Sermon Preached at Northbrae Community Church, November 6, 2005 By Ron Sebring

A neat human interest story appeared on television, this last week.

A man went to an animal shelter and strolled through the kennels.

One dog after another. Huskies. Pit bulls. Different breeds.

These places are akin to "death row." Animals are either adopted or put down. Humane societies are overrun with animals abandoned or brought in from the streets.

He happened upon one dog. I don’t know; maybe a cocker spaniel mix.

· A light tan coat.

· Big milky-black eyes.

· Tail wagging vigorously, clear up to its neck.

They locked eyes, and something moved in this man’s heart.

The date on the nameplate indicated that this dog’s time was about to run out.

Not wanting her put down, he adopted her. Named her, "Honey."

In two weeks, this man and his dog went on an outing along the ocean front.

Both of them got into his van, and he was backing up.

Something happened. The van went over a cliff and rolled down into a ravine, landing upside down.

A tree punctured the top of the van, pinning him in his vehicle.

He managed to open a window, and said to his dog, go get help.

He hung upside down for almost six hours, lingering near death.

His dog, Honey, ran about a mile up the road, came up to a farm house and got the attention of the residents.

She managed to communicate in the special way that dogs do.

She managed to get the residents to follow her.

They found the overturned vehicle, called 911, and help arrived just in time to save the man’s life.

This man saved the dog and in two weeks, the dog saved the man.

I ponder that special look. That moment of meeting. That special awareness.

Not knowing, but yet knowing, how destinies are intertwined.

A special quality of awareness, an intensity of the moment, … we’ve all experienced that.

It is this intensity of awareness that is so prized in the world’s religions.

It is a state of expectation. It is marked with compassion.

And it is locked vivid in our memories.

Like a dog’s love for a man, and a man’s love for his dog.

Like a mothers love for her new born infant, in that first embrace.

Like a saints love for a community, and his or her willingness to change history.

Every one of these saints in our windows loved beyond their family and friends. They loved their communities, strangers, and made a difference for them.

There are many parables in Zen Buddhism about this kind of "Mindfulness."

Students came to the Zen master, wanting instruction. "What is important in life?"

And the Zen master said, "Awareness!"

"Surely you can say more," said the students. "Tell us what that means."

And the Zen master said, "Awareness? Awareness."

This was frustrating to the students. They came from a long way and all they get is one word? "Explain to us what you mean by this. Tell us more."

And the Zen master said, "Awareness. Awareness? Awareness!"

A Zen saying, "Sitting quietly, doing nothing. Grass grows, and spring comes by itself." And life indeed unfolds as naturally, when invited by mindfulness.

The Zen master steps upon the stage and sits. Folds his legs in the lotus position.

Students gather around and wait for the sermon to begin. "What profound thing will he say, today?" they wonder.

The Zen master simply holds up a flower.

Only one monk on the front row smiles, having heard the sermon.

For me, the Biblical witness is saying this exact same thing. Mindfulness!

With Christianity’s obsession with creeds and arguments over beliefs, this isn’t generally recognized.

Christianity tends to drown itself in an ocean of words.

· To reframe a Zen image … Jesus and his disciples are sitting around a campfire.

It’s been a long day. Jesus notices a beautiful, full moon.

He lifts his index finger and points, and he says "Look!"

And all the disciples look at his finger and try to make sense out of the gesture.

Theologians write long dissertations about the finger pointing to the moon. Precious few ever look to where he is pointing.

Ø The Bible often uses the image of a watch tower.

A watch tower stands a little higher than the rest of the building complex.

The watchman perches in the tower and watches the surroundings.

The person who watches must stay awake. Alert.

Lest the enemy slip up when least expected and rob the complex.

Jesus tells us to stay awake, for the Kingdom of God, a living Presence among us, slips up on us like a thief in the night.

 And in this parable read this morning.

Ten maidens go to await the bridegroom.

· Five are wise and take enough oil for their lamps.

· Five are foolish and are not prepared to stay awake.

The bridegroom comes unexpectedly.

· Those who were unprepared were left out in the dark.

· Those who were alert, and able to trim their lamps, were ready.

This isn’t a passive kind of awareness.

Sitting in the porch swing and watching the day go by.

Swatting mosquitoes and drifting off into daydreams.

Or letting ourselves get hypnotized by our routines. Thinking we are awake.

Driving to work, coming home, fixing meals, going to bed, and waking up one morning to discover that our clock has run out of time.

This is engaged awareness.

With a special mix of trust and expectancy and compassion. Faith, hope, and love.

It is alive. Energetic. Focused. And filled with possibility.

Like a frog sitting on a lily pad. Motionless.

The frog isn’t sleeping. It is intensely alert. It is hunting for a surprise.

When an insect drifts by, it shoots out its tongue for the capture.

Like a toddler playing with one of these Jack-in-the-box toys.

Dad winds it up and the music plays.

The lid is closed and the child knows the clown is in there.

The child watches intensely. Wide eyed. Waiting.

And suddenly, the lid opens and the clown pops up, spreading its arms.

And the child explodes with laughter.

The toddler looks up with an expression that means one thing: "do it again."

And Daddy winds up the toy and the music plays.

And all over again, the child watches. Intensely watches.

As if for the very first time.

It doesn’t matter if the child has seen this a hundred times.

The child will watch with the same sense of renewed expectancy.

And will giggle as intently.

What a joy to behold our world in this way!

For the Jack-in-the-box that springs into our life comes when we least expect it.

Our ability to claim the moment depends on how much oil we have for our lamps.

The problem with having oil for our lamps is more than having the right amount.

It is also a question of the purity of the oil.

What clouds our awareness more than anything else is our pre-judgments.

We make assumptions.

We want to measure things as either good or bad, better or best.

We are too eager to give interpretations.

Sometimes this gets in the way of seeing and hearing what’s really there.

Sometimes we fog our perceptions with interpretation so that we don’t behold.

Sometimes our projected wants or fears distort what’s before us.

 

I want to share again the story that Ge Qun Wang told us, many months ago.

I would like for this story to enter into our collective memories.

And I thank G.Q. for bring it to us. This story is very popular in China.

It captures a wisdom that the West needs to hear.

It’s about an old man who had a beautiful horse.

Big, strong, energetic. It pranced and danced about the pasture.

But one day, the horse broke through the fence and ran away.

All the neighbors came by to give him their condolences.

"We’re so sorry. What bad luck you have!"

But the old man said, "Maybe good luck. Maybe bad luck."

In a day or two, his beautiful horse returned, bringing with it several other horses.

And the neighbors came by to give him congratulations.

"Wow! A barnyard full of horses. What good luck you have."

And the old man said, "Maybe good luck. Maybe bad luck."

His son was trying to break one of the horses. The horse threw him to the ground where he broke his leg.

And the neighbors came by to give him condolences.

"We feel so bad for you, about your son. What bad luck!"

And the old man said, "Maybe good luck. Maybe bad luck."

The country went to war, and the young men were drafted. But because his son had a broken leg, he was exempt.

And the neighbors came by to celebrate his good fortune.

"We are so glad that your son is exempt. What good fortune!"

And the old man said, "Maybe good luck. Maybe …. Who knows?"

The point is that we just don’t know.

Life happens. Life unfolds for us, and we are quick to give it our rating.

But life is a complex web of events, all mixed together, and the best we can do is look on with wonder.

This man who adopted his dog from the Humane Society could not have known that this dog would one day save his life.

It was enough that their eyes locked, and they fell in love.

It was enough to bask in the full richness of that moment.

It was enough for him to embrace his new found friend

And for the dog to lick his face with appreciation.

God’s grace took care of the rest.