In the beginning, we are told in Genesis, there was only darkness, wind, and a voice. With those uncomplicated tools, God did what God could do…no more…no less…and a world of creative energy appeared.
At the River Jordan, so we read in Mark’s gospel, there was only John the baptizer, water, and a voice. With those willing tools, Jesus did what Jesus could do…no more…no less…and thus his ministry was inaugurated.
In one of many early Christian congregations, this one located all the way over in Ephesus, as reported by the author of Acts, there were disciples of John the baptizer, a new preacher named Paul, a question, and an honest answer. With those available tools, the Spirit did what the Spirit could do…no more…no less…and a new religion took root far away from its founder’s home.
In each of these biblical stories this morning, we see ample evidence of God, Jesus, and Spirit, doing what they could do with the tools, the realities, and the people at hand. Nowhere in Genesis do we hear complaints that there isn’t enough clay for God to work with in creation; nor do we hear Jesus fretting at the bank of the River Jordan that there is too much mud and too little water for an adequate and dramatic baptism; nor does the Spirit in Ephesus kvetch about these new disciples who have received an incomplete and potentially cliquish baptismal experience. What we do see and hear in each of these passages is the biblical equivalent of what we have come to know in our age as “The Serenity Prayer.”
God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.
Originally written by UCC theologian, Reinhold Niebuhr, and now used worldwide by Alcoholics Anonymous and other 12-step groups, this prayer (like our 3 morning scriptures) urges us toward the reality of what we can and cannot do in any given situation.
We may assume that such a prayer was written in a quiet study, by the middle-aged scholar and theologian, but such is not the case. Niebuhr’s daughter, Elizabeth Sifton, wrote a book recently explaining her father’s motivation for the prayer, and describing the context of his life and ministry in which the now-famous prayer was composed. In early 2005, Ms. Sifton was interviewed on the NPR program “Fresh Air.” In that interview, Sifton readily acknowledged her father as a lifelong social activist, who was also a deeply committed Christian believer. Niebuhr often felt that people settled for the status quo, rather than risking their personal security for what should be changed. The issue of what must be accepted and what we must strive to improve or change—and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other were issues the younger pastor Niebuhr had honed in the pre-war, pre-1929-crash, years. Later in his life, as WWII raged and Hitler continued to ravage the Jewish populations of Europe, Niebuhr became passionately opposed to the war, and at its height in 1943, he composed this prayer, offered it in worship with a small Massachusetts congregation he often visited, and soon thereafter gave permission for the prayer to be printed onto cards and given to soldiers in the trenches of Europe. The prayer received almost instant notoriety, speaking as it does to such universal issues of what we can and cannot do.
God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.
Sixty-five years later, another theologian would write a similar sentiment in response to his own, more personal, battle. “Do what you can…” wrote Forrest Church in his recent book, entitled, Love and Death. Those of you who were able to be in worship last Sunday may recall that Dr. Forrest Church is a Unitarian Christian minister who is currently living with cancer. Living with cancer has brought to this preacher, prophet, and pastor a new mantra for living.
It is this:
Want what you have,
Do what you can,
Be who you are.
For three of the four weeks in January, we are exploring together this three-part mantra, and today we focus on the second phrase: …do what you can. These words are much more than powerless resignation. I hear in them a plea for an honest appraisal of any given situation, coupled with a clear understanding of one’s own energy, talents, skills, and ability to respond.
For example, this week I have been terribly troubled by the continuing and escalating violence perpetrated on the people of Gaza by their Israeli occupiers. Like you, I have agonized over what we or I can do to help these sisters and brothers of ours, people who, like us, are loved by a gracious God. Can our congregation bring peace to the Middle East? Probably not in this coming year. Can we stop the bombs from dropping tomorrow or be there today to hold the crying children or comfort fearful parents? No, we cannot. But neither must we dissolve in the despair of our own self-imposed powerlessness as we look on and into the suffering of these fellow-humans. Both Drs. Church and Niebuhr would have us look candidly at what we can do and what we cannot do. The specific responses we compose to this ongoing tragedy will be as unique as each of us in this sanctuary. Some will see fit to pray, and to pray earnestly. Others will write letters or send emails to influential political leaders. Still others will include in their class syllabus a unit on peace-making or on conflict-resolution or will clip and use articles on the current occupation in their class presentations and assignments. This horrible slaughter of innocents will find its way into each of our individual ministries, because essentially we are people who do what we can.
Dr. Church, who encourages us on this realistic pathway this morning, writes,
“Doing what we can focuses our minds on what is possible, no more, no less, thereby filling each moment with conscious, practicable endeavor…We cannot avoid adversity, loss, or failure, but we do have a choice of how we will respond…” He continues by noting that “the Israel Museum in Jerusalem contains a collection of tiny ceramic cups. These were sacramental vessels. People cried into them. Your mother has just died. Someone you love has cancer. Your spouse has left you. You are struggling at work. As likely, you have simply broken down. You burst into tears. So you pick up your tear cup, put it under your eye, and weep into it. When you are finished weeping, you cap it and put it away again. It is a way to save your tears. Why save them?” asks Dr. Church. “Because they are precious. It doesn’t matter why you cried, your tears are still precious, for they show that you care. A full cup of tears is proof that you have felt deeply, suffered, and survived. Their value is ratified by this simple parable from Jewish lore. When his student complained that he was suffering and so deeply confused that he could no longer pray and study, Rabbi Mendel asked him, ‘What if God prefers your tears to your studying?’ If we knew better,” summarizes Dr. Church, “we would cry far more often than we do. Life is difficult. Some people pretend that it is not, that we should be able to breeze through. Yet hardly a week passes in which most of us don’t have something worth crying about…The best way to protect ourselves from being wounded,” Dr. Church concludes, “is to avoid love, or to love only in little ways so that when we are hurt we will only hurt in little ways. That was not the fashion among the ancient Hebrews. They were not afraid to cry. Their tears were sacraments of love, which flowed from a deep spring. The fuller one’s tear cup, the more a person was esteemed…Life touched them more deeply, not only the pain of it but also the joy. They wept into their cups of tears until they could truly say, ‘My cup runneth over.’”
Perhaps, friends, when we witness the suffering in our world or experience the troubles close at hand, all we can do is cry. Perhaps our tears will lead us to more, to action, to advocacy, to becoming the healing agents and the loving neighbors God needs us to be. “Do what you can…” Forrest Church admonishes while he himself battles a most formidable enemy. A generation before, while embroiled in the war that was to end all wars, Reinhold Niebuhr prayed,
“God, give us grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.”
My dear friends in faith, when life seems too overwhelming and the troubles of the world we long to address and heal seem bigger than life itself, remember that if God used what was at hand—swirling water, wind, and a single uttered word; and if Jesus began his entire ministry with what was readily available—a muddy river, a strangely-dressed cousin, and a voice in the clouds; and if Spirit could, with what was already there, bring into the fold a few believers who had been cliquishly baptized, then we who face the seemingly insurmountable would do well to follow in their stead. Look around; look within; you and I already have much at hand to heal and to love. So do what you can…today…and tomorrow…
