The Rev. T. Richard Snyder

August 2, 2009

Don't worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or wear. This is another one of those sayings of Jesus that sounds good in theory but seems impossible to put into practice. Don't worry about where your next meal is coming from?

Did he have his head buried in the sand--oblivious to all that was going on around him. Would he say not to worry about food to the unemployed single mother of three children? Would he say not to worry about shelter to the homeless living under a bridge? Was he so focused on some heavenly kingdom that he didn't notice or take seriously the stuff of everyday life? If so, most of us will find his advice to be of little interest. Is it possible that he was in denial? Was he a Pollyanna?

That is certainly one way any number of people deal with threats. They think that if ignore them perhaps they will go away. Unfortunately, denial often compounds whatever the problem is that faces us. We'd consider it sheer foolishness to pretend that there is no possibility for mass starvation, or a pandemic or another 9/11 or a return to McCarthy-like repression. These threats call for vigilance and response--not denial.

If we consider the life of Jesus it is clear that he was not in denial about the threats of his day, especially those threats to the most vulnerable. He was constantly on the look out for injustice and took extraordinary measures to challenge the unjust powers. He broke Sabbath laws to feed the hungry and heal the sick. He ignored social mores by relating to people who were outcasts and untouchable. He came into conflict with the religious and political leaders for their failure to deal justly with the most vulnerable. Each of these acts involved a conscious, willful decision on his part. He was not living in denial. He was keenly aware and chose to respond in a manner that called for new behaviors and new structures.

If he wasn't an ostrich was he simply advocating living spontaneously, without regard to thoughtful attention to the future? There are people like that, who think that living in the moment means avoiding planning for the future. That was a hallmark of the Hippie movement. It is also a popular misinterpretation of the Bhuddist admonition to "live in the moment," which is actually an invitation to be fully present, to attend with one's full attention.

Certainly Jesus cared very much about the future. The most compelling evidence of this was his plan to go to Jerusalem-the seat of power--fully aware that the confrontation would result in his execution. His path to Jerusalem was not based on whimsy or foolish spontaneity. In fact, we are told that he was in frequent dispute with his disciples about the wisdom of such a course which they debated at a number of points. It was a carefully thought out action.

Yet here he is saying, don't worry about tomorrow. Don't be anxious. These are strange words to our ears for we live in a culture that is riddled with anxiety. When we compare his words with the way we actually live there is a severe disconnect. We have a lot to worry about. Will the Middle East go up in flames? Will terrorists attack the U. S. again? Will Medicare cut back its coverage? Will our pension be sufficient to last as long as we do? Will our children need to return to live with us? Will our grandchildren be socialized by video games and Facebook rather than by personal relationships? The list goes on and on. These questions are unavoidable and extremely realistic.

Some of the threats we face have to do with our very existence such as fatal illnesses, war or terrorism. But for most of us, such threats lurk at a distance in time or space. Perhaps the most serious and pervasive level of anxiety today is what Paul Tillich called spiritual anxiety-the sense of meaninglessness, emptiness. boredom or anomie.

We see this existential anxiety prevalent among many of our youth. In our Restorative Justice work one of the most common response from young people who are in trouble with the law, when asked why they did what they did is, "I was bored." They feel that there is nothing worthwhile compelling them-they are adrift.

Cornell West, in his book Race Matters-which I consider absolutely essential reading for every white person-while acknowledging that economic deprivation and political powerlessness are real issues for blacks, says that the most serious threat is "the profound sense of psychological depression, personal worthlessness and social despair so widespread in black America."

But it is not only disaffected young people or oppressed blacks who experience deep anxiety. Many older persons experience it as well. It is not uncommon to encounter someone who has retired from a successful career only to find him or herself adrift and empty. So much of our identity is wrapped up with our roles and when we lose the role we can find ourselves wondering about our meaningfulness. Who are we when we are no longer producing, making decisions, bringing home the bacon, being recognized? I remember a person coming up to me after I had retired and inquiring, "didn't you used to be Dick Snyder?" I knew what she meant, but her question revealed much more than a change in position-it represented a fundamental perception that with retirement comes a loss of identity. The loss of identity can be profound. For many it has led to depression and even death.

There are other threats to the sense of meaning and fulfillment that we experience as we get older.. When the nest is empty, the children have moved away and sustained family life is reduced to just the two of you or, in death, to living alone, there can be a severe sense of loss. What are you useful for any more-other than occasional babysitting or loaning money?

In a society that values knowledge more than wisdom, power more than caring, sprinting more than long distance racing, taut skin more than wrinkles, skinny models more than matriarchs-in such a society it is easy as you get older to feel that the life has passed you by and to become anxious about whether your life any longer has much meaning. No wonder that depression is so widespread.

Unfortunately, the of two most common ways of dealing with our existential anxiety are medication and busyness. Our society has bought into the Dupont inspired motto 'Better living through Chemistry." Certainly there are chemical that are crucial for some to restore a chemical

imbalance. Did you realize that there are over 20 prescription medications to curb anxiety on the market? But pills alone cannot lead us out of the depths of existential anxiety. In far too many cases they only mask the symptoms and allow us to avoid dealing with the causes. We can't medicate away meaninglessness.

And we cannot work our way out of the anxiety of emptiness by keeping busy. A constant round of entertainment, a rigorous physical exercise regime, or volunteering for every opportunity that presents itself is no substitute for facing our anxiety and dealing with its roots. We are an activist society and usually consider doing something as better than doing nothing and doing more as better than doing less. The warning of the psalmist should not be ignored. "It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil…." In giving ourselves up to constant activity we ignore the invitation of the psalmist, "be still and know that I am God." There are times when it is appropriate just to be.

So if the anxiety of meaninglessness and emptiness is such a common experience and neither medication nor mindless activism can empower us to overcome our anxiety, what are we to do?

Here, I think, is where we may have something learn from Jesus who implored us not to be anxious.

So if he was a realist and looked ahead, how was he able at the same time to not worry that he had nowhere to lay his head? Why was he able to not care about social conventions and what the "right" people thought of him? Why was he able to accept the most basic threat of all, the threat of death? It wasn't that he was unaware or unconcerned about the necessities of daily living. He prayed for daily bread. Rather, he was talking about the kind of concern or awareness that deepens into a sense of dread--a condition of deep anxiety.

There are three things in this text that offer us some clues about how we can handle the anxieties that attend our lives-how we can live for today rather than being excessively worried about tomorrow. He begins by asking, "Are you not worth more than the birds of the air who neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns…yet are fed?" Every person is God's child and possesses dignity by virtue of that fact alone. Once we understand this and claim it, we will realize that no amount of striving for meaning will provide any greater worth than we already possess just as no amount of effort will add height and no amount of worry will add years. Each person is fully worthwhile and therefore we need not carry the burden of existential anxiety. This is a particularly powerful insight for those of us who live in a consumer society that tells us that our worth and value are measured by what we eat or drink or wear or drive. Despite what all the advertising tells us, short or tall, hungry or full, able-bodied or disabled, well-dressed or in hand-me-downs-none of these has any bearing upon our worth or the meaning of our life. Our physical condition does not define our meaning, our purpose, or our worth. In response to the threat of emptiness Jesus invites us to claim our fullness as a child of God.

Second, he then goes on to say, consider how the lilies of the field grow without toil or spin. If God causes the grass to grow, will God not clothe you? With that question he reminds us that we are part of a creation that has the capacity to provide all the necessities of life. There is enough for all our needs.

But if he only said told us to claim our worth as a child of God and know that all of creation is available for our needs, we would be left with little more than another power of positive thinking message-the makings of another pop psychology self-help book. It's a good message as far as it goes, but it is not enough. Its not enough because its not just what we think about things that creates our anxiety. It is because our culture fosters anxiety. We live in a world in which we are constantly told that we are not good enough. That we don't have enough money, drive the right car, have the right physique, have straight enough teeth or live on the right street. How do we claim your worth in the face of such an onslaught?

And we live in a world in which millions go to bed every night and wonder where tomorrow's meal will come from. That is not because there isn't enough in creation to care for all people but because our world is being controlled increasingly by economic interests that care nothing for the needs of the whole creation. Corporations are privatizing the water supply. Agra-businesses are creating one-crop economies in third world countries and in so doing are eliminating the availability of land to grow the basic food needs of the local people. We could go on. The point is that creation itself is being distorted from its purpose which is to serve the needs of all, by exploitation for profits. How do you not worry about what you will eat when the game is rigged?

Jesus knew this. It was true in his time as well. The majority of the people were kept in poverty and dependency by a land-owning system that created great wealth for a few and subsistence existence for the majority. Many of the parables of Jesus deal with the injustice of the wealth of large landowners and the religious and political leaders who were in league with them. So Jesus is not unaware that many to whom he was speaking were threatened daily with hunger, disease and marginality. But he insisted that the intention of a loving God is that all our needs should be provided. That is what he meant by the Kingdom of God.

If his words ended with an affirmation of our worth and the amplitude of the world's resources we'd have every reason to think, "nice idea, Jesus, but you are living in a dream world." But he doesn't stop there. He adds a third word-seek first God's Kingdom and God's righteousness and you will be given all of the other things.

This sounds like a pious religious platitude-the kind of word people speak when there is nothing practical left to say. It can sound rather escapist, rather ethereal, rather "religious".

What did he mean? A number of highly successful radio and tv evangelists and megachurch preachers have used this saying to tell their people that if they just follow God (which being interpreted often means "follow them") God will reward them with wealth. The preachers of a Gospel of Prosperity have completely distorted the meaning of these words. Jesus is not talking about the promise of wealth but rather what it will take to correct the injustice that has stolen food from the mouths of the poor and clothing from their backs.

Seek first the Kingdom and God's righteousness. The word righteousness here is better translated "justice" or "making things right". What Jesus is telling us is that we need to make things right and when we do, the necessities of life will be available to all. "Seek God's kingdom and justice" is a call to action and without it, the other words are empty.

For Jesus, the Kingdom of God is the realization of God's intent for the world-a world in which all have daily bread, experience forgiveness, embrace one another and live in peace. And for him it was not some far off event. He said it is here, it is among you, it is in your midst. The Gospel is filled with promises: of rebirth, of resurrection, of the kingdom. Unfortunately, we have relegated all of these to the future tense--something that is on the other side of death. We need to claim them for the present.

None of us will be able to fully alleviate anxiety from our life. But anxiety need not control us, it need not distort us. When we realize that we are of ultimate worth because we are God's children, when we claim the truth that all of creation is for the sake of all people and not just a few, and when we vow to seek to make things right, to overcome the injustices that are the root of so many of our anxieties-then we shall know the truth-- that the Kingdom of God is in our midst.

In the long run, it is what we are living for that is more important than simply that we are living. And what Jesus calls us to live for is justice for the oppressed, freedom for the captive, and healing for the sick. If that is what we are living for, we'll find our anxieties are kept in their rightful place and the evil that is the source of so much of the world's anxiety can be overcome.

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