Epiphany 6c.07                                                February 11, 2007

“Jesus came down with the twelve apostles
        and stood on a level place.”
We’ve all heard about the Sermon on the Mount,
        which is in Matthew.
But we don’t hear so much about the Sermon on the Plain
        which is in Luke.
It begins with today’s Gospel lesson.

When Luke tells us Jesus gave us these teachings
        on a plain, a level place,
        he isn’t just giving us a detail about the setting.
The level place, sets the tone of the sermon

        – because it is a teaching about leveling out,
                about personal and spiritual balance,
                about equanimity, temperance, moderation.

In some branches of the Christian family,
        equanimity and balance are not even recognized as virtues.
Those denominations value getting worked up,
        being full of vim and vigor.
But Anglicans uphold the value of moderation, temperance, balance.

Buddhism agrees with us.
One of my favorite wisdom stories is an old Buddhist tale.
It goes like this:
Long ago, in a small, poor Chines village,
       there was a man in a village who was regarded as very fortunate
                because he had a fine stallion.
It was far and away the best horse anyone had ever seen.

But one day it ran away and everyone tried to console the man.
“It’s so sad that you have lost your stallion,” they said.
“Maybe,” he answered.

“Then the stallion came home
        and brought a fine wild mare with him.”
The villagers said, “You are so fortunate.
        Your stallion has returned and brought a fine mare
                 so you can mate them and have many good horses.”
“Maybe,” he said.

Then his only son, the pride of his life,
         was training the mare, when he fell off and broke his leg.
“Oh no,” the people said, “your poor son, now he will have a limp.”
“Maybe,” the man said.

Then the warlord’s soldiers came through the village
         capturing all the able-bodied young men and forcing them
         to join in their dangerous military campaign.
But, they did not take the man’s son because of his broken leg.
“Oh how lucky you are that they did not take your son,” the villagers said.
The man answered, “Maybe.”

Do you see the wisdom?
Life is complex and unpredictable.
Good fortune and bad fortune
        are mixed up together.

We all have our ups and downs,
        but the tricky thing is that, to the discerning eye,
                 it isn’t so easy to tell which is which.
We sometimes get our hearts desire,
        and turns sour, even devastating.
We sometimes suffer a horrible disaster,
        only to find some joy-filled grace.

That’s what Jesus says in the Sermon on the Plain.
The poor, the hungry, and grief-stricken are blessed,
        happy, fortunate – because they’ve got good coming.

The rich, the well-fed, and the happy are in for trouble

        – not as punishment

        – not because there’s anything wrong with being happy

        – but because that’s the way it is.
Life is 10,000 joys and 10,000 sorrows
        inextricably mixed together.

So how are we to live in such a world?
The common way is to strive with all our might
        to “leave our troubles on the doorstep
                and just direct (our) feet
                to the sunny side of the street.”
Work hard, be careful, make the right friends,
        buy the right stuff, try to win – never lose –
        and by the force of our own efforts
                to prosper and flourish.

But life doesn’t allow it.
The faster we run away from misfortune
        the faster it runs to catch up with us.

The same is true with the spiritual life.
Some folks rely on religious enthusiasm
        or contemplative bliss to escape reality.
But reality comes crashing in all the harder.

I once had a friend who liked to go walking
        in our pleasant neighborhood
        wearing an expensive jogging suit
        listening to calming New Age music
                 on her headphones.
She was doing that one lovely Fall morning,
        when a small dog took a running leap
        and sank his teeth into her posterior.

She was not amused.
I’m not sure she even got the spiritual teaching
        the dog was trying to convey.
        Neither material nor spiritual success
        will deliver us from the human situation.

So how are we to live in such a world?
We begin by facing reality.
We don’t get happily drunk on our good fortune.
Neither do we get morosely drunk on our misfortune.
We see life as it is, mixed, subtle, and shifting.

Joy is still joy. Sorrow is still sorrow.
But we see the link.

In the screenplay Shaddowlands,
        C. S. Lewis and his terminally ill wife, Joy Davidman,
        go on a country outing and have a wonderful time.

But Lewis slips into a somber mood,
       and his wife knows he’s thinking of how it will be
               when she’s gone.
So she reminds him,

       “The happiness of now is part of the sadness then.
       And the sadness then is part of the happiness now.”
It’s all connected.

So how shall we live in such a world?
With equanimity, happily and sadly,
        laughing and crying,
        but always with balance and temperance

                 – savoring the subtlety of life.

Such equanimity, the cardinal virtue of temperance
        in the ancient Christian tradition,
        is an abiding faith in God.

Jeremiah says,

        “Cursed are those who . . . make mere flesh their strength . . . .”
That means trying to make our happiness secure
        by our own efforts.
But, he goes on, “Blessed are those who trust in the Lord . . . .
        They shall be like a tree planted by water,
                 sending out its roots by the stream.
It shall not fear when heat comes,
         and its leaves shall stay green;
in the year of drought it is not anxious,
         and it does not cease to bear fruit.”

Equanimity in the face of life’s ups and downs
         comes from trusting that it is all set in a larger context
                 of God in that in God,
                         all will be well.

I don’t trust roller coaster equipment or carnival employees
         enough to enjoy a roller coaster ride.
But many people do, and if I shared their faith,
         I might like a roller coaster ride too.
Well, whether we like it or not,
         life is a roller coaster.
Only God is considerably more reliable than carnies.

Equanimity is the virtue born of faith
         that allows us to stay on the ride.
Equanimity is the courage that doesn’t hide from life
         in a religious escapism or a desperate attempt
                 to beat the odds with our own success.

Equanimity is our spiritual and emotional gyroscope.
It is the level place in our souls, the place of balance.

There is for each of us, as Ecclesiastes says,

         “a time to weep and a time to laugh,
         a time to mourn and a time to dance.”

But all times are set in God’s eternal hand
         which holds everything in peace and healing.
Joy is still joy. Sorrow is still sorrow.
We will have our fair share of both.
But in God, all is secure, and all is holy,
         and all will be well.

                                         Amen.