Sermon Preached at Northbrae Community Church, October 16, 2005 By Ron Sebring

The word "glory" has the connotation of getting close to God.

Here is a subtle difference between Eastern Religions and Western Religions.

Albeit, maybe just a difference in the way we understand our terms.

· Eastern Religions seem to have the sense that we can merge with God Consciousness.

· Western Religions suggest that we can only "draw near" to God.

Kabbalah says that the closest metaphor we can have for God is "Light." "AUR"

In fact, if you add "Creative and Sustaining Intelligence" to what we know about light, you have a pretty complete metaphor.

The light of God is too intense to experience directly and survive.

One writer compares it to turning on an electric light bulb.

[Rabbi Abner Weiss, writing in the Kabal tradition, Connecting to God, Good Book!]

We think nothing of it. We can go on with what we are doing, aware of it or not. For the light and warmth is sufficient for where we are.

In the nuclear reactor generating electricity, the light is too intense to be there.

And if we expand the analogy to all the blaze in the sun and galaxy and universe, the intensity is beyond what we can imagination.

Our capacity for consciousness can only hold so much.

This Truth is suggested in the passage read this morning.

We can not see the face of God and live.

We are shielded from God, and can only catch glimpses.

Kabbalah believes that there is a fourfold, step-down process, by which the Divine Light of Creative Intelligence comes down to us in creation and sustenance.

Four worlds. And a part of us lives at the edge of each world through our senses, emotions, intelligence and volition. We touch all four worlds.

This is alluded to in various ways in various religions.

· The four cardinal directions and what they symbolize.

· The so-called four elements … earth, air, fire, water.

· Isaiah 43:7 … God "calls" out our name. God "creates" us in glory (this is our maximum reach for glory). Then God "forms" us, and then God "makes" us. Four worlds: in Hebrew, known as Atzilut, Beriah, Yetzirah, and Asiyah.

Getting close to God is less a matter of finding the right technique and more a matter of removing the distractions.

Letting go of their intensity, and allowing them to dissolve away.

Then the Divine light can shine through naturally and illumine our way.

Distractions are like driving down the highway of life and letting the front windshield get so covered with dirt and bugs until we can no longer see the road.

Or becoming so preoccupied with what’s in the rear view mirror that we don’t behold what’s before us.

Or keeping a cell phone glued to our head and becoming so preoccupied with chatter that we lose a sense of the Presence.

Like taking a hike through beautiful mountains.

And getting a rock in our shoe.

· Not a big rock. Just a minor annoyance.

· It’s in there, between our double layered socks and our tightly laced hiking shoes.

· Too much trouble to get it out, so we keep on hiking.

But it preoccupies consciousness until we become less aware of the Presence.

Only as we take the time to remove the rock from our shoe do we clear consciousness for the journey.

Like clouds on an overcast day. Thick, gray clouds.

The sun is still shining. It’s still light.

But it lacks brightness and warmth.

Spirituality is finding a place to wait and allow the clouds to dissipate.

Layer upon layer, until the Light of the Divine comes to us, without effort.

And we bask in the near "Glory" that Moses talked about.

When I was small, back when families had radios and no televisions, Sunday afternoon was a time for a country drive.

Families would go for a ride in the country, just for the sake of the ride.

Sometimes we’d drive up to Brookfield to visit my aunt.

Sometimes we’d take a picnic lunch and stop by Rothwell Park.

Mostly, we’d just drive along a country road, looking at spring flowers or fall leaves.

Ripening wheat fields and windmills lazily turning in the breeze.

And people would talk about their outings.

Once and a while, my brother and I would get to arguing and it would shorten the trip. But mostly, our family generally enjoyed these outings.

But there was one couple in town, an older couple, who would go for a drive every Sunday afternoon.

And they would fuss at each other, as they got in the car and pulled off.

People would find them along the way, and they would still be fussing at each other.

But by the next Sunday, they swore that they had a good time.

And each Sunday, if it was a clear day, they’d go again.

This was a puzzle for my folks. I remember my dad commenting, "Why go, if all they do is argue?"

Samuel Beckett wrote a two act play entitled "Waiting for Godot"

That was popular reading back in seminary.

And while interpretation is illusive, we loved to speculate wildly about it.

The plot is deceptive in its simplicity.

The play is about two tramps, Vladimir and Estragon, who gather on a muddy plateau under a withered tree.

They are waiting for Mr. Godot.

The play never tells us who he is or why he is important.

This is popularly interpreted as "Waiting for God."

· The two tramps quarrel, and then make peace.

· They talk about the meaninglessness of life.

· They contemplate suicide, (the tree hints of a gallows, a cross).

· They eat a carrot and gnaw on a chicken bone.

· Estragon complains about his tight boots.

All the time, they are waiting for Godot.

Two other characters enter … Pozzo and Lucky.

Pozzo is the master, leading Lucky on a leash.

Lucky carries a heavy suitcase that he will not release, and utters long speeches when Pozzo tells him to think.

A lecture on the theories of Bishop Berkeley; heady stuff.

A young boy shows up and announces that Mr. Godot will not come today: he will come tomorrow.

The next day, the two tramps continue their waiting.

And Mr. Godot never comes.

The only change is that the tree has sprouted a few leaves.

Did God never come?

Or did God come, pass through their midst, and they never noticed?

Or was God there all along, waiting for them?