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New Testament Reading—Matthew 16: 24-26
I’d like to begin this morning with a story about a village at the foot of a large mountain. Once upon a time, in the center of this village was a large golden box with a capital M engraved on the top. The box had become a point of division in the town, so much so that those who held one view of the box lived on one side, and those who held another view lived on the other. Each side even had a different story about how the box came to be in the center of the town. According to one side, legend had it that there was once a very wise woman who had journeyed to the top of the mountain to pray and meditate for forty days. When she finally came back down, she brought with her this golden box. Without saying a word, she placed it in the center of the village, and ever since then those who lived on the side of the village that lay in the direction of the rising sun, viewed the box with a curiosity that inspired awe and wonder.
On the other side of the box, a different story was told. According to this side, legend had it that there was once a crazy, demented woman who had been kicked out of the village because she represented a grave danger to their way of life. She had thus been forced to live in the woods on top of the mountain. Then, one day she entered into the village against the wishes of the people. No one dared confront her because she was carrying the box. They feared it possessed dangerous powers that could ruin the entire village. Ever since then those who lived on the side of the village that lay in the direction of the setting sun, viewed the box with a fear that inspired dread and revulsion.
While no one knew what really happened long ago when the box first appeared, life in the village came to reflect the different stories of what transpired. On the side of the box that faced the rising sun, the village people set up shrines and altars full of the most beautiful and precious items they possessed. There were bouquets of flowers, harvested fruits and vegetables, scented candles, and pictures of loved ones. Villagers came to the box often. They pondered over what it contained. They discussed it, asked each other questions, dreamed about its contents—there was no end to what could be said or thought. Little children were told about the box from a very young age. They were often found playing with the box and climbing on it. They loved to rub its smooth sides and stare into its brilliant gold.
On the other side of the village that faced the setting sun, the villagers had placed warning signs and tall fences with sharp, jagged tops. They had strict rules about the box. One could only come so close to it. One couldn’t even talk about it unless it was to explain to children that they must never venture near it or even say a word about it. The people on this side of the village felt so strongly about these rules that whenever someone violated one of them that person was forced to leave their half of the village for fear that they could bring ruin to everyone else.
Well, life in the village continued this way for a number of years until one day the woman returned. The woman who brought the box returned to the village, and ever so slowly she walked down the main street of the village toward the box. She was, of course, very old by this point—well over a hundred. As she walked, people from both sides of the village gathered on their respective sides of the street. On the side of the street where the people feared the box, they whispered in anger, “There’s that crazy, demented woman! She’s come to ruin us!” On the side of the street where the people viewed the box in awe and wonder, they shouted with joy, “She’s here! She’s here! The wise and wonderful woman is here! Maybe she will tell us the secret of the box!”
Very slowly, the woman made her way to the box, and once she arrived, she turned to face the crowds. She motioned with her hands for the crowds to quiet down, and soon there was nothing but a hushed silence. Then, in a voice that was almost a whisper she told the villagers that the M on the top of the box revealed everything they needed to know about the box. She then whispered what the M stood for. When those on the side of the rising sun heard, they roared with delight and joy. They danced in the streets and sang in celebration. When those on the side of the setting sun heard, they yelled in anger and fear. They picked up stones and threatened to kill the crazy, demented woman, but amazingly by the time they had picked up their stones to throw them, the woman had vanished. And, what was it that the crazy, demented, wise, and wonderful woman whispered? She whispered that the M stood for Mystery and that the Mystery was all around them. And that, my friends, is the story of the golden box that contained what is perhaps one of the most terrifying, or wonderful, powers in the world.
I will return to the meaning of this story at the end of my sermon, but for now, I want to tell you another story about when I was a doctoral student six or seven years ago. At the time, I was conducting research for my dissertation, and it required that I visit a wide range of churches that were generally fairly different than the UCC church to which I belonged at the time. One of the churches was a non-denominational church that could be described as fundamentalist. I both appreciated the church and had some problems with it. What I appreciated was that the people in the church at times had a lot of fun in their worship services. They joked and laughed and had a good time praising and worshipping God. What I had trouble with was their approach to the Bible. The Bible seemed to have a couple of functions. First, it was read with a very narrow focus on individual salvation and prosperity, and second, it was used a kind of rule book for belittling and condemning those who didn’t tow the line. In essence, the Bible could either be a lifeline or a weapon depending on who it was aimed at. This wasn’t a church in which you would want to raise any questions about the Bible or about faith or anything like that. It was clear what one needed to believe.
In one of the sermons preached, the pastor illustrated what I liked and didn’t like about the church. The pastor was standing up there with the Bible in his hands, and he was pretending that his Bible was like the Nunchakus one sees in Kung Fu movies. He was up their wielding the Bible, saying “Huh-yuh! Ahhhhh-Huh-yuh!” The congregation thought it was hilarious, and it was all about this idea of using the Bible as a weapon to fight Satan whoever or wherever that might be. I remember after I left the church that day I went to do some work at a computer lab on campus, and I saw one of my friends there. I told him about this church, and how they had so much fun, but they had these beliefs that I just thought were stifling and oppressive. My friend then replied, “I guess it’s easy to have fun when you believe you have all the answers.”
The comment has stuck with me ever since. When I first reflected on it, it actually made me feel kind of depressed. I thought to myself how can a non-fundamentalist church compete with this. In the UCC, you’ve got churches that like to encourage questions and encourage accepting that there is a lot of mystery in the world. We are not about saying we’ve got all the answers. So are we destined to be un-fun? That’s not very attractive. Since then, of course, my thinking has developed. For one thing, I found this church, and this is certainly a church in which people like to have fun. Still, I had been having trouble with how exactly one is to raise probing questions about faith and embrace mystery in a way that is broadly compelling to people. In the past year, a couple of things have helped me immensely in coming to terms with this.
The first thing I realized is that what we are really talking about here is having a disposition toward life that is one of curiosity and exploration. My eleven-month year-old daughter has helped me immensely in appreciating this. When I crawl around the floor with her at home as we go from one drawer or cabinet to the next, it is just incredible to see how curious she is and how much delight it brings her. Curiosity can be an extraordinarily fun thing. It can also be more than that. I’ve discovered that when I face something in life that has me full of worry and fear it helps me if I reframe the situation by thinking to myself, “Hmmm…how can I approach this situation with some curiosity? Instead of fearing or worrying about what will happen, what if I am curious to see how things will unfold and develop? What if I realize that whatever happens is going to teach me something new and different?” It’s amazing how much better I feel when I make this subtle mental adjustment to how I approach things.
The other thing I have come to realize is that questions are actually at the core of our faith tradition. Jesus’s teaching strategy was essentially to tell stories and ask questions. He was all about getting people to think and figure things out for themselves. Sometimes he literally asked, “What do you think?” According to one source, Jesus raised 173 questions in the gospels. Our scripture for today includes a couple of those questions, “For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?” These questions are fascinating to me, because essentially what Jesus is doing is he is raising questions as a way to get people to dig deeper into the meaning of life and what our fundamental purpose is? Is it meaningful to become wealthy and do all the things the rest of the world thinks is great and wonderful? Or, is it more meaningful to lead a life of service, of self-giving, of loving regard and commitment to others? Jesus is essentially provoking his audience by saying, “You may think you’ve got all the golden goodies you could want in your hands right now, but I am telling you if you dig deeper, you might find some spiritual gold that’s even better? What you’re doing right now doesn’t make one feel truly alive.” We can’t dig for that spiritual gold by thinking we already know everything there is to know about faith and God. The only way we can dig for that spiritual gold is by asking questions, by being curious enough to shovel away some dirt to see what’s underneath.
I think a lot of people want to dig for spiritual gold, for the kind of gold that is going to make their lives more meaningful and purposeful, but I think having the kind of curious life that leads to this is easier said than done. There was recently a bestselling book called Curiosity? by Todd Kashdan that is based on Kashdan’s research on the neuroscience of curiosity as well as his experiences in using curiosity as a central concept as a therapist. One of the things he says is that we often “take curiosity for granted, we don’t use it in service of anything, much less ‘something larger than the self.’ Instead of using our curiosity to guide us toward what is intriguing and valuable, we get trapped in well-worn habits and routines. We become passive and wait for new things to happen to us.” He continues on by making the argument that we have to be intentional about curiosity if we are really going to put it to effective use in our lives.
What I want to contend this morning is that one of the best ways to be intentional about anything is to be a part of a community that intentionally does exactly what it is that you want to do. Herein lies why I think a church should love questions. Questions are what lead us to the spiritual gold, and we are most likely to get to the spiritual gold if we are doing it together. If Jesus realized that questions lead to a rich and meaningful life, and if we realize that questions do this, then why wouldn’t a church love questions? Why wouldn’t we want to make curiosity a virtue that drives us and leads us to our intellectual and spiritual nourishment? I suspect not everyone is keen on this kind of approach to faith because we live in a world that is a lot like the village in my opening story. For some, the mystery of the divine that is all around us is something to be feared and denied. For them, mystery is something that requires rules to keep it off limits for discussion and reflection. And yet, for others, mystery is something altogether different. It’s full of excitement, wonder, and awe. Exploring the mysterious world around us is what brings the delight and joy of children to us even as adults. It’s what brings us meaning and purpose. In this church, I am glad it’s something that we can celebrate each Sunday. Amen.