Good Words

Sermon 04/25/10

I Shall Not Want ~ by Reverend Thomas Cary Kinder
April 25, 2010 Fourth Sunday after Easter, Good Shepherd Sunday
First Congregational Church in Thetford, Vermont, UCC
Psalm 23; John 10:7-16; Matthew 6:24-33

People brought all kinds of problems to Mahatma Gandhi seeking his help.  The leaders of his nation traveled the rough road to his ashram with great matters, and the people of neighboring villages came with small matters.  The story goes that one day a woman came asking Gandhi to convince her son to stop eating sugar.  Gandhi told her to come back in a week.  A week later she came again, and Gandhi urged the boy to listen to his mother and quit eating sugar.  She asked Gandhi why he couldn’t have done that the week before.  He replied, “Because last week I myself had not quit eating sugar.”

I do not know if that story is true, but I do know that it has a lot of truth in it.  For one thing, I know it is true that I should practice what I preach.  So in the spirit of full disclosure, I need to begin this sermon on detachment from material things, on entrusting our lives entirely to the Good Shepherd, by saying that I have not yet quit eating sugar myself.  I have not attained perfect detachment from worldly things—far from it!  I am in good company, though; even the saints have not achieved perfect, permanent detachment.  Even Christ showed in the Garden of Gethsemane that he still felt attached to this life. 

Detachment is not a state humans reach so much as a discipline humans practice, a struggle humans engage in or not.  In that regard, I do practice what I preach.  I have not quit all my addictions or attachments, but I can speak as someone engaged in the struggle.

The story about Gandhi is also true in the sense that it accurately reflects his life.  One of the people who knew him best, when asked what was so special about him, answered “his great love.”  Another was struck by the healthiness that he radiated—health of body, mind, heart and soul.  An American journalist once asked Gandhi, “Can you tell me the secret of your life in three words?”  He laughed with his usual delight at a challenge and answered, “Yes.  Renounce and enjoy.”  (Gandhi the Man, Eknath Easwaran, p 105)

Renouncing, detaching, letting desire go, was a life-long spiritual practice that Gandhi considered essential to his joyfulness, as well as his ability to be unconditionally loving, vibrantly healthy and fearlessly nonviolent.  Gandhi was a student of the Sermon on the Mount and the Bhagavad Gita, and he strove to live what he believed.  Detachment was what Jesus was preaching when he said “You cannot serve both God and mammon.”  Detachment was what the Bhagavad Gita was preaching when it said,

When you move amidst the world of sense

From both attachment and aversion freed,

There comes the peace in which all sorrows end,

And you live in the wisdom of the Self.

 

Gandhi worked at this every day for fifty years.  He knew that when we have attachment even in the smallest of things, we are practicing worshipping mammon instead of God, we are practicing holding onto life, and when it comes time to lay down our life for another, we will have a much harder time.  So he took every opportunity to practice breaking attachments.

This does not sound like much fun compared to eating sugar, and the truth is it was not easy for Gandhi.  Anyone who has tried to give up something for Lent or quit a serious addiction, anyone who has heard the doctor say,  You have to change your diet and give up the very foods you love best,” knows how hard it can be to practice detachment, and how it has to become a way of life, because addictions are so sneaky at seducing us to backslide. 

Gandhi was an expert in detachment, so we should listen to his wisdom as we try to free ourselves to gain a healthy, balanced life filled with peace and joy and love.  Gandhi said,

As long as you derive inner help and comfort from anything, you should keep it.  If you were to give it up in a mood of self-sacrifice or out of a stern sense of duty, you would continue to want it back, and that unsatisfied want would make trouble for you.  Only give up a thing when you want some other condition so much that the thing no longer has any attraction for you, or when it seems to interfere with that which is more greatly desired.

This is the key to detachment.  This is the key to being able to pass through the gate of Christ to find shelter or green pasture.  It is the key to having life and having it abundantly.  It is the key to “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want,” and “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

The key is to want this other condition that the Good Shepherd offers so much that our material attachments no longer have any attraction for us because we see that they interfere with the way of Christ and realm of God that we love and desire more.  The Bhagavad Gita says,

They live in wisdom…

Whose love for the Lord of Love has consumed

Every selfish desire and sense-craving

Tormenting the heart.  Not agitated

By grief nor hankering after pleasure,

They live free from lust and fear and anger.

 

Christ’s Sermon on the Mount is coming at the same thing from a different angle when it says, “Do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear…?’ Strive first for the realm of God and God’s right way of being, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

When our love for the Lord of Love consumes every selfish desire, when our striving for God makes us forget to worry about everything else, the result is peace from the anguish of our material wants, and joy to find that we have life after all, and have it abundantly.

Again, this is not to say we have no more struggle.  We can expect to have good moments and not so good moments.  Remember the story of the monk from the great monastic community on Mount Athos in Greece.  On a visit to Russia someone asked him what they did there at his monastery, hoping to hear about their famous visions and miracles, but the monk answered, “We fall and get up, fall and get up, fall and get up.”

Detachment can mean struggle and suffering on the way to peace and joy.  Saying “I shall not want,” and trusting the Good Shepherd to provide for our needs risks having to endure times when those needs are not as well met as our appetites and addictions would desire. 

Thomas Keating is the great teacher of Centering Prayer, and when we see the movie One in a few weeks, Keating will be the last of the spiritual masters it interviews as its climax.  Keating has written with his characteristic, good-humored bluntness, “The idea of suffering becoming pure joy or stopping altogether is nonsense…. The gospel nowhere says that you must relish and savor all the anguish and suffering that come upon you.  Growing…in grace does not mean becoming inhuman or insensible.  Jesus suffered as a human being.”  But Keating goes on to point out that what made all the difference for Jesus was that he was prepared to suffer anything for the sake of his love of God.  If we love God and want God’s peace and joy enough, any suffering caused by detachment will be well worth the pain.  (Crisis of Faith, Crisis of Love, p52 as quoted in Daily Reader for Contemplative Living, p106)

Keating would say that this pain is what comes of looking for happiness in the wrong place, in the material world instead of in God; but it is crucial to understand that the detachment that we gain when we love God more than the world does not lead us out of the world—it leads us more deeply into it!  We see the world more truly when we stop seeing it through our selfish attachments and desires.  We see how our neighbor truly is our self, and we find ourselves led to love the hurt, the poor, our enemies, all creation, as Christ did.

The contemplative teacher Eknath Easwaran wrote, “When all selfish attachments are gone, what is left is pure love.”  (Blue Mountain Journal, Winter 2009, Volume 20, Number 4 page 5, second column.) The medieval German mystic, Jacob Boehme, said,

No life can express, nor tongue so much as name, what this enflaming, all consuming love of God is.  It is brighter than the sun, it is sweeter than anything called sweet; it is stronger than all strength; it is more nutrimental than food, more cheering to the heart than wine, and more pleasant than all the joy and pleasantness of the world.  Whoever obtaineth it is richer than any monarch on earth; and he who getteth it is nobler than any emperor can be, and more potent and absolute than all power and authority. (ibid.)

This is what we saw in Gandhi.  Love of God led him to practice detachment from things, and detachment led him to have a nobility and a power greater than the monarch of the British Empire.  It led him to have a love that was universal and unconditional, and an enjoyment of life and a sense of humor that were celebrated by all who knew him.

But Gandhi was not the only person ever to show these qualities.  We can see people among us who have suffered illness or loss and through their love have transformed those sufferings into wisdom and power, peace and joy.  One woman who had a recent cancer scare put it to me this way: “Of course I was really worried and afraid, but my spiritual practice helped me let go and calm the fear a little, and I began asking, how can I let the Spirit work through me along this part of my path, how can I use this as an opportunity to serve the light?” 

Eknath Easwaran says, “If you want to see some of the greatest lovers of all time, don’t look to Romeo or Juliet; look at Saint Francis of Assisi, or lovely Saint Teresa of Avila…. What a wonderful paradox: to know what love means, we have to turn to men and women who we say have “renounced the world!” (ibid.)

God created us out of Spirit and dust.  To renounce the world means that we will let the Spirit guide our life, not the dust.  The nature of the Spirit is to pour out love, and if we dwell in that Spirit because we love it more than anything else in life, love will be what we do, wherever we go, whomever we meet.  Even our times of suffering, our valleys of the shadow of death, will become situations in which we ask, how can I use this as an opportunity to love and to serve?

This takes tremendous courage and trust.  It takes wanting the abundant life found through Christ’s gate so much that we are willing to let go of other things we want and say with faith and hope and love, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” 

What is it that you need to let go of right now in order to say that? 

Let us practice letting go of everything for a few minutes, praying, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” and just savoring how good it can feel to love and trust that much.  Let us pray in silence…

return to the top of page

return to Past Sermons Archive

Home ~ Bulletin ~ Good Words ~ About Us ~ Newsletter ~ Links