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"Meditations While Watering Hydro-Mulch"
August 5, 2007
Mr. James Hamilton
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Glen Ellyn
Two weeks ago it was my shift; I headed back to my parent’s
home in Grand Rapids, Michigan to be company, comfort and handyman
for my mother while she underwent her first Chemotherapy treatment.
I had imagined late nights sitting up chatting with my Mom reminiscing
on old times. I imagined some mild sickness with role reversal,
this time it was me rubbing HER back when she felt queasy…something
she would do for me when I was home sick from school years ago.
I even hoped to read to her a bit, maybe watch some TV…all
the things one generally does for sick loved ones. It had all
the possibilities of being a Lifetime Movie moment.
So, why was it that I was stuck in the backyard with a hose
watering dirt?
Convinced that chemo was going to be a walk in the park, my
parents made two, in retrospect, odd choices. One, my mother
decided to go ahead with a massive overhaul of the landscaping.
Two, my father decided to head off to China on business, one
of the few places in the world that would both have business
for a lobbyist from Amway corporation and simultaneously have
no way of contacting home. To make matters worse, my mother
had heard one of those chemo horror stories about a woman who
had worked in her garden after her first chemo treatment and
was confined to bedrest for months because of something she
contracted from the dirt. So, even though she was supposed to
tend to her new lawn, she was also petrified that she might
accidentally touch some dirt. Oh, and my parents opted NOT to
have the inground sprinkler system put in, because it would
be more cost efficient to just water it ourselves, forgetting
that not watering the lawn was the reason the old lawn had died…this
new lawn was heading for inevitable failure.
Hydro-mulch. I suppose I should explain what this substance
is. This was my introduction to the stuff. Apparently it is
the only way to seed a lawn these days, better than sod and
more effective than seeding and fertilizing. But, the initial
effect, at least for the span of time that I was in charge of
tending it, was a big pile of moldy green mud. Dirty, seemingly
hopeless work.
So, here I was, tending to the very particular needs of thousands
of dollars worth of high grade hydro-mulch while my mother was
vomiting in the bedroom. I should be with her. I had never seen
my mom this sick; I wanted to be comforting her. But, touching
her made her angry, reading to her made her feel restless and
watching TV was, for her, like full on sea-sickness. So, I was
relegated to the hydro-mulch. Three times a day for two hours
each with no sprinklers and the same leaky metal sprayer from
when I was a kid.
Meaningless! What a waste of time! Why am I here? She could
have had a neighborhood kid come over to do this. Man, this
sprayer gets cold. Great, now my pants are soaked. Confronted
with another five hours of spraying mud, I did the unthinkable.
I decided to be an “adult,” stop muttering under
my breath and occupy myself with something constructive. Boring,
I know. Complaining is so much more fun.
The night before, I had read through the scripture for this
Sunday and so while I sprayed I set my mind to finding a theme
for this very sermon.
Immediately I saw the connection between the passages and my
dreary task. Was I really this lucky? God had hit it right out
of the park. I got a reading from Ecclesiastes, the gripers
delight.
And, I quote from today’s reading…
“I hated all my toil in which I had toiled in the sun,
seeing that I must leave it to those who come after me –
and who knows whether they will be wise or foolish?”
Ecclesiastes what a strange book. It is uncertain how it maintained
its place in the canon, considering how it speaks articulately
AGAINST the concept of a connected God watching over Israel.
Presumably, it has remained in the canon because it was thought
to have been written by King Solomon, the wise son of David.
But, now we know, it is highly unlikely that it was actually
penned by Solomon. What we do know is that the author takes
on the persona of a king, a son of David and a man of luxury.
This was a literary device of the time, where actual authorship
of a book was not nearly as important as it is today. And, in
my opinion, the reason that this book speaks so deeply to us
is not who wrote it, but that the character of the author is
so recognizable.
Picture a man of affluence walking alone in his garden. This
man’s life is coveted by everyone around him. He has the
most lavish furnishings, closets of expensive clothes; he determines
the course of his own life without any obstacles prohibiting
him. He is the king of his domain. And yet…and yet…he
is unhappy. He cannot find joy in any of it. It has left him
empty and defeated.
What a frightful cautionary tale. At the end of the line, at
the top of the heap, at the highest rung of the corporate ladder
there is still emptiness and wanting.
A man calls out from the crowd to Jesus and says, “Hey,
teacher, tell my brother that he should give me half of his
inheritance.” A perfectly reasonable request, right? Come
on, Jesus was starting a new world order. Stingy brothers hoarding
their inheritances were not welcome. We are all supposed to
share, right? So, come on Jesus, tell that brother what is what.
But, as is frustratingly common with Jesus, he is not interested
in telling us what to do. He never comes out with straight answers.
Instead he tells a story, sometimes one that sounds, at first
hearing, way off topic.
In this particular case, the man is looking for justice. But,
Jesus tells him a story about a man who is already rich…perhaps
a man enjoying the fruits of an unjust world, a man hoarding
away his wealth. Is the man from the parable supposed to be
him? His brother, stockpiling the inheritance? Or is the man
in the parable representative of the person that we all dream
of becoming, the person at the top of the heap, the boss, the
one calling all the shots?
So, Jesus tells this story about a man who accumulates treasures
on earth and is pleased with his haul. He is smug. Bad choice.
God chuckles at this man in his smug life, happy with all that
he has laid up on earth. God says, “Buddy, friend…you
can’t take it with you.” And, suddenly his life,
his house, his gold, his power, his identity, his name, his
everything is no more. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,
right?
It is easy to read this as another diatribe against the burdens
of a rich man. Jesus tells the rich young man to give up his
possessions and follow him. It is easier for a camel to tap-dance
on a pin than it is for a rich man to give his life to Christ…or
something like that.
But, as I stood there watering the not-yet-lawn, I found myself
more interested in the existential dilemma set out by Ecclesiastes.
The rich man in the parable thought he was going to be happy,
but he wasn’t going to be. He thought that he was done
amassing his wealth, but then what? If God had not struck him
dead for his smugness, he would have suffered a more terrible
fate, the realization that he was still empty. The scarier thought
for me is not being caught by God with my hand in the cookie
jar. The scarier thought is that of the writer of Ecclesiastes…why
does any of this matter?
“Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless.”
So, lets take the philosopher from Ecclesiastes at his word,
it’s all meaningless, and not just the money grubbing
and the backstabbing. The good stuff is futile too. We can’t
ebb the tide of death. We can’t seem to end the problem
of homelessness; we can’t end hunger and poverty. And
after a while, it can start to feel like a waste to even try?
After all, Jesus said the poor would always be with us. We can’t
avert needless and bloody world wars. We can’t even make
a difference in the state of our own fear and distrust of our
neighbors… can we?
Instead of answering that, I invite you to stand with me and
water the hydro-mulch for a while.
Just stand here, spray the one spot…count to ten. Spray
the next spot…count to ten. Pretty boring isn’t
it? But, hold on, move through the boredom. That is just your
mind thinking that there is something better to do, something
you should be doing to get ahead. My mother needs this hydro-mulch
sprayed now. And it will eventually become a lush green lawn
for her to enjoy. It is the best way for me to say, “I
love you” at this precise moment. There is no where else
to be. God is here in this pile of mud. Inexplicable and unknowable
on one hand and also here, somehow, in this moldy green puddle,
God is speaking to me.
God has deigned to take the mundane everyday and meaningless
actions of you and me and lift them to the divine. We can’t
do it by ourselves, so as soon as we stop trying we can get
down to the business of living in this meaningless…and
wonderful world.
Last week, Fr. Cotton Fite suggested that you pause before
saying the Lord’s Prayer and remember something you are
passionate about, connecting with God’s passion in your
daily worship. I want to encourage you to take another step.
Find that place where you are most anxious, bored or restless
in your everyday tasks and put up a post-it with this phrase
on it, “Let go of your worry and look for God.”
The tasks that you busy yourself with can be, at their basest,
meaningless. Or, you can ascribe them meaning as God has given
you meaning. Look for the divine as you stand in your own lawn
watering your hydro-mulch.
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