Reading: John 17:20-26 Easter 7C
May 27, 2001
The Rev. Karen Siegfriedt
St. Jude the Apostle Church, Cupertino CA,
Jesus prayed to his Father in heaven: "I ask…that they may all be one." (Jn.17)
This week, we are celebrating Memorial Day; the day on which we as Americans, pause and give honor to those members of the Armed Services who made the ultimate sacrifice to defend freedom, democracy, and human dignity. Memorial Day, once known as Decoration Day, was instituted in 1868 following the Civil War. There were leaders in our nation who deeply desired reconciliation between the North and the South. Afterall, there was much hurt, anger, and fear among the people of our nation, following the "War between the States." And so on that first Decoration Day, as an act of reconciliation, no distinction was made between the North and the South. Flowers were placed on the graves of both Union and Confederate soldiers who were buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Perhaps this was an attempt to live up to Jesus' words, "That we may all be one." Today's sermon will focus on this theme: "That we may all be one."
In the gospel reading, we hear Jesus' priestly prayer. At this point in the story, Jesus is with his closest disciples at the Last Supper. He has already given his disciples his "farewell address", and now he turns to God in prayer. We get a glimpse of the kind of prayer that Jesus prays. In this prayer Jesus prays for himself, his disciples, and for all those who will follow in his steps. The theme throughout the prayer is, "That we all may be one." This oneness is not about uniformity, but about the kind of unity that comes about when the human family is able to overcome fear and hurt and treat each other with affection. This unity is necessary, not only in an ecumenical sense, but also in a global sense. This prayer calls on God to make a holy people of all who believe in God. Jesus expects the world to be a better place when his words and actions about love, justice, inclusivity, and peace are taken to heart.
So the question becomes, "How do we strive for the oneness among all human beings, when there is so much anger, fear, hurt, disappointment, unmet needs, and power struggles going on?" How do we handle conflict and move beyond aggression that keeps us separate from one another? One option is to wait until conflict has reached enormous proportions, and then use external force to suppress it. By fighting wars and imposing military rule, some have hoped that justice and peace will prevail. It seems that in the last 5000 years, human beings have primarily opted for this method. I will leave this option of handling conflict to the military strategists to defend. However, looking at history, it seems to me that wars can only temporarily hold the peace. If the human heart is not ultimately transformed, then physical force can only be a temporary solution.
A different way to handle conflict and move towards the oneness of the human race, is to take away the occasions that cause war and conflict. In other words, instead of waiting until the conflict is out of hand and having to resort to force, we need to examine what causes war and conflict, and be agents of healing. We Christians, are called to strive for justice and peace, and to respect the dignity of every human being as the means of repairing those occasions that lead to war and conflict. But have we been successful? I think that if we are to succeed in following the demands of our baptismal covenant to strive for justice and peace, we must first become skillful in dealing with our difficult emotions of fear, anger, hurt, disappointment, and despair. Because when we allow the emotions of fear, anger, hurt, and disappointment to direct our actions, it then becomes very difficult to strive for peace and justice.
These challenging emotions of fear and anger cause the most difficult and sometimes the most destructive experiences. None of us escape them. But some people learn how to live with their difficult emotions and grow through them. These folks often become reconcilers of peace. Other people remain unskillful in dealing with their difficult emotions by suppressing them, condemning them, or indulging in them. These folks tend towards conflict or depression. The challenge is neither to suppress nor indulge our difficult emotions but rather to explore and learn from them. Another response in dealing with our difficult emotions is to counteract them with kindness and generosity. This is the basis of emotional wisdom.
Those who have emotional wisdom are able to respond in ways that are helpful and healing, rather than through acts of aggression. An Aikido student tells the following story about his struggle with fear and anger: "I was on a train that rattled through the suburbs of Tokyo. At one station, the doors opened and a man staggered into the car. He wore laborer's clothing and was big, drunk, and dirty. Screaming, he swung at a woman holding a baby. The blow sent her spinning into the laps of an elderly couple. It was a miracle the baby was unharmed. Terrified, the couple jumped up and scrambled toward the other end of the car. The drunken man aimed and kicked at the retreating back of the old woman but missed as she scuttled to safety. The train lurched ahead, the passengers frozen with fear. I stood up.
I was young then, some twenty years old, and in pretty good shape. I had been putting in a solid eight hours of Aikido training nearly every day for the past three years. I thought I was tough. The trouble was, my martial skill was untested in actual combat. As students of Aikido, we were not allowed to fight. Aikido is the art of reconciliation. Whoever has the mind to fight has broken his connection with the universe. If you try to dominate people, you are already defeated. We study how to resolve conflict, not how to start it. However, in this situation, I saw an absolute legitimate opportunity whereby I might save the innocent by destroying the guilty. If I didn't do something fast, somebody would probably get hurt. So I left my seat to rectify the situation.
Seeing me stand up, the drunk recognized a chance to focus his rage. I had planned to take this turkey apart, but he had to make the first move. I wanted to make him mad, so I pursed my lips and blew him an insolent kiss. In anger, he gathered himself for a rush at me. A fraction of a second before he could move, someone shouted, "Hey!" It was earsplitting. I remember the strangely joyous, lilting quality of it. "Hey!" I wheeled to my left; the drunk spun to his right. We both stared down at a little old Japanese man in his seventies. He took no notice of me, but beamed delightedly at the laborer.
"C'mere," the old man said beckoning to the drunk. "C'mere and talk with me." The big man followed, as if on a string. He planted his feet belligerently in front of the old gentleman, and roared above the clacking wheels, "Why the hell should I talk to you?" The old man continued to beam at the laborer. "What'cha been drinking?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with interest. "I have been drinkin' sake," the laborer bellowed, "and it's none of your business!" Spit poured from his mouth as he spoke. "Oh, that's wonderful," said the old man. "You see, I love sake too. Every night, me and my wife warm up a little bottle of sake and take it out into the garden, and we sit on an old wooden bench. We watch the sun go down and we look to see how our persimmon tree is doing. My great-grandfather planted that tree, and we worry about whether it will recover from those ice storms we had last winter." He looked up at the laborer, eyes twinkling.
As the laborer struggled to follow the old man's conversation, his face began to soften. His fists slowly unclenched. "Yeah, I love persimmons too…" His voice trailed off. "Yes," said the old man, smiling, "and I am sure you have a wonderful wife." "No," replied the laborer. "My wife died. I don't got no wife, I don't got no home, I don't got no job. I am so ashamed of myself." Tears rolled down his cheeks; a spasm of despair rippled through his body.
Now it was my turn; me a student of Aikido. Standing there in my well-scrubbed youthful innocence, my make-for-this-world-safe-for democracy-righteousness, I suddenly felt dirtier than he was. Then the train arrived at my stop. As the doors opened, I heard the old man cluck sympathetically. "My, my," he said, "that is a difficult predicament, indeed. Sit down here and tell me about it." I turned my head for one last look. The laborer was sprawled on the seat, his head in the old man's lap. The old man was softly stroking the filthy, matted hair.
As the train pulled away, I sat down on a bench. What I had wanted to do with muscle had been accomplished with kindness. I had just seen Aikido in combat, and the essence of it was love. Jesus prayed that we all may be one. May this oneness of the human race be our prayer also, as we deal skillfully with our difficult emotions, reach out in generosity and love, and strive to heal those conditions that give rise to war and conflict.
| Updated 5/27/01 |
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