Readings for the Service of Celebration for the Graduates
The College of William & Mary
May 12, 2012
From the Mukunda Mala, verses 10 and 14, by Kulashekhara
Alvar (9th century):
O foolish mind, stop your fearful fretting about
the many problems of life. How can misfortune even touch you? After all, your
Lord is the source of all good fortune! So cast aside all hesitation and
concentrate your thoughts on Lord Krishna, whom one can easily attain through
devotional service. Lord Krishna dispels the whole world's troubles—so what
will he not do for his own servant?
Once we have seen our Savior, the challenges of
the whole earth becomes no greater than a speck of dust, all the waters of the
ocean become mere droplets, a great fire becomes a minute spark, the winds
become just a faint sigh, and the expanse of space becomes a tiny hole. Indeed,
even one particle of dust from our Lord's feet conquers all!
Psalm 23 – A
Psalm of David.
The Eternal is my shepherd; I shall
never be in need.
Amid the choicest grasses does God
set me down.
God leads me by the calmest waters,
and restores my soul.
God takes me along paths of
righteousness,
in keeping with the honor of God's
name.
Even should I wander in a valley of
the darkest shadows, I will fear no evil.
You are with me, God. Your power
and support are there to comfort me.
You set in front of me a table in
the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup
is overflowing.
Surely, good and loving-kindness
will pursue me all the days of my life,
and I shall come to dwell inside
the house of The Eternal for a length of days.
Luke 12:13-21
Someone from the
crowd said to Jesus, “ Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with
me. ” Jesus said to him, “ Man, who appointed me as
judge or referee between you and your brother?”
Then
Jesus said to them, “ Watch out! Guard yourself against all kinds of
greed. After all, one’s life isn’t determined by one’s possessions, even when
someone is very wealthy. ” Then he told them a
parable: “ A certain rich man’s land produced a bountiful crop. He
said to himself, What will I do? I have no place to store my harvest! Then
he thought, Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll tear down my barns and build bigger ones.
That’s where I’ll store all my grain and goods. I’ll
say to myself, You have stored up plenty of goods, enough for several years.
Take it easy! Eat, drink, and enjoy yourself. But God
said to him, ‘Fool, tonight you will die. Now who will get the things you have
prepared for yourself?’ This is the way it will be for
those who hoard things for themselves and aren’t rich toward God.”
Then
Jesus said to his disciples, “ Therefore, I say to you, don’t be anxious
about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will
wear. There is more to life than food and more to the body
than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither plant
nor harvest, they have no silo or barn, yet God feeds them. You are worth so
much more than birds! Who among you by being anxious
can add a single moment to your life? If you can’t do
such a small thing, why be anxious about the rest? Notice
how the lilies grow. They don’t wear themselves out with work, and they don’t
spin cloth. But I say to you that even Solomon in all his splendor wasn’t
dressed like one of these. If God dresses grass in the
field so beautifully, even though it’s alive today and tomorrow it’s thrown
into the furnace, how much more will God do for you, you people of weak
faith! Don’t chase after what you will eat and what you
will drink. Stop worrying. All the nations of the world
long for these things. Your Father knows that you need them. Instead,
seek God's kingdom and these things will be given to you as well.
Holy Qur’an (13:28,
2:152, 10:57-58)
When addressing anxiety, the ultimate advice from God in
the Quran is: "Surely in the remembrance of God do hearts find rest."
"So remember Me – I will remember you."
"O mankind, there has come to you a protection from
your Lord and a healing for what is in your hearts, and for those who believe,
a guidance and a mercy." Say, "In the bounty of God and in His mercy
– in that let them rejoice; it is better than what they accumulate."
“Anxiety: Its Gifts and Antidotes”
Luke 12:13-31
A sermon preached by Carla Pratt Keyes
for the College of William & Mary’s Service of Celebration for the Graduates
May 12, 2012
I’d like to start by saying a word
of thanks to the Senior Class of 2012 for inviting me to join you today, and to
each student who is here just for being
here, because it is 10 o’clock on a
Saturday morning and, you know, enough said . . . even without the big
party last night and the fact that you’re graduating this weekend. You don’t
come to something like this unless you care – about God or a Prophet or some power beyond any power you can
wield. You may care more about your family or friends or the music – whatever brought you here today, I
applaud it. And I thank God for it.
Choosing a text to speak about this
morning was really hard. As I was weighing the options, a friend told me not to
overthink it, so I went with what felt obvious – a text about anxiety, because
of course you’re feeling anxious about something
this weekend. In a way (and no offense to Jesus, or Lord Krishna, or anyone
else) I sort of hope you’re feeling a little bit anxious. Anxiety is the cosmic hint that something matters. It may feel more
like fear . . . or it may lean toward excitement . . . but if you aren’t
feeling stirred or unsettled somehow, it may indicate you do not quite comprehend
the crossroads where you stand right now. Frame it as a challenge, a crisis, an
opportunity – it’s up to you. But things are fixin’ to change . . . and any
change that matters brings with it some anxiety.
T.S. Eliot called anxiety “the
handmaiden of creativity.” [1]
Athletes count on it for that burst of adrenaline that can help them to run
faster or hit the ball harder than usual. The actress Sarah Bernhardt once told
a young protégé who claimed not to have stage fright, “Don’t worry. It comes
with talent.”[2]
The right kind of anxiety can have obvious benefits: quick reflexes, clarity in
the moment, high performance. You’ve just finished a battery of finals; you
know this. In addition, anxiety can serve a mundane and practical purpose; it can
spur you to prepare for what’s coming next.
In cartoons sometimes a little
angel will hover over one shoulder, dispensing good advice, while a little devil
flies over the other shoulder, offering bad advice. I’ve been thinking about
anxiety as the parent or mentor at your shoulder offering, well, let’s face it,
good and bad advice. Maybe your folks aren’t like this at all. My dad always
used to say that if something could go wrong, it probably would; it was smart
to be prepared. So as we drove around he would say things like, “If that car in
front of us swerved out of control, what would you do?” Or if we were cooking
he’d say, “If that pan caught fire, how would you handle it?” Or at the beach,
you know: “If a shark attacked, how would you fend it off? If Mom started to
choke, what could we use for the tracheotomy?” If the worst thing happened, he
wanted me to be ready – know what I mean?
I’m not going to tell you not to
worry about getting a job, or paying the rent, or where your next meal is going
to come from, or what you’re going to say to your girlfriend or boyfriend or
friend-friend or ex-friend when you part ways this week. A little forethought
can help you to be prepared – to act in ways that make sense and serve everyone’s
good. If anxiety helps you to get there, fine. The problem, of course, is when anxiety
takes over. When tension and worry get the best of us, and we start to believe
we cannot handle the challenges we
face. When anxiety is not only “at hand,” but when it burrows deep within us.
When our stomachs churn, and our minds fret. I will tell you to find a doctor then, before anxiety makes you sick.
With that, let’s turn back to a man
some people call the Great Physician. What did Jesus mean when he talked to his
friends about anxiety?
I think it’s important to note that
Jesus was talking to his friends. When he said not to worry about food, he
wasn’t talking to someone who was hungry. Jesus encountered hungry people, and
when he did, he gave them something to eat. When Jesus said not to worry about
clothing, he wasn’t speaking to someone who was naked or cold. Jesus taught
that when we encounter someone who’s naked or cold we’re to give them something
to wear. Jesus was talking to his friends, according to Luke . . . and they had
just heard him tell about a man who was the opposite of naked and hungry – a
man who had so much food, in fact, he had nowhere to put it all.
There’s something interesting about
the way Jesus tells this rich man’s story: it is how isolated the man appears
to be. It’s really just this man and his harvest. No family, no neighbors, no
sense of the world around him. As the man decides what to do with his bountiful
crops, he does not talk with anyone . . . he does not even post a Facebook status
to get input from friends. The man wonders to himself, decides by himself,
speaks to himself: What will I do?
Where can I store my harvest? Here’s
what I’ll do: tear down my barns, store my grain, enjoy myself.
He’s at the center of his small but comfortable world. And the way he sees it,
he has nothing to be anxious about – not ever again.
He’s a caricature, for sure. I
don’t know anybody exactly like this. But I know I can be like this sometimes.
When I am waiting for the next generation iPad. (It won’t solve my problems,
but it’ll take my mind off them for a while!) When I am wondering about my next
job, and whether the salary might fund more travel around the world.[3]
When I obsess about my appearance, or my résumé, or whether I can snag any bread ends at the Cheese Shop
after this service is over. Whenever my thoughts start to circle around me – my food, my house, my career, my
plans, myself – I resemble that foolish rich man more than I care to admit. So
do you.
What Jesus recommends in response
to that man is a different way of living
– more attuned to the world around us, less concerned with self. Jesus points
to the birds of the air and the flowers of the field. God cherishes them and
cares for them, he says. God cherishes you and cares for you, he also says. But
the point, really, is to help us move beyond ourselves, so that we are thinking
less about the property we cultivate and
the crops we claim as our own, and more
about the land God made and creatures
that exist for God’s pleasure. Less
about ourselves at the center of something manageable, more about ourselves as
a part of something vast.
The more I thought about this, the
more I came to believe: this text from Luke is about reverence more than
anxiety. (Perhaps you can think about reverence as an antidote for anxiety.)
The philosopher Paul Woodruff says that reverence
is the virtue that keeps people from acting like gods[4]
(which is how that rich man was acting . . . how you and I act when we imagine ourselves at the center of things).
“Reverence must stand in awe of something,” Woodruff says.[5]
What kind of thing? Something that reminds
us we are limited. Something people cannot control or change or fully
understand. Something humans did not create. Something transcendent. Such things
can awaken reverence.
You’ve had several years’ of a liberal
arts education. Goodness knows you’ve been exposed to all kinds of things that may
have kindled reverence in you: the intricacies of the human brain, maybe; the
ideals of democratic government; the effect of Mozart’s Requiem. Like many wise
teachers, Jesus taught with materials available to him. Our context is very
different than his; still, nature is a good place to start. It’s full of things
that are bigger and more powerful than we: starry skies and turbulent oceans,
whales and elephants. They remind us of our true size. But size isn’t
everything. Properly attended to, even something small can evoke awe.[6]
Consider the inchworm; we saw lots of them this spring. Pesky little creatures;
I kept picking them off my neck. But they’re so amazing, too: front legs that
grip while hind legs draw close . . . hind legs holding while front legs reach.
I was driving to work one day and noticed an inchworm clinging to the window of
my car. He held on the whole trip with just two of those tiny legs. How did he
do that?
Maybe his dad had brought him up
asking: If you’re ever on top of a car when it starts to move, how will you
anchor yourself?
The thing is, we can’t plan for
everything, though it’s tempting to try. And we can’t control every situation.
Too often people learn that the hard way. They’re at the top of their game when
the cancer strikes, or the car crashes; we cannot control such things. What we can do is to approach this crossroads
and every change or challenge of life with reverence
for all that is vast and unknowable: for the future unfolding, the people
involved, the wonders around us . . . and
God, who holds everything somehow
in hand.
Perhaps we will begin to feel what
Wendell Berry calls “the peace of wild things.” Do you know his poem by that
name? Berry says:
When despair
for the world grows in me
and I wake in
the night at the least sound
in fear of what
my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie
down where the wood drake
rests in his
beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the
peace of wild things
who do not tax
their lives with forethought
of grief. I
come into the presence of still water.
And I feel
above me the day-blind stars
waiting with
their light. For a time
I rest in the
grace of the world, and am free.[7]
Freedom:
from worry about the future and despair about the state of the world . . . from the fear that our lives won’t amount to
much (if they amount to anything at all) . . . from striving, achieving, aiming
to please. Freedom – for a time,
anyway. It’s one of the gifts of reverence. As we come into the presence of
things that are bigger and more powerful and more peaceful than we, we recall
our true size and our limitations. We remember our place in the family of
things. A door opens then – an opportunity for us to entrust ourselves to one
whose power is greater, whose vision is broader, who knows what we need and
wants to provide it.
Yet, if we are paying attention, I think
we will feel a tug of anxiety even as we feel the rush of peace. I hope we
will. Return to the text from Luke and you’ll notice: Jesus does not recommend that
his friends live without any anxiety
– just selfish anxiety. He does not suggest life with an absence of striving.
He suggests a particular kind of striving.
Seek
God’s kingdom, Jesus says. Now . . . he has something particular in mind,
and I won’t pretend to know exactly what it is. None of us should. But as we
look where Jesus pointed (to the skies and the fields), I think we begin to
see. It’s a world where even the smallest and most seemingly insignificant
creatures are cherished . . . a world where each creature is fed and clothed
with dignity and care . . . a world where all can live and even thrive. Can you
imagine such a world – not only for the ravens and the lilies, but for
everything that lives and grows, for everyone
who lives and grows?
Seek the kingdom. It’s a way of
saying: want enough for everyone. Seek peace and plenty for all the earth. Act
with reverence for the vast array of creatures you did not make and cannot
fully understand. And if you’re going to feel anxious (as you surely will at
times), feel anxious, not so much about your own needs being met, but about a
world that falls short of God’s will – the Lord’s desire for everyone’s needs to be met. Be disturbed
by a world where forests are razed for timber and mining, where oceans are
polluted with human garbage, where too many of us act as if we owned the globe
– using and hoarding what we like, without regard for anyone else – while
others of God’s beloved children are starving, enslaved, uneducated, warring
and afraid. Be anxious about all that! Not so anxious you freeze or faint in
the face of it all, but enough that you are moved
to act sensibly and passionately for change.
Such efforts will not keep you
safe. (I, like your parents, wish they would!) Such efforts may not help to pay
the rent, though you’ll find, I bet, they alleviate your anxiety about the
rent. Such efforts may not matter on your résumé, but they will matter
in ways you can scarcely calculate – smart though you are.
You are a talented group of people.
Anxiety comes with talent, according to some. I say: don’t waste either thing.
The world needs you to use both
wisely and well.
[1] Alice Park, “The Two Faces of Anxiety,” Time Magazine, December 5, 2011.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Note to GPPC – this is for illustrative purposes
only! I spend no time wondering about my next job.
[4] Paul Woodruff, Reverence:
Renewing a Forgotten Virtue, Oxford University Press, USA, 2001, 2.
[5] Ibid, 115.
[6] Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith, HarperOne, NY, 2009,
22.
[7] Wendell Berry, The
Selected Poems of Wendell Berry, Counterpoint, NY, 1998, 30.
Love this! Love you, Carla!
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