Our Ritual, Works of Love

a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Tim W. Jensen
at The First Religious Society in Carlisle, Massachusetts
Sunday February 26, 2006


OPENING WORDS: “If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.” -- Will Rogers

READING: by Emily Dickinson

HOPE is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I ’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

***

Pope Benedict, Pat Robertson, and the Dalai Lama were waiting together backstage before the start of an ecumenical panel discussion on Spirituality, while nearby a technician was working to hook up all the equipment that would be used to broadcast the event.

“I always find it most satisfying to pray alone in my private chapel at the Vatican,” the Pope said to his companions, “on my knees with my head bowed down before the altar of God. I’ve never felt closer to Christ anywhere else.”

“I like to pray in public,” responded Pat Robertson, “standing before a large television audience with my eyes closed and my arms outstretched to heaven. It’s as if I can feel the Power of the Lord flowing out through me into the whole world.”

“I prefer to pray while sitting in the Lotus Position,” said the Dalai Lama, “so that I can feel the Divine Spirit of Enlightenment moving in and out of my body with every breath....”

At this point the cable guy could contain himself no longer. “I’m sure you fellas all know a helluva lot more about this than I do,” he interrupted, “but the best prayin’ I ever did was hanging upside-down from a telephone pole thirty feet off the ground!”


We have now arrived at the penultimate sermon in this series of sermons I’ve been preaching since the first of the year about the Theodore Parker benediction I customarily use each week to conclude our service. I love that word “penultimate” -- it’s one of those great, twenty-five cent seminary words I only get to use at times like this, and it sounds so fantastic as it rolls off the tongue, even though all it means is “just before the last.” About the only word I like better is “antepenultimate” which means “just before just before the last,” and is a terrific word for perfectionists, procrastinators, and other folks who just like to make certain that everything happens in exactly the proper order. But all I’m really saying is that after today, there is only one more sermon left in this series, next week, and after that we’ll be on to something new. So if you’ve been enjoying this series of sermons, you have one more chance to hear me wrap everything up next Sunday, while if you’ve found them a little tedious, you can start to relax because they’ll soon be over too.

But first we have today’s penultimate topic, which is “Our Ritual, Works of Love.” We all know what Love is, or at least we think we know. Love is the Doctrine of this Church. Love makes the world go round. God is Love, which means that Love is also the Quintessential, Metaphysical Creative Power of the Universe that gives us life, and gives life meaning. Yet what does it mean to perform “Works of Love?” And what does it mean to make that work our “Ritual?”

A ritual is a formal, solemn, ceremonial act or observance which takes place according to a prescribed set of rules or customary procedures. It’s a word we often hear used in connection with religious observances, especially liturgical ones. Liturgy means “the work of the people,” and much of its power comes through repetition, and our habitual familiarity with the ceremony. Ritual is something we do routinely, but which should never be allowed to become merely routine, a matter of simply going through the motions. When our rituals become simply a matter of going through the motions, they begin to lose their power -- they become empty ceremonies, rather than solemn and formal occasions.

And yet it is often when things DO become routine that they gain their greatest power, for good or ill. They become our Habits -- our distinctive “clothing” or attire: an almost instinctive second nature so closely associated with our manner of being in the world that it can seem indistinguishable from “who we are.” Force of Habit will often compel us to do things that we would never do voluntarily if we gave it a moment’s thought, yet good habits of (say) diet or exercise or dental hygiene can add years to our lives and makes us happier and more productive in the process. Human beings are creatures of habit, and easily become set in our ways. Yet the habits we choose to keep, and the habits we choose to break, can make or break our own chances for happiness, either alone or in relationship with others.

Of course, conventional wisdom also tells us that Love is Work, hard work, and that when Love becomes routine or habitual the romance is over and it’s time to move on. And yet we also know from experience that often it is ONLY when love becomes routine and habitual that it deepens and ripens and finds its fullest and most mature expression. This paradox, this apparent contradiction, resides at the very heart of love, which both gives us comfort in its comfortable and familiar habitual routine, yet never fails to surprise us with its capacity for freshness, novelty and innovation.

Here’s another thought about Love. Suppose that instead of thinking of Love as hard work, we begin to think of Love AS our Work -- the most important thing we do to give our lives meaning and value and purpose, and through which we are provided with everything we really need in order to prosper and survive. It’s an interesting thought, isn’t it? Rather than thinking of life as a struggle for survival, a competition with our fellow creatures in order to acquire scarce resources for ourselves, we instead learn to see that our survival depends upon our ability to cooperate, to live in community with one another, to act empathetically and compassionately, and to share with others generously so that no one goes without.

This is the vision of the world which Love asks us to see, and then to create in its image. Sometimes it may feel as though it goes against our most basic natural instincts, although what instinct is more powerful than our instinct to love? It is also the central message of every great religious tradition of the world: to allow our Love to conquer Fear, so that we might learn to give rather than take, to share rather than accumulate, to trust rather than doubt, to hope rather than despair.

Society often encourages us to think of the Work of Love as one of “charity” -- and this is certainly an important aspect of it. The word charitas MEANS love, and is derived from the Greek word charis meaning “gift” or “grace.” In the theology of the New Testament, Charis refers to God’s loving gift of grace to human kind, for which we express our gratitude by acting charitably toward our fellow human beings. Love of God and Love of Neighbor, the one great commandment of both the Jewish and Christian traditions. Charity is about sharing with others out of our abundance, which first requires that we recognize how greatly we have been blessed, and then that we generously express our gratitude for that blessing.

But Charity is only the first work of love. A generous Love is also about Creativity -- about generating something new and fresh and good and beneficial that will endure beyond us down through the generations. We all know in our heart of hearts that Love is ultimately about Creation: not just procreation (which is the most obvious outcome of an act of love); but Creativity on every level, the overflowing expressive outpouring of our passion for life which we give freely to others simply in the hope that it will give them joy.

Creativity is about Imagination: about seeing something in our mind’s eye and then making it real in the world. Creativity is the one quality we can truly say that we share with our Creator: the underlying truth behind the statement in Scripture that we were each created in the image of God.

Creativity also transforms work into play. Our daily activities are no longer experienced as a toilsome burden; they become instead an amusing entertainment, a source of fun and joy and pleasure. Love makes our burdens light, and the road before us an easy one. It puts a song in our heart and a spring in our step, and allows us to find merriment in whatever we may choose to do at the moment. Love keeps us young, like children (or at least teenagers); and yet Love also gives us a certain depth and maturity, a wisdom greater than our years. “Love is patient, love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way: it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.” (1 Cor 13: 4-8).

A grateful Generosity, a benevolent Creativity, and an innocent, childlike Playfulness are not only three of the most important Works of Love, they are also three of Love’s greatest gifts to us. Love is its own best reward, and the more of it we have to give, the more we receive back in return. Love binds us together into a circle of mutual obligation and support -- a covenanted community grounded in a profound affection, appreciation, and respect for one another, each as we are, at once both flawed and wonderful.

A loving attitude teaches us when to turn a blind eye, and when to lend a helping hand; when to speak a word of encouragement, and when to hold our tongues in dignified silence. Love knows its own boundaries, which allow us each to maintain our own integrity, but Love also transforms those boundaries into places where we meet, rather than barriers that keep us apart. The Work of Love is one of healing, of compassionate nurture; and also one of inspiration, and imaginative transcendence. And when we make these Works of Love our daily Ritual: our solemn, formal customary rule and procedure, Love transforms our lives in ways we can hardly begin to imagine, and heals every illness of the soul.

And then finally, as the people of Grudgeville reminded us last week, the ultimate (or perhaps I should say “penultimate”) work of Love is Forgiveness. When we first fall in love with some one or some thing, the object of our Love -- our Beloved -- appears flawless. Love is blind (and deaf and dumb...mostly dumb, as my mother-in-law used to say, and her daughter frequently repeated to me). But as time goes by, we begin to notice our Beloved’s imperfections -- the fantasy gives way to reality, as we no longer see “as through a glass darkly,” but instead face to face. Without a highly practiced capacity to Forgive, most relationships wouldn’t last five minutes, much less fifty years.

Of course, we can always try simply overlooking our Beloved’s faults and shortcomings, by focusing our attention solely on all their admirable and desirable qualities, and ignoring all the rest. And this is probably a pretty good idea, as far as it goes. But without the ability to Forgive, blissful ignorance is eventually going to stumble over something too big to ignore. So even if your Beloved appears perfect in your eyes (and especially if they appear perfect in their own), the ability to Forgive, and to ask for forgiveness, is an essential component of keeping Love alive.

The Catholics have even made Forgiveness into a Sacrament, popularly known as “confession.” In Confession we acknowledge our failures and shortcomings to someone who loves us like no other Being can, and receive in return both forgiveness and a blessing. I’m talking about God now, and not the Priest. Mistaking the clergy for the Deity is a form of idolatry; the priest is only there to listen, and to keep you company as you stand humbly before the Almighty.

Confession makes it possible for us to receive Forgiveness, which (as we all know) is sometimes even harder than forgiving someone ourselves. Yet the willingness to be forgiven is also an essential Work of Love. Just as the humble recognition and acknowledgment of our own foibles and shortcomings makes it possible for us to look beyond the imperfections of others, it is only our willingness to accept the forgiveness of others that makes it possible for us to offer true forgiveness as well.

The blessings of true Forgiveness are many, for both the forgiven and the forgiver: greater Understanding, deeper Trust and Appreciation, and above all, renewed Hope, to name just a few. “Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.” When we lose hope, when we cease to hear the wordless song at the center of our soul, we also lose our opportunity to begin again, to make a fresh start, to have a second chance. When we lose hope, we lose our ability to risk love again...which (as I’m sure you’ve all heard), has often been described as “the triumph of hope over experience.” The Work of Love is above all else the Work of Hope, and renewed Faith in the Power of our Love to make the World better.