I’m wary of a scripture that begins: “Don’t be anxious about anything.”
I’m wary... because there is plenty in the world to be anxious about right now. (That is such an understatement.)
I’m wary – about a scripture that begins “Don’t be anxious about anything” – because, I am an anxious person. I am hard-wired to worry.
And, I’m wary – about a scripture that begins “Don’t be anxious about anything”– because, well, when has that ever worked? When has it ever made anyone less anxious by simply saying, “Don’t worry?” In fact, that usually has the opposite effect on me: When I’m anxious, and someone says “Don’t be anxious; don’t worry,” that just makes me more anxious.
I’m wary of a scripture that begins like that.
But I’m willing to give it a listen.. because it is the Apostle Paul writing – and he’s writing it in his letter to the Philippians.[1] And we know – because we’ve talked about Philippians before – that the Apostle Paul is writing this from prison – charged with capital crimes against empire. He’s writing from a prison that we know he will never leave. So out from that context, when he writes, ““Don’t be anxious about anything.,” it’s so surprising and startling that I’m willing to give him a listen.
This is not the Apostle Paul we are used to hearing. The Apostle Paul we know from his other letters is often full of holy bombast and bluster – and we love him for that. He has had a transformative experience of the Risen Christ, and he gets it. The Apostle Paul grasps how radically expansive the Good News of Jesus Christ is – God’s love more expansive and inclusive than ever we imagined. And so Paul takes off with this urgent good news – and travels the known world – Ephesus, Corinth, Athens, Thessalonica, Philippi. City to city – bringing the good news – forming and nurturing communities that commit to follow the way of Jesus – and then on to the next city.
And, as the Apostle Paul travels, he writes these letters back to the communities he has helped birth and nurture.[2] Some have fallen into disagreement; some are straying from what he has taught; there are opponents following him around, trying to undo the good work he has done – and so Paul writes in urgent defense of the good news. The stakes are high: Everything depends on us understanding (1) who Jesus is, and (2) who we are in Jesus Christ. That’s the Apostle Paul we know – arguing, contending, insisting.
But, here, the powers have caught up with the Apostle. He’s finally been caught up in chains he can’t escape – and he’s sent, in those chains, to Rome, to be tried.
And that’s where he writes this letter. From prison, in Rome. And this letter is different. For the most part, it’s not his typical urgent no-holds-barred defense. It is – at its heart – a thank you letter – a lovely, loving expression of gratitude. You see, it appears that one of those little communities he has nurtured hears of his imprisonment – and they send help. In those days, prisoners had to provide their own support – and so the community in Philippi sends money – so that he will not starve. Not only that, they send someone to go and care for him – to go and advocate for him – Epaphroditus. Paul arrives in prison, and there at the jailhouse door is Epaphroditus – sent by this little community at Philippi – to help. And Paul writes, back to them: “Thank you. Thank you for sharing in my suffering Thank you for your deep concern, for your provision, for your partnership. I am amply supplied.” Paul writes to thank them, to reassure them (“I am OK even in the worst of circumstances”), and to remind them of who they are in Jesus Christ. “What you have done for me here – this is who we are in Jesus Christ. Thank you.”
When we’ve talked about gratitude before, we’ve talked about it as a culmination. God’s grace abounds, again and again and again – and our response to that abounding grace is gratitude. Grace and gratitude circling out into the world in ever-expanding circles of generosity – like a pebble dropped into a pond. We’ve talked about gratitude as the culmination.
AND, here, Paul is talking about gratitude as the very beginning.[3] From prison, in the midst of the worst that empire can do, ““Don’t be anxious about anything.” Ground yourself in gratitude. God is near. In prayer – with thanksgiving – let all that is on your heart be made known to God. Ground yourself in thanksgiving – in the goodness of God. That is your steady place to stand – even in the worst of times.
When we’ve talked about gratitude before, we’ve noticed that gratitude is a feeling – a whole-body response to the experience of life as a gift.[4] We’ve noticed that gratitude is an action – we do something in response to grace – it sets in motion a pattern of reciprocity.[5]And we’ve noticed that eventually gratitude can become an ethic – a way of living in the world with generous and open hearts.[6]
To all that, this morning, I want to add this – because I think it’s at the heart of the Apostle Paul’s gentle word: Gratitude, also, is a particular form of attention. I get this from Robin Wall Kimmerer – author of Braiding Sweetgrass[7] – who has a new book out: The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World. Robin Wall Kimmerer draws on indigenous understandings and says that modern culture has robbed us our capacity to stand in the world with a broad and expansive attention.[8] We are transfixed by the news, and social media – the cacophony of this anxious world – and that’s all we can see and hear.
She suggests taking a breath and standing in the world with quiet, expansive attention – seeing the world whole. In her book Braiding Sweetgrass, as an example, she offers an Indigenous Thanksgiving Address (a litany)–
· that considers the earth, and gives thanks;
· that considers the waters, and gives thanks;
· that considers those who have gone before us, and gives thanks;
· that considers those who are around us, and gives thanks;
· that considers the plants that give us air, and gives thanks, and so on.[9]
David Stendl-Rast writes that gratitude begins with surprise.[10] He says we live in a world of “givens” – so much of the world that feels like it is thrust upon us, that we can’t control. That’s our context. And, he says there’s also so much of life that is “gift.” The givens of life, and the gift of life. Neither one negates the other. Stendl-Rast encourages us though, not to forget the gift – the surprise – right there in the midst of things. The sun rises; the next breath comes; someone reaches out a hand to hold; the powers that hold us down crumble just a bit. He reminds us to “look past the predictable husk of things to their core and there find a kernel of surprise.” [11]
I appreciate very much what Dvera said about “enough” last week. Kara Root – in her book The Deepest Belonging – says that there are two narratives at work in the world.[12]There’s the narrative of scarcity – it’s the dominant narrative. This dominative narrative views the world as fixed and limited. It is about competition and consumption. Having more is better. Rugged individualism is a value. Self-sufficiency is everything.
Jesus, she says, with his “kingdom of God” talk introduces an alternative reality – one that looks to God’s abundance. This alternative narrative of God’s abundance sees life as a gift – the love and abundance of God as something to be shared. In this alternative, life is about interdependence, mutuality, connection, and communion.
“Daily,” she writes, “we are given many, many chances to choose which way we will live, which message we will believe, which reality will define us.”[13]
The alternative narrative – of gratitude, mutuality, and sharing – is how the Apostle Paul can sit in prison – realistic about the hardships he faces – and receive this tender care from this community he has loved and write – “Thank you – God is near – let your gentleness be made known to all. Be anxious for nothing; pray your needs to God with thanksgiving.” Paul directs their attention: “If anything is true, if anything is worthy, or just, or pure, or pleasing, or commendable – think on these things.” Ground yourselves there.
This alternative narrative of gratitude, generosity, and sharing is why each week here – as we stand in the midst of things – and take them seriously and honestly – as we seek the work that is ours to do – even when it is hard and daunting work – every week, we also ask, “And what is one thing for which you are grateful?” We ground ourselves there.
Here’s something I’m grateful for. I was away this past week – back home in Alabama – part of a grieving and heartbroken family. Now back a couple of days, I have realized that every single meal I ate over the past week was... a gift. On the night I arrived in Alabama, there was a neighbor at the doorstep bringing a pot of hastily made chicken and dumplings. As she left, she promised to be back in the morning with breakfast pastries. And there she was the next morning. There were deli platters so we could make our lunches. There was a charcuterie plate – where the vegetables had been cut – and the meat arranged – to look like flowers. Folks brought salads – because with all those meats, cheese, and pastries when other folks asked what they could bring – we started to ask for salads. There was hambone soup. And there was, of course, cornbread. And then there was, of course, more cornbread. For a week, every meal I ate was a gift.
Now, none of this changed the heartbreaking reality we are living –
but for these tender mercies – we are deeply grateful.
And then I returned, here, to this community – where we were preparing to surround Irene Ng’s family with love for yesterday’s memorial service. The deacons were doing what the deacons do – helping with the reception – baking brownies and such. Karl and John were in here trying to figure out what to do with the leak coming in from the memorial garden – so that this space would be ready for the family. Natsuko was practicing for the service through all that ; and Maureen was quietly arranging the flowers.
Choosing to embrace and live out lives of gratitude, generosity, and sharing, it is a radical subversive act. It is to undermine the dominant narrative. It is to say:
“No.
I choose to live to build a world that looks like this.
I choose to live to build a world
where those who mourn are comforted
where those who are refugees far from home find shelter,
where those who are hungry are fed,
where those who are lonely are companioned,
where the unjust systems of this world, inexorably,
bit by bit, are dismantled
so that all can live free."
Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, think on these things – give your full attention to these things.
In just a moment, when we take up our offering, we will do all the things we do, and then some – and it may look a bit of a mess. We’ll take up the morning offering. As the ushers do that, folks will bring cans for the foodbank. It’s a Centsability Sunday, so folks will bring gifts to help with hunger action. We’ll be bringing our pledges for the coming year – to support the life of all we do here. I’m going to invite us to receive as a gift, a symbol of our commitment here. Natsuko will play the offertory, and we’ll offer prayers of gratitude. We will do all the things, and we will ground ourselves again in a baseline of gratitude, generosity, and sharing.
We will say: This is who we are in Jesus Christ.
Let’s give the Apostle Paul the last word: There he sits in prison, and Epaphroditus arrives with a gift from the little community he loves in Philippi – and Paul writes back: Thank you. Rejoice in God always. Again I say rejoice. Let your gentleness be made known to everyone. God is near. Be anxious for nothing. But in prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God, and the peace of God, that surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.
© 2024 Scott Clark
[1] For general background on this text and Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, see Morna D. Hooker, “The Letter to the Philippians,” New Interpreters’ Bible Commentary, vol. xi (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2000).
[2] For more on the life of the Apostle Paul in relationship to his letters and theology, see Udo Schnelle, Apostle Paul: His Life and Theology (trans. M.E. Boring) (New York: Baker Publishing Group, 2005).
[3] See also See Diana Butler Bass, Grateful (New York: HarperOne, 2017) (“To feel gratitude is not the caboose of some freight train. It is the beginning.”), p.44.
[4] See Diana Butler Bass, Grateful (New York: HarperOne, 2017).
[5] Id.
[6] Id. p.52
[7] See Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants(Minneapolis, MN: Milkweed Editions, 2013).
[8] See Interview with Dan Harris, on the Ten Percent Happier Podcast, at https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/10-happier-with-dan-harris/id1087147821?i=1000676223091
[9] Braiding Sweetgrass, pp.105-118.
[10] See David Stendl-Rast, Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer: An Approach to Life in Fullness (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), pp.10-11.
[11] Id. p.13.
[12] Kara Root, The Deepest Belonging: A Story about Discovering Where God Meets Us (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2021) (citing to the work of Walter Brueggemann), pp.151-56.
[13] See id. p.154.
Photo credit: Aaron Burden, used with permission via Unsplash
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