What caught her attention is that in order to come back, often they must identify a particular piece of unfinished work—a very specific purpose in life. In order to leave paradise, it requires seeing the importance of the unfinished tasks, remembering the love that binds us to people, grasping the significance, the power, of the ties that bind. For example, she shared the story of a little girl who wouldn’t go back to her body despite the pleading of the angels, until she saw how sad her absence would make her mother.
A sense of purpose—that’s what caught my friend’s attention. But what caught mine was something even more specific. What caught my attention, as she spoke, was that was that in every single story it was a relationship, some close communal tie, that brought the individual back home again. That little girl who came back for her mother! And then there was a mother, who came back to strengthen the family for coming adversity. Whatever it is in the next life, in this one, salvation includes community.
Surely individual salvation is important, and the trust in an afterworld is often of comfort. But our salvation is not found just in individual escape or celestial promotion. We must save each other right here in this world. Our salvation starts right here on this not so astral plane, and we don’t find it alone. We need each other. Our salvation lies in a commitment to community, relationships, love so strong that sometimes it can even raise the dead. Now that’s resilience.
IV.
Let me end even more personally. I do not know every situation you face. But I know enough to know some of you have been dealing with some adversity. Some of you have been dealing with hard decisions about your personal relationships. Some of you have been floating along as though everything is ok on the outside—until you are brought up short by some ancient wound or some recent discovery—and you know that you need to deal with the present—big time.
I return from my lightning run down to Texas a bit humbler than I started. I come home with deep respect for the capacity of ordinary humans to start fresh after great adversity. I’m not talking magic here. I am talking about the halting steps toward recovery; the courage that looks like crankiness, or not so saintly silence; the human ability to think and feel and pray through a rough situation to make a fresh start. I’m talking about the presence of God; the gift of friendship; the power of community. I’m talking blessed resilience.
We are not rubber balls, we humans. We are better and stronger than that. We can emerge from adversity scarred but transformed, in a whole new shape we never had before. But we need each other to get there, and we need honesty, and we need God’s love. May you experience each of those things—in this place and in the rest of your worlds. Amen.
March 24 2019
Emmanuel Friedens Church
Schenectady New York
Readings: Isaiah 55:1-9
Luke 13:1-9
From the Readings:
Isaiah 55:1 Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. 55:2 Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. 55:3 Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David.
Luke 13: 6 Then he told this parable: "A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 13:7 So he said to the gardener, 'See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?'
13:8 He replied, 'Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.13:9 If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.'"
I.
To bounce back from adversity, to be able to return from defeat, to heal again after being wounded in body mind or spirit—that’s what resilience looks like. Resilience. Merriam-Webster offers two definitions of the word resilience.
The first of these has to do with physical properties.
1 : the capability of a strained body to recover its size and shape after deformation caused especially by compressive stress (think here of a rubber ball—the definition in action of resilience).
The second definition has to do with the human condition in its less physical forms:
2 : an ability to recover from or adjust easily to misfortune or change
(https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/resilience)
I just got back from Austin, Texas, visiting a friend who recently had emergency surgery following a stroke and then, a few months later, open heart surgery. It’s a situation that calls for every kind of resilience. My friend, thankfully, is doing very well. We went for walks and played some music together and talked. And talked. And played some more music and talked some more.
We talked—because I asked-- about what it’s like to dodge death by an inch or so. We talked about what gives our lives meaning and purpose, and no, I am not going to tell you any details of what my friend said. That was between friends. But I can share, I believe, this much.
There come moments in each of our lives when we have to take a pause; life throws us some major change. Who am I? Why am I doing what I am doing? Is this way of living right for me, or right for us? Or am I spinning my wheels, buying food, so to speak, that has no nutrition and drink that doesn’t satisfy, just leaves me thirsty for ever more? And what part DOES have meaning, what am I profoundly grateful for?
When change happens, when adversity hits, it’s hard to bounce back. The human body, and the human spirit are not a rubber ball.
Resilience—and by resilience, I mean living a life that is able to stand up to the pressure, bounces back after defeat, sticks to its conviction even when few agree--resilience requires some sense of purpose. You might think that some experiences are too much for anyone to handle. But that’s not the case. The human spirit is amazing. Friends are amazing. God is amazing! Put them together, and we can emerge from adversity and questions and struggles stronger than we went in. Put them together and we can discover new lessons, encounter amazing blessings, learn to live more fully than ever before. That’s human resilience. That’s the kind of resilience faith helps with.
II.
It isn’t just those of us who have been through physical or psychological trauma recently that require resilience. Let me put it bluntly. If we aren’t passionate about something; if we don’t find deep joy someplace; if we forget to be grateful, even just take our lives for granted, things can go humming along just fine on the surface. But underneath we start to experience some soul decay. We lose our way. And then we get pulled up short. Until something causes us to pause and size up what’s really important. Something makes us pay attention to the moment we are in.
What is it that gives us pause? It could be a mystical encounter with God when we least expect it! However, more often God works in less dramatic ways. It could be a hard decision or a good conversation. But something breaks through the surface of complacency, and we realize that we have some rebuilding work to do.
Bouncing back from complacency and routine. That too is resilience.
III.
Recently I have had a lot of conversations with folk sharing about close visits with death. Sometimes, they’ve been sharing with me out of grief at loss of a loved one. Others have been musing on their own close calls.
It was in one of those other recent conversations, this one with a friend processing the death of a parent, that it came up. She’s fascinated with near-death experiences—they give her hope not so much for herself, but for the loved one she has had to say goodbye to. She was referring to the classic near-death experiences we read about—you know, when the heart has stopped, when someone remembers having been out of body for a while, met celestial beings, etc.
Now I have a healthy curiosity and some skepticism about near-death experiences, but probably less skepticism than some—I have had a lot of end of life conversations with people, you know? But however skeptical you or I may be about the stories of the returnees, we can learn something important even if we don’t have all the answers. We can learn something about what gives the almost dead new life.
My friend and I were talking about why those who almost die choose to return. What caught her attention is that in order to come back, often they must identify a particular piece of unfinished work—a very specific purpose in life. In order to leave paradise, it requires seeing the importance of the unfinished tasks, remembering the love that binds us to people, grasping the significance, the power, of the ties that bind. For example, she shared the story of a little girl who wouldn’t go back to her body despite the pleading of the angels, until she saw how sad her absence would make her mother.
A sense of purpose—that’s what caught my friend’s attention. But what caught mine was something even more specific. What caught my attention, as she spoke, was that was that in every single story it was a relationship, some close communal tie, that brought the individual back home again. That little girl who came back for her mother! And then there was a mother, who came back to strengthen the family for coming adversity. Whatever it is in the next life, in this one, salvation includes community.
Surely individual salvation is important, and the trust in an afterworld is often of comfort. But our salvation is not found just in individual escape or celestial promotion. We must save each other right here in this world. Our salvation starts right here on this not so astral plane, and we don’t find it alone. We need each other. Our salvation lies in a commitment to community, relationships, love so strong that sometimes it can even raise the dead. Now that’s resilience.
IV.
Let me end even more personally. I do not know every situation you face. But I know enough to know some of you have been dealing with some adversity. Some of you have been dealing with hard decisions about your personal relationships. Some of you have been floating along as though everything is ok on the outside—until you are brought up short by some ancient wound or some recent discovery—and you know that you need to deal with the present—big time.
I return from my lightning run down to Texas a bit humbler than I started. I come home with deep respect for the capacity of ordinary humans to start fresh after great adversity. I’m not talking magic here. I am talking about the halting steps toward recovery; the courage that looks like crankiness, or not so saintly silence; the human ability to think and feel and pray through a rough situation to make a fresh start. I’m talking about the presence of God; the gift of friendship; the power of community. I’m talking blessed resilience.
We are not rubber balls, we humans. We are better and stronger than that. We can emerge from adversity scarred but transformed, in a whole new shape we never had before. But we need each other to get there, and we need honesty, and we need God’s love. May you experience each of those things—in this place and in the rest of your worlds. Amen.