Fire

Proper 16 C 2010
Jeremiah 1:4-10;
Psalm 71:1-6;
Hebrews 12:18-29;
Luke 13:10-17


My favorite Desert Fathers story, the tales of those hermit monks who would go to one another for advice, speaks of Abba Joseph going to visit Abba Lot. Abba Joseph asks Abba Lot, “Tell me what to do? I keep my daily rule of prayer, I work with my hands. I keep my fast, I keep silence and only speak when necessary. Is that all there is? Is there anything else I can do?” Abba Lot stands, and extends his hands with fingers outspread. Abba Joseph sees Abba Lot’s fingers each turn into a flame. Abba Lot asks, “Why not be totally turned into fire?”

I have told this tale often because it is very important to me. Like Abbot Joseph, through the years I have kept my own modest way of life, even if imperfectly. I am no desert hermit, but I live a fairly structured life of church duties and of family. This church is my chapel, my home is my monastery, my own body is my cell of solitude. I have found joy. But as the years spin out, I confront weariness and even boredom in the midst of worship and prayer. Is that all there is? Am I just going through the motions?

I feel Abba Lot asks me, “Why not be totally turned into fire?” God asks all of that in the Word today. As I wrote these words, I realized that my eyeglasses are out of date, that it is literally time to get my sight adjusted. If we find that boredom is corroding our souls, perhaps it is time to get our own sight adjusted.

In our culture, boredom is regarded as a symptom of an external problem. If we’re bored, we are not being given the right kind of entertainment, we are not being given the right sort of stimulation by our partner or our friends, we are not buying the right kind of entertainment. Sometimes people can give up relationships or jobs or churches out of boredom. Kathleen Norris in her book Acedia And Me speaks of boredom as a disease of the soul, a problem inside rather than outside. We despair of the richness of the divine life, of the meaning trembling beneath the surface of reality, and we flee from our fear that there might actually be no meaning and no divine Presence filling our lives. There’s nothing wrong with some entertainment, with some fun—every full life needs balance. But that restlessness of soul—isn’t the source of that within ourselves?

Because our God, says Hebrews, is a consuming fire. Because, says Jeremiah, we have been made and known in intimacy and wonder from the beginning of time, and have been given the very words of God. Because, says today’s Gospel, the mercy and love of God strains to be released in our midst, in spite of all the ways that we try to minimize God and make God small and controllable. Jesus healed in spite of narrow restrictions of religion and custom, overwhelming the woman who lived in pain and overwhelming those who were present with the wonder of God’s love.

For our God is a consuming fire. So, why not be totally changed into fire?

Years ago, an older couple attended here until one of the partners told the other, “But it’s the same thing every week!” Sunday Mass does follow a predictable pattern. Our worship is not designed to fix boredom by entertaining. Our worship confronts head-on the basic questions of our lives—who is God, who are we, and what does that mean? We place ourselves week by week in the presence of Christ because of who Jesus Christ is and because, as Hebrews says, we do not refuse his invitation. We keep this most basic rule of New Testament life—to gather together for worship—in order to keep our eyes properly focused. When our eyes see clearly, we see God’s overwhelming fiery love, our nature as beloved and in need. And we are asked Abba Lot’s most basic question:

“Why not be totally changed into fire?”