Sermons from St. Paul's Episcopal Church
August 27, 2006 Pentecost 12
The Rev. Melissa Skelton
The story goes that a Cherokee grandfather is teaching his grandchild about life. "A fight is going on inside me," he says to the child. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil: he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego." He continued, "The other is good: he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you and inside every other person, too."
The child thought about it for a minute and then asked, Grandfather, which wolf will win?"
His grandfather simply replied, "The one you feed."
Today is the final Sunday in a five-week series in which we’ve been reading through the 6th chapter of John and hearing all about food and drink. First, there was John’s account of the miraculous feeding in which Jesus takes a little borrowed bread and fish ends up feeding over five thousand people. Then we moved on to Jesus’ bread of life discourse in which he claims that he himself is the bread come down from heaven that gives life to the world. Finally, today we hear Jesus’ insistence that only those who eat his flesh and drink his blood will have eternal life, a statement some of his followers find too hard to take in that it all sounds like so much cannibalism.
But of course, Jesus’ words are not about cannibalism. They are about deciding what we will allow to nurture us in this life, as much as we are able to decide about such a thing.
Will we put ourselves in a context in which we feed on and are fed by an energy that looks to have life by owning it, by guarding it, by securing it and by protecting it, an energy that believes it is due much and reacts with anger when it doesn’t get it? Or will we, as much as we’re able, put ourselves in a context in which we feed on and are fed by a different kind energy, by a God whose broken body and spilled blood tell us that dying to our individualism, that giving up and letting go can be the path to a generous and joyful life?
An old Cherokee is teaching his grandchild about life. "A fight is going on inside me," he says to the child. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves.”
I don’t know about you, but I find that the choice about what I allow myself to feed on and to be fed by is not an easy one. In fact, it oftentimes feels like a fight between two opposing forces that are both within me. And the worst part of it is, I seem to carry a belief that it should not be this way, that I should find dying in order to rise, letting go in order to receive, giving up in order to find myself, easier to do than it is.
The author of Ephesians did not suffer from this same expectation. For him, staying firmly planted in these Christ-given perspectives and ways of acting come through engaging in a kind of spiritual battle complete with helmet, breastplate, belt and sword. Furthermore, for him, what was at stake was not just the internal urges of an individual person but the alignment of a person against what he calls “rulers and powers, and the cosmic forces of the present darkness,” forces that are destructive not just of the individual person, but of society and of creation itself.
His perspective, the stance and actions of individuals have repercussions not just on other individuals but on the society and the world, is not a stretch for us to believe these days. For we live in a time in which we’ve witnessed the stance and the actions of a few or one having mind-boggling repercussions for communities, our society and for the world.
And so given that the stakes are high, what can we do to feed on and be fed by the Holy One who is all about a life of “joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith,” who is all about the kind of life that comes from dying in order to find life, letting go of what we believe will save us in order to find that something or someone else preserves us?
First, give up the idea that all of this comes without a struggle. Spiritual life is a struggle, not the kind of struggle we hear so much about between different religions and their claims to have a corner on the one true way to God. No, the struggle I’m talking about is the struggle within each of us. “The line between good and evil,” Solzinitzen once said, “does not pass between nations or religions, but right through every human heart.” Spiritual life is a struggle, but it is a struggle we do not have to be in alone. Spiritual life is a struggle, but it is a struggle worthy of the children of God who are called to reveal the image of Christ into the world.
Second, know what activates that other wolf, the energy within us that we might find unacceptable or negative. A few weeks ago I was feeling really stuck, going around with a kind of chronic low-level anger that did not escape Bob’s notice. I took the issue to my spiritual director who encouraged me to talk about what my anger might be about. Unable to talk about it, I went away and as homework wrote up a surprisingly long list. Some of the things on my list were what I would call anger at cosmic issues, some had to do with anger at what’s going on in our society and in the world, other items on the list were related to anger related to my relationships with others, and, finally, some on my list had to do with things I’m angry with myself about. Making my list and working with it honestly opened the way for another kind of energy, the energy of the second wolf to draw near, to live more fully within me.
Third, put yourself in the context in which you can be fed and feed on good things, whether you feel like it or not. God cannot give you what you will not give yourself first. God cannot give you peace, discipline, and joy that you will not give yourself first. Come to Mass. Come to Evening Prayer. Come to social events even if you don’t like everyone or don’t want to talk to others. Be in the midst of a community of faith that will nurture you in the patterns of dying to rise, giving up in order to receive, and letting go in order to find life in the palm of your hand. Be in the midst of a community of faith that itself is an icon of these very values in its dynamic, completely human and holy life in Christ.
We are not the only icon of this kind. Tuesday marks the one-year anniversary Hurricane Katrina’s devastation of large sections of the Gulf Coast to include the holy city of New Orleans. It also marks the collective failure of many in preventing what happened or in helping those who were caught in the storm.
These are a people, individual and communities that I imagine must daily deal with a terrible fight going on inside them, who know that spiritual life and life itself can be struggle and that is not enough just to make a list of what makes you angry and downhearted but with God’s help and the help of others to engage that list. And, of course, we are seeing that some are able to do this, not necessarily because they are Christians, feeding on the body and blood of Christ each Sunday. But perhaps because Christ, the Holy One, has been there all the time; has been there in the musical funeral processions that croon and herald new life in the midst of death; has been there in the bonds of love and relationship that yield tangible help and a sense of hope; has been there in a people’s flesh-and-blood identification with and loyalty to a specific place in the world.
For the Holy One of God, the one who feeds us and is our companion in every struggle cannot be contained by temples and churches. He is our shield and our sun, our companion and the companion of all who travel the pilgrim’s way.
