“Let
not your hearts be troubled,” Jesus said.
Some
ancient manuscripts say he went on.
“Let
not your hearts be troubled.
Neither
let them be afraid.
Believe
in God. Believe also in me.”
There
is so much to trouble our hearts --
so much happening in the world.
War
keeps killing and killing and killing.
The
economy puts our financial security at risk.
Global
warming is approaching the tipping point
after which the warming will just
keep going
even if the carbon emissions are
reduced.
reverberate with our private worries
– the fear and loathing that insinuate themselves
into our
hearts, disturbing our sleep,
-- the ups and downs of work, concern for our
children,
anxieties over health, money,
relationships.
“Trouble?”
Zorba the Greek said, “Life is trouble.
Only
in death is there no trouble.”
But Jesus
said, “Let not your hearts be troubled.”
How is that
possible?
Essentially
that’s how St. Thomas responded,
when Jesus
said,
“Don’t worry. You know the way where I am
going.”
And Thomas
blurted out, “We most certainly do not.
We do not
know the way.
We do not
know the way to a peaceful heart.”
An
old fable from India tells about a mouse
who was
afraid of cats.
God
took pity on the mouse
and turned
him into a cat.
But
the cat was afraid of dogs,
so God
turned him into a dog.
But
the dog was afraid of panthers,
so God
turned him into a panther.
But
the panther was afraid of hunters,
so God
turned him back into a mouse
and said, “There is no helping you.
Whatever
body I give you,
you still
have the heart of a mouse.”
We
cannot find inner peace
by changing our outer circumstances.
Life
is like an airplane flying through turbulence.
Jesus’
advice isn’t to be a Pollyanna.
It
is more like fasten your seat belt.
Let
not your hearts be troubled,
is advice to keep the core of our
being
stabilized, on track, despite the turbulence.
A
second fable:
A
lion cub was left orphaned when hunters killed his parents.
The
cub was adopted by kindly sheep
who raised him as a sheep.
Although
he grew into a powerful beast,
he thought of himself as a sheep
and acted accordingly.
He
grazed, bleated, and bah’d.
One
day a wild old lion came upon him
and was absolutely disgusted
by his unleonine behavior.
and tried to teach him to act like a
lion.
But
the apprentice still acted like a sheep
until one day the wild old lion showed
him
his own reflection in a clear pool,
and at last he roared.
We
don’t know Jesus if we think of him
only as the Lamb of God,
and forget he is also the lion of
Judah.
Jesus
came to hold up a mirror for us
and show us our lion nature.
Jesus
shows us what authentic humanity looks like.
It
is daring. It is bold. It is calmly heroic.
The
Bible says “ Be not afraid.”
It
doesn’t say it once.
It
says it precisely 365 times
-- once for each day of the year.
Jesus
says, “Let not your hearts be troubled.”
But
we ask with Thomas, “How is that possible?”
In
a world that is full of trouble
– always has been, always will be –
in a world of trouble,
how
can our hearts be still, stable, calmly heroic?
Jesus
tells us how.
“Believe
in God,” he says. “Believe also in me.”
He
doesn’t mean something we do in our heads.
He
doesn’t say, “Believe that God exists and my mother was a virgin.”
He
says, “Believe in God. Believe in me.”
That
means “trust us with all your heart.”
So
what do we believe in?
When
the chips are down,
what do we trust to get us through?
and what we cannot trust.
Our
sheep families and our sheep culture
will tell us who we are and what to
expect of ourselves.
They
will tell us to believe in lying low,
or to trust in our wealth or our
power.
The
secular sheep will tell us to trust in
things we know good and well are not
trustworthy.
So
we will stay afraid.
But
suppose we decided we had had enough of that futility
and chose to trust God instead.
Suppose
like Abraham on Mt. Moriah
we stood ready to sacrifice all our
security blankets,
and trust God to make it alright in
ways we could not see,
somehow someway beyond our control
or comprehension.
Suppose
we took a flying leap
into
the Grand Canyon of divine mystery.
Suppose
we decided that our relationship with Jesus
was the most important thing in the
world
– and that no amount of war or sickness or crime
– no amount of family discord, or poverty, or loneliness
could shake
that relationship.
Suppose
we sought the Kingdom first,
and trusted God to give us everything
else as gravy.
And
when disaster strikes,
suppose we trusted God to redeem it
– to heal the sick, to feed the hungry, to raise the dead.
Suppose
we really believed in God.
Suppose
we really trusted in Jesus.
Some
people might say,
if we aren’t troubled,
we won’t care about the world and its people.
But
read the rest of the lesson.
Jesus
points to his own works in the world
– the acts of healing, forgiving, reconciling;
feeding the
hungry and freeing the captives.
Then
he says, “You will do these things too – and even more.”
Herein
lies the paradox of service.
We
can serve people effectively
only when we stop fussing and
fretting over them.
Anxiety-driven
helping, for all its good intentions,
is about as effective as American
foreign policy.
But
faith pries loose the frozen fist of fear
from its icy grip on our hearts.
And
this isn’t just the metaphorical heart.
It’s
the energy center in our literal chest
-
not just a blood pump but a neurological
-
and energy
center of power
-
– it is a Coeur d’Leon, a lion heart.
-
Hindu
yogis, Pentecostal Protestants, and Eastern Orthodox mystics
all describe the same thing.
When
faith unleashes the power of the heart,
we can heal people.
We
can live out the prayer of your patron, St. Francis,
bringing light where there is
darkness,
joy where there is sorrow,
love where there is hatred.
We
can serve people in tangible material ways
when we are not afraid.
We
can serve people with prayers of power
when we have faith.
We
can serve people with our simple presence
when we carry the presence of Christ
with us.
All
things are possible.
But
faith comes first.
Believe
in God. Believe in Jesus.
Your
hearts will not be troubled by the turbulence.
And
you will do calm, courageous acts of mercy.
