What About Us Grils?
Sermon
Life Injections
Connecting Scripture to the Human Experience
Object:
... wise men from the East came...
I credit the late Dr. Bruce W. Thielemann for the image of the "gril." This is an attempt to console and affirm the "grils" who are often pained by their exclusion from the mainstream of life.
__________
On a wall of a subway station in New York City was an advertising poster that depicted a very dignified elderly gentleman recommending a particular product. And someone, probably a little boy, wanted to deface the advertising and drew a kind of balloon coming out of the mouth of the dignified elderly gentleman. And then this youngster wrote in the balloon the dirtiest thing he could think of to say. He wrote "I like" and he meant to write girls, but he made a mistake. Instead of writing girls, g-i-r-l-s, he wrote grils, g-r-i-l-s. "I like grils." Someone had come along and with a felt-tipped pen had written under that, "It's girls, stupid, not grils." Then another party, for the handwriting was still different, had come and written under that: "But then, what about us grils?" What about us grils?
There is no definition for grils contained within a dictionary, but I believe grils exist. Grils happen to be those people that nobody seems to like, those people who feel they've been crowded out of the middle of life, pushed aside, shoved somewhere where they're made to feel alone and unwanted. Grils are the fifth-wheel people who don't seem to fit anymore in the mainstream of life, people whom no one seems too happy or too comfortable having around.
It's the person who is suddenly diagnosed with a life-threatening disease, maybe the dreaded AIDS virus. Although shown all the support and encouragement in the world in the early days of the diagnosis, in time it seems as though people drift away. They don't know what to say to someone who is sick, so they don't bother coming around anymore. Furthermore, those old friends are engaged in strenuous activities that are beyond the range of acceptable behavior for someone who's sick. In a short time, the person with a life-threatening disease begins to feel as though he or she has been abandoned. One begins feeling like a gril.
Then there are the recently widowed or divorced. They were used to going out with other couples. They had a lot of fun going to various night spots, going to house parties, bowling in a mixed couples league. But now, because they don't have a spouse, there's a sense of awkwardness, there's a sense of not fitting in anymore. Phone calls and invitations drop off. One begins feeling like a gril.
There are the people who are fat and know people are looking at their fat and talking about their fat. There are the people who are homely, who are not very physically endowed and who sense laughter whenever their backs are turned. There are those who haven't been taught social graces and come across as sloppy because their clothes don't match and their hair never seems combed. There's that guy or gal who has two left feet, who can't seem to keep food on the plate or drink in a glass. These types of people often feel left out, out of sync with the rest of the world. They're grils of the first degree.
And how about the teenage boy or girl who happens to excel in school, or anyone for that matter who achieves any degree of success? Envy and resentment have ways of isolating them from the pack. They're often led to believe that they're grils.
Take the young boy or girl who resists peer pressure, who says "no" to drugs and "no" to sex, who says "no" to joining a gang, "no" to wearing the latest in fashions, who speaks out against prejudice and bigotry and gossip. We applaud them for it. But it often carries the price of being made into a gril, being made to feel that they lie outside the mainstream of school life.
And what about that person who has made a mistake, who has done something wrong, violated some law? It has made the newspaper. It has become the hottest item of conversation amongst friends. That person feels one inch tall, and, in quick fashion, he or she is persona non grata, an unwelcome guest in any company, a gril.
Needless to say, grils are in great numbers. They make up various castes of people. They are the boys and girls, the men and women, who do not feel welcome, who don't seem to fit in, who feel left out of the mainstream of life. They are those who are made to believe that they are fish out of water, square pegs in round holes.
It is to people such as these that the feast of the Epiphany speaks. It is the celebration of a God who happens to like strange people, a God who runs a club that isn't particular as to its members, a God who has a Son who is not ashamed of the company he happens to keep.
When we recollect the manger scene, we have a way of glamorizing everything about it. In our imagination, we deem the shepherds as clean, honest, and fairly religious fellows. In reality, they were unclean and ignorant, the social outcasts of their day. As for the Wise Men whom we particularly recollect on this day, we think of them as oil-rich sheiks or university-educated Hindus. Some in history have even gone so far as to call them kings. The reality was far from that. They were merely foreigners, Scripture calls them astrologers, and they were as far from the mainstream of life as were those shepherds.
The very first to be welcomed by Christ were, in essence, grils. They were people who felt left out of the society in which they lived. The manger scene was the first in a series of countless messages to grils throughout the world, the message that in God's kingdom, grils are welcome. They're special. They are loved.
A statue of Christ was carved by Bertel Thorwaldsen, the great Danish sculptor. It was commissioned by the King of Denmark some 100 years ago. It was to portray Christ as a powerful and strong king. So Thorwaldsen molded a tall Christ with shoulders thrown back, head erect, and arms extended in power. Just before applying the finishing touch, Thorwaldsen was called out of town. While absent, the sea mist that often pervades Denmark filtered into his studio and caused the statue to melt so much so that the arms that were extended were now hanging limply. The head that was erect was now bent low. The shoulders that had been thrown back were now drooping. When Thorwaldsen returned and saw what happened, he considered the statue ruined. But as he gazed upon its sorrowed state, it came to him that the image that was now before him was more representative of Christ than was the strong and powerful figure he had originally sculpted. Instead of restructuring the drooping image of Jesus, he merely took his carving tool and carved at the bottom the words: "Come to me all you who labor and are heavy burdened and I will give you rest."
To anyone who has a life-threatening disease, to anyone who feels overwhelmed and crestfallen by the trials and tribulations of life, to anyone in pain whose life is filled with sorrow and suffering and loneliness, to all you grils, that melted statue speaks to you. That melted statue captures the essence of God made man in Jesus Christ. For his whole life, especially his crucified self, was a testimony of his desire to be identified with you. It was a testimony of his desire to embrace you and claim you as his own. Just as Baby Jesus was welcoming to the grils of the manger scene, the adult Jesus was welcoming to the grils of the Jerusalem scene and the Jericho scene and the Calvary scene, and all the places where the sick, the lame, the poor, and the lonely abound.
I was a bit miffed recently when I read a small piece in the National Catholic Reporter which mentioned that a particular group of Catholics was petitioning Rome to reinstate excommunication. In particular, they wanted Rome to banish people like Mario Cuomo and Ted Kennedy from the Church. I may not be particularly happy with Catholic public figures who are wishy-washy on abortion, but I always thought that the Church stood for forgiveness and love, not for harshness and severity. Unless I'm reading it wrong, I don't remember Jesus condemning sinners; I only remember his embracing sinners. Unless I'm selecting only the softer parables, I thought that most centered on the theme of forgiveness. The parable of the lost coin, the lost sheep, and the prodigal son, to name just a few, all point to a God with arms open for each and every sinner.
There's a very beautiful old legend which pictures the end time, the day of the Lord that the Scriptures foretold. In paradise on the last day, everyone is celebrating, dancing, and singing with great jubilation, everyone, that is, except Jesus. Jesus is standing very quietly in the shadows of the gates of paradise. Somebody asks him what he is doing and why he is not celebrating. He says, in reply, "I'm standing here waiting for Judas. I won't be happy until he comes home." That legend repeats the story of the parables. That legend speaks of the loving, forgiving spirit that Jesus described as inhabiting the kingdom of God.
To all you grils out there who are weighed down by some mistake you've made, some sin you've committed, some awful embarrassing thing you've done, God says, "Come home! All is forgiven! I can't wait to welcome you!"
A shepherd was out one night in the woods. He was looking for some sticks to help stoke a fire. As he walked about on this moonless night, he suddenly encountered someone hiding in the rocks. He said, "Friend, do not hide from me. Come and join me by the fire and get warm." And the outcast replied, "You would not want me to come to your fire." "Oh, yes, I would," said the shepherd, "I would be delighted to have you there no matter who you are." With that he picked up some sticks and started back to the place where the fire had already begun and he placed them on the fire. As it burned brighter, the outcast who had followed came into the light. It revealed a face that was hideously disfigured with leprosy. And the shepherd, looking at him, smiled and said, "Come around to this side of the fire by me. It is warmer here and there is less smoke." The leper paused for a moment and came around. He smiled and it was an ugly smile but it was the first smile he had known in years.
That story captures yet another aspect of the manger message. The leper didn't have to ask to come to the fire, he was invited. And so it is with all who feel like lepers, who feel as though they're ugly because they're fat, they're homely, they're awkward, they're different. God doesn't care what you look like. The invitation is there for you to join his family. You may think you're a gril, but it doesn't matter to God. His fire is burning and he wishes you to join him by the fire.
A legend says that Hasad, a righteous person, went to Sodom and Gomorrah to speak out against the injustice, the cruelty, the bigotry that was prevalent in those cities. Week after week, month after month, he continued to speak his message of righteousness, but it fell on deaf ears. No one listened. Finally, a young man came up to him and said, "Why do you bother speaking out? No one is listening to you." And Hasad said, "When I first began to speak out I really believed I could change the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. Now I know that I must continue to speak out so that the people of Sodom and Gomorrah don't change me."
To those of you feeling ostracized because you speak out against racial prejudice, sexual dishonesty, and wrongful priorities; to those of you feeling left out because you use your talents and gifts while so many around you don't; to those of you feeling alone because you've decided to resist the pressure of your peers to do something you know is wrong, don't lose heart! Don't let the crowds change you! Realize that you have an ally in Jesus who often found himself running counter to the culture, the morals, and the habits of his time and day. Realize that Jesus was a gril just like you.
The feast of the Epiphany which we celebrate today was the beginning of a message of acceptance and love for all the grils of the world, for all those feeling crowded out of the mainstream of life. By welcoming and embracing such gril types as the shepherds and the astrologers, the tone was set for God's kingdom.
To those of you who feel lonely and forgotten because you're ill or you're alone or you're hurting, God says, "Come to me all you who labor and are heavy burdened and I will give you rest." To those of you who have done something wrong and feel isolated as a result, God says, "Come home, all is forgiven." To those of you who feel as though you're ugly or you're awkward or you're different, God says: "Come join me by the fire so I can see your lovely face." To those of you feeling alone because you're the only one speaking out for virtue, honesty, and truth, God says, "I know how you feel. You're my ally." To all you grils, God loves you! God cares for you! God has a special place in his heart for you!
I credit the late Dr. Bruce W. Thielemann for the image of the "gril." This is an attempt to console and affirm the "grils" who are often pained by their exclusion from the mainstream of life.
__________
On a wall of a subway station in New York City was an advertising poster that depicted a very dignified elderly gentleman recommending a particular product. And someone, probably a little boy, wanted to deface the advertising and drew a kind of balloon coming out of the mouth of the dignified elderly gentleman. And then this youngster wrote in the balloon the dirtiest thing he could think of to say. He wrote "I like" and he meant to write girls, but he made a mistake. Instead of writing girls, g-i-r-l-s, he wrote grils, g-r-i-l-s. "I like grils." Someone had come along and with a felt-tipped pen had written under that, "It's girls, stupid, not grils." Then another party, for the handwriting was still different, had come and written under that: "But then, what about us grils?" What about us grils?
There is no definition for grils contained within a dictionary, but I believe grils exist. Grils happen to be those people that nobody seems to like, those people who feel they've been crowded out of the middle of life, pushed aside, shoved somewhere where they're made to feel alone and unwanted. Grils are the fifth-wheel people who don't seem to fit anymore in the mainstream of life, people whom no one seems too happy or too comfortable having around.
It's the person who is suddenly diagnosed with a life-threatening disease, maybe the dreaded AIDS virus. Although shown all the support and encouragement in the world in the early days of the diagnosis, in time it seems as though people drift away. They don't know what to say to someone who is sick, so they don't bother coming around anymore. Furthermore, those old friends are engaged in strenuous activities that are beyond the range of acceptable behavior for someone who's sick. In a short time, the person with a life-threatening disease begins to feel as though he or she has been abandoned. One begins feeling like a gril.
Then there are the recently widowed or divorced. They were used to going out with other couples. They had a lot of fun going to various night spots, going to house parties, bowling in a mixed couples league. But now, because they don't have a spouse, there's a sense of awkwardness, there's a sense of not fitting in anymore. Phone calls and invitations drop off. One begins feeling like a gril.
There are the people who are fat and know people are looking at their fat and talking about their fat. There are the people who are homely, who are not very physically endowed and who sense laughter whenever their backs are turned. There are those who haven't been taught social graces and come across as sloppy because their clothes don't match and their hair never seems combed. There's that guy or gal who has two left feet, who can't seem to keep food on the plate or drink in a glass. These types of people often feel left out, out of sync with the rest of the world. They're grils of the first degree.
And how about the teenage boy or girl who happens to excel in school, or anyone for that matter who achieves any degree of success? Envy and resentment have ways of isolating them from the pack. They're often led to believe that they're grils.
Take the young boy or girl who resists peer pressure, who says "no" to drugs and "no" to sex, who says "no" to joining a gang, "no" to wearing the latest in fashions, who speaks out against prejudice and bigotry and gossip. We applaud them for it. But it often carries the price of being made into a gril, being made to feel that they lie outside the mainstream of school life.
And what about that person who has made a mistake, who has done something wrong, violated some law? It has made the newspaper. It has become the hottest item of conversation amongst friends. That person feels one inch tall, and, in quick fashion, he or she is persona non grata, an unwelcome guest in any company, a gril.
Needless to say, grils are in great numbers. They make up various castes of people. They are the boys and girls, the men and women, who do not feel welcome, who don't seem to fit in, who feel left out of the mainstream of life. They are those who are made to believe that they are fish out of water, square pegs in round holes.
It is to people such as these that the feast of the Epiphany speaks. It is the celebration of a God who happens to like strange people, a God who runs a club that isn't particular as to its members, a God who has a Son who is not ashamed of the company he happens to keep.
When we recollect the manger scene, we have a way of glamorizing everything about it. In our imagination, we deem the shepherds as clean, honest, and fairly religious fellows. In reality, they were unclean and ignorant, the social outcasts of their day. As for the Wise Men whom we particularly recollect on this day, we think of them as oil-rich sheiks or university-educated Hindus. Some in history have even gone so far as to call them kings. The reality was far from that. They were merely foreigners, Scripture calls them astrologers, and they were as far from the mainstream of life as were those shepherds.
The very first to be welcomed by Christ were, in essence, grils. They were people who felt left out of the society in which they lived. The manger scene was the first in a series of countless messages to grils throughout the world, the message that in God's kingdom, grils are welcome. They're special. They are loved.
A statue of Christ was carved by Bertel Thorwaldsen, the great Danish sculptor. It was commissioned by the King of Denmark some 100 years ago. It was to portray Christ as a powerful and strong king. So Thorwaldsen molded a tall Christ with shoulders thrown back, head erect, and arms extended in power. Just before applying the finishing touch, Thorwaldsen was called out of town. While absent, the sea mist that often pervades Denmark filtered into his studio and caused the statue to melt so much so that the arms that were extended were now hanging limply. The head that was erect was now bent low. The shoulders that had been thrown back were now drooping. When Thorwaldsen returned and saw what happened, he considered the statue ruined. But as he gazed upon its sorrowed state, it came to him that the image that was now before him was more representative of Christ than was the strong and powerful figure he had originally sculpted. Instead of restructuring the drooping image of Jesus, he merely took his carving tool and carved at the bottom the words: "Come to me all you who labor and are heavy burdened and I will give you rest."
To anyone who has a life-threatening disease, to anyone who feels overwhelmed and crestfallen by the trials and tribulations of life, to anyone in pain whose life is filled with sorrow and suffering and loneliness, to all you grils, that melted statue speaks to you. That melted statue captures the essence of God made man in Jesus Christ. For his whole life, especially his crucified self, was a testimony of his desire to be identified with you. It was a testimony of his desire to embrace you and claim you as his own. Just as Baby Jesus was welcoming to the grils of the manger scene, the adult Jesus was welcoming to the grils of the Jerusalem scene and the Jericho scene and the Calvary scene, and all the places where the sick, the lame, the poor, and the lonely abound.
I was a bit miffed recently when I read a small piece in the National Catholic Reporter which mentioned that a particular group of Catholics was petitioning Rome to reinstate excommunication. In particular, they wanted Rome to banish people like Mario Cuomo and Ted Kennedy from the Church. I may not be particularly happy with Catholic public figures who are wishy-washy on abortion, but I always thought that the Church stood for forgiveness and love, not for harshness and severity. Unless I'm reading it wrong, I don't remember Jesus condemning sinners; I only remember his embracing sinners. Unless I'm selecting only the softer parables, I thought that most centered on the theme of forgiveness. The parable of the lost coin, the lost sheep, and the prodigal son, to name just a few, all point to a God with arms open for each and every sinner.
There's a very beautiful old legend which pictures the end time, the day of the Lord that the Scriptures foretold. In paradise on the last day, everyone is celebrating, dancing, and singing with great jubilation, everyone, that is, except Jesus. Jesus is standing very quietly in the shadows of the gates of paradise. Somebody asks him what he is doing and why he is not celebrating. He says, in reply, "I'm standing here waiting for Judas. I won't be happy until he comes home." That legend repeats the story of the parables. That legend speaks of the loving, forgiving spirit that Jesus described as inhabiting the kingdom of God.
To all you grils out there who are weighed down by some mistake you've made, some sin you've committed, some awful embarrassing thing you've done, God says, "Come home! All is forgiven! I can't wait to welcome you!"
A shepherd was out one night in the woods. He was looking for some sticks to help stoke a fire. As he walked about on this moonless night, he suddenly encountered someone hiding in the rocks. He said, "Friend, do not hide from me. Come and join me by the fire and get warm." And the outcast replied, "You would not want me to come to your fire." "Oh, yes, I would," said the shepherd, "I would be delighted to have you there no matter who you are." With that he picked up some sticks and started back to the place where the fire had already begun and he placed them on the fire. As it burned brighter, the outcast who had followed came into the light. It revealed a face that was hideously disfigured with leprosy. And the shepherd, looking at him, smiled and said, "Come around to this side of the fire by me. It is warmer here and there is less smoke." The leper paused for a moment and came around. He smiled and it was an ugly smile but it was the first smile he had known in years.
That story captures yet another aspect of the manger message. The leper didn't have to ask to come to the fire, he was invited. And so it is with all who feel like lepers, who feel as though they're ugly because they're fat, they're homely, they're awkward, they're different. God doesn't care what you look like. The invitation is there for you to join his family. You may think you're a gril, but it doesn't matter to God. His fire is burning and he wishes you to join him by the fire.
A legend says that Hasad, a righteous person, went to Sodom and Gomorrah to speak out against the injustice, the cruelty, the bigotry that was prevalent in those cities. Week after week, month after month, he continued to speak his message of righteousness, but it fell on deaf ears. No one listened. Finally, a young man came up to him and said, "Why do you bother speaking out? No one is listening to you." And Hasad said, "When I first began to speak out I really believed I could change the people of Sodom and Gomorrah. Now I know that I must continue to speak out so that the people of Sodom and Gomorrah don't change me."
To those of you feeling ostracized because you speak out against racial prejudice, sexual dishonesty, and wrongful priorities; to those of you feeling left out because you use your talents and gifts while so many around you don't; to those of you feeling alone because you've decided to resist the pressure of your peers to do something you know is wrong, don't lose heart! Don't let the crowds change you! Realize that you have an ally in Jesus who often found himself running counter to the culture, the morals, and the habits of his time and day. Realize that Jesus was a gril just like you.
The feast of the Epiphany which we celebrate today was the beginning of a message of acceptance and love for all the grils of the world, for all those feeling crowded out of the mainstream of life. By welcoming and embracing such gril types as the shepherds and the astrologers, the tone was set for God's kingdom.
To those of you who feel lonely and forgotten because you're ill or you're alone or you're hurting, God says, "Come to me all you who labor and are heavy burdened and I will give you rest." To those of you who have done something wrong and feel isolated as a result, God says, "Come home, all is forgiven." To those of you who feel as though you're ugly or you're awkward or you're different, God says: "Come join me by the fire so I can see your lovely face." To those of you feeling alone because you're the only one speaking out for virtue, honesty, and truth, God says, "I know how you feel. You're my ally." To all you grils, God loves you! God cares for you! God has a special place in his heart for you!
