Scriptures: Isaiah 49:13-18
Matthew 6:25-34
Julie A. Kanarr, a Lutheran pastor serving Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in Port Angeles, Washington, tells this story about a parishioner of hers:
“Anthony was on the waiting list for a heart transplant. He awoke each morning with the knowledge that at any time, his cell phone could ring with the news that a donor heart had become available, and he would be whisked off to the hospital for transplant surgery. He also knew that at any time his seriously damaged heart might give out. Anthony, whose immune system was fragile, was cautious about exposure to germs, since having even a mild infection would be enough to delay the transplant that he so desperately needed. Each day involved a carefully monitored routine of medication, diet, and limited exertion. For Anthony, life was a waiting game. He did what he could to prolong his chances of staying alive until a heart became available. He lived with the gnawing awareness that his hopes for life would come with the death of another person.
“He certainly had much to be anxious about. Like anyone who faces a serious health issue, Anthony was concerned for the future. He worried about what would happen to him and what that would mean for his family. A 48-year-old, he had much to live for. He was looking forward to his son’s wedding and his daughter’s graduation from college. He was frustrated that he was unable to work, and yearned for the day when he would have enough energy again to do the physical activities that he used to enjoy. He wondered if he would receive a heart in time, and he tried not to imagine what kind of tragic accident would lead to the generous gift of a donated heart.
“Anthony kept an index card propped up against the napkin holder on his kitchen table. On it he had written these words from Matthew’s Gospel: ‘”Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?”’ (Mt 6:25-27). Anthony found comfort and reassurance in those verses. He repeated them often, committing them to memory. Whenever the waves of fear or worry arose, Anthony recalled these words that he had come to know by heart. They reminded him that he was loved by God, and that no matter what happened, he could trust in God’s steady care for him. They reminded him that he was of infinite worth and value in God’s eyes, and that God would watch over him and be with him.”
Anxieties. We all have them. It’s impossible to go along life’s journey placidly and smoothly without hitting those bumps in the road that make us anxious. And if we try to cover over those bumps and bruises and worries with a smile that is more sham than sunny and an outlook that appears positive on the outside while inside our guts are in turmoil – well, we’ve coined a word for that: Pollyannaish – from the 1913 novel by Eleanor H. Porter – which has come to mean overly cheerfully optimistic. But a cheerful, optimistic attitude cannot sustain us for too long when real-life difficulties occur, like Anthony’s damaged heart. Even Jesus had his anxieties, especially as he came to realize what his Lord God intended for him. The question is not whether we will have anxieties but how we will deal with them.
And so what does Jesus tell us to do? “Look at the birds of the air….. Consider the lilies of the field.” Doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of help there, does it? And yet maybe it is a significant first step. Becoming in tune with nature does exert a calming influence. Tom McGrath tells of his experience in these words:
“My wife and I have found a great remedy for those times when life seems overwhelmingly stressful, our worries mount, and our inner resources seem depleted. We consider the birds of the air.
“Specifically, we pop in a DVD title Winged Migration, Jacques Perrin’s Oscar-nominated documentary that follows dozens of species of birds on their amazing migratory trek – some covering more than 2,000 miles….. As the opening credits roll, we may be anxious and worried about our lives. But within minutes we are mesmerized at the sight of gaggles of birds, large and small, elegant and comical, obeying the secret inner prompting that sets them in fly hundreds, even thousands of miles to serve the demands of life and survival…..
“Knowing how my own worries melt away as I watch this film, I’m not surprised that Jesus directs our gaze toward nature when he warns of undue anxiety….. Some find serenity in hiking, others in rowing a boat on a pristine lake, and some in tending a flower box in a tenement window. Contemplation of nature is a reliable remedy for the worries that can paralyze and plague us….. When Jesus points us toward the birds of the air or the lilies of the field, he is not just trying to get our minds off our worries; he is pointing us to a way of discerning the larger purposes of God.”
Contemplation of nature is but a starting point – albeit an important one. If, like Anthony, you were awaiting a heart transplant – or something equally serious – considering the birds of the air and the lilies of the field would only go so far in relieving worries and anxieties about that serious health problem…or financial problem…or relationship problem. Jesus is surely not saying simply “Don’t be anxious” when he offers this advice in the Sermon on the Mount. No, he is trying to help us see, as Tom McGrath puts it, “the larger purposes of God.” What might these be?
In Julie Kanarr’s story about Anthony, I was struck by one line in particular: “he tried not to imagine what kind of tragic accident would lead to the generous gift of a donated heart.” Anthony’s joy would be someone else’s heartbreak. And that’s often the way it is in life – we tend to think of it as an ironic outlook toward life, but maybe it has more to do with those “larger purposes of God”.
There have been many movies made over the years about the life of Jesus – Cecil B. DeMille, George Stevens, and Pier Paolo Pasolini (three very different directors) have all tackled the subject. But one of the strangest (and most controversial) “life of Christ” movies was a 1989 film by French-Canadian director, Denys Arcand, called “Jesus of Montreal”. In it a group of actors are preparing to do a rather unconventional Passion Play, to which the Roman Catholic church in the city objects. The lead actor, Daniel, who plays Jesus, starts taking on some of the characteristics of the Christ, such as wrecking an advertising casting session (like Jesus casting the money-lenders out of the Temple) or appearing before an indecisive judge (which parallels Jesus' appearance before Pontius Pilate). The most controversial part of the movie was the ending, which finds Daniel being chased down into a subway by angry partisans of the church and being cruelly beaten. He is taken to a hospital, but the doctors determine that they can’t save his life, and so his organs – including his heart – are harvested to be donated to those who need them. Thus, Daniel achieves a kind of resurrection.
I had long discussions – well, OK, arguments – with my communication colleagues when this movie came out as to whether such a concept as a heart transplant could really symbolize the meaning of resurrection. I felt that it did; and I agreed with Roger Ebert’s review at the time when he said, “It's an original and uncompromising attempt to explore what really might happen, if the spirit of Jesus were to walk among us in these timid and materialistic times.” This filmic idea of using a heart transplant was a way to modernize the concept of resurrection – to make it come alive for us as it does in a different way each Easter. It is a way of saying that the resurrection truly is giving life.
The idea that someone dies in order to give us a transplanted heart is nothing new to those who call themselves Christians. We know that this is, in fact, what has already been done for us. And so this becomes, not an ironical view of existence, with yin and yang (someone dies, someone else lives), but rather here is an expression of God’s marvelous love for us – for all of us – whether we live or whether we die. As Paul says in Romans, “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.” (14:8) No wonder Jesus was able to say that we don’t need to be anxious and worry about tomorrow; the bottom line is that God’s caring for us is all we really need to know.
Isaiah also shows us how to get away from an ironical way of thinking. Our lectionary passage starts out with a paean of praise:
Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth;
break forth, O mountains, into singing!
For the Lord has comforted his people,
and will have compassion on his suffering ones.
Bur then Isaiah admonishes the people for their negativity:
But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me,
my Lord has forgotten me.”
No; not so, the prophet proclaims. Isaiah uses the image of a mother nursing her new-born child as a way of imaging that God will never forsake, will by no means forget. The anxieties that can drive us when we feel far away from God are lessened when we experience the kind of compassion that comes like a drink of warm milk.
Isaiah also uses a line that helps me tie all of this into Memorial Day: “Your builders outdo your destroyers…..” I was wondering how our lectionary scriptures could relate to Memorial Day, and then I re-read that sentence. Memorial Day is a time for remembrance – yes, for honoring those who have given their lives and their service, but perhaps more particularly for reflecting on the inanity of war as a way of resolving conflict and the inadvisability of beginning a conflict in the first place. War is all about the destroyers. Isaiah reminds us that God’s compassion leads us to remember and celebrate the builders – those who find new and creative ways to help peoples resolve their issues. Those who send a son or a daughter – or anyone, for that matter – off to fight are certainly among the most anxious of people. A time of armed conflict increases the anxiety level just about more than anything else. Perhaps it is those who would wage war who are most in need of a transplanted heart.
What Jesus is pointing his listeners toward in the Sermon on the Mount is what is most important for us: not our anxieties, not our petty issues (“’What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’”) but rather: “’…strive first for the Kingdom of God and its righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.’” Look to what is truly important. And when you do, you’ll find that “don’t sweat the small stuff”, rather than being a cliché, is really what Jesus is helping us to do.
In the midst of our troubles, Jesus encourages us not to let our fears about the future rob us of our experience of God’s grace lived in each present moment. The one who calms us with the word that we need not be anxious also offers the assurance that we are of infinite worth and value to God. The God who arrays the flowers of the field in splendor and cares for each and every living thing also cares for you. God watches over you, promising to stand with you, no matter what. Jesus invites us into a life of trust, borne not of naiveté or of denial, but of the confident knowledge that God’s love and grace will sustain us through all circumstances.
What Jesus’ followers discover is that life is a gift and that our over-riding emotion is gratitude for that gift each and every day, rather than being anxious over how the gift of life will be used. Anthony, in Julie Kanarr’s story, was able to use these verses from Matthew as a way of celebrating that gift of life even in the midst of anxious waiting for a heart that could be transplanted. Rise each day with a song of joy on your lips that God has given you a life that can be lived in service to the Christ, who has transplanted the spirit of his heart in us.
Amen.
Dave Pomeroy
First Congregational Church, UCC
Las Vegas, NV
May 25, 2008