The Answer Must Be In The Form Of A Question
Sermon
Life Injections
Connecting Scripture to the Human Experience
Object:
... Ask and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you...
Sometimes questions are more important than answers.
__________
One of the most popular and longest-running game shows on television is called Jeopardy. I can remember watching it when I was a kid. Art Fleming was the host back then. For some reason it was put into mothballs for several years but then it came back with a fury. Alex Trebek took over as host, and it has been a mainstay of evening television ever since.
Jeopardy features six categories of answers, and the object of the game is to come up with questions that properly coincide with the answers. Of the three contestants, the one who comes up with the most correct questions wins.
The questions we ask or don't ask can impact us in significant ways, and not only us, but the people around us as well. Just as the correct questions score big in Jeopardy, so do correct questions score big in life.
Let's take as a starter the matter of tragedy. Rare is the life that isn't tinged by its share of tragedy. Often the questions asked on the heels of a tragedy significantly affect that life.
In his best-selling book When Bad Things Happen to Good People,1 Rabbi Harold Kushner tells of Martin Gray, a survivor of a Warsaw ghetto and the Holocaust. Martin Gray, after the Holocaust, rebuilt his life. He became successfully married and raised a family. Life seemed good after the horror of the concentration camp. Then one day his wife and children were killed when a forest fire ravaged their home in the South of France.
Gray was distraught, pushed almost to the breaking point by this added tragedy. People urged him to demand an inquiry into what caused the fire, but instead he chose to put his resources into a movement to protect nature from future fires. He explained that an inquiry, an investigation, would focus only on the past, on issues of pain, sorrow, and blame. He wanted to focus on the future.
In essence, Gray could have asked a lot of questions after the tragedy. He could have asked, "Why me? Who was responsible for the fire? Whom can I blame? Whom can I sue?" He could have asked, "Why do bad things keep happening to me? Why did God do this to me?" But he knew that all those questions would lead only to sadness, bitterness, anger, and vengeance. He chose to ask different questions instead. He asked, "Now that this has happened, what can I do? How can I rebuild my life? How can I make sure something good comes out of this awful experience?" By asking those kinds of questions, he could move on with life and prevent that tragedy from continuing to emit its poison.
That is an important lesson for all of us who might have to face the death of a loved one, the onslaught of some disease, the loss of a job, the curse of a handicap. We can ask empowering questions or disempowering questions. We can ask the proverbial "Why me?" question till we're blue in the face or, like Martin Gray, we can ask what it is we can do to make something good come from the tragic turn of events. In that way we can forge a positive future.
Then there's the matter of asking questions that help put things in perspective. These might be called inventory questions.
The late Dr. Bruce Thielemann once had someone come to his office who told him that the worst possible thing in the world had happened. Before he had a chance to say what it was, Thielemann asked him whether his wife had died. He said, "No! She's fine." "Then," asked Thielemann, "one of your kids must have been killed." "No," he said, "they're doing quite well." "I suppose your house burned down," said Thielemann. "No," he said, "it's in great shape. I just made the last mortgage payment." "Gee, I'm sorry that you've been diagnosed with a bad disease," said Thielemann. "No, no," he said, "my health is perfect."
There was, of course, a method to the madness of Dr. Thielemann. Before the gentleman had a chance to tell about the worst thing in the world that had happened, Thieleman, through questions, established for the gentleman that there were a lot of good things going on in his life. This most horrible thing in the world, which turned out to be the failure of his business, had sunk him to the depths of despair. A good deal of the sinking came from his failure to account for all the positives in his life that were still there despite the failed business.
That is another question that can be empowering when bad times come: the question of what we have going for us in spite of the trouble, in spite of the hardship, in spite of the bad news. We need to ask those types of inventory questions so that things are placed in their proper perspective. We also need to ask inventory questions before the trouble, before the hardship, before the bad news. The failure to do so can lead to our discovery too late that what we thought was so important really wasn't.
A well-known author of children's books was so busy doing well and becoming famous that he had no time for his little girl. When she unexpectedly died, he knew an anguish of sorrow and remorse that was unbelievable. She had often asked him, "Would you play with me?" But he seldom had the time to do so. Other matters occupied his attention. Now he declared that he would willingly surrender everything, all the wealth he had accumulated, all the success he had achieved, for one glimpse of her dear eyes and an opportunity to play her small games with her.
Had he asked, just once, the inventory question, "What is really important in life?" perhaps he wouldn't be so deeply pained with regrets and remorse. So often we find out too late that we put all our eggs in the wrong basket, that we worried into the night over things which, in hindsight, were of little value or of little importance or of little worth.
We need to ask inventory questions not only when trouble strikes but also before it strikes. In realizing where the real blessings and the real treasures of life lie, we might not be so easily sidetracked by what may seem important, necessary, and valuable but which pales in comparison to what is really important, really necessary, and really valuable.
Another category might be inquisitive questions. History has recorded many examples of wonderful things which have entered life because someone had been inquisitive enough to ask the why of something which everyone else apathetically accepted or endured without question.
George De Mestral was taking a stroll one day in his native Switzerland. Upon arriving home, he found his jacket covered with cockleburs, those things that stick to your clothes when you walk through brush. Picking the sticky pods off his clothes, De Mestral wondered what act of natural engineering could account for their tenacious sticking ability. Whereas you or I might curse the darned cockleburs for being a nuisance, De Mestral asked how they were able to attach themselves to clothing.
Taking out his microscope, he looked closely at their structure and noticed that they were covered with little hooks that entangled themselves in the loops of fabric in his jacket. As he studied that structure, he asked the further question of if and how that structure could be translated into something useful. The end result of the question was the invention of velcro.
Many grand and wonderful inventions have entered into life because there have been people who have asked inquisitive questions, who have asked why and how things are the way they are. The result of those questions has been that something practical and helpful and innovative has become a reality.
Asking inquisitive questions might not yield such wonderful results. They may not propel us onto the Who's Who list of inventors. But who is to say that the knowledge gained won't be helpful? Who is to say that such questions might not be useful or helpful in a somewhat different way? Many have been embarrassed or should be embarrassed because they took for granted something that needed a few questions.
A colleague of mine told of a high school reunion where one of his classmates was well dressed and looked rather wealthy. This immediately caused those who were out of earshot to snicker as to her appearance. "Did you see those shoes? Look at the handbag! Look at the rings! Get a look at the dress. Boy, is she uppity! Who does she think she is?"
My colleague went up to her and struck up a conversation asking her about her life. To his great surprise, she told a tale of woe. Her husband, who was also a graduate from that school, had died a few years before, a drowning victim of a hurricane. Shortly afterward their nineteen-year-old daughter, their only child, went into her room and took a gun and ended her life. As she told her story, tears ran down her cheeks.
How often has it happened that we've passed judgment, that we've made some fairly big assumptions, without ever bothering to ask questions to verify those judgments or those assumptions? Many of us have been cruel and have done others a disservice by taking for granted what we should have questioned.
On a lighter note, I once heard a story about a first grade teacher who was having a horrible day. It hadn't stopped raining, and 37 first graders had been cooped up in a small classroom the whole six hours with no recess. The children were absolutely wild. She had done all in her power to keep them calm. Finally, the clock indicated it was time to go home. With the rain still falling she began the arduous task of getting the right raincoats, the right rainhats, and the right boots on the right children.
She got all of them ready except for a six-year-old who had a pair of boots that were impossible to get on his feet. The teacher pushed and pulled and yanked until finally they slipped on. But then the little boy said: "Teacher, you know what? Those boots aren't mine!" The teacher wanted to scream but she didn't. She said a quick prayer, took a deep breath, and then began the difficult process of getting the boots back off. She pulled and she tugged and she yanked and finally they came off. Then the little boy said, "Teacher, they're my sister's boots, but she lets me wear them."
Asking questions can save not only a lot of embarrassment and a lot of false judgments, but it can save a lot of aggravation as well.
In our Gospel today, we find the classic expression of Jesus: "Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and the door will be opened to you." In essence, he's informing us that not only should we not be afraid to ask questions and seek answers, but that we should see that as an imperative if we ever hope to find entrance through the doors of his Kingdom.
Whether it be asking empowering questions or inventory questions or inquisitive questions, there's much to be gained in the practice. Like Martin Gray, asking empowering questions following a tragedy can keep us from getting mired in the mud of grief. Like the gentleman who came to Dr. Thielemann for help, like the author of those children's books, asking inventory questions can help us keep things in perspective and it can keep us from forever regretting time that was wasted on matters of little importance. Like George De Mestral, like my colleague at that high school reunion, like that schoolteacher, asking inquisitive questions can fill the world with new creations and it can forestall embarrassment, poor judgment, and aggravation.
Asking the right questions can help you score big in Jeopardy. It will also help you to score big in life.
____________
1. Harold S. Kushner, When Bad Things Happen to Good People (New York: Schocken Books, 1981), pp. 136-138.
Sometimes questions are more important than answers.
__________
One of the most popular and longest-running game shows on television is called Jeopardy. I can remember watching it when I was a kid. Art Fleming was the host back then. For some reason it was put into mothballs for several years but then it came back with a fury. Alex Trebek took over as host, and it has been a mainstay of evening television ever since.
Jeopardy features six categories of answers, and the object of the game is to come up with questions that properly coincide with the answers. Of the three contestants, the one who comes up with the most correct questions wins.
The questions we ask or don't ask can impact us in significant ways, and not only us, but the people around us as well. Just as the correct questions score big in Jeopardy, so do correct questions score big in life.
Let's take as a starter the matter of tragedy. Rare is the life that isn't tinged by its share of tragedy. Often the questions asked on the heels of a tragedy significantly affect that life.
In his best-selling book When Bad Things Happen to Good People,1 Rabbi Harold Kushner tells of Martin Gray, a survivor of a Warsaw ghetto and the Holocaust. Martin Gray, after the Holocaust, rebuilt his life. He became successfully married and raised a family. Life seemed good after the horror of the concentration camp. Then one day his wife and children were killed when a forest fire ravaged their home in the South of France.
Gray was distraught, pushed almost to the breaking point by this added tragedy. People urged him to demand an inquiry into what caused the fire, but instead he chose to put his resources into a movement to protect nature from future fires. He explained that an inquiry, an investigation, would focus only on the past, on issues of pain, sorrow, and blame. He wanted to focus on the future.
In essence, Gray could have asked a lot of questions after the tragedy. He could have asked, "Why me? Who was responsible for the fire? Whom can I blame? Whom can I sue?" He could have asked, "Why do bad things keep happening to me? Why did God do this to me?" But he knew that all those questions would lead only to sadness, bitterness, anger, and vengeance. He chose to ask different questions instead. He asked, "Now that this has happened, what can I do? How can I rebuild my life? How can I make sure something good comes out of this awful experience?" By asking those kinds of questions, he could move on with life and prevent that tragedy from continuing to emit its poison.
That is an important lesson for all of us who might have to face the death of a loved one, the onslaught of some disease, the loss of a job, the curse of a handicap. We can ask empowering questions or disempowering questions. We can ask the proverbial "Why me?" question till we're blue in the face or, like Martin Gray, we can ask what it is we can do to make something good come from the tragic turn of events. In that way we can forge a positive future.
Then there's the matter of asking questions that help put things in perspective. These might be called inventory questions.
The late Dr. Bruce Thielemann once had someone come to his office who told him that the worst possible thing in the world had happened. Before he had a chance to say what it was, Thielemann asked him whether his wife had died. He said, "No! She's fine." "Then," asked Thielemann, "one of your kids must have been killed." "No," he said, "they're doing quite well." "I suppose your house burned down," said Thielemann. "No," he said, "it's in great shape. I just made the last mortgage payment." "Gee, I'm sorry that you've been diagnosed with a bad disease," said Thielemann. "No, no," he said, "my health is perfect."
There was, of course, a method to the madness of Dr. Thielemann. Before the gentleman had a chance to tell about the worst thing in the world that had happened, Thieleman, through questions, established for the gentleman that there were a lot of good things going on in his life. This most horrible thing in the world, which turned out to be the failure of his business, had sunk him to the depths of despair. A good deal of the sinking came from his failure to account for all the positives in his life that were still there despite the failed business.
That is another question that can be empowering when bad times come: the question of what we have going for us in spite of the trouble, in spite of the hardship, in spite of the bad news. We need to ask those types of inventory questions so that things are placed in their proper perspective. We also need to ask inventory questions before the trouble, before the hardship, before the bad news. The failure to do so can lead to our discovery too late that what we thought was so important really wasn't.
A well-known author of children's books was so busy doing well and becoming famous that he had no time for his little girl. When she unexpectedly died, he knew an anguish of sorrow and remorse that was unbelievable. She had often asked him, "Would you play with me?" But he seldom had the time to do so. Other matters occupied his attention. Now he declared that he would willingly surrender everything, all the wealth he had accumulated, all the success he had achieved, for one glimpse of her dear eyes and an opportunity to play her small games with her.
Had he asked, just once, the inventory question, "What is really important in life?" perhaps he wouldn't be so deeply pained with regrets and remorse. So often we find out too late that we put all our eggs in the wrong basket, that we worried into the night over things which, in hindsight, were of little value or of little importance or of little worth.
We need to ask inventory questions not only when trouble strikes but also before it strikes. In realizing where the real blessings and the real treasures of life lie, we might not be so easily sidetracked by what may seem important, necessary, and valuable but which pales in comparison to what is really important, really necessary, and really valuable.
Another category might be inquisitive questions. History has recorded many examples of wonderful things which have entered life because someone had been inquisitive enough to ask the why of something which everyone else apathetically accepted or endured without question.
George De Mestral was taking a stroll one day in his native Switzerland. Upon arriving home, he found his jacket covered with cockleburs, those things that stick to your clothes when you walk through brush. Picking the sticky pods off his clothes, De Mestral wondered what act of natural engineering could account for their tenacious sticking ability. Whereas you or I might curse the darned cockleburs for being a nuisance, De Mestral asked how they were able to attach themselves to clothing.
Taking out his microscope, he looked closely at their structure and noticed that they were covered with little hooks that entangled themselves in the loops of fabric in his jacket. As he studied that structure, he asked the further question of if and how that structure could be translated into something useful. The end result of the question was the invention of velcro.
Many grand and wonderful inventions have entered into life because there have been people who have asked inquisitive questions, who have asked why and how things are the way they are. The result of those questions has been that something practical and helpful and innovative has become a reality.
Asking inquisitive questions might not yield such wonderful results. They may not propel us onto the Who's Who list of inventors. But who is to say that the knowledge gained won't be helpful? Who is to say that such questions might not be useful or helpful in a somewhat different way? Many have been embarrassed or should be embarrassed because they took for granted something that needed a few questions.
A colleague of mine told of a high school reunion where one of his classmates was well dressed and looked rather wealthy. This immediately caused those who were out of earshot to snicker as to her appearance. "Did you see those shoes? Look at the handbag! Look at the rings! Get a look at the dress. Boy, is she uppity! Who does she think she is?"
My colleague went up to her and struck up a conversation asking her about her life. To his great surprise, she told a tale of woe. Her husband, who was also a graduate from that school, had died a few years before, a drowning victim of a hurricane. Shortly afterward their nineteen-year-old daughter, their only child, went into her room and took a gun and ended her life. As she told her story, tears ran down her cheeks.
How often has it happened that we've passed judgment, that we've made some fairly big assumptions, without ever bothering to ask questions to verify those judgments or those assumptions? Many of us have been cruel and have done others a disservice by taking for granted what we should have questioned.
On a lighter note, I once heard a story about a first grade teacher who was having a horrible day. It hadn't stopped raining, and 37 first graders had been cooped up in a small classroom the whole six hours with no recess. The children were absolutely wild. She had done all in her power to keep them calm. Finally, the clock indicated it was time to go home. With the rain still falling she began the arduous task of getting the right raincoats, the right rainhats, and the right boots on the right children.
She got all of them ready except for a six-year-old who had a pair of boots that were impossible to get on his feet. The teacher pushed and pulled and yanked until finally they slipped on. But then the little boy said: "Teacher, you know what? Those boots aren't mine!" The teacher wanted to scream but she didn't. She said a quick prayer, took a deep breath, and then began the difficult process of getting the boots back off. She pulled and she tugged and she yanked and finally they came off. Then the little boy said, "Teacher, they're my sister's boots, but she lets me wear them."
Asking questions can save not only a lot of embarrassment and a lot of false judgments, but it can save a lot of aggravation as well.
In our Gospel today, we find the classic expression of Jesus: "Ask and you shall receive, seek and you shall find, knock and the door will be opened to you." In essence, he's informing us that not only should we not be afraid to ask questions and seek answers, but that we should see that as an imperative if we ever hope to find entrance through the doors of his Kingdom.
Whether it be asking empowering questions or inventory questions or inquisitive questions, there's much to be gained in the practice. Like Martin Gray, asking empowering questions following a tragedy can keep us from getting mired in the mud of grief. Like the gentleman who came to Dr. Thielemann for help, like the author of those children's books, asking inventory questions can help us keep things in perspective and it can keep us from forever regretting time that was wasted on matters of little importance. Like George De Mestral, like my colleague at that high school reunion, like that schoolteacher, asking inquisitive questions can fill the world with new creations and it can forestall embarrassment, poor judgment, and aggravation.
Asking the right questions can help you score big in Jeopardy. It will also help you to score big in life.
____________
1. Harold S. Kushner, When Bad Things Happen to Good People (New York: Schocken Books, 1981), pp. 136-138.
