Acts 2:14, 42-47; 1 Peter 2:20-25; John 15:9-17; Psalm 98
May 6, 2018
Marvin Friedman-Hamm
Abide in Me
I am not usually that into poetry, but once in a awhile I find a poem that really speaks to me, that gives me a deeper understanding of myself and of the human condition. I want to share with you a poem like that. Its by Shel Silverstein. Its titled “Whatif”
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow taller?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
I know its a silly children’s poem, but the sad part is, I can totally relate. Because so much of my own inner conversation is some variation of a whatif, some anxious or fearful thought about what might go wrong.
I took a few minutes and I jotted down some of what the whatif’s that can whisper in my ear on any given day
Whatif I’m not any good at my job
Whatif my mother has another stroke
Whatif they think I am old and irrelevant
Whatif I fall down the stairs
Whatif they don’t want to talk to me
Whatif Trump starts a war
Whatif I feel useless and bored when I retire
Whatif my children lose their jobs
Whatif my church falls apart
Whatif they don’t like my homily.
And I could go on. Is that just me? Do the whatifs crawl inside your ear? You would think it would get easier, that I would get less worried and fearful as I get older, but it seems it’s the opposite. As I get older I accumulate more hurts and disappointments and failures, and it seems I get more worried and more insecure.
In my job as a mental health worker I work with some people who live their days in a high state of anxiety because of this or that whatif that is torturing them. But I think I am on the continuum. Maybe we all are. And I know people say there is a lot happening in the world that is making us anxious. That’s true – but I find the fears and worries that can get me most off-balance are the ones closer to home, about my family, my friends, my work. Sometimes I think my sense of myself – my sense of identity and self-worth – is all wrapped up in how the people around me react to me – and there is a large measure of insecurity in myself about that – so anxiety and the whatifs are nibbling at the very core of who I am. Every day.
Henri Nouwen talks about living in what he calls “the house of fear”. When fear and worry pervades our lives we are living in the house of fear, and we look out on the world from that place, and all we see is threat and alienation and scarcity. When worry and fear fill our minds – our self-confidence and sense of freedom is replaced by an anxious paralysis. Instead of living in hope and joy, we experience inner emptiness and sadness.
In today’s Gospel reading, we hear a portion of Jesus’ last words to his disciples before he is arrested and crucified. That evening, after the meal, Jesus has washed his disciples’ feet, and he has called out Judas, the one who will betray him, and told him to do what he must do quickly. And then Jesus begins to talk to the disciples –that he will go away, that he will send the Spirit to guide them in his absence, how they are to love one another. What are the disciples making of this? Betrayal, going away… They know what is going on. They have seen the religious leaders arguing with Jesus all week in the Temple. They have heard of the plotting against him. They have worried for his safety – for their own safety. They know what is coming. I think they are terrified. They are way beyond the First World neurotic anxiety I was talking about. They are probably approaching full panic, if they allow themselves to think about it. Jesus is going to be killed. They are all in danger of being killed.
Jesus is not talking to them about fear – but he is speaking to their fear. And what he says speaks to our fear too. What he says to them is this:
“As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Abide in my love….Abide in my love.”
The Gospel section we read today is a continuation of last week’s reading – where Jesus says, “I am the true vine, and you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit.” Again, abide in me – like the branches draw their life from the vine.
In today’s reading Jesus says many other things – keep my commandments, love each other, bear fruit. You are my friends, I have chosen you.
But the center is this – As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Abide in my love. Live in my love. Make your home in my love.
At the beginning of John’s Gospel, John says that, in Jesus, “the word became flesh and dwelt among us”. The Creator and Giver of all, the source of all love, became flesh and made his home with us. Now, in these last words to his disciples, Jesus invites them to find their true home in him, in his love. Henri Nouwen calls this “entering into the house of love”. This is the invitation, this is the path set out for us – to move from the “house of fear” to the “house of love”. To move from the place where we are imprisoned and paralyzed by our fears and worries, to move into the place of freedom.
Jesus does not speak directly to his disciples’ fear. He does not offer reassurance – it will be ok. It won’t be ok. The danger is real. The storm is coming.
Instead of speaking directly to their fear, he moves them to a new level. The storm will howl around you, but there is a still place inside you, when you live in the shelter of my love. When your inmost self, your heart, lives in the house of love, the danger around you is just as real, but you are grounded in a deeper reality. In the words of the song I had you sing a few weeks ago – our wedding song, actually…
“No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that Rock I’m clinging. Since Love is Lord of heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing”
When I live in the house of fear, my attention, my sense of self, my grounding – its all in my immediate experience of the world around me – in the circumstances of my life, in my relationships. And these are all in flux, and I am like a boat, tossed on the waves. I live in insecurity, and worry.
When we live in the house of love, our sense of self is not grounded in the immediate circumstances of our life, but in a deeper place, a place within, a center where we experience Jesus’ love, a center where we are connected to the vine, where our being is secure in a greater love. “No storm can shake my inmost calm, while to that Rock I’m clinging”.
The question is, how do we move from the house of fear into the house of love? How do we begin to let go of our fear and claim the deeper truth of who we are, as beloved children of God?
The disciples lived with Jesus, they had direct experience of his love for them. They had known what it is to be loved by a perfect love. For them to abide in that love was to remember.
But we have not lived with Jesus, or directly experienced his love – face to face. We have to find a way of opening our hearts to experience the One who dwells with us, to experience that deeper love. There are difference ways of entering into that place, but Nouwen suggests the way is prayer. Contemplative prayer, meditation – these are ways of consciously placing ourselves in the presence of the One who loves us. Not just once, but over and over, we choose to open ourselves to God’s love. To enter into the divine presence, the house of love. This is the aim of the spiritual life, of our spiritual practice – to open our hearts to the love of God. And so to be slowly transformed. It doesn’t mean the fear and worry go away, but with time the external circumstances and troubles of our life become less overwhelming, as we find a quiet place within where we abide in Jesus love.
For me, the day to day part is difficult. I can be disciplined about many things, but somehow the daily part of spiritual practice evades me. But there are times when I have come into a deeper silence, when my heart is stirred, when I get a taste of that experience of being loved, of being connected. And so I struggle along the path. I am so grateful to you – my cloud of witnesses – who encourage me by your testimony and your example – to continue the journey.