Close, But Not Quite

I’d like to begin our time together with the words of a favorite poet, Dorothy Parker

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
'My fragile leaves,' it said, 'his heart enclose.'
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose. 

How often have you found yourself in a similar to position to Mrs. Parker? By that I mean, how often have you gotten something from life that one should be grateful for, but the gift doesn’t quite hit the spot?

Sometimes the thing that comes into your life isn’t a gift at all, but the result of a mistake that you’ve made. Some of you may have listened to the episode of This American Life from this week’s Weekend Update, if you were able to, you’ll know the story about the couple just out of graduate school who bought what they hoped was going to be their dream dining room table, only to receive, via eBay, a piece of doll house furniture.  Well crafted, and as lovely as the picture in the advertisement, but not large enough for their desires.

Of course the conundrum isn’t always humorous, and sometimes a “buck up” attitude isn’t all that is needed to fix the situation.

One of the most difficult challenges in doing the kind of work that helping professionals do, and by this I mean people in Social Work, ministry, health careers, law enforcement and education…a small and incomplete list, the most difficult thing to face is what I’m going to call “layers of barriers.”

It’s not enough to be out of a job, that’s a difficult enough position to be in, but when you’re out of a job and your car, which isn’t paid for, breaks down, and the electric company is sending you notices with a red stripe at the bottom and your fridge is on the empty side…

This is an example of layers of barriers.

You might be able to address one or two of the problems, but when it gets to be three or four or six, it can prove to be overwhelming.

And if you’re in a helping career, and it may not be your own fridge that’s empty, or your car that’s broken, you know the helplessness and desperation of the person on the other end of the telephone, or sitting next to you at the table.

And you think, either on behalf of this other human being or yourself…this isn’t what I wanted.

It’s moments like these that we need others. What isn’t helpful is when “others” tell us to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.

In the film clip from On Golden Pond, you can see Henry and Jane Fonda acting out a scene that may feel a little familiar to you. You’re trying to communicate with someone you’re supposed to have an easy relationship with, and it’s frustrating.

Fathers and daughters are supposed to get along like two peas in a pod…everyone knows that. There are Father/Daughter dances that promote that kind of thing. They are related for the Love of Pete, and they’re supposed to have an innate affection for each other.

And if they don’t, somehow, one of them has failed, right?

Jane Fonda has said in interviews that On Golden Pond was a very difficult film for her to make, and a great joy,  saying that sometimes the line blurred between fiction and real life. She and her father had a difficult relationship, and there were plenty of things that she did that her father didn’t approve of.  This scene in particular, she said, was very raw for the pair.

The daughter is trying to be seen and validated by her father, most of us have had moments when we didn’t feel seen and understood.

And all of this is taking place in the middle of a family vacation, on a beautiful lake, wish fishing and family all around.  The kind of thing that is supposed to be amazing and fun-filled.

Except it’s more complicated then that.

It’s the complicated that I bring to you this morning.

When I was younger, adulthood seemed so simple. You go to work you pay your bills, and there’s always just enough money to do that and have pizza once in a while. You have a spouse you love, you may have 2 or 3 children, and you have a swimming pool.

That’s what I thought adulthood would be like when I was 8 or 9.

That and you got to go to bed whenever you choose to do so.

It turns out that adulthood is far more complicated then that.

I am very happy in my life, and I live a comfortable life. This was not always the case, and because it was not always the case, my awareness of this I hope inspires an ever-preset sense of gratitude.

Like the thought of Allah in the spiritual life of a Muslim, I try to keep gratitude in my every thought.

There are times when this slips, of course, but I dust myself off and try again.

Do you remember a few weeks ago, when I opened our worship service with the words of The Rev. Leslie Takashi?  She wove for us a new interpretation of a poem by Rumi.

Come, come, whoever you are

Come with your hurts, your imperfections,

your places that feel raw and exposed.

Come, come, whoever you are

Come with your strengths that the world shudders to hold

come with your wild imaginings of a better world,

come with your hopes that it seems no one wants to hear.

Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving we will make a place for you,

we will build a home together.

Ours is no caravan of despair.

We walk together; Come, yet again come.

Part of what speaks to me so deeply about the hymn in our gray “Come, come whoever you are” is that we are invited to try again and again, allowed to make mistakes and to be fully human, and still yet be invited to travel with companions.  

I am in a position of great comfort, and yet my heart breaks on a regular basis. I have the great joy of being the minister to a congregation of really terrific people. I am the public figure of ministry for this church, and I do my work both inside and outside of the walls of this sanctuary.

But the people in this congregation and world I serve have problems, and since I care for them, since I care deeply for the people who I was called to serve, their heartbreak breaks my own heart.

What did I want when I stepped my foot into my first classroom at University? A good job that made good money that I could be proud of.

I got that.

I also got regular opportunities to shed tears of sorrow.

And also tears of joy.

It isn’t exactly what I thought it was going to be, this job I pictured when I was 19 stepping onto a college campus for the first time.

But I embrace my job in its entirety.

Life says to me, as Ava Gardner said to Howard Hughes as he asked “Does the water look clean to you?” She says “Nothing’s clean, Howard, but we do our best.”

We do our best. If we do our honest, truth be told, cross my heart best…it is enough.

Even when it may not feel like it’s enough. It is, because it has to be.

Most of us want to be helpful. We want to lead lives that make the lives of others easier. Whether we are teachers, code monkeys, nurses, librarians, police officers or conscientious wait staff.

But no matter our gallant efforts, there is always going to be a gap between what we, as mere human beings can do and the need that there is to be met.

So what is our response to this conundrum then? Since we are people on a spiritual journey in a house of religious worship, I would like to recommend a spiritual answer.

Our friends who practice Buddhism might suggest that we let go of our need to make all things better. Kindness and caring are very important practices, of course, but if your attachment to solving all problems causes you to suffer, you must release that which makes you suffer. Your suffering benefits no one.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said it like this: Not everything that is more difficult is more meritorious.

Our Christian friends, indeed those who practice Abrahamic religions, which would also include our Jewish and Muslim neighbors, might turn to their understanding of G-d. We have in our own hymnal remnants of this theology “Oh, God our help in ages past.” G-d is there to help share the burden one feels.

Friends of ours who are Pagan and Pantheistic may have Gods and Goddesses they pray will accompany them while struggle.

And for those who cannot in good conscience turn toward the supernatural, I offer you this possibility…there is something greater than the individual who struggles alone, there is a community here. We have a covenant between us that is greater than we are as individuals. Our covenant, our relationship, is our strength.

We are the place we can turn to for aid in troubling times. We are the place where our joys are multiplied by the celebrations of others. Where our victories are hailed, and our sorrows comforted.

When life is not exactly what it is you wanted, you are being offered the chance to grow as a spiritual being.

You can respond to this challenge in many ways, the healthiest of which, I think, is to accept it, but not too easily. Also remember that to accept a reality is not the same as bowing down to it, or allowing reality to keep you from growing despite limitations.

Those limitations should serve as inspiration for growth.

I had a friend, a colleague really, who accepted a call to a church near Detroit. She and her husband wanted to live in a certain, quirky part of the city which is known for it’s great architecture and history.  She was unable to find a house there they liked and could afford.  So they chose a different city. As she told me the story of the house they chose out of necessity, and I, not having seen it, was able to describe to her the house in detail.

Not because I had a psychic vision, or anything. But rather because an aunt of mine had a duplicate house of my friends, just 3 miles down the road.

Three miles of houses so similar that I could see it in my mind’s eye, right down to the half wall in the living room, and the step down into the family room from the kitchen.

For my friend, who is far from a cookie-cutter human being, to buy this cookie-cutter house, well, it felt like a giant defeat, and she was struggling with how she was going to feel at home in a house such as this.

It was what she should have wanted, right? A solid house, in a solid neighborhood.

But it wasn’t what she wanted, and she struggled with not wanting what should have been a perfectly good option for her and her family.

We talked though, about how art requires structure for tension, and it is within the dance of structure and spirit that the artist thrives. That she could use this cookie-cutter structure to help her to frame her idea of home, but not constrain it. 

May you have the wisdom, when life offers you that which isn’t exactly what you wanted, may you have the wisdom to find the good in what you must. If you cannot may you find someone who may help you to do so.

May you gain the wisdom in this world to take joy for what comes your way, and to let life’s curveballs perchance show you a new direction in which to grow.

And when the news you get is truly, truly bad, please remember our relationship here in this congregation. Remember that there are friends here for helping you, for helping you grow.

It is my prayer that the people who come through the doors of our sanctuary find always that, a sanctuary. A place for sorrow, a place for joy, and a place for love.

May it be ever so.

Amen.