Holding Life with Open Hands
September 09, 2007
September 9, 2007
Rev. Susan Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Isaiah 40:1-10; Luke 12:22-34
I recently came across a transcript of a conversation about grass that is supposed to have taken place between God and an angel:
God: “I’m concerned about all the beautiful native plants I provided to beautify the planet Earth. Solomon, in all his glory, wasn’t a match for their beauty. I provided such a wonderful variety of flowers, grasses, and shrubs, too: all sizes, colors, and shapes. And, I set each one in its place—the perfect place where it would flourish and provide blossoms and seeds to attract butterflies, bumble bees, all manner of songbirds, as well as other animals. I’m having some trouble finding them in the Midwest and the rest of the U.S., however. Do you know where they went?”
Angel: “People there decided to get rid of most of them. Instead they planted something they call “Kentucky Blue Grass” . . . which isn’t blue and doesn’t come from Kentucky. It’s an invasive grass that came from Eurasia and North Africa, and they’ve got it all over the place in towns, cities, suburbs, you name it. Everywhere you look, there’s Kentucky Blue Grass!”
God: “But that stuff is so boring. And it doesn’t attract butterflies, birds, OR bumble bees. The only things it attracts are funguses, grubs, and sod worms. It’s temperamental too. It doesn’t do well when temperatures are too high or water levels are low. Do people really like that stuff?
Angel: “Strangely enough, they seem to be crazy about it. They work like nuts to keep it alive. Each spring they put chemical fertilizers on it to make it grow, and they also put chemical poisons on it to kill other plant that somehow manage to get into it.”
God: “They probably love my spring rains then, and my warm spring weather because that must make the Kentucky blue grass really grow big and tall.”
Angel: “Apparently not, because as soon as it grows a little, they quickly cut it down using gas-powered, heavily polluting lawn movers. Sometimes they do that as often as twice a week.”
God: “They cut it?!Do they then bale it as they do hay?”
Angel: “Oh no! Mostly they put it in big plastic bags.”
God: “Oh, I see! It’s a cash crop of some sort. They sell it to people to use in some way!”
Angel: “No, I’m afraid not. Actually, they pay to throw it away.”
Brief pause
God: “Well, if that’s the case, they must be really happy in the summer when I cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That slows the growth of the grasses, so it must save them a lot of work.”
Angel: “No, not exactly, When it stops growing, they drag out long hoses (or else install enormous underground sprinkler systems) and use your precious ground water so the Kentucky blue grass will grow some more . . . and so that they can then mow it some more . . . and pay to get rid of it . . . some more.”
Longer pause.
God: “Is there any intelligent life on that planet?
Good question. Later this morning, we will be privileged to really learn about Grasses from Dr. Bob Freckmann, who will be teaching about “Grasses: The Most Important Plants”. Grasses provide about three-quarters of what people eat (directly or indirectly), they dominate the landscape of much of the earth – at least the temperate and tropical areas, and they have played a major role in the emergence of civilization. Agriculture is based on growing grains, which are grasses, or on raising animals and feeding them grains and hay (both grasses), and agriculture is what made gathered, stable societies possible. So when the prophet Isaiah says, “All flesh is grass,” he is more right than we knew – nutritionally, socially, culturally, economically – grass is not only under our feet, it is the foundation of much of how we live.
And grass is fascinating also in itself, apart from its importance to human and animal life. It is the most widespread family of plants on earth, and it is one of the hardiest plant forms around: it can be burnt, frozen, drowned, parched, grazed or trampled and still come back. Which is pretty interesting when you consider that, in these scriptures, grass is used as an example of transience.
One of the things I found most fascinating as I studied grass this week was that grass grows continually, from the root. Unlike trees, which grow from the other end – leaves sprout, fruit is formed, both at the outer end of the branches – grasses grow continually from the roots.
Usually, in the season of creation, I have been learning about God from reading creation – this week, I felt that I learned about humans instead. After all, our scripture tells us that all people are grass – so what does our study of grass tell us about being human in God’s world? I learned three lessons from grass about life in God:
1) Like grass, we’re strong, too – even in the face of amazing changes, we survive. Humans have survived incredible challenges and some horrific social and physical brutality. Yet even in the midst of Nazi concentration camps, prisoners were able to hold onto their humanity. We may not like change, but we are built to withstand it – we are amazingly adaptive. Knowing that can help us not fear change so much. We will be able to live without petroleum when it runs out – there’s a better future ahead, we’ll adapt.
2) Like grass, we grow from what we are rooted in – if we base our lives on money, then stuff is the measure of our lives; if we base our lives on relationships, then what others think of us is the measure of our lives; if we base our lives on pleasure, then the measure of our lives will be our own happiness; if we base our live on God, then love is the measure of our lives. That’s one reason that there aren’t blanket rules like, you can’t be Christian and have possessions, or being poor is more virtuous than having money: it’s not what’s on the surface that shows the substance of our lives, it’s what is at the heart. We grow from the roots. Someone can be centered in God, and still become wealthy, but their lives will radiate love. A poor person can be manipulative, cruel and unethical – so can a wealthy person. All throughout the Bible there is a consistent message that our hearts tell the story of who we are. What motivates us? What do we care about? We grow from the roots.
3) Like grass, we aren’t here forever. Instead of trying to hold on, to build, to create permanence – perhaps we need to accept impermanence, transience, the ephemeral nature of life, and try to make a difference as we’re passing through. Grass may only be grass, but it makes a huge difference – a greater difference than an oak tree. We should accept the transient dimension of life, and live every moment for the moment that it is. Instead of fighting the flow, we need to learn to live in the flow. And when we accept that each moment holds opportunities that are important in that moment – we find that we cannot accept arguments that the end justifies the means, because what you do along the way is as important as the destination. Each day, each encounter gives us the opportunity to make a difference in the world – it’s not just the sum of all our encounters, or the achievements with which we cap our lives – it’s the way we lived on the way to our goals as well. It really IS how we play the game that matters, and while winning is fun, it is so not the only thing. It may be that the measure of a team is its win-loss record, but humans are measured differently.
And, when we accept that all flesh IS grass, that life is transient, we also accept that our security doesn’t come in our circumstances. Things change, fortunes fall, planes crash into towers, tornadoes come – although a certain amount of planning is prudent, responsible, and part of being both an adult and a good citizen, it is also important to not have our security dependent upon the plans we have made. Could we be OK if our well-planned finances failed?? Nothing save God is certain, and the more we can let go of our illusion of security (even while we plan and live responsibly), the more secure we will really be. The poet W. H. Auden wrote in his poem Leap Before You Look, “Our dream of safety has to disappear.” Auden was right. Life isn’t safe, plans fail. And when we know that we will be OK if that happens, then we will be safer than ever. Our security cannot depend on being able to control circumstances – it has to depend on the one certainty beyond our circumstances. When we truly trust God, when we know that God’s care is utterly dependable, then we really can be secure, knowing that if all we have is lost, we are not lost.
Friday, my favorite author died. Madeleine L’Engle not only wrote amazing and beautiful fiction for youth, including A Wrinkle in Time, but wrote marvelous fiction for adults, and a number of important theological reflections drawing on her own life. “Why does anybody tell a story?” Ms. L’Engle once asked, “It does indeed have something to do with faith,” she said, “faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically.”
When I was a child, a friend of the family came by with his guitar a few times, and one of the songs he played stuck with me a long time, and seems also to connect with what grass teaches me about people: that we can adapt to the most difficult changes, that it matters what we base our lives on, and that we need to live like the journey matters as much as the end point, because we’re only passing through. The song is called, Passing Through, and it was written by Dick Blakeslee, who coincidentally passed through Stevens Point as an English professor at UWSP during the 1950’s.
I saw Adam leave the Garden with an apple in his hand,
[I said] "Now you're out, what are you gonna do?"
"Plant my crops and pray for rain, think I'll raise a little cane.
I'm an orphan now, and I'm only passing through."
Chorus:
Passing through, passing through,
Sometimes happy, sometimes blue, Glad that I ran into you.
Tell the people that you saw me passing through.
I saw Jesus on that cross on a hill called Calvary
"Do you hate mankind for what they did to you?"
He said, "Speak of love not hate, there's things to do, it's growing late.
I've so little time and I'm just passing through." Chorus:
I shivered with George Washington at Valley Forge that day.
"Why do your soldiers freeze here like they do?"
He said "[Folks]* will suffer, fight, even die for what is right *Men
even though they know they're only passing through" Chorus:
I was at Franklin Roosevelt's side just a while before he died,
He said, "One world must come out of World War Two.
Yankee, Russian, white or tan, Lord, a man is just a man.
We're all brothers, and we're only passing through." Chorus:
We are only passing through, and paradoxically, it is by realizing that, and understanding that each moment matters that we are able to make a difference, to live in such a way that our lives have lasting value. God says “All people are grass,” but God created a world in which grass matters. When we can live with the transience of life, when we know that nothing stays the same, we can live with open hands, receiving what comes and letting it go. We are passing through, part of the flow of God’s love – let’s make a difference along the way. Amen.
Rev. Susan Gilbert Zencka
Frame Memorial Presbyterian Church
Texts: Isaiah 40:1-10; Luke 12:22-34
I recently came across a transcript of a conversation about grass that is supposed to have taken place between God and an angel:
God: “I’m concerned about all the beautiful native plants I provided to beautify the planet Earth. Solomon, in all his glory, wasn’t a match for their beauty. I provided such a wonderful variety of flowers, grasses, and shrubs, too: all sizes, colors, and shapes. And, I set each one in its place—the perfect place where it would flourish and provide blossoms and seeds to attract butterflies, bumble bees, all manner of songbirds, as well as other animals. I’m having some trouble finding them in the Midwest and the rest of the U.S., however. Do you know where they went?”
Angel: “People there decided to get rid of most of them. Instead they planted something they call “Kentucky Blue Grass” . . . which isn’t blue and doesn’t come from Kentucky. It’s an invasive grass that came from Eurasia and North Africa, and they’ve got it all over the place in towns, cities, suburbs, you name it. Everywhere you look, there’s Kentucky Blue Grass!”
God: “But that stuff is so boring. And it doesn’t attract butterflies, birds, OR bumble bees. The only things it attracts are funguses, grubs, and sod worms. It’s temperamental too. It doesn’t do well when temperatures are too high or water levels are low. Do people really like that stuff?
Angel: “Strangely enough, they seem to be crazy about it. They work like nuts to keep it alive. Each spring they put chemical fertilizers on it to make it grow, and they also put chemical poisons on it to kill other plant that somehow manage to get into it.”
God: “They probably love my spring rains then, and my warm spring weather because that must make the Kentucky blue grass really grow big and tall.”
Angel: “Apparently not, because as soon as it grows a little, they quickly cut it down using gas-powered, heavily polluting lawn movers. Sometimes they do that as often as twice a week.”
God: “They cut it?!Do they then bale it as they do hay?”
Angel: “Oh no! Mostly they put it in big plastic bags.”
God: “Oh, I see! It’s a cash crop of some sort. They sell it to people to use in some way!”
Angel: “No, I’m afraid not. Actually, they pay to throw it away.”
Brief pause
God: “Well, if that’s the case, they must be really happy in the summer when I cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That slows the growth of the grasses, so it must save them a lot of work.”
Angel: “No, not exactly, When it stops growing, they drag out long hoses (or else install enormous underground sprinkler systems) and use your precious ground water so the Kentucky blue grass will grow some more . . . and so that they can then mow it some more . . . and pay to get rid of it . . . some more.”
Longer pause.
God: “Is there any intelligent life on that planet?
Good question. Later this morning, we will be privileged to really learn about Grasses from Dr. Bob Freckmann, who will be teaching about “Grasses: The Most Important Plants”. Grasses provide about three-quarters of what people eat (directly or indirectly), they dominate the landscape of much of the earth – at least the temperate and tropical areas, and they have played a major role in the emergence of civilization. Agriculture is based on growing grains, which are grasses, or on raising animals and feeding them grains and hay (both grasses), and agriculture is what made gathered, stable societies possible. So when the prophet Isaiah says, “All flesh is grass,” he is more right than we knew – nutritionally, socially, culturally, economically – grass is not only under our feet, it is the foundation of much of how we live.
And grass is fascinating also in itself, apart from its importance to human and animal life. It is the most widespread family of plants on earth, and it is one of the hardiest plant forms around: it can be burnt, frozen, drowned, parched, grazed or trampled and still come back. Which is pretty interesting when you consider that, in these scriptures, grass is used as an example of transience.
One of the things I found most fascinating as I studied grass this week was that grass grows continually, from the root. Unlike trees, which grow from the other end – leaves sprout, fruit is formed, both at the outer end of the branches – grasses grow continually from the roots.
Usually, in the season of creation, I have been learning about God from reading creation – this week, I felt that I learned about humans instead. After all, our scripture tells us that all people are grass – so what does our study of grass tell us about being human in God’s world? I learned three lessons from grass about life in God:
1) Like grass, we’re strong, too – even in the face of amazing changes, we survive. Humans have survived incredible challenges and some horrific social and physical brutality. Yet even in the midst of Nazi concentration camps, prisoners were able to hold onto their humanity. We may not like change, but we are built to withstand it – we are amazingly adaptive. Knowing that can help us not fear change so much. We will be able to live without petroleum when it runs out – there’s a better future ahead, we’ll adapt.
2) Like grass, we grow from what we are rooted in – if we base our lives on money, then stuff is the measure of our lives; if we base our lives on relationships, then what others think of us is the measure of our lives; if we base our lives on pleasure, then the measure of our lives will be our own happiness; if we base our live on God, then love is the measure of our lives. That’s one reason that there aren’t blanket rules like, you can’t be Christian and have possessions, or being poor is more virtuous than having money: it’s not what’s on the surface that shows the substance of our lives, it’s what is at the heart. We grow from the roots. Someone can be centered in God, and still become wealthy, but their lives will radiate love. A poor person can be manipulative, cruel and unethical – so can a wealthy person. All throughout the Bible there is a consistent message that our hearts tell the story of who we are. What motivates us? What do we care about? We grow from the roots.
3) Like grass, we aren’t here forever. Instead of trying to hold on, to build, to create permanence – perhaps we need to accept impermanence, transience, the ephemeral nature of life, and try to make a difference as we’re passing through. Grass may only be grass, but it makes a huge difference – a greater difference than an oak tree. We should accept the transient dimension of life, and live every moment for the moment that it is. Instead of fighting the flow, we need to learn to live in the flow. And when we accept that each moment holds opportunities that are important in that moment – we find that we cannot accept arguments that the end justifies the means, because what you do along the way is as important as the destination. Each day, each encounter gives us the opportunity to make a difference in the world – it’s not just the sum of all our encounters, or the achievements with which we cap our lives – it’s the way we lived on the way to our goals as well. It really IS how we play the game that matters, and while winning is fun, it is so not the only thing. It may be that the measure of a team is its win-loss record, but humans are measured differently.
And, when we accept that all flesh IS grass, that life is transient, we also accept that our security doesn’t come in our circumstances. Things change, fortunes fall, planes crash into towers, tornadoes come – although a certain amount of planning is prudent, responsible, and part of being both an adult and a good citizen, it is also important to not have our security dependent upon the plans we have made. Could we be OK if our well-planned finances failed?? Nothing save God is certain, and the more we can let go of our illusion of security (even while we plan and live responsibly), the more secure we will really be. The poet W. H. Auden wrote in his poem Leap Before You Look, “Our dream of safety has to disappear.” Auden was right. Life isn’t safe, plans fail. And when we know that we will be OK if that happens, then we will be safer than ever. Our security cannot depend on being able to control circumstances – it has to depend on the one certainty beyond our circumstances. When we truly trust God, when we know that God’s care is utterly dependable, then we really can be secure, knowing that if all we have is lost, we are not lost.
Friday, my favorite author died. Madeleine L’Engle not only wrote amazing and beautiful fiction for youth, including A Wrinkle in Time, but wrote marvelous fiction for adults, and a number of important theological reflections drawing on her own life. “Why does anybody tell a story?” Ms. L’Engle once asked, “It does indeed have something to do with faith,” she said, “faith that the universe has meaning, that our little human lives are not irrelevant, that what we choose or say or do matters, matters cosmically.”
When I was a child, a friend of the family came by with his guitar a few times, and one of the songs he played stuck with me a long time, and seems also to connect with what grass teaches me about people: that we can adapt to the most difficult changes, that it matters what we base our lives on, and that we need to live like the journey matters as much as the end point, because we’re only passing through. The song is called, Passing Through, and it was written by Dick Blakeslee, who coincidentally passed through Stevens Point as an English professor at UWSP during the 1950’s.
I saw Adam leave the Garden with an apple in his hand,
[I said] "Now you're out, what are you gonna do?"
"Plant my crops and pray for rain, think I'll raise a little cane.
I'm an orphan now, and I'm only passing through."
Chorus:
Passing through, passing through,
Sometimes happy, sometimes blue, Glad that I ran into you.
Tell the people that you saw me passing through.
I saw Jesus on that cross on a hill called Calvary
"Do you hate mankind for what they did to you?"
He said, "Speak of love not hate, there's things to do, it's growing late.
I've so little time and I'm just passing through." Chorus:
I shivered with George Washington at Valley Forge that day.
"Why do your soldiers freeze here like they do?"
He said "[Folks]* will suffer, fight, even die for what is right *Men
even though they know they're only passing through" Chorus:
I was at Franklin Roosevelt's side just a while before he died,
He said, "One world must come out of World War Two.
Yankee, Russian, white or tan, Lord, a man is just a man.
We're all brothers, and we're only passing through." Chorus:
We are only passing through, and paradoxically, it is by realizing that, and understanding that each moment matters that we are able to make a difference, to live in such a way that our lives have lasting value. God says “All people are grass,” but God created a world in which grass matters. When we can live with the transience of life, when we know that nothing stays the same, we can live with open hands, receiving what comes and letting it go. We are passing through, part of the flow of God’s love – let’s make a difference along the way. Amen.