Grace Happens

    Waking up yesterday morning, I sleepily picked up my phone to have a look at my messages. Several notifications appeared on the screen. One of them was from Facebook reminding me: “Today is Carl Winkler’s Birthday.” I was taken aback for a moment, saying inanely, out loud to my phone, “Carl Winkler is dead. He died six years ago.”

    Carl Winkler was a member of my home congregation in Marietta, Georgia. I worked with him as a lay leader and I remember him fondly – he had a very dry wit and I appreciated his no-nonsense approach to life. Carl was a stay-at-home dad to his pre-teen son, Alex. His wife, Masako traveled frequently as a Japanese interpreter; she was in high demand by businesses in the Atlanta area. Life was good for the Winkler’s until 2009, when Carl was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer – a cancer that has little to no symptoms until, as they say, it’s too late. Carl fought valiantly and it was clear that he did not want to leave his beloved wife and son. The last time I saw Carl was just before my family and I moved to Webster. He died shortly thereafter. Through the following year, I kept getting Facebook messages like “Carl Winkler hasn’t added any friends. Help Carl find new friends.” And then came the inevitable birthday notice. No one had taken Carl off Facebook. Sad. I missed him and I missed keeping in touch with Masako.

    After the first couple of years, I stopped getting those Facebook notices. But here it is now six years later and I get Carl’s birthday notice out of the blue. I sighed and had a moment of remembrance and then continued on with my day.

   Later in the afternoon, it occurred to me that I needed some quotes from a book I wanted to include in today’s sermon. I grabbed the book from my study and began flipping through it and out falls a picture – a picture of Carl and Masako Winkler.

    The picture was taken at my house in Georgia. The occasion was a mystery dinner party I hosted as a fundraiser. The mystery had a Hawaiian theme and the guests each played a role. In the picture Carl is wearing a crazy straw hat and a loud Hawaiian shirt. Masako looks very Polynesian in her hibiscus crown, lei, and grass skirt. The two of them are colorful and joyful against the lush green of my back yard. At this point, I could have dismissed finding the picture as a coincidence and gone on with my day. Instead I paused and asked myself, “What is the universe trying to tell me?”

    I looked at the picture and let it speak to me: The memory of Carl, the memory of the occasion gripped me with warm feelings of fun and camaraderie. The smiles on Carl’s and Masako’s faces in the picture made me smile wide; then the tears came as the words “treasure every moment” came to me. I also sensed the irony that their costumes had given them a chance to be relaxed and fully themselves – they were able to let their hair down. Their social identities and the roles they play in everyday life had been cast off. I remember how Carl doted on Masako that night. I remember how Masako, usually quiet and reserved, became the life of the party. It was time out of time for Carl and Masako, and time out of time for the rest of us that night. It was a grace for us all then. As I stood looking at the picture, I realized it as a grace for me now to relive that special occasion and to have that special memory of a friend whom I will never see again.

Was the universe trying to tell me something? Did all the stars align and did a chaotic universe come together just to send me a special message? Not likely. But I do know this: if you pay attention you can build meaning out of these little moments of grace which can sustain you in a world full of hurt and bad news. Grace happens. Grace is needed in our lives, even in our Unitarian Universalist lives. The grace I’m talking about isn’t only about sin and salvation but also about knowing that life is just as full of joy as it is sorrow; it is knowing your life is a gift; it is knowing that to find the small graces which await you every day, you must wake up to them.

    This is what one of my colleagues has to say about the experience of Grace:
“On a recent Saturday, I was dressed and showered unusually early, [my husband] was out, and the doors and windows were open, ceiling fan on. Both dogs were happily snoozing nearby, and I was sitting on the bed reading when a moment of utter contentment hit: Life is good. That was grace for me, that instant of mundane bliss.”

    To find bliss in the mundane – that’s what Grace is. Here’s another framing:

    On the arts and humanities website, “Humans of New York,” a middle-aged man is pictured sitting on a park bench on summer day;, his shirt opened bearing his largish belly. He looks kind of tough, like he’s worked hard for a living. He looks straight into the camera with bushy eyebrows knit together and is quoted as saying the most amazing thing:
“God sends me little moments all day long to say: ‘You’re not alone, brother.’ Just a little while ago, an old hunched-over Chinese lady smiled at me with the greatest warmth in her eyes.”
“And you think that was a message from God?” says the interviewer.
“I think that was God,” says the man.
(From Humans of New York on Facebook 5/13/15)

    A different theology from ours, perhaps - but yeah, grace is like that.

    Cheryl Richardson, who wrote the book, The Unmistakable Touch of Grace, says this:
“Grace comes from the Latin word gratia, meaning favor, charm, or thanks. Spiritual traditions from around the world each share a similar understanding of this word. For example, in Sanskrit, grace is akin to the word grnati, which means He praises, and to call or invoke. In Christian terms, grace is defined as the infinite love, mercy, favor, and goodwill shown by God to humankind. In Judaism, the concept of grace is expressed by the Hebrew word hesed, meaning mercy, or loving-kindness. Grace is seen as a creative force — an act of exceptional kindness and goodness. And my friend, Lama Surya Das…a leading Buddhist teacher, says, ‘Grace is the isness of life. It’s the recognition that everything is connected and sacred. The more in touch we are with this natural abundance of life, the less we need.’”
 http://www.cherylrichardson.com/store/the-unmistakable-touch-of-grace-intro/

    When we are reminded of this abundance of life, the less we need to fulfill ourselves with material possessions and instant gratification. We become quickly bored with these externalities. If all we have to reach for in hard times are distractions – food, inebriants, shiny new things, and shallow relationships – then we will never be satisfied; we will never be filled up by these empty substitutions for the heart-nourishing experiences of grace – of the complete and utter gratuitousness of life. We cannot give ourselves the gift of life; we cannot give ourselves the gift of grace; only our deep connectedness to life can open us to grace.

I quoted Brother David Stendl-Rast in a past sermon on gratitude. Grace is the reason to be grateful. Grace is gratis – unexpected, unearned, given freely. Stendl-Rast says when we cultivate a full awareness of life as gratuitous our world comes alive.
Steindl-Rast gives us a little poem by Piet Hein to illustrate:

The universe may
Be as great as they say.
But it wouldn’t be missed
        If it didn’t exist.

Steindle-Rast says. “Hein lays bare the gratuitousness of absolutely everything. The universe is gratis. It cannot be earned, nor need it be earned. From this simple fact of experience springs grateful living, grace-filled living. Gratefulness is the heart’s full response to the gratuitousness of all that exists. And gratefulness makes us graceful in a double sense. In gratefulness we open ourselves to this freely-given universe and so we become fully graced with it.” (p 201)

Steindl-Rast says that sometimes people resist the notion of receiving a gift they didn’t ask for because it denotes a dependence on the giver. He says this is a problem of individualism wherein one wants to remain in control as in “I didn’t ask for this, I don’t want it.” This is a problem of independence which is an illusion – no one has control over being born into this life nor do we live in a vacuum once we’re here.

      On the other hand, if one is over-dependent on being the receiver, one becomes enmeshed, enslaved if you will to the giver. I am reminded in this instance of the person who couches everything that happens to them in terms of God’s will: “I was meant to be here today. It was God’s will that I found my car keys this morning.” The thing, Steindle-Rast says, that makes receiving a gift an inter-dependent event is to simply be grateful for the gift given gratuitously. He explains:
“The interdependence of gratefulness is truly mutual. The receiver of the gift depends on the giver….But the circle of gratefulness is incomplete until the giver of the gift becomes the receiver: a receiver of thanks….The greatest gift one can give is thanksgiving. In giving gifts, we give what we can spare, but in giving thanks, we give ourselves. One who says ‘Thank you’ to another really says, ‘We belong together.’” (p 17)

      In the least, I ask this of you: whether we are talking about the gift of life or a birthday present, always be grateful, always say thank you, and never look a gift-horse in the mouth; by that I mean avoid being critical of a gift if it is given with sincerity. And as for those nonmaterial gifts, life’s gifts like that stunning sunset over the hills that made you weak in the knees, say thank you – to God, to the Universe, to Mother Nature, to Astrophysics – say, “I’m grateful.” This will connect you to the giver - whoever, whatever that is - and the circle will be complete. William Blake said if the only prayer you ever say is thank you, it is enough.

      I’ve shared with you how I got religion. It was when my first daughter, Allison was born 21 years ago. She came 8 weeks early and after a dramatic 72 hours from water breaking to the delivery room, she was born – perfect; ten fingers, ten toes, a miniature version of a newborn. She was breathing well on her own. She was going to be okay. It was at that point I realized I had no way to acknowledge my powerlessness in the situation and no way to express my deep gratitude for my beautiful baby girl. Not a prayer, song, poem, or dance. In that moment I recognized the void in my life. That in itself turned out to be a grace.

      What about you? Have you had an experience of Grace? Has something occurred in your life that gave you a jolt, a new perspective, a sudden inspiration?  Steindl-Rast relates his story of being a child in Nazi-occupied Austria during World War II. Once during a bombing raid, he was unable to get to a bomb shelter. Instead he ducked into a nearby church and scrambled under a pew. As the ground shook and he heard the explosions, he was sure the roof would collapse upon him. But in minutes it was over and he emerged from the church surrounded by smoke, rubble, and ruin, with the exception of one patch of untouched grass. He said it was the greenest green he’d ever seen before or since. Often the exquisite sweetness of life comes after a near death. What is your story?

      Have you ever been surprised and delighted by the intense red of the male cardinal in spring? Have you ever woken in the middle of the night to moonlight as bright and intense as a neon light outside your window? Have you ever seen the look of unbridled joy on a child’s face as she chases lightening bugs in the cool of a summer evening? Have you ever had a moment of undeniable synchronicity when you and your best friend picked up the phone and dialed each other at the same time? Has the person in front of you in the drive-thru of Dunkin Donuts ever paid for your coffee?

    Life is rarely idyllic. We all have known and will continue to know pain and suffering. Sometimes gentle rains turn into hailstorms. But it is so important to accept all there is in this life and to remain grateful for its sweetness because grace happens. Unlike pain and suffering, grace can go unnoticed. Cultivate your taste for the sweetness in life and never take it for granted. Always be grateful for it – it’s the only way grace will stick. May it be so.