Over the last month or so, I’ve been making a few changes in my life.
They’re not big changes. One might call them shifts rather than changes
– at least that’s how I’ve been looking at these modifications
of my habits and patterns. Shifts, not really changes, just some little shifts
in my life.
These shifts touch all the areas of my life – the habits and patterns emerging from my attachment to things in my home – the patterns of my relationships with other people – the patterns of my prayer life – and the lifestyle patterns that influence my health. Most of these shifts are little things, and, in the big picture, they are probably not earth-shaking and probably are not visible to anyone but me – and perhaps God. The shifts have occurred in response to things I’ve learned or noticed, and they have been evolutionary rather than cataclysmic. I didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to do a big clean-up, fix-up of my life. I didn’t decide to take on about 15 Lenten disciplines. I just saw things in my life that I wanted to be different and decided – one by one – in a rather random fashion – to do something about them.
I would like to tell you that this has been an effortless process. I really, really would like to tell you that. It hasn’t been difficult – except for moving away from my dependence on caffeine – but it hasn’t been effortless. Each of these shifts – even the tiniest movement – has required discipline. Maybe not a lot of discipline, but discipline nonetheless. Our habits and patterns are what they are because at one time or another in our lives, they probably seemed to be the simplest, easiest, most reasonable or comfortable response to something in our environment. It takes discipline to move away from something that seems to come naturally to us.
Moving away from my dependence on caffeine is certainly not the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life. I think stopping smoking some 20 years ago wins the honor – just ask anyone who was around me during that time. Moving away from caffeine hasn’t been the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, but I’ve been interested to notice how much I miss parts of my life on caffeine. Early in the process of weaning myself off the substance that’s been an integral part of my life for many years, I missed being awake. I would sleep well, wake up fairly easily, and be ready for a nap within two hours. Later on in the process, I was aware of being less sleepy, but I began to miss my brain. I couldn’t seem to hold onto any thought for more than a few minutes, and I had no memory at all. In fact, if I promised you anything about three weeks ago and you haven’t seen or heard anything from that promise, you might want to give me a call and tell me what it is that I promised. I’ve almost finished this weaning process, and I’m very happy with the result – with my new life without caffeine. The health changes I had hoped for have occurred, and that is certainly worth the effort it took to get here, even though I still miss that nice little jolt that used to happen when the latte kicked in..
Most of these shifts in my life – these tiny movements away from old patterns or toward new ones – have been successful. Some I’m still working on. Or perhaps they’re working on me. Change, no matter how small, no matter how we describe it, is difficult. Now, I know that I’m not telling you anything that you don’t already know. We all know that the best way to change a situation or a set of circumstances is to change our own behavior. We all know that we each have patterns and habits that get in the way of our living our lives to the fullest. And we all know that change is the hardest thing we ever try to do. We know what to expect with these lives we have, even with their problems. Who knows what would happen if we were to change. Who knows what would happen if we were really to lose the lives we have.
Our bishops, meeting together as the House of Bishops two weeks ago, are calling us all to lose our lives. They have published a Pastoral Letter, which you will find on the table at the back of the church. This letter, which they have asked be read or distributed to the members of the church, calls us into covenant against the sin of racism. They remind us that this sin continues to plague our common life in the church and in our culture. They acknowledge their participation in this sin, lament its corrosive effects on their lives, repent of the sin and ask God’s forgiveness. Our bishops don’t stop with seeking forgiveness. They name the most visible evidence of the racism and classism that is institutionalized at every level in our nation: the disparity of treatment during and following last year’s hurricanes. Our bishops don’t stop with naming the sin. They also commit to specific actions directed at ending racism, and they call us – each and every one of us – to make covenant with them in these actions.
The unpleasant truth is that an end to racism will change all our lives, not just the lives of those people and groups we see as targets of racism. In order to abolish racism from our lives, we will have to develop a new pattern of life – a life based in the institutionalization of the notion that we are all made in the image of God and that the fullness of God can only be seen in the fullness of our diversity.
We like our lives the way they are, but our bishops and today’s gospel call us once more to change. I can guarantee that the changes we need to make are more than little shifts. Racism is so deeply embedded within us and our society that necessary change will be cataclysmic, although each step to reach our goal may seem small. John has a clue for us that I believe can make a difference in how we experience the change we are called to make. He has a clue for us that can make a difference in the probability that change will occur. I hear John suggest that we change our focus first, rather than leaping to change our behavior.
Some Greeks come to Philip and say, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip tells Andrew, and they both go tell Jesus about this occurrence. And the news seems to trigger new awareness in Jesus that the time of his death is coming. The body of this gospel turns us toward the last days of Jesus’ life on earth, but my attention keeps turning to those Greeks. “Sir,” they say, “we want to see Jesus.” They don’t ask to be healed. They don’t ask to be taught. They don’t even ask to be fed. They simply ask to see Jesus.
What would happen if we did the same thing? What would happen if we simply asked to see Jesus?
As we approach Holy Week, I invite you to do two things. First, read the pastoral letter our bishops have written to us, giving some thought to the impact the initiatives they commit to will have one your own life. Second, I invite you to be on the lookout for Jesus. I invite you to watch for him. I invite to search for the one who loves us enough to die for us. I invite you to seek out the one who promises to be with us until the end of the age. Search for his face in the people around you. Search for his face in our headlines and our newstories and on the television news. Watch for him in the streets and in the grocery store. Watch for him as you approach this altar. Watch for him as you approach the difficult relationships in your life. Watch for him when you meet someone and your first impulse is to turn away.