The View from the Mountaintop
October 11, 2009
October 11, 2009
Rev. Susan E. Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Isaiah 65:17-25; Mark 6:45-51
Today is our final week in this year's Season of Creation – one of the things I enjoy about the Season of Creation is that we are reminded that the ordinary things of the world that surround us – trees, rivers, grasses, ocean, mountains, sky – are more complex than we are usually aware. It's a season to remember how amazing the world is. It's a season that challenges us to take more seriously that God's spirit flows through all of life. It's a season in which I am often filled with wonder – because I am paying attention.
So this week we are celebrating and learning from mountains – and it is not surprising that fragments of The Sound of Music soundtrack have been running through my mind all week: “The hills are alive with the sound of music....” “Climb every mountain....” And I've been remembering the mountains that have been a part of my life – the Appalachians, which include the Pocono Mountains where my folks' cabin is, as well as the Smoky Mountains where I went on my first mission trip as a youth and the Alleghenies, where I went on my first mission trip as an adult leader. I thought about the Tetons, the Rockies, and Pikes Peak, which Carl and I visited on our first vacation together, and Mt. Kilimanjaro, which I saw with my mother and my son, during a trip to Africa two years ago. Mountains have been both awe-inspiring and comforting.
I thought I knew about mountains, but I looked them up online anyway, and read: “Mountains can be characterized in several ways. Some mountains are volcanoes and can be characterized by the type of lava. Other mountains are shaped by glacial processes and can be characterized by their glaciated features. Still others are typified by the faulting and folding of the Earth's crust, or by the collision of continental plates via plate tectonics (the Himalayas, for instance).” Hmmmm. So far, so good. This I understand. Then I read on: “A mountain is usually produced by the movement of lithospheric plates, either orogenic movement or epeirogenic movement. The compressional forces, isostatic uplift and intrusion of igneous matter forces surface rock upward, creating a landform higher than the surrounding features.” Whoops. A great reminder to me that sometimes even that which is known and familiar can be more complex than I realized.
I find plate tectonics to be so very fascinating – this is a theory which emerged during the 1930's about the geologic development of the earth. In the 1960's more evidence for this understanding developed. Some of the highlights of the plate tectonic theory are as follows:
And in plate tectonic theory, one way mountains are formed is when the plates collide, forcing some of the plate up, either in a folding motion, or layering (to oversimplify it). Mountains are also formed by volcanic activity. The point is – the earth is still changing and developing, and sometimes those changes, though they are tiny each year, can eventually result in dramatic upheaval, and profound beauty. It's a great reminder that even though you can't see change happening, it's happening under the surface.
Often that's true of people, or institutions as well. You may think you know what's going on with another person, but there may be small changes within, building to something that will be more noticeable to others. And it happens in relationships also – small frictions don't seem to amount to much, but suddenly the pressure builds and there is an eruption that appeared to come out of nowhere, but was in fact building for some time. Something's happening always, often under the surface, and even when it's not perceptible, it may be leading to something big and dramatic.
And the same thing can happen institutionally – small changes over time within or in the culture around a church can suddenly result in big changes, either in a congregation, or a denomination. Many people these days are saying that the mainline church is due for some seismic shifts. These may create something that we will experience as friction, or upheaval. And at the same time, something new will emerge. There is already a lot of talk and study about something called the emergent church.
From a theological perspective, it reminds me that the great power of God is often moving in very small ways, but making mountains is not done in a day. And it reminds me that there is more going on than I am aware of with this God who is unknowable, unnameable, and in whom we don't fully know ourselves either. What we are becoming is not yet seen, what God is doing in us may be just the smallest stirring, and yet that small movement may have tremendous potential. We should pay attention, and also, have faith when we can't yet see the results. God's work is often subtle but it is still happening.
Moving now, from under the mountain to atop the mountain: because from a mountaintop, we can see a long way off. And sometimes that perspective, away from where we are living, can help us to see things and make plans as we might not otherwise. So organizations take time to take the long view: we do strategic planning. We try to look beyond the day-to-day activities and decisions to take a longer perspective. Frame has undertaken such a process and it's called “Frame the Future”. The Frame the Future Task Force (on the calendar noted as FTFTF) has been meeting for a couple of months, met with the Session in September, and met with all the committees of the church yesterday. This strategic planning process will take several months – climbing a mountain is a careful and painstaking journey. And during this process, every member will have at least one opportunity to provide input to the task force. Most people will have several opportunities. We will take some time in worship to have conversations together, there will likely be questionnaires, and gatherings large and small. In the meantime, please support this process, and participate in it when you get the opportunity. Take a moment today during coffee hour to add your graffiti response to the questions on the posters downstairs. Help the task force to hear from the whole congregation – and stay informed about their work by reading the articles in the Post each month.
But how can we understand the different perspective of the mountain from a spiritual or theological perspective? In the Bible, mountaintops are often places for special experiences of God – Moses received his call from God next to a mountain, and received the Ten Commandments on a mountaintop. Elijah had his well-known experience of God on a mountain, when “... there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence...” sometimes remembered as the ‘still, small voice of God’. In the gospel of Matthew, the great summary of the teachings of Jesus was supposed to have been delivered as a sermon on a mount. And in today's passage from Isaiah, we hear the dream of God for the world – a dream that includes economic justice, physical health, peace, and harmony. The passage describes Jerusalem, which is a city on a mountain – traditionally, the site of Mt. Zion. God is describing a new creation, that unfolds in our midst, in which humans are at peace with creation, and the world thrives. The mountain, spiritually, is where we catch the vision of God's dream; it is where we begin to see the world as it really is, through the perspective of God. In the gospel reading, Jesus goes to the mountain to pray. Prayer is certainly one way to catch the vision of God, but it can also come through study or suffering, in holy conversations through which we come to understand ourselves and the world differently, or through our living out God’s way in the world. And as we live more consistently into God’s way in the world, we see more and more clearly how unlike the world’s way it is. But while Jesus goes to the mountain to pray, Jesus doesn't stay on the mountaintop – Jesus comes down off the mountain and walks across the water to the disciples. Our sense of the vision of God should drive us into action, into engagement with others and the world. Because we are not called to be spectators, watching what God is doing in the world. We are called to be co-creators with God, participants in the unfolding vision of God's justice for the world.
Once we sense God's dream for the world, we are called to embody that dream. We live justly and work toward justice for others. We practice integrity and wholeness in our relationships. We speak the truth in love, and we practice love in our actions. We care for God's creation when it is convenient and when it is not. And as we undertake to weave God's dream into our lives through practices and actions, we live as those who live the vision, who embody the dream, and who understand our faith to be what we do and why we do it, not merely what we believe. The weaving together of our understanding with our action is what Thomas Merton called “the hidden wholeness” that is essential in the life of faith. May we be living toward wholeness for ourselves and the world, and in that wholeness find the holiness of God, even away from the holy mountain. Amen.
Rev. Susan E. Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Isaiah 65:17-25; Mark 6:45-51
Today is our final week in this year's Season of Creation – one of the things I enjoy about the Season of Creation is that we are reminded that the ordinary things of the world that surround us – trees, rivers, grasses, ocean, mountains, sky – are more complex than we are usually aware. It's a season to remember how amazing the world is. It's a season that challenges us to take more seriously that God's spirit flows through all of life. It's a season in which I am often filled with wonder – because I am paying attention.
So this week we are celebrating and learning from mountains – and it is not surprising that fragments of The Sound of Music soundtrack have been running through my mind all week: “The hills are alive with the sound of music....” “Climb every mountain....” And I've been remembering the mountains that have been a part of my life – the Appalachians, which include the Pocono Mountains where my folks' cabin is, as well as the Smoky Mountains where I went on my first mission trip as a youth and the Alleghenies, where I went on my first mission trip as an adult leader. I thought about the Tetons, the Rockies, and Pikes Peak, which Carl and I visited on our first vacation together, and Mt. Kilimanjaro, which I saw with my mother and my son, during a trip to Africa two years ago. Mountains have been both awe-inspiring and comforting.
I thought I knew about mountains, but I looked them up online anyway, and read: “Mountains can be characterized in several ways. Some mountains are volcanoes and can be characterized by the type of lava. Other mountains are shaped by glacial processes and can be characterized by their glaciated features. Still others are typified by the faulting and folding of the Earth's crust, or by the collision of continental plates via plate tectonics (the Himalayas, for instance).” Hmmmm. So far, so good. This I understand. Then I read on: “A mountain is usually produced by the movement of lithospheric plates, either orogenic movement or epeirogenic movement. The compressional forces, isostatic uplift and intrusion of igneous matter forces surface rock upward, creating a landform higher than the surrounding features.” Whoops. A great reminder to me that sometimes even that which is known and familiar can be more complex than I realized.
I find plate tectonics to be so very fascinating – this is a theory which emerged during the 1930's about the geologic development of the earth. In the 1960's more evidence for this understanding developed. Some of the highlights of the plate tectonic theory are as follows:
- the earth's surface is not a single, solid sphere, but rather an assembly of large plates, like jigsaw puzzle pieces
• these pieces, known as plates, are in motion – moving as much as several centimeters each year
• just as solid land, so too the floor of the ocean is also moving.
And in plate tectonic theory, one way mountains are formed is when the plates collide, forcing some of the plate up, either in a folding motion, or layering (to oversimplify it). Mountains are also formed by volcanic activity. The point is – the earth is still changing and developing, and sometimes those changes, though they are tiny each year, can eventually result in dramatic upheaval, and profound beauty. It's a great reminder that even though you can't see change happening, it's happening under the surface.
Often that's true of people, or institutions as well. You may think you know what's going on with another person, but there may be small changes within, building to something that will be more noticeable to others. And it happens in relationships also – small frictions don't seem to amount to much, but suddenly the pressure builds and there is an eruption that appeared to come out of nowhere, but was in fact building for some time. Something's happening always, often under the surface, and even when it's not perceptible, it may be leading to something big and dramatic.
And the same thing can happen institutionally – small changes over time within or in the culture around a church can suddenly result in big changes, either in a congregation, or a denomination. Many people these days are saying that the mainline church is due for some seismic shifts. These may create something that we will experience as friction, or upheaval. And at the same time, something new will emerge. There is already a lot of talk and study about something called the emergent church.
From a theological perspective, it reminds me that the great power of God is often moving in very small ways, but making mountains is not done in a day. And it reminds me that there is more going on than I am aware of with this God who is unknowable, unnameable, and in whom we don't fully know ourselves either. What we are becoming is not yet seen, what God is doing in us may be just the smallest stirring, and yet that small movement may have tremendous potential. We should pay attention, and also, have faith when we can't yet see the results. God's work is often subtle but it is still happening.
Moving now, from under the mountain to atop the mountain: because from a mountaintop, we can see a long way off. And sometimes that perspective, away from where we are living, can help us to see things and make plans as we might not otherwise. So organizations take time to take the long view: we do strategic planning. We try to look beyond the day-to-day activities and decisions to take a longer perspective. Frame has undertaken such a process and it's called “Frame the Future”. The Frame the Future Task Force (on the calendar noted as FTFTF) has been meeting for a couple of months, met with the Session in September, and met with all the committees of the church yesterday. This strategic planning process will take several months – climbing a mountain is a careful and painstaking journey. And during this process, every member will have at least one opportunity to provide input to the task force. Most people will have several opportunities. We will take some time in worship to have conversations together, there will likely be questionnaires, and gatherings large and small. In the meantime, please support this process, and participate in it when you get the opportunity. Take a moment today during coffee hour to add your graffiti response to the questions on the posters downstairs. Help the task force to hear from the whole congregation – and stay informed about their work by reading the articles in the Post each month.
But how can we understand the different perspective of the mountain from a spiritual or theological perspective? In the Bible, mountaintops are often places for special experiences of God – Moses received his call from God next to a mountain, and received the Ten Commandments on a mountaintop. Elijah had his well-known experience of God on a mountain, when “... there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence...” sometimes remembered as the ‘still, small voice of God’. In the gospel of Matthew, the great summary of the teachings of Jesus was supposed to have been delivered as a sermon on a mount. And in today's passage from Isaiah, we hear the dream of God for the world – a dream that includes economic justice, physical health, peace, and harmony. The passage describes Jerusalem, which is a city on a mountain – traditionally, the site of Mt. Zion. God is describing a new creation, that unfolds in our midst, in which humans are at peace with creation, and the world thrives. The mountain, spiritually, is where we catch the vision of God's dream; it is where we begin to see the world as it really is, through the perspective of God. In the gospel reading, Jesus goes to the mountain to pray. Prayer is certainly one way to catch the vision of God, but it can also come through study or suffering, in holy conversations through which we come to understand ourselves and the world differently, or through our living out God’s way in the world. And as we live more consistently into God’s way in the world, we see more and more clearly how unlike the world’s way it is. But while Jesus goes to the mountain to pray, Jesus doesn't stay on the mountaintop – Jesus comes down off the mountain and walks across the water to the disciples. Our sense of the vision of God should drive us into action, into engagement with others and the world. Because we are not called to be spectators, watching what God is doing in the world. We are called to be co-creators with God, participants in the unfolding vision of God's justice for the world.
Once we sense God's dream for the world, we are called to embody that dream. We live justly and work toward justice for others. We practice integrity and wholeness in our relationships. We speak the truth in love, and we practice love in our actions. We care for God's creation when it is convenient and when it is not. And as we undertake to weave God's dream into our lives through practices and actions, we live as those who live the vision, who embody the dream, and who understand our faith to be what we do and why we do it, not merely what we believe. The weaving together of our understanding with our action is what Thomas Merton called “the hidden wholeness” that is essential in the life of faith. May we be living toward wholeness for ourselves and the world, and in that wholeness find the holiness of God, even away from the holy mountain. Amen.