May 21, 2006

Glynn Cardy

A teddy bear blessing at St James Anglican Church, Ramsden, in Oxfordshire

Easter 7     1 John 5:9-13     John 17:6-19

I think there are many who are blest and who bless us. This morning I offer five beatitudes as a contribution to our 'gospel', that work-in- progress written in your life and in mine.

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Blessed are the storytellers, they remind us that reality is more than one-dimensional.

We live in a culture that can create a photograph of something that never happened, a movie where the characters have their body parts 'enhanced', and reality TV shows that bears little resemblance to anybody's reality. Truth is so evasive that some discourage us from even seeking it, telling us that the outward appearance is all there is.

The Man Whose Mother Was A Pirate is a children's book written by Margaret Mahy. On the man's journey to the sea, that he'd never seen, he encounters a philosopher. “Go back little man,” the philosopher advises, “because the wonderful things are always less wonderful than you [think]… the sea is less warm, the joke less funny, the taste not as good as the smell.” The man whose mother was a pirate responds: “I must go.” And off he ran towards the sea. He is true, not to his experience, but to the faint yearning of his heart. A yearning that grows stronger the closer he comes to fulfilling it. Truth, 'the truth that sets us free', is first believed in before it's seen.

Margaret Mahy is a storyteller. Her vocation is to stoke the fires of our imagination, as a stoker once fed the fires of an engine. It is in the imagination that dreams are developed. Imagination is the place where solutions beyond the realms of possibility are trialed. It is the place where love is believed in despite the lack of evidence

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Blessed are those who consider themselves blest.

I tire of the ungrateful. I tire of those who think that everything they have has been earned. They fail to open their eyes to the world, their ears to the music, and their hearts to the notes of kindness reverberating around them. Although I try to be understanding, I also tire of the miserable who can only see misery. The sunlight of hope shines on the happy and the sad. It is our choice whether hope will brighten our day, or whether we will go indoors and shut it out. I have a little coffee coaster embossed with the words: 'Don't forget to pause a moment and thank God for everything'. Thanking God for everything is difficult. Most of us want something different to have happened in the past. But thanking God is a way of accepting who we are. And acceptance is a precursor to a change of heart. And a change in the heart can change everything.

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Blessed are those who work for change – in themselves, their community, and our world.

Back in the days when I was a curate I was shocked to hear that my vicar had refused to pray for a lady. She had come to him to ask for a prayer, and he'd said no. It felt to me like he'd breeched the bedrock of priestly care. The lady certainly thought so. Sometimes what people ask for is not what we should give them. My vicar had prayed with this woman many times in the past. He became convinced that this prayer was actually a barrier to her spiritual growth, and he now refused to collude. It wasn't an easy decision for him.

One of the tasks of a priest is to help people find their own way into the expanse of God. It is a journey. The priest is simply a fellow traveller, who, like others, is pointing out things of beauty and interest along the way. The priest also has the job of encouraging people to get off their posteriors and keep moving.

Courage is a word that moviemakers and sports' commentators try to exclusively commandeer. Their usage of the word brings to mind battlefields, bravery, and a 'never say die' attitude. But courage is a word far larger than that. For Christians it is simply about following the example of Jesus. Being kind can be an act of courage. Being true to yourself can be an act of courage. Being different can be very courageous. It takes courage to work for change. We need to listen, to build trust, to be open to change within ourselves, as well as helping others on that journey. Change is a journey. And helping change come about is both an art and a prayer.

I'm reminded of the woman who had the difficult task of trying to get her dog to take a liquid medicine. The woman would gingerly approach with the spoonful of medicine as her husband held the dog. Inevitably there would be a struggle. One day the dog escaped the hold and knocked the medicine and spoon over the kitchen floor. The woman was exasperated. Imagine then her surprise when the dog then proceeded to lick up the spilt liquid from the floor. It wasn't the medicine the dog objected to, but the method.

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Blessed are those who know an animal as a friend, they will have their humanity enriched.

I heard a story of a fire officer entering a burning building in order to rescue a cat. Not once, but twice! The cat on being brought safely out showed her gratitude by heading straight back in. Her kittens were inside. The fire officer too headed back in, and this time re-emerged with both mum and the kids. In helping an animal, or being helped by an animal, our human spirit is nurtured. The spirit is the part of us that dances with God. The human-animal relationship is not the same as other relationships. That cat did not only get lucky, it reminded the fire officer of the heart of his vocation, namely to save life. Likewise animals remind us all of our vocation to befriend life. In befriending life we befriend our own soul.

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Blessed are the Teddy Bears and all who cuddle them.

Bears are an important part of many people's childhood. They come to us furry and clean and after seemingly only a little time start to lose both. As they're cuddled, carried, sucked, and cherished they lose their pristine appearance and gain love instead. Then, smothered in love, toast crumbs and honey, they become real. I heard last week of a bear being given to an elderly woman nearing the end of her life who had always enjoyed pets in the house. In her final months she directed her love towards that bear, and received comfort in return. The bear became real.

'How can you bless Teddy Bears?' asked one reporter over the phone, 'They're not real.' 

Words like 'real' are given substance by our experience rather than by rational scientific method. We decide what is real. I base my decision to bless on what brings forth life and love. I have a blog called Lucky Bear. [i] It is the title of a book by Joan Phillips. The luck of the bear is not due to circumstances but attitude. When bad things happen Lucky Bear uses them as stepping stones to the next adventure. It is an optimistic attitude. I chose the name for my blog site because spirituality and religion are about attitude. Are we, for example, primarily sinful creatures who need correction and rules, or are we magnificent creations whose imaginations and laughter are part of God? Is life dangerous, or wonderful? Is humour wicked, or holy? Is the jar half empty, or half full? We have a choice about which attitude, theology, and spirituality we want to follow. I choose to believe in Teddy Bears because I have known and seen the love and joy they elicit.

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Blessed are the storytellers.

Blessed are those who consider themselves blest.

Blessed are those who work for change.

Blessed are those who know an animal as a friend.

Blessed are Teddy Bears and all who cuddle them.

May the beatitudes of our experience mingle with the wisdom of the ages to continually open our hearts to the wonder of God and gift of one another.

[i] http://aluckybear.blogspot.com/