Title: “In Solidarity”
Scripture: Deuteronomy 26:1-11, Luke 4:1-13
2/29/04 First Sunday in Lent
Rev. Joy R. Haertig
This week I came across a wonderful article by the late Henri Nouwen called “We are Brothers and Sisters of Each Other”. He began the article by saying, “Two of the greatest joys experienced are the joy of being different from others and the joy of being the same as others.” These words caught my attention.
The first joy, the joy of being different, is captured most clearly in the joy of an athlete at the Olympics. The joy of those who stand before the world and receive the bronze, silver or gold medals because they could run faster, jump higher or swim swifter than others, sometimes by only a ½ second. Regardless of how much they won by, they still won; they still know the joy of victory, of being set apart as the fastest, the most graceful or the most coordinated. This is the joy of the hero, the Oscar winner and the Pulitzer Prize author. As Nouwen proclaims in his article, “these types of achievements [can] dispel self-doubts and bestow self-confidence”.
“The other kind of joy is harder to describe”, writes Nouwen, “but is easier to find. It is the joy of being the brother or sister of all people. Although this joy is closer at hand - more accessible - than the joy of being different, it is not as obvious, and only a few people ever truly find it.” He continues, “This is the joy of being a part of that vast variety of people - of all ages, colors, and religions - who together form the human family. This is the immense joy of being a member of the human race.”
I have read stories from people of faith that talk about the moment in which they sensed the incredible power of that joy. The joy that allows all differences to disappear and one feels an overwhelming sense of unity, beauty and that “all is well”.
Scholar Marcus Borg had his experience on an airplane - just out of the blue as he sat buckled in his seat. Henri Nouwen had his while he was marching in Alabama from Selma to Montgomery in a civil rights march led by Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1964. Nouwen describes it this way: “In an instant, all differences seemed to melt away as snow in the sun. All my comparing disappeared, and I felt surrounded by the welcoming arms of humanity. I was aware that some of the people with whom I held hands had spent years in prison, were addicted to drugs or alcohol, suffered from loneliness and depression, and lived lives radically different from mine, but they all looked to me like saints, radiant with God's love. They were indeed God's people, immensely loved and radically forgiven. All I felt was a deep sameness, a profound communion with all people.”
The actual experience lasts only a brief time - but the ramifications of it last a lifetime.
The word that comes to mind for me is “solidarity”. This joy is found in solidarity with others, while the first joy is more individual. They are both wonderful - yet it is ironic to me that the second joy is “easier to find, more accessible and closer at hand, yet only a few people ever find it.” (Nouwen)
Perhaps one of the reasons why the joy of human solidarity is so rarely experienced even though it is so close at hand, is because at the core of human solidarity is our vulnerability and mortality.
And who wants to be reminded of that? Surely there is a way to avoid vulnerability and mortality. Why does that have to be a part of existence any way?
I am struck that “Satan” is giving Jesus some wonderful opportunities to know the first joy that Nouwen talked about in his article. I am not saying that that kind of “hero joy” is evil - but I find it powerful that each time “Satan” offers Jesus a hero moment - an opportunity to be set apart, he turns it down on behalf of solidarity, embracing the reality of vulnerability and mortality.
This image is solidified for me when I read further in the Gospel of Luke and contrast what “Satan” tempted with what we are later told about Jesus.
Allow me to explain:
First Jesus is hungry - a very real and basic human experience, and “Satan” says, “Well, if you are really the Son of God, then turn these stones into bread so you can satisfy your own hunger.” Jesus refuses to satisfy his individual hunger, but later in Luke we hear how Jesus multiplied the loaves and fishes so that ALL who were hungry would be fed. Jesus chose solidarity.
“Satan” challenged Jesus to bow down to him and he would give him authority over everything. Jesus knew that real authority rests only with God, and that real power was found in humility and service. Later in Luke we learn of the outcasts he healed and his vulnerable entry into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey. Jesus chose solidarity.
And finally, “Satan” tempts Jesus by suggesting he test God by throwing himself down from a high pinnacle on the temple to see if God's angels will save him from death. Jesus understands that his trust in God does not call for testing, and later in Luke we hear of Jesus' suffering and death on the cross. Here is the choice of solidarity once again - Jesus was not “above” death, he knows it just as well as we do.
Three temptations to avoid vulnerability and mortality: Hunger - our basic human need for sustenance, how to use power, and thirdly, death, which will come to all of us. Ashes to ashes; dust to dust. This is not morbid news, it is simply true news.
There is something about Jesus, as a leader and teacher, as a window into God - being in solidarity with us - that is very, very powerful to me. I know that he has experienced the true joys and struggles of being human.
The human Jesus and the risen Christ can guide us in our living and in our dying.
Henri Nouwen poses a thought-provoking perspective about death when he writes: “The joy of being the same as others, of belonging to one human family - that allows us to die well.” Our individual accomplishments do not serve us in our dying or in our death, what serves us well for passing over to the next world, is our unity with others. That is one of the gifts I see in Jesus' death and in his resurrection. As Nouwen says, “However different we are, we were all born powerless, and we all die powerless, and the little difference we live in between dwindle in the light of this enormous truth.” We have been taught to see this as something that is sad.
I concur with Nouwen when he states: “Our great challenge is to discover this truth as a source of immense joy that will set us free to embrace our mortality with the awareness that we will make our passage to new life in solidarity with all the people of the earth. A good death is a death in solidarity with others. To prepare ourselves for a good death, we must develop or deepen this sense of solidarity. If we live toward death as toward an event that separates us from people, death cannot be other than a sad and sorrowful event. But if we grow in awareness that our mortality, more than anything else, will lead us into solidarity with others, then death can become a celebration of our unity with the human race.”
The story of Jesus' temptation, combined with Henri Nouwen's article, got me thinking about the power of solidarity. We live in a society that encourages uniqueness and individuality (even our celebration of diversity can lead to more individuality rather than a sense of unity!); we must also celebrate the beauty and strength of solidarity and unity. Jesus points out to us our solidarity in three central areas: 1. Hunger 2. Our struggle to understand and use power and 3. Death. These are difficult areas for us to really look at because they are so complex and cause us to look at our vulnerabilities square in the face.
Nouwen's article caused me to consider the third one, the solidarity that comes in facing our mortality and death - in a way that I had not really considered before.
1. No one dies alone. We do not die into separateness but into unity.
2. In order to prepare for your eventual death, learn to nurture a sense of solidarity with all people rather than latching on to the differences or turning your wheels in envy or competition.
3. The season of Lent might be a time to recognize that “the mystery of life is that we discover this human togetherness not when we are powerful and strong, but when we are vulnerable and weak.” (Nouwen)
Amen.