Homily for Sunday, July 30, 2017 Good Shepherd and Graves Chapel
Lessons:
1 Kings 3: 5-12
Psalm 119: 129-136
Romans 8: 26-39
Matthew 13: 31-33, 44-52
On Friday as I sat
down to write this homily, a storm was on its way. We have been in much need of
rain and the cooler temperatures the weather promised to bring, so I settled in
to enjoy the peace before the storm. Our
sunroom is my favorite spot for prayer and meditation, and that is where I also
do most of my writing. Outside the wide windows of the sunroom, I observed two
birds busy with what seemed to be unusual activity. A female cardinal darted
among the larger plants and shrubs, lighting precariously on a stalk of
Solomon’s Seal and plucking a sprig of rosemary. She appeared to be a recent
fledgling, and her activity suggests that she is building a nest in one of our
giant boxwoods—even for the end of July, not out of the realm of possibility.
A small chattering
wren darted about as well, tugging a choice twig from behind my clematis
trellis. I wondered if the approaching storm motivated this bird activity?
Whatever their motivation, they tended to the business at hand. Unlike we
humans, who worry far too much, the birds of the air need no reminder to be
fully engaged with the priorities of living. There is a great deal of wisdom on
display in the natural order of things, as our Lord suggested in his sermon on
the mount: “Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather
into barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them.”
Human fear and
human need often drive us to worry even about things over which we have no
control—the weather, for example. So, is
fear the antithesis of wisdom? Some say fear is the opposite of faith,
and who among us here would say that faith is not the wise path to choose?
Caught up in worry or fear, I sense that any speck of wisdom I may possess is
running in the opposite direction. Caught up in fear, we can make some very
unwise decisions. Remember when the prophet Elijah ran away in fear after the
wicked queen Jezebel vowed to kill him? Hiding in a cave on Mt. Horeb, Elijah
was instructed by God to leave the safety of the cave and stand on the
mountainside. But Elijah didn’t budge from the cave. What happened then? As we
are told in 1 Kings 19, “The Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore
into the mountains and broke rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was
not in the wind; and after the wind, an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the
earthquake; and after the earthquake, a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire;
and after the fire, a still, small voice.” When Elijah heard the still small voice of
God, he finally came out of the cave.
Do we hide (or
simply avoid facing) the things that frighten us? We live in a complicated and
dangerous world, and there are many things that reasonable people may find
frightening. But if we hide ourselves away like Elijah, God will call us out of
that cave and give us the quiet confidence to do what we have to do. With God’s
strength supporting and guiding us, we can have the wisdom to face the most
fearful things.
I believe this is
the kind of wisdom God bestows on young King Solomon. When Solomon asks for “an
understanding mind,” God responds, “Because you have asked this, and have NOT
asked for yourself long life or riches, or for the life of your enemies, but
have asked for yourself understanding to DISCERN what is right, I now do
according to your word. Indeed, I give you a wise and discerning mind.”
In this response,
God not only grants Solomon’s request for wisdom, but he also offers a
dialectic argument in which God lists some things Solomon might have requested
for himself that would have been less than wise requests: for long life, for
wealth, for the lives of his enemies. When God uses the phrase “for yourself,”
in describing how these possible gifts would have been used by Solomon, the
implication is that wisdom cannot be exercised for selfish purposes. By
its very nature, wisdom is used in the service of others—in Solomon’s case, for
the benefit of God’s people.
Then, a discerning
mind, as God defines wisdom, is seated in the heart. Intelligence—brain
power—is an entirely different (if worthy) gift. Like me, you may have grown up hearing adults
say something like this: “Well, he’s plenty smart when it comes to books, but
he has no common sense at all.” In fact, if I’m being honest, my parents may
very well have said that of me when I was young. I love the simplicity of the
term “common sense” as one way to define wisdom. As it suggests, wisdom is available to all
and is used for the common good. Growing up I knew and loved some folks who may
have lacked college degrees but were unerringly wise in their understanding of
others and their generous compassion. They used their hearts to discern what
was needed by those around them. They surveyed their community with the eyes of
love.
The parables Jesus
offers today about the kingdom of heaven illustrate how our common lives and
the inherent wisdom of common sense help to build a community of love where all
may reside. Even a mustard-seed sized
portion of wisdom and faith can grow into a tree-like shrub big enough to
shelter many birds. Where are such mustard seeds building community in your
life? In the next illustration of how
the kingdom grows, Jesus speaks of a woman making bread. Thinking of my
grandmother, my mom, and my aunts, all of whom were great bakers, the parable
of the woman mixing yeast “with three measures of flour until all of it was
leavened” certainly sounds like heaven to me. Of course, that bread won’t rise
until it is kneaded with wise and loving hands. Then it can be baked, broken,
and shared among all the members of the kingdom.
My dad was an avid
and skilled fly fisherman. He fished all
the trout streams and rivers in Central Virginia, and he never failed to bring
home enough brook, rainbow, or native trout for our whole family. In the
parable of the bursting-full fishing net, how generous is God’s wide net,
thrown out for all so that all can enter the kingdom of heaven! It is up to
each of us to make good use of our discerning hearts and prepare ourselves to
accept or reject the invitation to the kingdom.
That choice is always ours.
Sometimes, it
would seem, the courage to be truly faithful requires the wisdom to Let Go and
Let God—never an easy thing to do! Worry and anxiety come to us so very easily.
Remember those birds of the air who have no cause to worry since a loving God
cares for them? In the same passage, Jesus also said, “Can any of you by
worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about
clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil
nor spin, yet I tell you even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one
of these.” In asking for wisdom, the
young Solomon may not have fully understood what it was he sought. In granting
Solomon’s request, God gave him all he would need.
We may be gifted
with intelligence, but we are called to be wise. With wisdom, we can
discern how best to fulfill the Lord’s great commandments, to love God and to
love each other. With wisdom comes the courage necessary for faith. With
wisdom, like the birds of the air, we can truly Let Go and Let God.
Wisdom, the
ability to see within our hearts to discern what is right, may be our best gift
from God. As philosopher and poet George Santayana put it, “It is not wisdom to
be only wise,/And on the inward vision close the eyes.”
May we be blessed
with the wisdom to seek God’s presence and listen for that still, small voice within
our very own hearts. AMEN.
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