A Japanese Zen master once hosted a prominent professor interested in discussing basic Zen concepts. The professor went on and on about his impressions and ideas while the master prepared tea. Once the tea was ready, the master began serving. He poured the professor’s cup to the brim and kept pouring. The tea overflowed onto the table, but he continued pouring. The professor was dumbfounded and cried, “The cup is full. Nothing else will go in!” The master looked kindly at the professor and said, “You are full. Your thoughts, opinions and theories are overflowing. How can I teach you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”
Many of us come to this table today filled with our own thoughts, opinions and beliefs about most things, including religion, life, politics. We have been taught to think certain ways, believe certain things. A lot of what we’ve been handed was formulated in another time and culture far removed from where we sit today. The world we live in is dramatically different from first century Jerusalem and has little resemblance to the culture and experience of ancient Israel and its prophets. But the reality of human life is pretty standard. Our basic needs remain the same and how we satisfy those needs hasn’t changed much. We still need love, seek comfort and security, deal with anger, resentment, greed. We still have hope, fall into despair, search for meaning, feel afraid.
Fear drives many of our decisions. Fear drove record numbers of people to vote in Tuesday’s midterms. Fear drives hateful vigilantes to our southern border, drives the call to ‘nationalism’ and the rise of populist movements, and fear increases the fundamentalism in every major religion. Fear also keeps our cups full of our own ideas and our own view of the world. It helps us maintain a sense of control even when—especially when—control is not in our hands at all.
The widow of Nain who encountered Elijah at the city gate was, perhaps, worried for herself and her child as she gathered sticks to prepare their last meal. But when she met Elijah, the stranger asking for food, she chose to feed him rather than give into her fear. She lived in faith, lived her values of generosity and kindness, despite her own dire circumstances. The widow Jesus’ observed at the entrance to the Temple chose generosity and faith—faith in God, faith in life—over hoarding what little she had as well. Neither widow allowed fear to rule her life.
Religion is supposed to connect us with the Divine Mystery within and around us. It is supposed to reconnect the bonds between ourselves, one another and God. When words and images leave us cold it may be time to empty those old ideas that blind us to the Mystery, to the aliveness of this moment, this unique, frightening, yet wholly God-filled time in our world. Maybe Spirit is urging us to empty our cup so we can receive what is being given in THIS time. And maybe fear is holding us back, inhibiting our faith and generosity, our openness to what Spirit is revealing to us NOW. If we begin to recognize that clinging to our beliefs and opinions is an attempt to control life rather than receive it and live it as gift, do we dare empty that stale tea so our cup can be filled with something that truly quenches our thirst?
There is a Force at work in ourselves and in the world. That Force we call God. Our values of kindness, generosity, feeding the stranger, healing the pain that stands before us—those values lead to actions that build God’s reign on earth whether we see the results or not. The widows in our readings today trusted this. They were open and receptive. Their cups were empty. In that emptiness they received what life brought them, where it led them. They gave what was theirs to give and received what came their way. So did nurse Ari Mahler who was on duty in the ER when Robert Bowers was wheeled in shouting “death to all Jews” after mowing down eleven people at Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh. Not knowing whether her own parents were among those killed or wounded Ari, who is a Jew and whose father is a Rabbi, rushed to save this man’s life.
In a letter Ari wrote about her experience: “I wanted him to feel compassion. I chose to show him empathy. I felt that the best way to honor his victims was for a Jew to prove him wrong. Love. That’s why I did it. Love as an action is more powerful than words, and love in the face of evil gives others hope. It demonstrates humanity. It reaffirms why we’re all here. The meaning of life is to give meaning to life, and love is the ultimate force that connects all living beings. I could care less what Robert Bowers thinks, but you, the person reading this, love is the only message I wish to instill in you. If my actions mean anything, love means everything.”
If we empty our own cups of fear and certainty then Love, that Divine connective Mystery can fill it, and overflow as love poured out for the world.
Leave a Reply