“Albadross” Vance L. Toivonen
READING Malachi 3:1-4
See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple. The messenger of the covenant in whom you delight--indeed, he is coming, says the LORD of hosts. But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner's fire and like fullers' soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the LORD in righteousness. Then the offering of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasing to the LORD as in the days of old and as in former years.
READING Lucinda Vardey, God in All Worlds
Those who seek the spirit and have discovered an exciting new reality through various forms of revelation hardly ever escape God’s tests – the challenges that must be overcome in order to strengthen the Self even more and make ready for the truth. The first revelations are unitive; they make us feel special, part of something greater. Then the polarity emerges: we are pulled to a place of doubt, insecurity, loneliness, and disbelief about what happened to us in revelation. We fear the loss of the old self before revelation occurred. The burning question becomes, “Where now?”…It is through the ways we behave in suffering or torment and learn from loss, grief, or sickness that the verdict for our spiritual future is given. The experiences themselves are about breaking down and conquering the old ways of being and about finding more meaning in the present, as well as some faith and hope in the future.
SERMON
The early 20th century priest, philosopher, and paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin wrote (uncertain of work…perhaps Phenomenon of Man),
Not everything is immediately good to those who seek God; but everything is capable of becoming good.
A few weeks ago at choir rehearsal we were rehearsing a choral version of the traditional hymn “How Firm a Foundation.” The fourth verse had the word “dross” in it, and at one point someone turned to me and asked, “What is dross?” I said it was related to the purifying of precious metals. The dross is the stuff that’s left over when you pour off the finer metal. The dross is the stuff nobody wants.
That fourth verse reads,
When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,
My grace all-sufficient, shall be thy supply;
The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design
Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.
24 karat gold is pure, 100% gold. The rings on our fingers, chains around our necks, and bracelets around our wrists likely contain 14, 10, or less karats of gold. This is the ratio of gold to alloy in the jewelry. 10 Karat gold has ten parts gold to 14 parts alloy (10 + 14 = 24). 14 karat gold is 14 parts gold to 10 parts alloy 14 + 10 = 24). 18 karat gold is 18 parts gold to 6 parts alloy (18 + 6 = 24). So when those who craft jewelry do their crafting, they add back in other metals to strengthen the jewelry.
But there is first the process of smelting in order that one might have the pure metal to work with in the first place, which becomes the analogy for all of the ways we are tested in our lives. Someone cuts us off in traffic, or pulls out in front of us on the highway, and we are tested. During these weeks leading up to Christmas when we stand in long lines to buy stuff we’re not so sure about in the first place, we are tested. When we sit at a table with someone who babbles on and on about themselves, and never asks about us, we are tested. In fact, I think it is the seemingly little, insignificant things that test us most.
Of course, there are the larger tests; loss of loved ones, personal tragedy, illness, job layoffs, financial woes, and so forth. All of these things, big and small, test our metal, so to speak. On an even larger scale we have Al Gore roaming the country promoting his film “An Inconvenient Truth,” now out on DVD, telling anyone who will listen that we are approaching a point of critical mass for the survival of the species. If we do not change our behavior as citizens of this planet, we may find ourselves homeless, or worse, just plain extinct.
I do find it sort of ironic that the dinosaurs, who suffered extinction at one point in the history of this planet, became fossil fuels which we now use, and in so doing risk our own extinction. Also, we will likely schedule a showing of the Gore film some Sunday evening in January here at Hope.
So there are trials and tests that are small and seemingly insignificant and yet tend to evidence where we are on the spiritual evolution chart. There are the larger tests that usually invite us by sheer vulnerability to lean on a power greater than ourselves. And there are the really big tests, like our relationship with the planet, or with other nations. How we live in the world matters, and we are slowly being invited to learn about this truth within ourselves. We dare not leave these things to politicians. Through our own thoughts and conversations with one another, we can encourage one another toward growth and change, slowly shedding the old self and letting the new self emerge. This is the process.
In the introduction to her section on Trials (God in All Worlds), Lucinda Vardey reminds the reader that the history of myth and fairy tales is populated by stories where the hero or heroine must navigate often life-threatening obstacles, demons and monsters, in order to secure the reward, or achieve the goal. Many times that goal is salvation for others, which reminds us especially of the Christian story of Jesus’ passion, the Passion of the Christ. In traditional Christian theology the suffering, pain, and death of Jesus results in hope and salvation for the world.
However, leaving such things to a single event can lend itself to apathy, to a disconnect from our own growth processes. Instead, we can look to Jesus’ life and teaching, and yes, his passion too, and discover there the encouragement and wisdom for our own becoming. Jesus is referred to as Jesus Christ. Christ literally means anointed one, or could also mean enlightened one with a Buddhist spin. In the case of Jesus, Christ is not, then, a last name, like Vance Toivonen, but a designation of his Christhood; which would be similar, if not altogether identical, to the Buddha-hood, or Nirvana of the Buddhist, or the mokśa of the Hindu.
The goal of life is to achieve such enlightenment, no matter which path human beings choose. The process of achieving enlightenment, however, requires challenges and difficulties. Our culture tends to shy away from this truth, with its many distractions and messages suggesting that life is only to be about having a good time, the acquisition of goods, and the avoidance of pain. Yet in his book Pain: The Gift Nobody Wants, Dr. Paul Brand writes,
For good or for ill the human species has among its privileges the preeminence of pain…feats of consciousness make it possible for suffering to loiter in the mind long after the body’s need for it has passed. Yet they also give us the potential to attain an outlook that will change the very landscape of the pain experience. We can learn to cope, and even to triumph.
There is also a little warning label on the cover of the book that reads, “Warning: Life Without Pain Could Really Hurt You.”
It is no coincidence that John the Baptist spends his career preaching and teaching in the wilderness. He eats a diet of locusts and wild honey, wears animal skins, and sleeps out under the stars. He risks the attacks of wild animals, as well as passing marauders and thieves. And yet, it is precisely in this precarious environment that he prepares the way for the coming of the Christ.
When we go willingly into the wilderness territory of our lives, into the unknown world of new behaviors, new ways of being, we find that our faith is stronger than we ever imagined it to be, and that our resiliency is surprisingly elastic. It is during this Advent season that we enter the wilderness of our lives, or our world, in order to be addressed by the voice of one crying there, “every valley shall be exalted, and the rough places made plain.” The faith we discover in the deepest of valleys, will lead us into a sense of well-being we never knew we could experience. The fear will dissipate. The anxiety will cease. And the sun will shine bright once again.
Of course this also means that if we’re on the mountain, riding high above the valleys of our friends and neighbors, we must expect, or even invite the wilderness of the impending valleys into our lives. For it is there that we will discover unknown aspects of ourselves, and grow to become more fully who it is we were created to be in the first place.
A final word about my corny title. It is obviously a play on words. Alba is a derivative of the word alb. I am wearing an alb, which is a white garment worn by priests and pastors to symbolize the purification and holiness endowed through baptism. We’ve already covered the dross part. But the sounding of the word reminds us of the albatross, a white bird and the largest of soaring birds, some with up to an eleven foot wingspan. It is a bird that probably flies with the least amount of effort among the many species of flying birds. It’s flying heart rate and resting heart rate can be almost identical.
I suppose the analogy could be made, and it is one I will leave us with today, that we will soar too, effortlessly, calmly, and peacefully when we let God purify us through our many pains and trials, getting rid of the extra weight from the many forms of dross that encumber us. I think we get this in our heads. May God grant us the grace to live it in our hearts, and in our ordinary, everyday lives.