By Rev. Robin Martin
Interim Rector
Remember that really irritating song that was so popular a number of years ago? I don’t remember any of the words except for the refrain: “Don’t worry! Be happy!” Remember? It became sort of a mantra in our culture for a while, and whenever we got down in the dumps or bent out of shape or fearful, someone was very likely to admonish us, either seriously or tongue-in-cheek, to “Don’t worry! Be happy!” I don’t know if the songster intended it to be some deep philosophical statement about existence or not, but I found the song to be simplistic at best. It seemed to assume that happiness could be equated with lack of worry, and that each of us has a sort of a worry spigot inside us that can be turned on and off with the same ease we turn off the water in the kitchen sink. The song eventually slipped from the music charts and into relative oblivion.
Paul’s letter to the Philippians that we hear this morning brings the song back to mind for me precisely because Paul does not confuse the deep and abiding gift of peace with the often transitory state of being happy. Neither does he discount the hard work and discipline and even the suffering that prepare us to receive the gift of that peace which will truly free us from worry. Paul understood better than most that peace is God’s gift to us and that joy and the rejoicing that springs from it can remain vibrant and sustain us through the worst of times.
Like the songster of several years ago, Paul encourages us not to worry about anything, but for Paul, the reason we’re able to do this is that the Lord is near. You and I, as God’s precious children, aren’t dangling out in the middle of some existential wasteland and forced to rely only on ourselves and whatever resources we can scrape together to create our own happiness. As a matter of faith, we know that no matter how absolutely alone we may feel, we are not. To echo the words of the collect or prayer for today, God precedes and follows us . . . and for that matter, walks beside us, shelters us from above, and carries us. God cocoons every one of us and all of creation in the presence of the eternal. It’s as we allow ourselves to believe and thus experience this reality that the things which we would be wise to worry about under other circumstances cease to have power over us in the same way.
For Paul, the hard work of making ourselves open to God’s presence in and around us has to do with paying attention to what we think about. I say, it’s hard work because it can be so much easier to meditate on our prejudices and indulge our weaknesses and nurse our hurts than to think on what is just and pure and pleasing and commendable. It can be so much more alluring to accept mediocrity and revel in criticism rather than discipline ourselves to look for excellence and be generous with praise. I really don’t think Paul is calling for us to suspend our God-given ability to see and hear clearly what’s going on in and around us or deny the very real hurts and injustices in our lives for the sake of experiencing the warm, fuzzy glow of accepting . . . whatever. He also knew and articulated better than most our calling to be discerning about what’s right and wrong in God’s world as a prelude to faithful action. But if we allow ourselves to be consumed with negativity of one kind or another, our senses becomes so dulled that the shining and sustaining presence of God becomes all but invisible and unheard.
We’re in the midst of that time of year when we’re asked to think in a particular way about the blessings we are continually receiving from God. And this year, as every year, we enter this season knowing that some of us struggle with illness and unemployment and with a whole multitude of troubles that seem too numerous and painful to count. I come to this time of year hoping that I encourage us to think about how we are blessed and how God calls us to respond to that blessing all year long. I believe this happens because, often enough, some of you talk to me about what I’ve said and how it’s challenged you to look at your life through a different lens. I know that what I try to do is preach the gospel in ways that explore how we’re meant to live and love and work in God’s world using whatever is at our disposal. And whenever I succeed, it’s a stewardship sermon whether it’s in February or July or October. But I also know from experience that when I begin to talk about how we’re meant to live and love and work in God’s world in terms of the blessings of money, which is the unabashed focus at this time of year … I know it’s harder to listen to. I know that for some of you this ends up sounding less like a sermon and more like a fund raising pitch, and I’m telling you, if I could find some way to change that dynamic I would be the happiest woman on earth!
Paul knew what it was like to go around asking for money. He often encouraged the communities of faith he’d begun to send relief to the church in Jerusalem, and we know from the Acts of the Apostles that those early communities of faith had to be concerned with the practical needs of the congregation just as we do 20 centuries later. I’m going to tell you what I’ve learned after nearly 40 years of doing stewardship education in a lot of different places. I’ve learned that some people come to gratitude by gritting their teeth and doing what they think they oughtto about supporting God’s work in the church and the world. Others come to gratitude because something happens in their life which is so overwhelmingly gracious and good that they just can’t do enough to express that gratitude. Neither way is better than the other, and for most of us gratitude is some mysterious mixture of gritted teeth and being surprised by the immense generosity of God.
I think the heart of stewardship is holding what we have lightly. And what that means to me is getting to that place where we can say with Paul, “I have learned to be content with whatever I have.” What an amazing statement to be able to make in our acquisitive culture! What person or possession, what bank balance or retirement fund goal are you and I grasping so tightly that we cannot experience the sheer luxury of being content with what we have?