A number of you may know that I had a total knee replacement at the end of July. The surgery went very well, and the recovery seems to be going quite well, too, as my physical therapists give me good marks. I am grateful for modern medicine and technology (this was a robotically inserted new knee, another marvel of technology) and the support of family and friends, many from the congregation, and The Burkhart Center.

 

In light of this recent medical experience, I was struck by this headline and subhead The New York Times ran on August 2; “Americans Suffer Pandemic Whiplash as Leaders Struggle With Changing Virus—An evolving virus and 18 months of ever-changing pandemic messaging have left Americans angry, exhausted and skeptical of public health advice.” 

 

I wonder about that last bit: we may be perplexed and weary of continuing to cope with the effects of the pandemic and its continuing “variants,” but I do not find myself skeptical of public health advice. This is an ever-changing situation, and although humanity has faced pandemics previously, even recently, there’s a continuing learning process for scientists and health professionals. Are we surprised? That is the medical and scientific method. I’m trusting that more knowledge went into my knee replacement, and even in post-op therapeutic methods, than the ones my father (may his memory be a blessing) had some 30 or 40 years ago.

 

When Huston Smith was a Spiritual Searcher here at First Community some 20 years ago, he introduced me to a word and concept I hadn’t heard before: scientism. “Scientism,” basically, makes a god out of science. Here’s what he wrote about it:

 

 

Scientism, in other words, leaves out the spiritual realm. (There is, in reality, no distinction between the spiritual and material, as I mention below, but sometimes it helps our understanding to make such distinctions.) 

 

We utilize the best of science, recognizing in it, just as in medicine, that these are still “arts” in many ways and necessarily changeable as more and more questions, doubts, hypotheses arise followed by more experimentation and, ideally, greater knowledge. All of this scientific method, of course, means changes in methodology and implementation. And so sometimes it’s masks on and sometimes masks off as conditions and understandings change, and we follow these changes as wisely as we can. 

 

But for the anxiety of change, we must rely on something deeper or greater—trust (sometimes a better word than faith which can be mixed up with beliefs, but “faith” as “trust” is appropriate here). It is trust that there is a “higher power,” or better in my theology, that there is a spiritual reality in which we live now that is deeper and wider than material reality. Again, the spiritual includes the physical reality, not being in any way separate from the material world) that holds All in an infinite container of Love.

 

Isn’t this finally what it means to say, “God is Love?”

 

On this god of scientism, Wendell Berry says, “It seems clear that humans cannot significantly reduce or mitigate the dangers inherent in their use of life by accumulating more information or better theories or by achieving greater predictability or more caution in their scientific and industrial work. To treat life as less than a miracle is to give up on it.”

 

This is to recognize the spiritual nature of life or reality.

 

When we are perplexed or anxious—or angry, exhausted, and skeptical—these are times to go to the Source, rest in the abiding Love that holds us and all we love, and the entire Creation. And to use every spiritual practice we know—prayer, meditation, journaling, dance, singing, drumming, shouting, crying, therapy, spiritual direction, massage, and other forms of bodywork, just plain breathing deeply and fully and following our breath in and out. Most of these are free and available right at this moment. 

 

As best we can, we allow ourselves to be held in the arms of Love, if even for only a few brief Sabbath moments. “Be still, and know that I am God,” sings the psalmist. And in that resting into Being, may we journey together as a Beloved Community—held in the Beloved Herself--through the continuing perplexity of the miracle of life in the 21^st century. 

The author of the biblical book of Job wrestled with the mystery of evil. If we look at this book as a drama or play, we can easily see Job as the protagonist, God as the hero, and Satan as the villain. Job’s three friends keep the drama going as they look at all the traditional solutions to the problem of evil and find them wanting. In the end, God interrupts the conversation and gives the answer which leaves theologians and intellectuals at a loss for words to this day.

With Israel’s exile still fresh in mind, the biblical author confronts the mystery of suffering, pushes hard against it, and refuses to be satisfied with pious platitudes. He begins to suspect that there is something more. He has seen the old logic of quid pro quo breaking down, and wonders whether the answer can even come in this life. There is a longing for immortality in his soul. Job expresses this in chapter 14:

Job is hoping against hope, believing against everything he has been taught to believe. The author senses something more to life than what appears. As a nation, the Israelites have seen themselves defeated in exile, yet a remnant still survives and carries with it the hope of rebirth.

As an Israelite himself, the author considers whether what they have experienced in their corporate life might also be possible in individual life. Could there really be a way to survive after death, a place where God’s justice and love will be truly realized? In one passage at least, Job voices confident hope that there is:

In this passage Job makes the gigantic leap of faith. He has walked with God this far. He knows he is still suffering. He has experienced life’s meaninglessness. Yet in the experience of God he has found meaning, he has touched on something Real, something that seems capable of going on forever. And so he believes in it, in that space where faith and hope are mixed together, resting in the wordless confidence of a felt promise. He trusts that this journey with God will continue even after death. Love of God and eternal life are beginning to become the same thing.

Prayer For Our Community