SOMETIMES THE HARD WARD IS THE ONLY WAY

Why does it seem that the only way to learn a lesson is the hard way? Why do we always have to touch the pan that we know is hot to learn not to touch hot pans? Why do we have to go down that road that we know, absolutely know, we should not go down because there is nothing good at the end of the road and yet still travel down it and always, always, always to our pain, chagrin and humiliation?

Why do sensible people act in nonsensical ways over and over and over again? We see it all the time. It’s up front and personal, in the headlines, the Number One item on the nightly news, fodder for talk shows and bloggers and pundits everywhere, and who isn’t a pundit anyway? We’ve all judged (fill-in-the-blank) both silently to ourselves and vocally to anyone who would listen. They did something they knew was foolish and wrong and, hopefully, are learning from their mistakes, and learning the hard way, much to their public humiliation and the vast blow to their pride.

While we may derive a scintilla of glee when “stars” get their comeuppance, it had better be momentary as well as thankful. We’ve all walked in their shoes, perhaps not to the same degree and certainly not with the same notoriety, but we have all been there. It’s called sinning. We all know from firsthand experience what that is and know, even more, how painful and how humiliating it is to admit that any sense of glee we get from the downfall of another does not justify our own failings.

Meanwhile the issue still remains: why do we have to learn the hard way? Why do we think that somehow we are going to be the exception to the rule? Why do we think that when we touch the hot pan, while everyone else will get burned, we will not? Why do we think that while it was obvious that So-and-So would get caught, we can get away with whatever it is we know is wrong?

We can’t and we won’t because our past sins have already caught up with us, the ones we thought we could and would get away with. Yet the pain and humiliation that came when our sins came to light has not prevented us from acting foolishly again, if not in the same manner, at least foolishly in other ways. We’re still touching that hot pan knowing full well we will get burned.

Sometimes I think that God looks on us and simply shakes his head (or her head – pick one), smiles, and hums that old peace-song refrain, “when will they ever learn, oh, when will they ever learn?” It’s a haunting question, isn’t it, especially when we know that it is so apt when we look at ourselves in the mirror and ask ourselves if we will ever learn, not only from the foolishness of others but from our own foolish ways?

It is no consolation that we human beings seem to demand to learn the hard way and that we will have it no other way. And while the public humiliation of others may give us pause, it does not seem to move us to get our own personal house in order. Life would be so much more pleasant and joyful were we not to repeat the mistakes of others and even our own. But, alas, that seems to be a pipe dream rather than a dream that can come true.

TELLING THE TRUTH CAN BE FATAL

One of the Ten Commandments admonishes us to never bear false witness. In other words: always tell the truth. Most of the time we have no trouble obeying this command. By nature we are wont to tell the truth at all times and we do. To be sure, there are occasions when we will allow ourselves a little white lie or tell a half-truth, but blatant lies are not part of our usual discourse.

We may not always tell it like it is because sometimes blatant honesty can be very hurtful to another, as when your spouse asks, “Does this outfit make me look fat?” It may also find you sleeping by yourself on the couch for the next week or two.  Sometimes, too, the one asking us a question has no need to know the answer as well as no right to ask the question in the first place. Another person’s personal business is none of my business and vice versa.

Yet there are those times when telling the truth is what is demanded and anything less would be wrong, such as when we are in court and on the witness stand. The truth about telling the truth is twofold: first, we are always on the witness stand, if you will. Our lives are to model what we believe. In fact, they do, no matter what we say about what we believe. We may profess our faith in Jesus as our Lord and Savior but our lives may very well witness to the truth that we really do not, as when we say and do that which us rather un-Christ like. 

At times, however, it almost seems as if we have come up against a rock and a hard place, times when telling the truth can be fatal, literally and figuratively. I believe Jesus got killed not because he was a threat to the Roman Empire and not out of political expediency but because he always told the truth about how we are to live and he modeled that truth by his life. He made too many people too uncomfortable. Silencing him, silencing his truth-telling, would make their lives easier. So they did.

We may never find ourselves in such a situation where our life is on the line because we told the truth, but telling the truth can still be fatal. I think of Walter Mondale telling the voting public that he would raise taxes were he elected President. Such truth-telling was fatal to his election. Telling the truth is not about sticking one’s finger in the wind and discerning which way it is blowing and then saying what the people want to hear. It is about saying what must be said in spite of the consequences.

Again, those consequences can mean the death of a career, political or otherwise, or the death of a relationship. Speaking and acting on the hard truth will always give us pause as only a fool blurts out the truth without thinking about how those words will be heard and understood. Truth-telling is always momentous and often dangerous.

In speaking the truth we must measure our words carefully but we must also be certain that our lives support what we are about to say. Speaking with a forked tongue may still be speaking the truth, but we are not going to be heard. Might that not be the reason why we often are reluctant to tell the truth, to say what needs to be said? Just asking.

CONFESSING ISN’T EASY

Confessing to someone else that we have done something that was wrong, perhaps terribly wrong, isn’t easy. If we have been in that unfortunate and unhappy position, we know the truth of this truth. If we have not been, all we need do is ask someone who has been there and done that. Even years removed from the sin and the confession, it still is painful to remember and recall the deed.

Why? Why is confessing our sins and transgressions, especially the grievous ones, so difficult? The simple answer is that it is humiliating. Even children understand that. Notice how they always find someone else to blame. It is a blow, even a severe blow, to our pride. We are better than that, we say. We knew better when we did the deed that now embarrasses us to high heaven as we confess it to another or to others. Even being caught in the act does not lessen the embarrassment. In fact, it only adds to it and makes it worse.

Perhaps that is one of the reasons, even the main reason, why we avoid making any kind of confession to anyone other than a general confession to no one. Such a confession is easy and it is certainly not in any way humiliating because we have confessed to what is obvious to everyone, including God and ourselves, namely, that we have done that which we know we should not have done and we have left undone that which we know we should have done.

But who hasn’t? We’re all sinners. It is only when we get specific with ourselves that it becomes difficult to verbalize those sins, even to ourselves. As long as we do not have to get specific, we will never be humiliated and, of course, we will never change for the better. Our actions will only get worse, more selfish and hurtful. As long as we never have to confront ourselves with the fact that we have mistreated our subordinates or willfully disobeyed our parents or cheated on our taxes or….

Well, we all get the picture. No one wants to be humiliated. If we can avoid it, we will; and a sure and certain way to do so is to not admit to our specific selfish words and actions. But it is only when we humble ourselves and admit at least to ourselves our specific sins that we will grow up and not regress. If nothing else, Lent is certainly a time for such intentional humiliation.

This is not meant to be a harangue as much as it is a self-directed sermon. I know me; but I also know I am no different than any other human being. When it comes to being humble, we would all like that humility to arise because of something good that we did, some honor that we have received and for which we are now thankful to God for the gifts we needed to do that for which we are now being praised.

Confessing to specific sins is humiliating. There is no getting around that truth. There is also no getting around to another truth and that is as long as we refuse to become so humble as to admit our real failings and shortcomings, we will never grow in our faith and we will never grow up.

FORGIVENESS ISN’T EASY

One of the most difficult, if not the most difficult acts for a human being to perform is the act of forgiveness. It does not take the proverbial rocket scientist to know this truth. Each and every one of us knows it and knows it from the inner most of our very being. We have all been hurt, sometimes hurt deeply, knowingly and willingly by another. Our last thought during those times was about forgiveness. In fact, we may not have even given forgiveness a thought at all.

To not think about forgiving another who has deliberately hurt is not only not sinful, it is quite natural. What we are thinking about, and quite naturally, during those times are thoughts of revenge, of getting even, of paying back. Sometimes, because the hurt has been so deep, our only thoughts are about revenge. Forgiveness is not on the radar screen and not even close to ever getting there.

The truth is that we have a right to seek revenge on the one who has hurt us. If this were not so, then society would be in chaos. If we could do whatever we wanted to another, no matter how hurtful, no matter how unjust, no matter what, and the other would have no right or recourse to seek vengeance or punishment, then all hell would break loose. Thankfully, society and even the church, our faith, all say that we have a right to punish those who unjustly inflict pain and suffering on another or others.

But we have a choice in the matter, do we not? When confronted with someone who has slapped us on the face for no reason at all, Jesus tells us that we do have a choice about how we should respond. We can forgive the one who has hurt us by turning the other cheek or, left unsaid by Jesus but surely understood by his listeners, we can strike back. We have that right.

Jesus, of course, would have us forgive, even turn the other cheek and, perhaps in the process, to receive a second unjust, uncalled for and even more painful slap. Nevertheless, we would be within our rights to reject Jesus’ suggestion and do what comes naturally: strike back.

Forgiveness, then, is giving up our right for vengeance. That is why it is so very, very difficult to do all too often. We have a right to pay back and the one who has deliberately hurt us has no right to expect forgiveness let alone punishment. We can forgive another and not waive the punishment that the sinful, perhaps criminal action merits. Total forgiveness, however, grants pardon and does not seek punishment, as was the case with Jesus on the cross, as in turning the other cheek.

It goes against everything we hold just and fair to forgive unconditionally someone who willingly and deliberately has hurt us. Such forgiveness does not come naturally. It is only possible with the grace of God. That grace is always offered but it is only made manifest when we, of our own accord and free will, ask for it. That will never be easy to do. Jesus needed God’s grace to forgive his executioners. He accepted and forgave unconditionally. So can we if we so choose even as we have a right not to.

TIME FOR A TRIP THROUGH THE DESERT

My old spiritual director in seminary loved the imagery of the desert and the oasis in the middle of the desert. He maintained that life is a journey and that there are times when, on that journey, we have to pass through the desert on our way to the next oasis where we will find rest and refreshment. He also loved the imagery of being in exile in Egypt like the ancient Hebrews and looking forward to leaving slavery behind and finding freedom in the Promised Land.

When he melded those two images together, what we were led to mediate on was that life is all of that and more. If we are indeed living in exile in Egypt in this life and if our goal is the Promised Land of heaven, then to get there from Egypt would mean that we would have to travel through the desert, stopping along the way at the many oases we found in order to refresh ourselves for the next part of the journey.

The best parts of the journey, at least spiritually, are the times in the desert. It is then that we find out who we are and of what we are made. For whenever we arrive at those oasis spots, we seem to quickly forget about the past while we revel in the joy of not having to struggle with whatever it was that made the past seem like trudging through the desert where water and food were scarce and life was always tenuous.

We all would avoid those desert experiences if given the choice. They are not pleasant and are often quite painful. Only a fool would freely choose to walk through the desert and we are no fools. Yet, as that spiritual director warned, unless we sometimes deliberately walk out into the desert, when the time comes when we suddenly discover ourselves in the midst of one, we will not be prepared.

Lent, which is upon us, is just the time to take a walk through the desert. It is a time for deep personal reflection. When the ancient Hebrews were on the march from exile in Egypt to freedom in the promised land, they had an abundance of opportunities to ask themselves why they chose to leave Egypt where they at least had three squares a day to risk their lives wondering if that day would bring any food or drink.

There were times when they thought themselves to have been fools. But those desert experiences strengthen them so that there came a time when they no longer worried about food and drink because their experiences in though desert had steeled them for any and all hardships that would come before reaching the Promised Land.

Desert times are times for “prayer, fasting and self-denial”, as the admonition on Ash Wednesday reminds – times for deliberate, freely-chosen, honestly-desired prayer, fasting and self-denial. Lent is such a time for you and for me. We are encouraged to use this time in prayer, fasting and self-denial to strengthen ourselves for the journey to come. If we do, we will be prepared when suddenly thrown in to the desert because of life’s vagaries. If we do, we know, when those times come, that we will survive because we have strengthened ourselves just for such hard and difficult times. Now is the time for that personal trip through the desert.

THE SOUNDS IN SILENCE

It’s getting to be more and more difficult these days to even hear oneself speak. There is noise everywhere and if we do not hear noise, we probably think we are dead. The TV is on, someone else is on a cell phone, another one is ringing, someone else is texting, and a video game is being played. And even when we can crawl up into a favorite corner and be all by ourselves, it is still difficult to find silence.

We might even prefer it that way. Sitting in silence is not the same as going into our “nothing” box as we men are wont to do on a very regular basis, almost always at the wrong time, as when our spouse is talking to us and we have not heard a word she has said nor have we heard anything else. We are dead to the world and even dead to ourselves whenever we are in that box.

There is silence in which we hear nothing and there is silence is which we hear sounds. That is the silence that is difficult to come by and often one that is also avoided. It can be somewhat frightening to listen to those sounds that come from within, those sounds that speak to us about us, about who we are and what we are about. Those sounds can often be unpleasant and disconcerting, which is one of the reasons why we do whatever we can to avoid listening to them.

Yet we should. For it is only in the recesses of our hearts and minds, when we are still to the world and the world is still to us, that we can hear ourselves. It is only in that silence that we are able to hear our conscience talking to us, our lives and the way we live them speaking to us. It is all too easy for the sounds on the outside to drown out the sounds we can only hear on the inside.

We don’t have to go off on some kind of retreat or seek solace in a quiet room to hear those sounds, but it would certainly help. Yes, we can come up with all kinds of excuses why we can’t do it, why we do not have time to do it, why there are so many more things to do at the moment. And all those excuses would be valid. Life is difficult and the demands placed upon us simply trying to get through this life with some semblance of sanity are immense. No one questions that truth.

But the greater truth is that unless we stop at times to listen to what is going on inside us, to how we are and what we are about, to what we should be about, we will only make matters worse and our lives more complicated. We know that. We truly do. There is not one of us who does not long for some silent time, quiet time, time to think and reflect. We are spiritual beings, are we not? But getting in touch with that spiritual part of us, listening to it, can only take place in silence.

Lent, which is approaching, is as good a time as any and better than most to make and take that time to find a silent spot, that quiet and comfortable place wherever it may be, to listen to the sounds we hear in the silence of our hearts and heads. What we will discover if we make and take that time is that we will want to go back there more and more on a regular basis. The first step into that silence, however, is the most difficult one to take.

TRUTH

In a dramatic scene in the Gospels Jesus is standing before Pilate who has it in his hands, his power, to do whatever he wants with Jesus. He has to give no explanation for his actions or any justification. He is in charge. He has the power. Pilate thinks, because of Jesus’ accusers, that Jesus has come on the scene to become a king, to usurp power not only from Pilate but also Caesar himself.

On the contrary, Jesus tells Pilate, he has come on the scene, come into the world, in fact, the only reason why he was born was for only one purpose, and that is testify to the truth. Pilate, in his cynicism, asks, “What is truth?” and then drops the subject. Perhaps Pilate does not go down that road because he is afraid of the answer. Pilate, like all of us, is afraid of the truth.

Why? Why are we so afraid of the truth especially when we know, as Jesus reminds us elsewhere, that that the truth will make us free? Walter Brueggemann, the great Old Testament scholar, in commenting on truth, says that where truth operates, poverty turns into abundance, death turns into life, war turns into peace and hunger turns into food. In other words, truth is one of, if not, the most powerful forces in the world.

Think about it: whenever (if we have the courage and the will) we truthfully and honestly address issues like poverty, death, war and hunger, those issues, those realities, can be eliminated from this world. But they are realities because we will not address them truthfully. For whenever we do address poverty, for instance, we, in the end, as a society and even individually, come up with what we want to deem as reasonable excuses and justifications for poverty’s existence.

But there are none. We have within is as a nation, certainly as a world, the ability to eliminate poverty, hunger, premature death and even war but only to the extent that we are willing to be honest about the reasons such realities exist in the first place. And the reason: greed. There is poverty in our world because those who have are not willing to share enough of what they (we) have with those who have little or nothing. That is the gospel truth.

There is disease and premature death in impoverished countries, even in our own, because it is more important to make billions of dollars in profit on medicine than to take less and take care of those who can’t afford the necessary medication to get better or not get deathly ill in the first place. That, too, is the gospel truth. We go to war as nations to insure our lifestyle remains viable at the expense of others. We waste enough food in this country alone to feed millions of starving people. That is the gospel truth.

The truth is we know that. None of this is rocket science. But asserting the truth is dangerous, as Jesus pointed out and because of which Jesus became a victim. Telling the truth and making it a reality all costs us something. It may not cost us our lives but it will cost us something: downsizing, fewer toys, sharing, compromising. The list is long. The truth is that we are reluctant to face the truth because we are not willing to pay the price.