Sermon preached by The Reverend Eric Kimball Hinds at The Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew, San Mateo, California, on 16 December 2007, The Third Sunday of Advent. Lessons: Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146:4-9; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11.
We all wait. It is a common experience, and yet there are differences in waiting. There is a difference between expectant, on the edge of your seat, waiting; and the waiting of futility, tedium and despair.
In the year 1922, Teilhard de Chardin (pronounced: Tay’ are), a Jesuit priest at age 40, anxiously waited to defend his thesis in the field of paleontology, before a team of established scientists. Since boyhood Teilhard de Chardin had a passion for both science and religion. He was raised in a wealthy French family with a distinguished lineage, and received an excellent education--sharing an interest in science with his father, and encouraged to embrace a life of faith by his mother.
At age 16, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, knew that he wanted to become a Jesuit priest. His studies and teaching took him to Cairo and eventually to Hastings, England. It was in Hastings that Teilhard began to read a book titled Creative Evolution, written by the French Philosopher, Henri Bergson. It was a book that the Vatican soon placed on its list of Forbidden books, yet it was a book that inspired Teilhard to learn more about the theory of evolution--and in his new work and study in this field he discovered a scientific justification for the unity that he felt he shared as a human being with the entire world of living creatures.
Author Amir Aczel, in his recent book about Teilhard de Chardin (The Jesuit and the Skull), writes that it was at Hastings that Teilhard attracted the attention of the director of the Hasting Museum, which led to his advanced study of Geology, botany, and zoology, while specializing in the field of paleontology. And so while Teilhard waited to defend his thesis, some of the gathered scientists pondered--because he was such a visibly religious man--whether a man of faith could be open-minded and objective about matters of science. The questions that he faced were at times pointed, yet at the end of his examination Teilhard was commended by the head of the jury for his “clarity of spirit and professional gifts” and his degree was awarded “with highest honors.”
Upon the awarding of his Doctorate, Teilhard de Chardin was beginning to become known as a major French intellectual and scholar, and he was invited to lecture widely. He spoke with equal ease about: the evolution of mammals, as he did on theological topics such as original sin. In reflecting upon the idea of original sin Teilhard expressed his view that the biblical Adam and Eve could not have existed as described in Genesis, since one couple, he reasoned could not have led to the entire human race. He likewise expressed skepticism about the idea of a terrestrial paradise. These notions he reasoned simply did not stand up under the scrutiny of science. Teilhard suggested instead that the Fall of Adam and Eve must be considered a characterization of human nature, a shorthand description of all human failings, infidelity, and cruelty that we see in the world.
As perhaps you may have guessed, in the 1920’s Teilhard’s writings did not receive a warm welcome from Jesuit authorities in France or Rome, and the Vatican would consistently deny permission for any of Teilhard de Chardain’s writings to be published. In fact, in order to diminish the chance of Teilhard’s writings reaching a widespread European audience, he was sent to China, where his sister had been a missionary.
From our vantage point almost a century latter, to take such actions to try to suppress ideas within the church seems misguided--almost silly. The Roman Catholic Church was not alone in being fearful. You can add many Anglicans to the list of those who feared the challenge of new ideas to the established order and a traditional expression of faith. In retrospect, one has more of a sense of the lost opportunity to engage in a lively ongoing discussion—where, yes ideas are challenged, but where the ultimate goal is to arrive at a new and better--a more complete understanding of the world and one’s faith.
If we were to apply some of Tielhard’s insights to the season of Advent we might have a deeper appreciation for the amount of time that God waited simply for the emergence of life on the planet earth--let alone the emergence of humankind. In the Hebrew scripture, it is the prophet Isaiah who has a vision of hope and a vision for the distant future: “where the desert shall rejoice and blossom…The lame shall leap like a deer…And the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.” But even Isaiah’s far off vision pales by comparison to the eons of time needed for life on the planet to evolve--let alone for humans to have the capacity to reason and contemplate the coming of a savior. Teilhard de Chardin was fascinated by the complexity of life, believed deeply in God, and was never afraid that his faith would unravel, simply because he asked tough questions, or had to rethink something that he once was taught or believed. In fact, embraced the notion that ones faith actually grows and matures as a result of vigorous testing and examination.
I would argue that the whole point of good teaching, of bible study, of reflecting upon one’s faith is to some extent challenge what we believe—to incorporate new knowledge and differing perspectives—so that a new synthesis can be born. It’s exciting when we gain a fresh insight and learn something new about our faith. This type of waiting, of waiting for something new to be born has an active component. It is more like the pressing and urgent message of John the Baptist. An Advent that is striving towards a new beginning with the full creative force of God who is the creator of the cosmos behind it.
Last week you may have read the news of our neighboring Diocese, The Diocese of San Joaquin voting to leave the Episcopal Church, and align with a Diocese from South America. You may know that the Diocese of San Joaquin is one of 3 dioceses that has consistently refused to ordain women; and with the more recent events within the Episcopal Church that has allowed for a greater open inclusion of gay and lesbian people the diocese voted to leave, and to realign. The part of this story that is so sad to me is not the difference of opinions, but rather that by splitting and aligning with a like minded diocese, effectively all future discussion and dialogue, and sharing of experience is entirely cut off.
Our denomination has a long tradition of toleration for a wide range of viewpoints and we generally embrace open and robust discussion. The wide range of views and difficulty to reach consensus can at times be frustrating—even tedious, but this type of openness and respect also brings an energy and engages us as we ask and seek where God’s spirit might be calling and leading us. At the end of the day, Anglicans have always favored gathering for common worship and celebrating the aspects of our faith that we share--rather than picking apart our individual differences. The genius and gift of our tradition is that it is more important for our community to learn to support one another, and to listen to one another--even with radically different views--Than it is to divide into factions claiming a special understanding of God and exclusive insight.
The funny thing about he effort to silence Teilhard de Chardin by sending him to China was that upon his arrival in China, the gregarious Jesuit immediately began to make connections with local archeologists and paleontologists, and became a part of the team that discovered Peking Man, the first discovery of the remains of Homo erectus, a discovery that catapulted the name of Teilhard de Chardin to worldwide recognition.
During this season of Advent, as we anticipate the birth of a messiah, a savior--we might ask our selves “what new things is God preparing for birth in our very midst?” “Where will our church grow in the upcoming year?” “What will be born out of our Day school’s strategic planning process?” “What new thing will emerge in your life? In our common life?” “Where is there tension or energy or even anxiety?”
We all wait, but perhaps our best waiting, our waiting worth cultivating during this season of Advent—is expectant waiting. Waiting on the edge of our seats to discern where and how God will be with us. This season especially--we anticipate and watch, and wait to see how the God of creation--the God of the cosmos--ventures to come to us and lead us to a new place. A place of activity, fulfillment, and peace just waiting to be born in our midst.