“Be Curious: Learning and Knowledge”

Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31 

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

September 29, 2024

How many decisions do we make in a day? I asked Google but couldn’t find a definitive answer. Apparently, “somebody, somewhere” decided that 35,000 seems like a good number, but my guess is it could be much higher than that depending on your day and on how we define decisions. All I know for sure is that decision-making sometimes feels exhausting. 

I mean, just think. How many decisions have we made this morning? Existential-life-altering decisions aside, even if we just think about deciding whether to jump right out of bed or hit snooze, whether to shower before or after breakfast, whether to have coffee or tea, whether to sit in the living room or at the table while eating breakfast, whether or not to go to church…..to say nothing of tiny split-second decisions like “do I turn left or right at this intersection?” and “do I say ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’ to the person sitting next to me in the pew?” Many of the decisions we make happen effortlessly - thank God - but others keep us awake at night. 

This is one of the reasons I like to shop at Aldi, incidentally, where there is ONE kind of peanut butter and ONE kind of tortilla and ONE type of ketchup. Fewer decisions to make. Whew. 

Once upon a time, there was a young man who found himself, quite suddenly and quite unexpectedly, king of a nation. He was the son of the king, but a younger son, so he had no reason to think he would ever ascend to the throne. As his father aged, he became unable to rule and there were behind-the-scenes machinations which resulted in the young man becoming king. Shortly after ascending to the throne, the young man went on a religious pilgrimage and was visited by God in a dream. 

God asked the young king, “What would you like from me?” And the young king responded that he desired an understanding mind so that he could govern well, and the ability to discern carefully between good and evil.

Overwhelmed with the massive amount of decisions a leader has to make, this young king was wise enough to know that if he asked for wisdom, everything else would follow. [1] 

The young man was King Solomon, son of Bathsheba and King David; poster boy for Biblical Wisdom. Several books in the Bible have historically been attributed to Solomon. A rabbinic teaching asserts that Solomon wrote the Song of Songs when he was a young man, the book of Proverbs when he was in middle age, and Ecclesiastes when he was an elder. [2] The Wisdom of Solomon, which is an apocryphal text, was also traditionally attributed to Solomon, though it’s been common knowledge for centuries that he likely didn’t really write it. 

Together, these books plus Job, portions of the Psalms, and the apocryphal book Sirach are designated by Biblical scholars as “Wisdom Literature” - books of scripture that help us grapple with the idea of Wisdom. 

So….what is wisdom anyway? It depends on who you ask. Psychologists would probably tell you that wisdom has something to do with the way knowledge and experience combine to help a person make good decisions. It’s definitely something more than innate intelligence or book-knowledge and it seems pretty clear that wisdom is intimately related with decision-making. Wisdom is the ability to carefully discern right paths. Wisdom is the ability to adapt and understand things at a deep level. 

In the Bible, Wisdom is personified as a woman. In Greek she is called Sophia. Sometimes in the Hebrew Bible she is simply called Woman Wisdom. The personification of Wisdom is not unique to Judaism or Christianity. In Greek mythology we have the titan Metis and goddess Athena. In Roman mythology, it’s Minerva, whose symbol, the owl, is one we still associate with wisdom. Wisdom isn’t always a woman, though. In Norse mythology, Mimir and Odin are both associated with wisdom. And in Ifá (from the Yoruba peoples in what is now Nigeria), wisdom comes to humans as Orunmila - one who connects people to the divine. [3] 

Across many religions, there is broad agreement that wisdom - however we define it - is immensely important, connected to God, and accessible to us through some kind of mediator. Speaking of mediators, I would be remiss, of course, if I failed to mention that in the Christian tradition, Jesus has been strongly linked to Wisdom. Early Christians looked to the Hebrew Scriptures for precursors to Christ - trying to understand exactly how Jesus came to be. This is why, at Christmastime, we sing so many songs with texts from Isaiah! And one of the figures from the Hebrew Bible that early Christians believed pointed the way to Christ was Woman Wisdom. [4] 

Woman Wisdom in the Hebrew Bible is present with God at the beginning of creation. In fact, you may have noticed in today’s text that “in the beginning, when God created the heavens and the earth,” the author of Proverbs claims that Woman Wisdom was the first thing created by God...even before the light and the dark, the sea and the earth. 

Present with God from the beginning of time, Woman Wisdom is a constant presence in the lives of God’s children. She stands in the town square and at busy intersections calling out to us loudly. Her only desire is for us to listen to her and walk in her ways. The vision of Wisdom painted by the authors of the Hebrew Bible goes far beyond book-smarts + good judgment. Wisdom in the Hebrew Bible is a force to be reckoned with: holy, all-encompassing. Wisdom originates in the Divine but is always reaching out to humanity and cannot be contained. Wisdom is a free gift from God, given to us again and again and again. If we find a way to tap into Wisdom we will be connected to a force that represents all that is good, all that is faithful, all that is loving, all that is just. 

She’s kind of a big deal. 

Now, I could do a whole ”five things you can do to seek wisdom” thing here and that would probably make for a cool sermon. I could talk about the spiritual practices that can engage our spirits and help us turn toward Wisdom. 

But, instead, what I want to do is call our attention back to the contemporary reading we heard a few moments ago. UU Minister Robert Fulghum tells a story about kids in his neighborhood playing hide and seek. Fulghum is looking out his window one day and notices a kid who has been hiding in a pile of leaves right under the window for a long time. Too long. The other kids are about to give up searching for him – he’s hidden too well. Unsure of how to be helpful, but desperately wanting this kid to understand that the game just doesn’t work if everyone hides too well, Fulghum yells out, “GET FOUND, KID!” And the kid scurries off. [5]

Woman Wisdom is like that. She stands in the busy market square, at the biggest intersection in town yelling at us “GET FOUND, KIDS!” 

In this season where we’re exploring curiosity together, it is right and good to think about how we can seek Wisdom….but it is equally important to notice that Wisdom is seeking us. When we are frustrated, exhausted, anxious, unsure about the thousands of decisions that we make each day, we are not alone. It’s not just us and our intelligence and knowledge and lived experience guiding the way.

Woman Wisdom stands there day after day after day after day trying to remind us that God is seeking us. God reaches out to us with heavy and high hopes that we humans can walk in right paths; do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly; love our neighbors as ourselves. 

God is the force that never stops reaching out to us, encouraging us and helping us as we carefully discern right actions. (God is also the one who picks us up off the floor and dusts of off when we’ve made catastrophic mistakes.)

Wisdom comes to us in the still small voice we hear in our hearts. Wisdom comes to us when community comes together to listen and learn and discern wise paths together. Wisdom comes to us when we are distracted with other things - shouting and cajoling and begging us to pay attention to what she has to say. 

Wisdom is God’s gift to us. We are not left to our own devices. We don’t have to rely solely upon ourselves. We are supported, inspired, uplifted, and guided by Wisdom, who is always seeking us. 

Thanks be to God. 

[1] see 1 Kings 3 for a full account

[2] http://mplsjewishartistslab.weebly.com/uploads/2/4/2/5/24253472/solomon_the_wise_-many_views.pdf

[3] https://www.howard.edu/library/reference/cybercamps/camp2002/YorubaFaith.htm and http://www.religioustolerance.org/ifa.htm 

[4] https://www2.kenyon.edu/Depts/Religion/Projects/Reln91/Gender/Gnosticism.htm 

[5] from All I Really Need to Know I learned in Kindergarten by Robert Fulghum 

“Be Curious: Flexibility”

Exodus 32:7-14

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

Sep. 22, 2024

A song from my childhood. Sing along if you know it: 

“There’s a tree out in the back yard

That never has been broken by the wind.

And the reason it’s still standing:

It was strong enough to bend.”

I can remember riding along in my dad’s pickup truck as a kid, listening to Tanya Tucker sing these words. It was such a vibrant image in my child’s mind. As a kid in the Midwest, trees swaying in the wind until the storm passed was something I knew first-hand. I had spent plenty of time looking out rainy windows watching trees do just that. And I knew that the words she sang were true: rigid trees don’t have what it takes to withstand heavy storms - they just crack and fall down. But flexible trees were strong. They could bend and sway and change, but their flexibility meant they weren’t easy to break. 

Trees know the same truth that our contemporary reading spoke of: flexibility equals strength. Engineers who create buildings and bridges understand that flexibility is needed. Maybe they learned this from watching the trees. 

Physical flexibility is strong. Psychologists also know that emotionally, intellectual, spiritual, flexibility makes us strong. Studies have shown that when we’re exposed to ambiguous stimuli, we exhibit greater cognitive flexibility. Which makes us more creative and resilient. Psychologist Tara Wall writes, “Ambiguity forces the brain to process information in a non-linear way, encouraging divergent thinking—a thought process used to generate creative ideas by exploring many possible solutions….Ambiguity encourages individuals to accept that not all situations have clear-cut answers, promoting a mindset of adaptability and openness. This acceptance reduces anxiety and fosters a more resilient approach to life's challenges, as individuals become more comfortable navigating the unknown.” [2] 

We see this type of flexibility modeled every week in our church’s faith formation activities. Adults gather to discuss the Bible and theological books, grappling with shades of gray and various interpretations of ancient stories. Children come forward during worship and ask insightful questions about our sacred texts. And we are all blessed to have Brandy as a model for what it looks like to encourage this comfort with ambiguity. She is never rattled by any questions presented and she doesn’t impose any rigid interpretations as she teaches. Instead, she invites the kids to wonder alongside her - to turn things over and see them in a new light - to get comfortable with multiple meanings and curiosities. To find strength in flexibility. 

It turns out that flexibility is not only good for trees and bridges, it’s a key to a life of faith. Although we’ve all known religious people who are very rigid in their thinking, faith, by it’s very nature, craves flexibility. After all, a faith that is certain about everything - that has no questions or doubts - that is unwilling to bend and shift and change - well, that’s not really faith at all, is it? It’s just certainty. Faith presupposes flexibility and a willingness to be wrong, change, ask questions, bend in the breeze. 

Today’s Biblical text highlights this natural connection between faith and flexibility. The people have been rescued from slavery in Egypt. And now they’ve been wandering in the desert for a long time. Moses has gone up on the mountain to talk with God. The people have gotten quite good at flexibility - they’ve left their homes and everything they knew, they’ve traveled without a destination for eons. But they can only bend so far. Moses has been gone too long and they become anxious. Before long they’ve made a golden calf to worship. 

God is - shall we say - not the most flexible in this situation. At least initially. God blows up in frustration. They are doing the exact opposite of what they’ve been told to do. This little interchange between Moses and God on the mountain is almost comical. It sounds like a couple arguing over the misbehavior of their children. God says, “Moses! Go down there to YOUR people the ones YOU brought out of Egypt (see whose people they are now? Wink wink.) Tell them to get it together.” 

But Moses doesn’t go. Instead, he does something quite interesting. He argues on behalf of the people and convinces God to change course. God relents and doesn’t punish the people. 

There are some warm, fuzzy parts of this story. What’s not to love about Moses arguing with God and changing God’s mind? Talk about flexibility in action, right? But there are also parts of this story that make us deeply uncomfortable. We who speak of God as all-loving, all-welcoming, all-merciful, all-patient-and-kind may find it difficult to reconcile this God who flies off the handle and who wants to be left along to pout and kindle wrath against the people. Yikes. 

But maybe that’s part of the point of this story. The discomfort, I mean. This is a story about people trying to stay curious about who God is and what their relationship with God is supposed to look like. They are asking questions and making assumptions. They are swaying between comfort and anxiety. They are trying to understand and then telling stories about what they’ve experience. And in that way, they’re a lot like us, aren’t they? 

This off-kilteredness that we feel when God doesn’t look the way we’re expecting - I think that’s important. Because once we’ve put God into a tidy little box and we think we have all the answers? Well, that’s a pretty sure sign that we’ve become too rigid in our thinking. These ancient stories that don’t quite sit right with us can turn us off, yes. But they can also be an invitation to wonder together about where the truth lies. As a people who take the Bible seriously, but not literally, scripture becomes a portal to a richer, fuller exploration of who God might be. And who we might be in relationship with God. 

There are parts of Christianity that are deeply uncomfortable with the idea of God changing his mind. Some see God as unchanging. And, in one way, in this story Moses is simply reminding God of the promises that have already been made - that God will bless the people, love them, and stand by them through thick and thin. In this way, Moses isn’t changing God’s mind as much as he is helping God remember the covenant and get back on track. 

Regardless of whether God changes his mind or not, the richness of this story, I think, lies in the dynamic relationship between God and Moses and the people. I am indebted to Jewish scholar Amy Robertson for pointing this out and I think she is so right. [3] This is a story about the love between God and humanity. A story about the complexities of that relationship. A story about the flexibility necessary to stay in relationship with one another. 

After all, without flexibility, is it really a relationship at all? We have to carry within us a spirit of openness, the possibility of change and growth - in order to truly be in relationship with someone else. Without that, it’s not much of a relationship at all, is it? It’s just a stubborn, rigid tree that looks strong but might break the moment the winds rise. Flexibility - that capacity to bend and sway and dance and change together - that’s what truly makes relationships work. 

“There’s a tree out in the back yard

That never has been broken by the wind.

Our love will last forever

If it’s strong enough to bend.”

NOTES

[1] Strong Enough to Bend, written by Beth Nielsen Chapman and Don Schlitz

[2] https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-clarity/202406/the-power-of-ambiguity#:~:text=Ambiguity%20and%20Cognitive%20Flexibility&text=A%20study%20by%20De%20Dreu,creativity%20and%20problem%2Dsolving%20skills. 

[3] Bible Worm podcast.

“Be Curious”

Romans 12:1-21

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

Sep. 15, 2024

“The Apostle Paul’s letter to the Romans is both a countercultural and counter-political document.” [1] 

So says Biblical scholar and theologian Israel Kamudzandu. 

A countercultural and counter-political document. 

Kamudzandu says Paul’s Epistle to the Romans “points to the global renaissance of a human family” whose story is always and forever wrapped up in God’s relentless, loving desire for our growth and healing. [2]

Many would consider it to be Paul’s masterpiece. And although I’ve certainly never written a letter that was a full-blown explication of my theology, that’s pretty much what Paul did here. He writes to the churches in Rome, introducing himself, thanking them for their faith, and then launching right into ten chapters of complex theological explications - mostly focused on the concept of salvation. 

Over and over again, Paul makes it clear that those who are a part of the global Christian family are called to live countercultural lives - choosing with great intention to be shaped primarily by the workings of the Holy Spirit instead of the environments in which they live. And they are reminded again and again that while they may be physically living in the Roman Empire they are - instead - citizens of God’s Realm. And they can live free lives, assured that God has been, is now, and always will be working for their health and wholeness. Paul’s proclamation is that God’s gift of salvation through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ is unparalleled and gives strength for living this countercultural, counter-political life while here on earth. 

After going wayyyyyy in-depth on all of this, Paul makes a turn here in chapter 12. No longer focused solely on what God is doing, Paul outlines how life in God’s Realm is transformative. It’s not enough to simply receive the Gospel, he admonishes. You have to be changed by it. And those changes must be evident in your living, loving, working, playing, being. You might know that lovely Catholic hymn written in our own countercultural 1960s: “They’ll know we are Christians by our love”? That’s it. That’s what Paul is arguing for in this lengthy letter.  

**********

This transformation is at the heart of our fall series here at First Congregational. We are going to be exploring CURIOSITY as a spiritual practice. How might our curiosity about other people lead to empathy, strengthened communities, and a more just world? Can our curiosity about God lead to spiritual growth by enlivening our prayer lives? And how might curiosity about ourselves create space for better mental health and our own healing? 

Romans 12:2 is our theme verse for this journey: “Don’t be conformed to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds…” It turns out that cultivating this spirit of curiosity in our lives is a surefire way to renew our minds and, in the process, allow God to transform our lives. 

On our journey, we will be accompanied by ancient words like Paul’s letter to the Romans. And we will also have contemporary companions each week. Today I want to introduce you to a curiosity expert, speaker, and author named Scott Shigeoka. [3] Shigeoka talks about the differences between shallow and deep curiosity. Shallow curiosity is when we ask questions that keep us on the surface level. We wonder about something so we do Google search and find a quick and easy answer. “What will the weather be like this weekend?” Boom. I’ve got the answer. Shallow curiosity. Shigeoka says that this type of curiosity is primarily head-centered. 

But if we can bring curiosity down into our hearts, it starts to take on a different quality. This type of curiosity moves beyond the intellect and into the realm of transformation. This is what Shigeoka calls deep curiosity. And it’s a curiosity that uses our desire to understand the world, others, and ourselves as a force for connection and community. So, for example, you meet someone at a party and ask them, “What’s your name? How do you spend your days?” Those are shallow-curiosity-level questions. Nothing wrong with that, of course, just a different kind of curiosity. And not likely to change anyone’s lives!

But to shift that conversation to the realm of deep curiosity might look like, “Where did your name come from?” or “How did you go into that line of work?” or “What’s inspiring you these days?” 

Deep curiosity doesn’t have to involve small talk at a party (thank heavens). It can even be done with no talking at all. You could go on a walk around the block or sit down in a cafe. Might be a place you’ve frequented for years. But if you approach this mundane task with a spirit of deep curiosity, things change. Suddenly you notice the birds in the tree and they remind you of a book you used to read as a child. You notice that the family that’s just moved into the house on the corner has several bicycles in their yard and you wonder about the kinds of places they ride together. You read the coffee menu and discover that your coffee beans came from Peru and Ethiopia and you get curious about how beans from two different continents find their way into the same cup. 

It’s important to note that one of the hallmarks of healthy deep curiosity is that it doesn’t seek to change anyone (well, except maybe ourselves). Shigeoka has a name for asking questions or gathering information to try and change another person: predatory curiosity. If there’s an agenda other than learning, growth, and self-transformation, it’s not deep curiosity. 

The Apostle Paul writes about how individuals are all a part of one body. We all have different gifts, different functions, and different ways of being in the world. And we will all have slightly different ways of being curious. Isn’t that lovely? Just as Paul uses that embodied metaphor about the early church, Shigeoka reminds us that curiosity is an embodied practice. It’s like a muscle that we can build up over time. And he gives us a fun little acronym for focusing our energy as we work to build our curiosity muscle. 

To get below the shallow surface, we have to dive deep, right? And so Shigeoka teaches that we can DIVE to strengthen our curiosity. 

DIVE: Detach, Intend, Value, Embrace. 

To practice deep curiosity, the first step is to detach. We need to let go of our “ABCs” - our “assumptions, biases, and certainty.” In other words: we need to lean into humility. MAYBE we don’t know everything there is to know. MAYBE there are surprises ahead. MAYBE we are even WRONG about something. Admitting our ignorance is not something particularly prized in our culture - so here we are being countercultural again. 

Next, we intend to enter a posture of curiosity. And I’m using the word posture quite purposefully. Curiosity is an embodied practice and we can often strengthen this muscle by paying attention to our bodies. Slowing down, eyes open, deep breaths, literally leaning in to show our interest. Shigeoka says this intentionality is like being trapped in quicksand. If you fall into quicksand, your body is likely to have an involuntary, frantic reaction. You’ll probably start to flail as you panic. But if you can slow down for a minute, calm your body and mind, and stop flailing all over the place, you’re more likely to survive. Curiosity is like that. We’re caught off guard, we might feel our defenses rising. Blood rushing to our cheeks, bluster puffing up our chest, ears shutting down. But if we can pause and move with more intention, we might be able to stay curious. 

Detach, intend, value. This one isn’t rocket science for those of us who are trying to follow Jesus. We need to seek the value of everyone we encounter. Every. Single. Other. Just as Paul reminds us we are all members of one body, we have to remember that though we may all look different and have different skills and purposes in this life, we are all a part of one body. Or as Martin Luther King, Jr. said so beautifully, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” [4] 

Finally: embrace. This one sounds cozy but might not end up being your favorite. Shigeoka says that this work of deep curiosity is not always easy. Some of our best opportunities to practice it come during challenging moments in life. It can be tempting to give up and numb out when things get hard. But by embracing challenges, we can remember that growth often comes from the more difficult periods of life. Just as we grow our muscles at the gym when we stretch and challenge ourselves, our curiosity muscles grow in those places at the edge, too. Shigeoka cautions that it’s also important to have strong self-awareness about our boundaries and capabilities. This practice is not about pushing ourselves to the point of extreme pain and there are times when it’s healthy to step away from our curiosity practices. As one of my yoga teachers used to say, we get stronger when we experience discomfort, not pain. 

This DIVING is a great, action-oriented model for us as we begin this exploration of curiosity together. Do you remember the components? Detach, Intend, Value, Embrace. 

Let’s go back to the invitation to curiosity from the beginning of the service: Who is someone who is difficult for you to be curious about? Difficult for you to have compassion for? Let God speak to you about what you could notice about that person if you looked more closely.

I want to give you just a minute or two to consider that invitation now that you’ve heard a bit more about how to flex your curiosity muscles. Is there a place this week where you can practice curiosity? How can you detach, intend, value, and embrace in that place? 

(silence for reflection)

May we continue to be transformed by the Spirit - our minds renewed as we seek to walk in the ways of Christ. Amen. 

NOTES:

[1] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21/commentary-on-romans-121-8 

[2] Ibid. 

[3] Scott Shigeoka’s book is called SEEK: How Curiosity Can Transform Your Life and Change the World. I learned about his work here (https://www.templeton.org/news/how-deep-curiosity-can-change-the-world) and here (https://lynnborton.com/2023/11/16/how-curiosity-can-transform-your-life-change-the-world-with-scott-shigeoka/) 

[4] MLK, Jr. Why We Can’t Wait. 

“Still”

Matthew 22: 15-22, 34-40

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

Sep. 1, 2024

Somewhat ironically, this sermon is meant to be about stillness and integration. About the gravity that holds things together when they threaten to fall apart. The ironic part is that, for the life of me, I couldn’t get the sermon to coalesce. There’s no gently flowing story that’s going to carry us from point A to point B. Instead, the sermon this week came to me as a series of somewhat-disjointed images. And after struggling mightily all week to put them into a nice little coherent package - and failing - I decided that, perhaps, it was meant to be that way. 

And so, I present to you a sermon in a series of puzzle pieces. Breadcrumbs, maybe. We’re going to gather them up, and sit with them. I trust that the Spirit will continue working in each of us beyond the confines of this worship service. And maybe things will come together after all. 

**********

I had a teacher once who would end his prayers like this, “We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, the still point of our turning world.” 

I loved that phrase. Still do. “The still point of our turning world.” It’s a line from T.S. Eliot’s 1935 poem, Burnt Norton. 

The still point is that place we go when chaos threatens. That still space where the world can stop spinning on its axis for just a moment. That gravity that pulls us in and holds us tightly. 

My teacher called this still point Jesus Christ. Others have called it Love. Or Utilmate Reality. The Universal. Paul Tillich called it the Ground of Being. Some don’t have a name for it at all.

The still point. The place we go to when it feels like things are falling apart. 

**********

When I think about finding that still point, a very specific image comes to me. It’s so clear in my mind that I tried to find a visual of it so I could show you. But apparently it’s just an image I made up. Or perhaps one that’s come to me in dreams. Maybe from our collective unconscious. 

It’s a pencil sketch. Graphite in thick, stormy strokes on yellowed paper. Smudged around the edges. We are looking down as if from a high mountain. Or perhaps we’re floating in a cloud. Below us is a vast, barren plain. And in the center, a tiny pinpoint down on the ground is a man holding out one arm. Above him we can sense a great swirl of wind. Concentric spirals of air, rising up and up. And on the edge of the picture: a falcon soaring. Caught in the wind but about to break free and escape the picture completely. 

The man is in the still point. But the winds are swirling and the gravitational force of that still point is no longer strong enough: “Things fall apart. The center cannot hold.” 

If you’re a poetry lover, you may already know that the image of the man and the bird comes from the opening lines of The Second Coming, written by Irish poet William Butler Yeats in 1919. Written on the heels of the Easter Rising in Ireland, the close of World War I in Europe, and during the great flu pandemic (which almost killed Yeats’s pregnant wife), the poem captures the unease of the early 20th century.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre   

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst   

Are full of passionate intensity. [1]

**********

It turns out we are not the first humans to live through a period of great disintegration and dis-ease. We are not the only humans to see the falcon swirling at the end of the drawing, barely hanging on by a thread, and wonder, “Where is the still point? And how do we find our way back to it?” We are not the only people to read the daily news and shake our heads, wondering why the best of us seem to have so little conviction and the worst of us are so very loud about it. 

We are not the first to wonder just how we can hold onto our firm footing in the still point - while simultaneously living as citizens of a rapidly-swirling world. 

**********

The Pharisees may have been trying to trick Jesus when they asked this question about taxes, but it turns out it’s a question many Christians have struggled mightily with over the centuries. They asked, “are we supposed to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” In other words, “For those of us who claim membership in God’s Realm, are we ALSO citizens of the Empire we live in here on earth?” What does it look like to be a faithful follower of Jesus when you’re living in an Empire here on earth? 

Jesus’s answer is a bit shocking, really. You’d think he’d remind us that we are, first and foremost, citizens of God’s realm. The trap, of course, is that if he gives an answer like that - If he tells the crowd they don’t belong to the Empire and don’t have to pay taxes to it, he’s going to have his head on a platter. And so the answer he gives is much more complex and puzzling: “Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar, and unto God the things that are God’s.” 

Which is to say: we have to ask a lot more questions, first. We have to figure out what belongs to God and what belongs to Caesar. We have to live as citizens of both worlds. We have to stand in the midst of the chaos, like the falconer, and plant our feet firmly in the still point, hoping to pull all the falling apart things back together. 

A little further on in the story, they ask another question of Jesus, “Teacher, which of the commandments is greatest?” And Jesus has an answer for this one. He doesn’t stumble. Perhaps this is his still point. The gravity that pulls him back in when everything is swirling. He says, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”

**********

The still point is that place we go when chaos threatens. That still space where the world can stop spinning on its axis for just a moment. That gravity that pulls us in. “Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Some have named this gravitational force Love. Or Utilmate Reality. The Universal. Aristotle called it the “unmoved mover.” Some don’t have a name for it at all.

That still place. The place we go to when it feels like things are falling apart. 

May we find it when we seek it. Amen. 

NOTES

[1] https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43290/the-second-coming