Pentecost
16A/Lectionary 26
September 28,
2014
Philippians
2:1-13
Grace to
you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
Last
week I went to a professional development event with some other clergy. One of
the workshops was called “Psalms to Go,” and was an artistic expression of a
meditation on the Psalms. I am always interested in learning more about how
faith and the arts can come together, so I went. The first thing we did was to listen
to a few Psalms read aloud, and write down any words or images that came to
mind. I found this this to be easy, fun, and joyful. Then we received a blank
scarf and a pile of Sharpies in different colors, and were instructed to use
those words and images to decorate the scarves, creating a sort of transportable
piece of “sacred space” which we could bring with us wherever we go. Hence:
Psalms to go.
 |
| Here's how it turned out! |
I
stared at my blank, white scarf in distress. Even though I had very happily
come up with images and words, and had a sense of what I would like on my
scarf, all my self-doubt crept in and took away the joy I had felt from our
earlier meditations. I would mess it up, I thought. It wouldn’t look like I
wanted it to. I wouldn’t know what colors were the “right” colors. And worst of
all, where a real artist might see the wide open blankness of the white scarf
and think “potential!” I saw it and thought, “Too empty. Too open.”
I
don’t do well with open spaces and emptiness. Whether writing a paper or
painting a picture or praying or dreaming of landscaping, I do best with
guidelines, structure, and something to work with. And within that structured
space, I like to fill in all the gaps – adding words to silence, or color to
blankness, or activity to idleness. Our workshop leader had urged us to keep
some open space on our scarves to leave room for other prayers that might come
to us as we use them, but even this was hard for me to do. Once I finally did
get going, I wanted every space to be filled. Emptiness was bad; fullness was
good.
 |
| Another part of the same workshop: a collective reflection |
Right
off the tails of that experience, I read this morning’s text from Philippians,
and the images that remained with me were the contrasts between emptiness and
fullness. Take out that text again and I’ll show you. That first word, “if,” is
not a conditional “if.” It is more like, “because.” So Paul starts out,
“Because there is encouragement in Christ, consolation from love, sharing in
the Spirit, compassion and sympathy… make
my joy complete.” He starts, you see, with the fullness of God in our lives
– encouragement, love, sharing, compassion, sympathy. “Be like this,” he says,
“like Christ, and you will feel the fullness of joy.” Full. Complete. But then
he goes on, quoting an ancient Christian hymn, to talk about how we were able
to come about that fullness: Christ once had the fullness of divinity, he says,
and all the power of that, but instead of staying there, does what? (see verse
7)… “He emptied himself.” So now we have the contrast between the fullness of
God and the emptying of himself to become human. But because he emptied
himself, what happens? (see verse 9) He is exalted, experiencing once again the
fullness of God, and bringing all of humanity with him. In giving of himself,
emptying himself, Christ was not only able to fill us up – with love,
encouragement, compassion, all that – but also to himself be exalted.
It’s
an image that I can sort of grasp, but that I don’t particularly like, if I’m
going to be honest with you. The reason is: I don’t like emptiness. I don’t
like it when I’m doing art, I don’t like it when I pray, I don’t like it when
I’m starting a sermon, I don’t like it in my gas tank. I have been thinking
about this all week, and I think the reason I don’t like the idea of Jesus
emptying himself, or of me emptying myself, is that I so often feel emptiness
as a bad thing. I come home from a long day of hard work and I’m spent, and
exhausted. I don’t eat for a few hours and my empty stomach grumbles and I have
no energy. I remember when I was a new driver and I would get gas, and as a
teenager with a full tank, I felt I could take on the world! But with an empty
tank, all I see is limitation. Emptiness is a bad thing.
But, as I have
reflected on emptiness this week, I have also realized: not all emptiness is
bad. There are some days when I come home spent and exhausted – but it is the
exhaustion that comes from a heart that can hardly contain all the joy it is
holding. There are times when my gas tank is empty – because I have just had
the chance to travel to see dear friends or family. There are times
These instances of
emptiness are different because even though I have given of my time and energy
resources, that giving has been a joyful experience, an experience in which I
felt God being glorified. At the end of this passage from Philippians, Paul
tells his audience, “It is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will
and work for his good pleasure.” Like that table, once full of food, Christ
emptied himself so that we could be full, so that God could work in us, giving us the energy to work
for God’s good pleasure. In fact, the word translated here as “work in you” is energeo, the Greek word from which we get “energy.” When we do what
God intended for us to do, we are energized; we spend energy in service,
emptying ourselves, but we also receive the energy that comes from joy in
Christ.
Today at Bethlehem and
next week at St. Martin after worship, we will be offering an opportunity to discover
your spiritual gifts. We believe the Holy Spirit gifts each of us with
particular abilities – not just physical abilities like sewing or cooking or
lifting heavy things, but also more abstract abilities, like discernment, or
hospitality, or knowledge, or mercy. Calling these “gifts” is appropriate,
because when a gift is given, it is intended to bring the receiver joy, right?
And so even when we may invest time and energy to use those gifts, we receive
in turn the joy of having done something that brings fullness to our life. And
so even as we empty ourselves, empty the work of our hands and hearts, into the
service of another, we are filled with the joy that comes from service, and
from using what God has gifted us with.
And
this is what Paul means when he says, “Let the same mind be in you that was in
Christ Jesus…” who gave up his post in heaven and emptied himself to become
human, and experience all the best and hardest aspects of humanity. And in turn
he was exalted and praised, having experienced the fullness of life – life on earth
as well as eternal life. So this is Paul’s charge to us: to empty ourselves, so
that we might in turn be filled with the fullness of joy in Christ Jesus. Even
though it brings joy, it can also be hard work. But we can trust that Paul’s
words are true, that God is at work in us, enabling us and giving us the energy
to will and to work for God’s good pleasure.
Let
us pray… God of encouragement and love,
make our joy complete: grant us the same mind that was in Christ Jesus, willing
to use our God-given gifts for the service of others, willing to empty
ourselves so that we might experience the fullness of joy in your love. In the
name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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