The Three Dimensions Of Life
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series II, Cycle A
Object:
Today's reading starts in the ancient world before the great flood. It was an era when, according to the Bible, many people lived really long lives.
Take Methuselah for example. Genesis 5:27 tells us that he lived to be 969 years old. As far as we know, he lived longer than anyone else anywhere. Yet for all his years, we know remarkably little about him. We know that his father's name was Enoch and that he had some brothers and sisters. Methuselah had a son named Lamech and had some other sons and daughters. And that's about it. The most notable fact about him seems to be the number of years he lived.
I guess longevity is an achievement of sorts, provided, of course, he was a good man. But suppose he was a scoundrel. Suppose he beat his wife (or, in his case, probably a whole succession of wives) and abused his children. Suppose he was the ancient world's equivalent of a Mafia "Godfather." In those circumstances, we'd probably not consider his long life to be a good thing.
In fact, we may even guess that Methuselah was not a righteous man, for his death year appears to coincide with the year of the great flood from which his grandson, Noah, was saved by building an ark. Our scripture reading told us that story. Was Methuselah one of the great sinners who died in the flood? We just don't have enough information about him to draw any firm conclusions about his character.
We can say with certainty, however, that just because he lived longer than anybody else is no guarantee that he was especially good or especially wise, though he may have been.
Yet we do value longevity. I was on an airplane a few years ago, sitting in an aisle seat. I happened to glance up as an elderly man walked down the aisle. He was of no particular interest to me, but he must have noticed my glance, for he said in a loud voice, "Can't a man be 92 years old without everybody staring at him?"
I chuckled to myself for it was obvious that the old man was proud of how long he had lived and would use any excuse to announce his achievement. My second thought was, how sad. Is the length of his life all this old guy has to be proud of? True, length is one of the dimensions of human existence, but it is not, I suspect, the most important one.
In fact, it's not a factor over which we have much control. Sure, we can avoid fatty foods and tobacco and get plenty of exercise, and probably add a few years to our lives, but there are no guarantees.
In my last church, I had the privilege of preaching the funerals of two of the congregation's oldest members. Both were women well up in their nineties. I use the word "privilege" intentionally because I knew from my previous conversations with these fine women that neither considered her impending death a tragedy. Both were women of faith and both had a sense that their mission here was done, and both looked upon death as the next natural step in their journeys.
I also knew that neither one was all that impressed with longevity. They had outlived their friends, their physical strength was very diminished, and they were tired out. What, they might have asked us, is so hot about just living long? And I doubt either of them would have said that simply surviving into their nineties was in itself a fulfillment of the promise of their lives.
Yes, length is but one dimension of life, but breadth is another. We have only to go to the public library or the internet to get some feel for the number of areas of possible interest in this life. There are books and websites on every conceivable subject, and a person with an "inquiring mind" will find more subjects in those places than can be dealt with in a lifetime, even one as long as Methuselah's. But having interests in a number of things does bring a broadness to one's life.
I had a history professor when I was in college who also wrote and published poetry. He once commented that many people were surprised when they heard his poetry and said things like, "But you teach history, don't you?" as though it were surprising for a person to have interests in more than one field.
I have to say I find it important to have some breadth in my life. In fact, one reason that I like my part-time arrangement as a pastor is because having another job as well allows me to be part of more than one creative stream. The experiences in each freshen me for the other. My own impression is that a narrowly lived life isn't much fun.
One of the observations I've made as a pastor counseling people is that one reason some people don't handle problems as well as others is because they have defined their lives too narrowly. The woman whose husband has walked out and who says, "I don't know how I can go on living; he was my whole world," has probably defined her life too narrowly. So, too, has the man who can't think of anything to do once he's retired.
But having said all of that, I don't think breadth is the most important dimension of life either. No, I think it is height. For it is height that determines that character of the other two dimensions, and it is height that helps us fulfill the promise of our lives.
By height, of course, I mean the relationship we have built with that which is higher than ourselves, our Creator and Lord. The fact is, this is the only dimension of the three over which we have a good measure of control. You see, almost all of us has some sense of a larger entity in life, something beyond and above ourselves that is the source of meaning. But many people choose not to cultivate this vertical relationship.
Have you known anyone who is an alcoholic but is in recovery thanks to Alcoholics Anonymous? AA has a 12-step program where the very first step is that the participants have to acknowledge that they are powerless to control the drink themselves. The second step is to turn control of their lives over to a higher power. The AA program includes a recognition that people have gotten the dimensions of their lives out of balance and have neglected the higher connection.
One of the fascinating (but by no means the only) theories about why people abuse drugs and alcohol is that on some level, people become aware of an emptiness inside themselves and the substance abuse is a way of trying to fill that which can only be filled by God. Centuries ago, Saint Augustine put it, "Thou hast made us for thyself alone, O God, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee."
Of course, since I am talking to you who are here in worship, it might seem like I'm trying to convince those who are already convinced. But I've sat out there in the pews, and I know it's possible to be here and enjoy the culture and fellowship of the church without developing that higher connection to the God of the church and of the universe.
The author of the Psalm 61, feeling lost and alone, prayed:
Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer.
From the end of the earth I call to you, when my heart is faint.
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I;
for you are my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy.
-- Psalm 61:1-3
The "rock that is higher than I" is a metaphor for God. This psalmist knew where his help and the meaning for his life lay. Only by climbing that rock, only by developing the height dimension of his life, could he find that which brought him security and peace and could the promise of his life blossom.
We cannot build that relationship by nurturing only the length and breadth dimensions of life, even if that is what our culture most encourages.
Height is the factor that determines whether, when we finally come to our grave, people will say, "Thank God he's gone," or " To have known him was a blessing."
Height is the factor that determines whether the broader interests of our life enrich us or lead us into trouble.
You see, life can be great without length -- many people we remember as giants on the earth didn't live all that long. Jesus lived only 33 years.
Life may still be significant without breadth. Some single-minded people have made great contributions to society. Consider Mother Teresa. Basically, she was only focused on the sick and those who suffered.
But without height, there is always something missing.
The dimension of height means that we live our lives conscious that we are not the end in ourselves -- that our values are connected to something outside ourselves. We are conscious that we have the need to worship something beyond ourselves, and that when we go seeking that something, we find it is God.
Nikos Kazantkakis, author of The Last Temptation of Christ, tells of visiting a saintly monk on a secluded island. He asked the monk, "Father Makarios, do you still wrestle with the devil?"
"Not any longer. I have grown old and [the devil] has grown old with me. He does not have the strength. Now I wrestle with God."
"With God? And do you hope to win?"
"No. I hope to lose."
Is that not what it means to develop the height dimension of life? To surrender to God and let him direct us.
Methuselah lived 969 years. Did he fulfill the promise of his life? We have no way of knowing. But we know what we need to do to fulfill the promise of our own life. And God invites us to do just that by reaching for him.
The height dimension of our lives is something that no flood can wash away. Amen.
Take Methuselah for example. Genesis 5:27 tells us that he lived to be 969 years old. As far as we know, he lived longer than anyone else anywhere. Yet for all his years, we know remarkably little about him. We know that his father's name was Enoch and that he had some brothers and sisters. Methuselah had a son named Lamech and had some other sons and daughters. And that's about it. The most notable fact about him seems to be the number of years he lived.
I guess longevity is an achievement of sorts, provided, of course, he was a good man. But suppose he was a scoundrel. Suppose he beat his wife (or, in his case, probably a whole succession of wives) and abused his children. Suppose he was the ancient world's equivalent of a Mafia "Godfather." In those circumstances, we'd probably not consider his long life to be a good thing.
In fact, we may even guess that Methuselah was not a righteous man, for his death year appears to coincide with the year of the great flood from which his grandson, Noah, was saved by building an ark. Our scripture reading told us that story. Was Methuselah one of the great sinners who died in the flood? We just don't have enough information about him to draw any firm conclusions about his character.
We can say with certainty, however, that just because he lived longer than anybody else is no guarantee that he was especially good or especially wise, though he may have been.
Yet we do value longevity. I was on an airplane a few years ago, sitting in an aisle seat. I happened to glance up as an elderly man walked down the aisle. He was of no particular interest to me, but he must have noticed my glance, for he said in a loud voice, "Can't a man be 92 years old without everybody staring at him?"
I chuckled to myself for it was obvious that the old man was proud of how long he had lived and would use any excuse to announce his achievement. My second thought was, how sad. Is the length of his life all this old guy has to be proud of? True, length is one of the dimensions of human existence, but it is not, I suspect, the most important one.
In fact, it's not a factor over which we have much control. Sure, we can avoid fatty foods and tobacco and get plenty of exercise, and probably add a few years to our lives, but there are no guarantees.
In my last church, I had the privilege of preaching the funerals of two of the congregation's oldest members. Both were women well up in their nineties. I use the word "privilege" intentionally because I knew from my previous conversations with these fine women that neither considered her impending death a tragedy. Both were women of faith and both had a sense that their mission here was done, and both looked upon death as the next natural step in their journeys.
I also knew that neither one was all that impressed with longevity. They had outlived their friends, their physical strength was very diminished, and they were tired out. What, they might have asked us, is so hot about just living long? And I doubt either of them would have said that simply surviving into their nineties was in itself a fulfillment of the promise of their lives.
Yes, length is but one dimension of life, but breadth is another. We have only to go to the public library or the internet to get some feel for the number of areas of possible interest in this life. There are books and websites on every conceivable subject, and a person with an "inquiring mind" will find more subjects in those places than can be dealt with in a lifetime, even one as long as Methuselah's. But having interests in a number of things does bring a broadness to one's life.
I had a history professor when I was in college who also wrote and published poetry. He once commented that many people were surprised when they heard his poetry and said things like, "But you teach history, don't you?" as though it were surprising for a person to have interests in more than one field.
I have to say I find it important to have some breadth in my life. In fact, one reason that I like my part-time arrangement as a pastor is because having another job as well allows me to be part of more than one creative stream. The experiences in each freshen me for the other. My own impression is that a narrowly lived life isn't much fun.
One of the observations I've made as a pastor counseling people is that one reason some people don't handle problems as well as others is because they have defined their lives too narrowly. The woman whose husband has walked out and who says, "I don't know how I can go on living; he was my whole world," has probably defined her life too narrowly. So, too, has the man who can't think of anything to do once he's retired.
But having said all of that, I don't think breadth is the most important dimension of life either. No, I think it is height. For it is height that determines that character of the other two dimensions, and it is height that helps us fulfill the promise of our lives.
By height, of course, I mean the relationship we have built with that which is higher than ourselves, our Creator and Lord. The fact is, this is the only dimension of the three over which we have a good measure of control. You see, almost all of us has some sense of a larger entity in life, something beyond and above ourselves that is the source of meaning. But many people choose not to cultivate this vertical relationship.
Have you known anyone who is an alcoholic but is in recovery thanks to Alcoholics Anonymous? AA has a 12-step program where the very first step is that the participants have to acknowledge that they are powerless to control the drink themselves. The second step is to turn control of their lives over to a higher power. The AA program includes a recognition that people have gotten the dimensions of their lives out of balance and have neglected the higher connection.
One of the fascinating (but by no means the only) theories about why people abuse drugs and alcohol is that on some level, people become aware of an emptiness inside themselves and the substance abuse is a way of trying to fill that which can only be filled by God. Centuries ago, Saint Augustine put it, "Thou hast made us for thyself alone, O God, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee."
Of course, since I am talking to you who are here in worship, it might seem like I'm trying to convince those who are already convinced. But I've sat out there in the pews, and I know it's possible to be here and enjoy the culture and fellowship of the church without developing that higher connection to the God of the church and of the universe.
The author of the Psalm 61, feeling lost and alone, prayed:
Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer.
From the end of the earth I call to you, when my heart is faint.
Lead me to the rock that is higher than I;
for you are my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy.
-- Psalm 61:1-3
The "rock that is higher than I" is a metaphor for God. This psalmist knew where his help and the meaning for his life lay. Only by climbing that rock, only by developing the height dimension of his life, could he find that which brought him security and peace and could the promise of his life blossom.
We cannot build that relationship by nurturing only the length and breadth dimensions of life, even if that is what our culture most encourages.
Height is the factor that determines whether, when we finally come to our grave, people will say, "Thank God he's gone," or " To have known him was a blessing."
Height is the factor that determines whether the broader interests of our life enrich us or lead us into trouble.
You see, life can be great without length -- many people we remember as giants on the earth didn't live all that long. Jesus lived only 33 years.
Life may still be significant without breadth. Some single-minded people have made great contributions to society. Consider Mother Teresa. Basically, she was only focused on the sick and those who suffered.
But without height, there is always something missing.
The dimension of height means that we live our lives conscious that we are not the end in ourselves -- that our values are connected to something outside ourselves. We are conscious that we have the need to worship something beyond ourselves, and that when we go seeking that something, we find it is God.
Nikos Kazantkakis, author of The Last Temptation of Christ, tells of visiting a saintly monk on a secluded island. He asked the monk, "Father Makarios, do you still wrestle with the devil?"
"Not any longer. I have grown old and [the devil] has grown old with me. He does not have the strength. Now I wrestle with God."
"With God? And do you hope to win?"
"No. I hope to lose."
Is that not what it means to develop the height dimension of life? To surrender to God and let him direct us.
Methuselah lived 969 years. Did he fulfill the promise of his life? We have no way of knowing. But we know what we need to do to fulfill the promise of our own life. And God invites us to do just that by reaching for him.
The height dimension of our lives is something that no flood can wash away. Amen.
