Sermon Preached at Northbrae Community Church, September 4, 2005

By Ron Sebring

Empathy and Equity

We owe it to George Lucas and "Star Wars," years ago, for some of the icons we have today.

In one scene, the cold, silver, mechanical death-star hangs in empty space. It fires a fatal lazar into a populated planet. The planet explodes. All life, destroyed.

At that moment, in a far away place in the galaxy, Obi Wan flinches. "What’s wrong?" someone asks. This sensitive sage responds, "There is a disturbance in the Force."

Today, collectively, we are experiencing a "disturbance in the Force." This web of humanity within which we all live …. This web of life within which we all take part ….

It’s sending a shock wave throughout the universe.

We feel it as we watch the horrible images coming out of the hurricane disaster area. New Orleans, 80 miles of coastal towns, water soaked. Suffering and dying. Roofs of houses, row upon row, acre upon acre, surrounded by water. Rubble strewn streets. The astrodome surrounded by thousands of people. Waiting. Starving.

A man compassionately holds a baby. "This is not my baby," he says. "Whose baby is it?" the reporter asks. "That woman over there," he says, "the one who just collapsed."

There are wonderful stories of people pouring out their hearts. … People are so good!

Churches and volunteers. The state of Texas. Sports fishermen taking their boats over to search for survivors. Families opening up their homes.

But there are also some contradictions. Admittedly, the situations are different, but when the twin towers fell, response and rescue were immediate. Now, after the 9/11 commission and the establishment of homeland security bureaucracies, response time is painfully slow.

And whether we call it "racism," or "classism," the injustices are right there on the screen. The rich and privileged are able to leave. The poor can not afford to.

How to respond? Our nation suffers all the signs of grief … withdrawal, denial, overwhelming sadness. Guilt … What can we do? Can we do more? Anger. Who is to blame? Why the delays? Why the inequity?

Self-reflection will increasingly become the order of the day. And as this happens, maybe there is a way to avoid bitterness and division. Perhaps there is a way to creatively lament.

I may have shared this some time back … when my son was in residency in Minneapolis he had a conversation with a good friend from England, another intern. As I recall his story, they were on a break, sitting around a table sharing coffee.

And his friend from England asked: "You know what’s wrong with you Americans?" "You don’t know how to lament." "You don’t know how to deal with tragedy."

"In America, you want all your stories to have happy endings." … And they lived happily ever after.

"In England, stories with tragic endings are in our tradition - Hamlet, Othello, Romeo and Juliet.

In trying to grasp what he is saying, I imagine the end of a Shakespeare play. When the curtain is drawn, you sit there feeling sadness, but with a kind of quiet reflection, reflecting back on the complex web of interactions that led to the tragedy. And you understand. You have a sense of a pattern. You come away from a Shakespeare play quoting lines from the play. Phrases, wisdom tidbits that work their way into our cultural.

My sense is that the ability to embrace tragedy with reflection, to lament, is part of what has led England to be so efficient in responding to their last terrorist attack. All the mechanisms were in place to solve the crimes and protect London, and within the space of just a few days. Admittedly, England has issues, but in this, their response-time was immediate and thorough. I believe it is more than having the logistics in place. They understand the patterns and how to help people respond.

There is a whole book in the Bible called "Lamentations." And it’s all about lamenting.

Yet, so few sermons draw their text from this book. We want happy endings. So it hides in our Bibles, almost invisible. It was Israel’s ability to lament during their exile as refugees and later while rebuilding Jerusalem, that turned their nation around, drew their scriptures together, and established Judaism as an enduring tradition.

What would it look like for us as a nation to have a more creative way to lament?

Not to freeze up with guilt, defensive and helpless. Or to burn up with anger, playing the blame game. But rather to turn all that energy into healthy lamentation. Healthy reflection. The kind that seeks patterns and gives wisdom.

Then, we can both: Respond with generous and empathic hearts. --- And --- More effectively address the injustices, and the inequalities, and the capitalistic greed, political confusion, which is causing our nation so many problems. Tibetan Buddhism has an intriguing painting called, the "Wheel of Life." It is a complex and symbolic glyph, a map of consciousness.

In the hub, a rooster, a pig, and a snake chase each other round and round. These stand for the three things that lock people in their "Wheel of Karma."

The rooster stands for greed. The sense that we never quite have enough. The pig stands for ignorance. Not understanding the deep nature of reality. The snake stands for hatred. Resentment. The inability to forgive.

Outside this are six spokes, sectioning off six realms in which people live. And the Tibetans are graphic in their depictions. Among these:

The world of "animals," where people are servants to their base instincts. The "jealous gods," the "haves" of the world, jealously guarding their private little kingdoms and craving what others have. The "hungry ghosts," the "have-nots" of the world, always hungry. The demigods, those people on "power trips."

Attached to the spokes is the outer rim. This is where experience touches the world. And here is one of the most interesting and challenging concepts in all Buddhism. One writer says that this is the foundation of Buddhist teaching.

It is called "Interdependent Co-Arising." There are 12 links or stages in the circle.

Holding the wheel is a demon, named "Yama." He is taking a bite out of it. Depicting the despair and suffering people experience when locked in the wheel.

And in many paintings, the Buddha is outside the wheel, in the upper right-hand corner, either sitting or walking in meditation … Depicting the ability to step outside of life and look on from a creative distance. This is the space of creative lamenting; the ability to look upon the patterns that repeatedly cycle and draw forth prophetic wisdom.

At this point, Western religions differ a bit from their Easter counterparts. An outside perspective is not an escape. It is a perspective from which we re-engage life, re-enter the wheel and change its direction.

Interdependent Co-Arising. Thich Nhat Hanh, in The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, (pp. 221ff.) explores this complicated and intriguing concept. The concept suggests that "cause and effect," whether single or multiple, is a mental projection. Causes and effects arise concurrently. Reality is one, big, seamless and shimmering blanket of events in which each thread influences every other thread.

"Three cut reeds. They stand only by leaning on all the others." A chair exists by virtue of the tree from which it was cut, the rain that nourished its growth, the sunshine that fed its leaves, the air, the earth, the birds, the bugs. That chair exists because of a designer, a carpenter, the food that nourished them, their parents, and their grandparents. And what nourished them. And so on throughout the universe. No seams. No boundaries.

Everything is inter-connected. This means that we cannot go to the store and buy a pair of athletic shoes without touching the lives of countless people. The hand that designed them, the stockholders that make demands on the company, and the people who gathered and prepared the raw materials … child-labor is it happens to be there. The chain is infinite. Everything interdependent. And everything is arising together.

The wisdom that this suggests for us is that: The twin towers began falling long before the airplanes flew into them. And the inequities we see in New Orleans and in other places occurred long before the winds began to blow. They participate in systemic patterns that will continue to recycle.

Creative lamenting is the ability to discern them. And then, to do something. Today, we will be sandwiched between two events. Next Sunday is 9/11, the anniversary of the terrorist attack and the destruction of the twin towers. Last Sunday, the hurricane came ashore.

It is natural to react with guilt and rage and trying to find fault. It is well and natural that we respond with big and generous hearts. And to take nothing away from any of this. But it’s wise to note that these are "reactions" and not "proactions."

What might we gain from finding a more creative way of lamenting?

Whether our concern is global … with a strange mix of national generosity and a sense of our cultural inequities. Whether our concern is with our local community. Or whether it is a personal concern.

Creative lamenting means discerning patterns. Perhaps it is not all that productive to point fingers at "causes." Fault finding. Perhaps it is enough to just become aware of patterns. For as we change a pattern, even just a little, we change an outcome.

To find creative distance. To claim moments of silence and become a compassionate watcher. To allow the unfolding of images of peace and justice and equality. And then to act with empathy, and equanimity, and a deep sense of equality.

From The Vision of Sir Launfal, by James Russell Lowell

"Sir Launfal, a knight, road forth from his castle, tossed a coin to a beggar, and spent his life in search of the Holy Grail. Upon his return, failing to have found it, beaten and bedraggled, he saw the same beggar. He dismounted, offered him his last crust of bread, and drew water from the moot in a wooden bowl to offer him a drink."