Our Lack

Each of us experiences some lack. And that lack leads to yearning. As a matter of fact, it isn’t only human beings who experience some lack; all living things of God’s beautiful creation feel a lack, and that lack, again, leads to a yearning.

The lack of justice makes us yearn for justice. The lack of faithfulness makes us yearn for faithfulness. The lack of security makes us yearn for security. The lack of food makes us yearn for food. The lack of water makes us yearn for water. At every point in our lives where we experience some lack, whatever that lack is, we yearn for that which will take over our lack.

Remember the story of the woman who met Jesus at the well? Her final plea was “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.” In other words, sir, take over my lack, so I may never lack again. 

It is this lack that sent Brother Lawrence of the Resurrection to a Carmelite monastery in Paris. Brother Lawrence had sustained an injury during the European Thirty Years’ War. He took himself to the monastery to be a monk. But it was determined that he couldn’t be a monk, so they made him a lay monk assigned to the kitchen. He didn’t like that very much, but over time, he fell in love with being in charge of the kitchen. Brother Lawrence rose to become the head cook in that monastery.

Although working in the kitchen wasn’t his initial preference, what Brother Lawrence came to discover was that amid the chaos of the kitchen, he could practice a simple prayer that would aid him in his yearning for Divine presence. He knew what he lacked, and he thought that life in the kitchen wouldn’t consume that lack. But he neglected his fear and ambivalence, and over time within that simple practice of the awareness of the divine, in the slicing of vegetables, in the cooking, the cleaning of pots and pans and the clanging noise in the kitchen, Brother Lawrence found something more profound that consumed his lack, to the point where he no longer felt the lack which first took him to the monastery.

He described the practice of the presence of God as “The most sacred, the most robust, the easiest, and the most effective form of prayer.” Some of Brother Lawrence’s prayers are “My God, I am all yours.” “Love, create in me a new heart.” “God of love, I love you with all my heart.”

Brother Lawrence’s prayers sound very simplistic, but the real core of his prayers is an invitation to an awareness of surrender, and a trust in the God who ultimately takes care of our lack. And like the woman at the well, we cry out with a plea “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.”

If you and I have a lack, then it shouldn’t surprise anyone that the institutions which human beings like you and me create, nurture, and run also have a lack. This is because we are often no different from the institutions we build and sustain with our love. We all have a lack. 

One of those moments of lack became all too visible this past Sunday, and days thereafter. It so happened that a beloved parishioner asked if one of the candidates for County Executives could speak at one of our services. Without thinking twice about it, I responded that the candidate can speak. We therefore put the candidate on the schedule to speak.

After worship, many of our parishioners expressed their disapproval of a political candidate speaking during worship. In the view of our faithful parishioners, it appeared that we were providing a platform for one candidate which was not available to other candidates or we appeared to support one candidate against the others or we were being partisan or political or were providing a politician an opportunity to raise funds.

The truth is that there is no stated direction with which clergy are supposed to approach requests of such nature. These decisions then boil down to the discretion of the clergy person. And therein lies the challenge, the lack.

All the concerns that have been raised by parishioners are legitimate. And I have absolutely no problems with the concerns. I am glad that parishioners felt comfortable and empowered to raise those concerns. I take full responsibility for what happened. And I can assure you that it won’t happen again.

To cure what happened, the Wardens and I have had two meetings to explore a possible path forward. At our second meeting last night, we decided that an invitation be extended to the other candidates to speak at Christ Church.

This was an extremely difficult decision. But we believe that for the sake of keeping faith with our cherished policy of being an open congregation, such an invitation should at least be extended.

As I reflected on the events of this past Sunday and thereafter, I was reminded of the poem “Give me the words that sing” by John Sweeney and Mark Burrows. It is an adaptation of Meister Eckhart’s work. Here is the poem:

Teach me, I pray, to see the small

Unnoticed things in my life

Close to my reach and deeper

Than the eye alone can teach

Show me with the steady measure

Of a poet’s gaze what it means

To seek words that are pleasing

And alive, as the dance is

To those with tired legs and knees.

Give me words that sing

Against the darkest nowhere hour,

Ones full of enough silence to be

Rich in the spin of every now and

Alive in the tremble of each here

Human lack is pervasive. There’s never been a time when I didn’t feel that sense of lack in my own life and ministry. I am sure you will also confess the same sentiments about your own life and our collective ministry. But then again, my prayer and yours have always harkened back to the prayer of the woman at the well, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.”

We all thirst. We all hunger. We all hurt. We can’t walk. We are homeless. We can’t run. We can’t speak. We are wounded. We all fight. We all cry. We want to sing, but we can't because we don’t even have the words. We lack, and sometimes the lack is more profound than we care to acknowledge.

Brother Lawrence once wrote to a nun who was dealing with some health challenges. In the letter, he made the point that Divine love, given to us through practicing the presence of God, heals our wounds despite painful circumstances.

The past several days have revealed another layer of lack, for which I am grateful for two reasons. First, I am grateful because sometimes you can never tell what you’re lacking until it becomes all too visible. Second, we learn either by wisdom or by experience, and this has been quite an experience.

As a community of faith, we will work on this lack. And we will do so with the abiding hope that through our practice of the Divine presence of God in all our circumstances, we will yet find the healing and grace that consumes all our lack. 

Blessings,

Manny+