I Do Believe In Spooks
Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
October 18, 2020
Rev. Craig M. Nowak
Before I begin I want to say a word or two about today’s sermon title. When I came up with the title I had a different sermon in mind for today, a sermon which has yet to emerge in finished form and may or may not do so in the near future. Suffice it to say, at this point it still “haunts” me. Now on to the sermon I did write for today…
One of the enduring memories from my childhood is my father’s handiness around the house. It seemed there was nothing he didn’t know something about and couldn’t fix. Rare were the occasions when someone had to be called in to repair or replace something. As a kid I was awed by the breadth of his knowledge and capability. As an adult I remain impressed, but I’m also more aware of where and how he acquired his seemingly effortless knowhow and skills. Oh, and there’s another thing: He always had the right tool for whatever job he was doing, which makes just about any effort easier.
Indeed, about a month after I moved in with my boyfriend, now husband, Kevin, I was working on assembling a shelving unit and found myself in need of a screwdriver. After rummaging through every drawer in our apartment it became apparent Kevin didn’t own a single tool, let alone a screwdriver. I mean talk about embracing a stereotype!
Still, I held onto hope and when he arrived home I told him I needed a screwdriver. Without saying a word he walked across the kitchen, pulled open a drawer, reached in and then handed me a butter knife.
Unfortunately, I needed a Phillips-head.
Having the right tools alone, of course, doesn’t necessarily guarantee success as the rather ghoulish “Parable of the Long Spoons”, today’s first reading, illustrates. The story, which is often attributed to a Rabbi, but is found in one form or another in various religious traditions, is usually employed as an instruction on kindness or cooperation. And that’s easy enough to grasp. In Hell, the people starve because they’re fixated on feeding themselves whereas in Heaven, they’re well fed because they feed each other.
What the story leaves out, is how these two scenarios came to be.
How did the people starving in Hell end up there?
How could they be so fixated on themselves that they couldn’t see the way out of their situation was sitting right across the table from them?
And what about the people in Heaven?
How did they get there?
Where did the idea to feed each other come from?
According to the story the man who arrived at the gates to Heaven lived, “a good life.” A description that is too vague to draw any significant insights from. The man’s curiosity and concern about the plight of those in hell, arising from “the thought of anyone suffering at all – let alone for eternity” (and which makes his “stomach twist”), does suggests emotional empathy, but not much else. And it seems strict adherence or belief in dogma wasn’t a deciding factor either as the he admits to heaven’s gatekeeper, “I never really believed in heaven or hell while I was alive.” And that he finds, “it somewhat troubling that these places actually exist.”
More troubling, perhaps, is it seems we can’t pin this on a God we do, don’t or aren’t sure we believe in. For when the man asks, “Is God really so vengeful.”, the gatekeeper replies, “You may be surprised….As with all great truths, it’s not as simple as you may suppose, yet also, far simpler.”
The banqueters in hell are starving despite the abundance that surrounds them. Why? Technically they have what they need to be fed. Indeed it seems rather they don’t have what they want in order to be fed. So what it is they want?
Different arms? Maybe.
Or is it to not have to ask for or accept help? Perhaps.
Or could it be they’re only concerned with their own needs? That’s possible.
The story doesn’t give us a definitive answer, but I think we can safely say whatever it is they want, it won’t get them fed. A familiar human dilemma to be sure. After all, who among hasn’t wanted, pursued or engaged in something that doesn’t or can’t fill us, so to speak? In fact we do it all the time.
For a while during my sabbatical last year I observed a spiritual practice loosely based on something called the Ignatian Examen. I kept a simple daily log. It had two columns. In the first column I recorded a moment or activity during which I felt most alive during the day. In the second column I recorded a moment or activity during which I felt most drained during the day.
Under moments or activities during which I felt most alive I recorded things like:
Sitting with Julia, my cat, on my lap.
A hike in the woods with Kevin.
Marching in a Black Lives Matter protest.
A visit and lunch at the Isabella Stewart Garner Museum.
Noticing moonlight reflected on the pond.
Making paella.
Happy Hour with friends over Zoom
Setting the table for Easter dinner.
Reading outdoors.
Among the moments and activities I listed as most draining were:
Reading political news
Tracking a stock price
Complaining to myself about someone I don’t like
Clearing out email
Arguing with a bumpersticker that irritated me
Holding onto a judgmental thought about a waitress
Watching a press conference about Coronavirus
The practice not only identifies specific moments and activities that either enhance or drain life, it provides material for ongoing reflection. Are there clear differences between the activities that enhance versus drain life? What are they? What draws or compels us toward one versus the other? What makes a difference in which we choose?
I’m reminded now of something one of my mentors once told me. He said, Often in ministry our job is not to give people what they want but to teach them to want something different. He was speaking minister to minister, but his words apply more broadly to members of any faith community, who by virtue of their presence and participation minister to one another.
In “The Parable of the Long Spoons” the banqueters in heaven have the same long arms as the people in hell. Yet those in heaven are well fed, enjoying the abundance in their midst while the people in hell are starving.
The reason, according to the story, is the people in heaven feed each other with their long arms rather than trying in vain to feed themselves. But again we might wonder how or when did the people in heaven start feeding one another?
Are the people in heaven inherently different from those in hell? Or is it they too at one time wanted different arms, to not have to ask for or accept help, or simply limited their concern to their own needs? Maybe they were all on the verge of starving until one day the people now in heaven were encouraged or taught to want something different, something they actually needed.
When I was a chaplain, patients, families, and sometimes hospital staff would ask me to pray with or for them. Occasionally, I would be asked to pray for something very specific and/or very unlikely to happen.
“Please pray that I will be cured.”
“Please pray the organ I need will come.”
“Please pray my brother won’t die.”
Whenever this happened, as gently as I could, I would suggest something different. Something like, “What if we pray for strength or courage or ease of mind to face whatever happens?”
The difference between potentially starving in hell and feasting in heaven is not so much a matter of getting what we want as inviting what we need into our lives. An invitation that is extended when we’re taught, encouraged or inspired to want something different.
“Helped” is the word Alice Walker uses in “The Gospel According to Shug” to describe those who invite what they need into their lives by living into a new reality they want to inhabit. In so doing they reserve a place, metaphorically speaking, at heaven’s table.
Modeled after the Beatitudes in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, is an invitation to liberation that stands in direct contrast to the precepts of the dominant culture. Listen again to some of what she says,
HELPED are those too busy living to respond when they are wrongfully attacked: on their walks they shall find mysteries so intriguing as to distract them from every blow.
HELPED are those who live in quietness, knowing neither brand name nor fad; they shall live every day as if in eternity, and each moment shall be full as it is long.
HELPED are those who receive only to give; always in their house will be the circular energy of generosity; and in their hearts a beginning of new age on Earth: when no keys will be needed to unlock the heart and no locks will be needed on the doors.
HELPED are those who love the broken and the whole; none of their children, nor any of their ancestors, nor any of themselves shall be despised.
HELPED are those who do not join mobs; theirs shall be the understanding that to attack in anger is to murder in confusion.
HELPED are those who love and actively support the diversity of life; they shall be secure in their differentness.
In addition to pointing to something different to want, “The Gospel According to Shug” and in its own way, “The Parable of the Long Spoons”, reminds us so much of what we’ve come to see and want addressed politicly whether for social or personal ends is in fact something that ultimately needs to be seen and addressed spiritually if we are to feast in heaven rather than starve in hell. And maybe this is why Walker concludes “The Gospel According to Shug with the line, “HELPED are those who know.”
“Helped”, it turns out, is in fact a good word for, and honest description of, both the person and process that transforms hell into heaven. For we are helped… supported and encouraged… to keep going by living into an abundant life, a life available to us not by getting what we want but made manifest by first learning to want something different: the discovery and invitation into our lives of what we truly need to be fed.
May it be so.
Amen and Blessed Be
Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
October 18, 2020
Rev. Craig M. Nowak
Before I begin I want to say a word or two about today’s sermon title. When I came up with the title I had a different sermon in mind for today, a sermon which has yet to emerge in finished form and may or may not do so in the near future. Suffice it to say, at this point it still “haunts” me. Now on to the sermon I did write for today…
One of the enduring memories from my childhood is my father’s handiness around the house. It seemed there was nothing he didn’t know something about and couldn’t fix. Rare were the occasions when someone had to be called in to repair or replace something. As a kid I was awed by the breadth of his knowledge and capability. As an adult I remain impressed, but I’m also more aware of where and how he acquired his seemingly effortless knowhow and skills. Oh, and there’s another thing: He always had the right tool for whatever job he was doing, which makes just about any effort easier.
Indeed, about a month after I moved in with my boyfriend, now husband, Kevin, I was working on assembling a shelving unit and found myself in need of a screwdriver. After rummaging through every drawer in our apartment it became apparent Kevin didn’t own a single tool, let alone a screwdriver. I mean talk about embracing a stereotype!
Still, I held onto hope and when he arrived home I told him I needed a screwdriver. Without saying a word he walked across the kitchen, pulled open a drawer, reached in and then handed me a butter knife.
Unfortunately, I needed a Phillips-head.
Having the right tools alone, of course, doesn’t necessarily guarantee success as the rather ghoulish “Parable of the Long Spoons”, today’s first reading, illustrates. The story, which is often attributed to a Rabbi, but is found in one form or another in various religious traditions, is usually employed as an instruction on kindness or cooperation. And that’s easy enough to grasp. In Hell, the people starve because they’re fixated on feeding themselves whereas in Heaven, they’re well fed because they feed each other.
What the story leaves out, is how these two scenarios came to be.
How did the people starving in Hell end up there?
How could they be so fixated on themselves that they couldn’t see the way out of their situation was sitting right across the table from them?
And what about the people in Heaven?
How did they get there?
Where did the idea to feed each other come from?
According to the story the man who arrived at the gates to Heaven lived, “a good life.” A description that is too vague to draw any significant insights from. The man’s curiosity and concern about the plight of those in hell, arising from “the thought of anyone suffering at all – let alone for eternity” (and which makes his “stomach twist”), does suggests emotional empathy, but not much else. And it seems strict adherence or belief in dogma wasn’t a deciding factor either as the he admits to heaven’s gatekeeper, “I never really believed in heaven or hell while I was alive.” And that he finds, “it somewhat troubling that these places actually exist.”
More troubling, perhaps, is it seems we can’t pin this on a God we do, don’t or aren’t sure we believe in. For when the man asks, “Is God really so vengeful.”, the gatekeeper replies, “You may be surprised….As with all great truths, it’s not as simple as you may suppose, yet also, far simpler.”
The banqueters in hell are starving despite the abundance that surrounds them. Why? Technically they have what they need to be fed. Indeed it seems rather they don’t have what they want in order to be fed. So what it is they want?
Different arms? Maybe.
Or is it to not have to ask for or accept help? Perhaps.
Or could it be they’re only concerned with their own needs? That’s possible.
The story doesn’t give us a definitive answer, but I think we can safely say whatever it is they want, it won’t get them fed. A familiar human dilemma to be sure. After all, who among hasn’t wanted, pursued or engaged in something that doesn’t or can’t fill us, so to speak? In fact we do it all the time.
For a while during my sabbatical last year I observed a spiritual practice loosely based on something called the Ignatian Examen. I kept a simple daily log. It had two columns. In the first column I recorded a moment or activity during which I felt most alive during the day. In the second column I recorded a moment or activity during which I felt most drained during the day.
Under moments or activities during which I felt most alive I recorded things like:
Sitting with Julia, my cat, on my lap.
A hike in the woods with Kevin.
Marching in a Black Lives Matter protest.
A visit and lunch at the Isabella Stewart Garner Museum.
Noticing moonlight reflected on the pond.
Making paella.
Happy Hour with friends over Zoom
Setting the table for Easter dinner.
Reading outdoors.
Among the moments and activities I listed as most draining were:
Reading political news
Tracking a stock price
Complaining to myself about someone I don’t like
Clearing out email
Arguing with a bumpersticker that irritated me
Holding onto a judgmental thought about a waitress
Watching a press conference about Coronavirus
The practice not only identifies specific moments and activities that either enhance or drain life, it provides material for ongoing reflection. Are there clear differences between the activities that enhance versus drain life? What are they? What draws or compels us toward one versus the other? What makes a difference in which we choose?
I’m reminded now of something one of my mentors once told me. He said, Often in ministry our job is not to give people what they want but to teach them to want something different. He was speaking minister to minister, but his words apply more broadly to members of any faith community, who by virtue of their presence and participation minister to one another.
In “The Parable of the Long Spoons” the banqueters in heaven have the same long arms as the people in hell. Yet those in heaven are well fed, enjoying the abundance in their midst while the people in hell are starving.
The reason, according to the story, is the people in heaven feed each other with their long arms rather than trying in vain to feed themselves. But again we might wonder how or when did the people in heaven start feeding one another?
Are the people in heaven inherently different from those in hell? Or is it they too at one time wanted different arms, to not have to ask for or accept help, or simply limited their concern to their own needs? Maybe they were all on the verge of starving until one day the people now in heaven were encouraged or taught to want something different, something they actually needed.
When I was a chaplain, patients, families, and sometimes hospital staff would ask me to pray with or for them. Occasionally, I would be asked to pray for something very specific and/or very unlikely to happen.
“Please pray that I will be cured.”
“Please pray the organ I need will come.”
“Please pray my brother won’t die.”
Whenever this happened, as gently as I could, I would suggest something different. Something like, “What if we pray for strength or courage or ease of mind to face whatever happens?”
The difference between potentially starving in hell and feasting in heaven is not so much a matter of getting what we want as inviting what we need into our lives. An invitation that is extended when we’re taught, encouraged or inspired to want something different.
“Helped” is the word Alice Walker uses in “The Gospel According to Shug” to describe those who invite what they need into their lives by living into a new reality they want to inhabit. In so doing they reserve a place, metaphorically speaking, at heaven’s table.
Modeled after the Beatitudes in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, is an invitation to liberation that stands in direct contrast to the precepts of the dominant culture. Listen again to some of what she says,
HELPED are those too busy living to respond when they are wrongfully attacked: on their walks they shall find mysteries so intriguing as to distract them from every blow.
HELPED are those who live in quietness, knowing neither brand name nor fad; they shall live every day as if in eternity, and each moment shall be full as it is long.
HELPED are those who receive only to give; always in their house will be the circular energy of generosity; and in their hearts a beginning of new age on Earth: when no keys will be needed to unlock the heart and no locks will be needed on the doors.
HELPED are those who love the broken and the whole; none of their children, nor any of their ancestors, nor any of themselves shall be despised.
HELPED are those who do not join mobs; theirs shall be the understanding that to attack in anger is to murder in confusion.
HELPED are those who love and actively support the diversity of life; they shall be secure in their differentness.
In addition to pointing to something different to want, “The Gospel According to Shug” and in its own way, “The Parable of the Long Spoons”, reminds us so much of what we’ve come to see and want addressed politicly whether for social or personal ends is in fact something that ultimately needs to be seen and addressed spiritually if we are to feast in heaven rather than starve in hell. And maybe this is why Walker concludes “The Gospel According to Shug with the line, “HELPED are those who know.”
“Helped”, it turns out, is in fact a good word for, and honest description of, both the person and process that transforms hell into heaven. For we are helped… supported and encouraged… to keep going by living into an abundant life, a life available to us not by getting what we want but made manifest by first learning to want something different: the discovery and invitation into our lives of what we truly need to be fed.
May it be so.
Amen and Blessed Be
