Another Advocate

“You Athenians worship an unknown God.”  This is how Paul chides the people of Athens.   In many respects, I understand.  If you think about God the father, all knowing, all powerful, however could we know that God. God the father is immeasurable, ethereal, unknowable. 

There’s a great song by a contemporary Christian singer,  Danny Gokey, “More than you think I am”.  The first verse begins, “You always think I’m somewhere on a mountain top”.  We do that to God, don’t we?  God’s on the mountain top, in the vast views, or when you see the stars and moon, and ocean.  That vision of God inspires, draws awe. But that God is hard to know.  As Paul says to the people of Athens, an unknowable God. 

Paul goes on to tell the people that “God has fixed a day on which he will have the world judged”. It is true, that God will judge us – each one of us.  And I don’t know about you, but whenever I am judged, I don’t really like it.  Whether it’s peers, or family, judgment instills a little bit of fear.  It’s only natural.

Maybe judgment is inevitable. And it’s not pleasant. Recently, I was dealing with a court proceeding that was pretty contentious and unnerving. It was always possible that my efforts to have the behavior stopped through the legal system would backfire. Just appearing before a judge was unnerving.  Facing that judgment,  it was so much better because I had friends and family in attendance, advocating and supporting me. I had family and friends who couldn’t be there, but were praying and wishing me well.  Those who could join, frequently could not even come in the court room. But I knew they were there. That made all the difference.  Their presence provided advocacy, more than their words or actions. Presence matters.  

I’ve recently had the opportunity to serve as that advocating presence.  A few weeks ago, a few of us went to the Eugene Mosque and sat on the patio.  It seemed like we were just sitting there, doing nothing. The busy do-er in me was anxious, sipping tea.  But our presence was useful. I didn’t have any idea how much until the faithful left their worship space and thanked us, really thanked us for being there.  It meant a lot to them. We cared enough to be present.

So it is with God.  We stand before God, the unknowable, judging God and tremble.  This is why today’s reading is such Good News.  Today, we hear Jesus offering his parting speech, right before the guards take him away to be crucified.  We hear that God will send another advocate. This sending we will celebrate in a few weeks at the feast of Pentecost on June 4. We all like Pentecost, an opportunity to bust out our festive red clothes and celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit like fire. 

Before we get swept away with thoughts of the Holy Spirit, let’s look back at what Jesus said.  He said he was going to send another advocate. Jesus himself is the first advocate.  Jesus, fully human and fully divine is our advocate.  He sat with us before all judgement -  at a court date, and a hospital stay, and all our trials. Not only is Jesus present, which is wonderful advocacy in itself, Jesus is also able to advocate for us because Jesus was fully human.  He understands our weakness, our temptations. He’s been the recipient of human cruelty, petty rivalries, jealousy, betrayal. 

Yes, times were different, and because of that it’s easy to assume Jesus couldn’t understand.  Jesus didn’t have bills, and overfilled schedules, divorce, and cancer.  But if you take it to its core, to the components that make us sad or fearful or anxious now, I’d argue Jesus did experience all of those first hand. He saw betrayal. He saw conflicting demands on his time, jealousy, illness, death.  Jesus was fully human and experienced all of the human things we still experience. Different circumstances, but the same root humanity. Jesus is our advocate because Jesus was fully human and knows fully our human struggles.

Jesus knows our struggles because he’s in us, present, advocating for us.  And if Jesus is in me, and I believe Jesus is in you, it’s no wonder our baptismal covenant says we are to seek and serve Christ in all people. Christ is in all people. We can see the face of God in a newborn’s gaze.  We can see Christ in orphans across the world, and if don’t look away, we can see the face of Christ in the immigrant, the criminal, the homeless.  

The other night, my husband went out to dinner with his parents. As they were leaving with their to-go boxes, John came across a homeless guy sitting on the sidewalk.  John introduced himself and asked the man his name. After a brief conversation, John offered Brendan half of  his sandwich and shook his hand to leave. Brendan had his head down. He wouldn’t look up. He held tightly to John’s hand.  When he finally did, Brendan had tears in his eyes and he gripped tightly to John’s hand. Holy time passed. Finally, Brendan thanked John by name, and said no one had ever done that nice.  It wasn’t the food, although that helped. It was the Holy in John seeing and serving the Holy in Brendan. We can see the holy, see Christ, in our neighbors if we look

The first verse of that Danny Gokey song continues “You always think I’m on a mountain top, but never think behind bars”.  We do put God on the mountain top,  but it’s Christ’s face, Christ’s presence and advocacy in humanity that allows us to see God in our neighbors. When we stop and see Christ in our neighbors, we are pulled to help.  We see God’s children suffering and if we look for it, don’t avert our eyes, it is hard to not feel something. 

Of this presence in all things, Richard Rohr says, “Either we see the divine image in all created things, or we don’t see it at all. Once we see it, we’re trapped.”.  It’s because Christ is in all humanity that Christ is our advocate. We can see Christ in all people, or at least we’re supposed to seek and serve it. That’s a great advocate.

And not only is Christ our advocate, he sent another – the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit will descend like a dove and alight us like tongues of fire. Each of us have this second advocate, and we will know the advocate because as Jesus says, the spirit will abide with you and be in you.  Today’s lesson is the setup for Pentecost, and we’re given a few weeks to think about this gift of the Holy Spirit, before we don our red shoes for Pentecost. 

Seeing the face of Christ in my suffering neighbors – orphans, poor, widowed, homeless – pulls me towards them. Our common humanity and common holiness compels me towards them and towards serving and loving them. Who hasn’t been affected by the heart-felt commercials showing abject poverty across the world, or of an orphan you can sponsor.  It’s our common humanity that compels.  It’s Christ in us, present in us. 

And while it’s our common humanity, our common Christ that pulls me towards the needs of others, it often feels like it’s that second advocate - the indwelling of the Holy Spirit that pushes me to act. With the Holy Spirit inside, I am propelled to act. I am gently pushed to respond.

I believe that when we seek Christ in our brothers and sisters, when we don’t avert our eyes to their suffering we are pulled towards them.  But we need to be looking.  And when we listen to the Holy Spirit in us, we are pushed or propelled to act, to respond, to love.  But we need to be listening.

God the Father is hard to know, hard to fathom.  It’s those other two persons of the Trinity  we have – seeing Christ in each other, and being moved by the Holy Spirit. It’s those advocates that help us know God, see God, and respond to God. 

Amen.

Average

Average

I think being average is under-rated. Or maybe it’s just that greatness is greatly overrated. This is a perspective that has grown over time, with a few key events that shaped my thoughts on this.

Years ago, I served as assistant city manager of a few suburban cities outside of Seattle.  This was a very demanding job, and my sights were, on and off, set on becoming city manager. When I was in the field, the average tenure for a city manager was about 6 years, and at a regional gathering of managers, there was a long discussion about what to do to help out peers who were “in transition”.  Generally, getting fired is not something good city managers can avoid, so you plan for it and manage.  Was I really pursuing a career with a 6 year life-span?  And once you leave that world, you normally move out of the area.  Was I really pursuing a career that required I move that frequently, and at someone else’s bidding? 

I decided that I didn’t really want to be number one.  Although assistants can get swept up in tumultuous times, it’s less frequent. I actively decided then, I didn’t want to climb the career ladder any further.  I was actually quite happy with the job I had, despite all indications and social pressures to climb. 

At this time my kids were little, and I was trying to balance day-care hours, dinner, council meetings, and weekend work commitments.  Sometimes I missed a meal at home, and sometimes I was unavailable for an after hours work meeting.  I was balancing, or at least trying to. Mostly, I felt like work won out, to the detriment of my family, although in hind sight I don’t think they were permanently damaged.  Right about then, I had a supervisor who chastised me, and tried to explain that I had a poor sense of balance. I agreed with him, until I realized he thought the balance was tipped too far towards family, and I thought it was tipped too far towards work.  It sounded so absurd, that anyone could think I was spending too much time with family. I decided I didn’t need to spend that much time at work, and if pay raises, and advancement were dependent on that, I guess that would pass me by.

Soon after that, I left local government and worked with a big non-profit. I was invited to sit on a panel of career women, talking to at-risk girls in junior high.  There was a prominent doctor, a woman who worked at a major philanthropy foundation, and a few other pedigreed people – and me.  I felt out of sorts and out of my league.  The questions came about how we started in our fields, what we valued, what we sought.  And then the question where I showed my true colors. What career advice would you offer these young ladies?  The answers before I spoke were what you’d expect.  Work hard, network, stay focused.  Not me.  I urged them to strive to be average.  I said that we all only have so much capacity, brain power, time, energy. If you give it all to your career, you don’t have much for family, friends or yourself. I could feel the stares from the other panelists. By that time, I’d already said it, and couldn’t take it back, so I did my best finish with a smile. I figured I’d never be invited back.  Much to my surprise, the surgeon came up to me afterwards, and thanked me for my comments, and said that she’d wished she’d gotten that advice earlier. 

Now, with something less than 10 years left to work, I can honestly say I’m grateful for this average strategy.  Sometimes I excel. Sometimes I’m average.  That’s ok with me.  Because it’s all about choices, and I choose to leave enough in my tank to deal with family and friends with some left over for me.  One downside is that sometimes I don’t do an excellent job and someone notices. It’s never comfortable when that happens, but I would make that choice again. Another downside is that I have friends and peers who’ve gotten much farther ahead professionally than I have. I wish them well and genuine happiness.  And I’m glad I’ve made the choices I have, even if that means I come in second, or third, or don’t even place. 

So, I’d say aim to be average. 

What do you say?

Gratitude

This morning’s word – Gratitude

I’ve been reading a lot about gratitude. Everyone wants it. Everyone seems to struggle to have it. There’s a big movement of gratitude journaling, of taking time every day to reflect and jot down the things for which you’re grateful. Some people take quick photos of the moments that inspire gratitude. There’s a lot of chatter about how to find it and live it. 

I think the hardest thing about gratitude is how incredibly mundane and commonplace it is. Sure, it can be found on the mountain top. With the birth of a new grandchild. With a promotion. But those don’t come around as frequently as our everyday lives. Here’s my morning of gratitude.

Today, I’m back riding my bicycle to work, after 2 weeks in car and bus. A few weeks ago, I was riding my bike up a pretty busy street at 6:00pm on the way to a church vestry meeting. My back brakes seemed to be sticking. A lot. When I finally got to church, dismounted the bike and walked it to the bike rack, it nearly stopped every time the brakes got to that sticky place. The next day, I took it in to the bike shop, because I couldn’t adjust them to make it stop. It turns out that the wheel rim had started to come apart, and the metal was splaying out, catching on the brakes which were not broken after all. Several weeks and a new constructed wheel later, I’m back on the bike.

Today it’s supposed to break 80 degrees. Amazing weather, since yesterday didn’t get to 65 and Friday’s high is 55. It’s a great day to be on a bike!

And as I was riding, there were a lot of low clouds. So much so that the tallest peak, Spencer Butte was entirely obscured. In Seattle, they have a unique way of talking about clouds and Mt. Rainier. When it’s clear, and you can see the mountain, they say, “the mountain’s out”. So today, the Butte was not out. Throughout the ride, the sun and blue skies tried to peek through.  And then the low cloud cover would take over. 

When I got to the Willamette River, it was lighter out. The clouds were thinning. But still the sun was obscured. It was beautiful, in a hazy, promising way.   

And with all of this, I arrived at work with an immense sense of gratitude. Here goes my gratitude markers for today. All pretty mundane and everyday.

• I’m grateful my wheel didn’t collapse while I was riding on the busy street. 
• I’m grateful my bike’s back, and it’s a nice day to ride.
• I’m grateful that I know there’s a Butte behind the clouds.
• I’m grateful that I know it’s going to be a beautiful day, even with the obscured hazy morning.

The thing about gratitude is that it’s really easy to miss the things that should make our heart sing. Instead of being grateful, it’s easy to be upset about the very things that should bring us joy. It’s not so much that I’m always like Pollyanna, but rather that I strive to move through the grousing to the place of gratitude. I like the idea of journaling and keeping track of gratitude moments. And I likely will never do it consistently. But with practice, I believe it’s easier to infuse the everyday with moments of gratitude. 

Thinking about gratitude and the peek-a-boo sun, I'm reminded of faith. Grace is always there.  God is always there. Sometimes we blow through our days and don't notice. We complain about the sun obscured by the clouds, or even miss that the sun is there at all.  But it is.  Always there.  Maybe that's what gratitude does, is gives us the perspective to see the sun through the clouds.  To see the grace in our everyday.