Sermon from May 1, 2005

“Most of What I Need To Know ...”

Rev. Patricia L. Liberty

Scriptures:

Psalm 66:8-20

John 14:12-24

A local nursing and rehabilitation facility in Rhode Island has become home to a friend of ours who is no longer able to live on her own. She never married and has no family, so a group of us from church have looked after her for years. Her days now are clouded with confusion; she is occasionally ornery and at times withdrawn, often disoriented as to time and place. Most of the time she knows who we are, if for no other reason than we do her laundry, bring her coffee milkshakes and, perhaps most importantly are the humans who belong to Pearl, who many of you know, is our dog. She is a black shaggy loveable mutt and she makes regular visits with us to the Nursing Home.

On such days when we take her along, it usually takes us about three times as long to make our way down the hall to Bertie’s room. Everyone, staff included, has to take a moment to give Pearl a pat on the head. Pearl makes a beeline for the bed as soon as she enters the room and no matter what kind of a mood Bertie might be in, Pearl never fails to bring a smile. Pearl is too old to climb up on the bed on her own, so Bertie often says, “Put her up here with me, I know it’s against the rules but I don’t care.” Truthfully, I don’t either. I pick her up and put her on the bed, and Pearl rolls over for her tummy rub and they both smile from ear to ear.

I don’t know what it is about dogs, and for some folks cats, but they evoke such a wonderfully positive response. When I worked as Director-Pastoral Care at Miriam Hospital in Providence, we had a number of therapy dogs that visited on the oncology and post-surgical floors. I can honestly say that the hospital was a much happier place on the days when the dogs came to visit. Therapy Dogs International has certified over 4,500 pet partners who provide services to over 350,000 patients per year. Whatever it is, we know that dogs demonstrate loyalty and obedience, and offer wonderful comfort and a sense of well-being.

Comfort and well-being are universal human needs. If you don’t think so, consider this: each year, Americans spend billions of dollars a year on comfort food: premium ice cream, microwavable foods like macaroni and cheese, not to mention chocolate, alcohol, natural remedies, exercise equipment and prescription medication all promising to bring relief from stress, comfort and no less than the complete transformation of one’s life. In my own personal experience, the only thing Ben and Jerry’s transformed is my waistline.

Every day, there are new gimmicks that promise to tweak our troubled lives and give our days a renewed sense of purpose. Televangelists, spiritual healers, and gurus of various stripes round out the countless miracle cures available for our comfort and edification. It is endemic to the human experience; in times of stress and discomfort, moments of meaninglessness and insecurity, we seek comfort. It’s just part of what it means to be human.

It was precisely this same stress, insecurity and anxiety that gripped the disciples as they anticipated Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion. Our gospel today picks up where we left off last week, continuing Jesus’ farewell discourse set in the context of the last supper.

Last week’s message was an admonition for the disciples to remember who they were, the unique identity that was theirs as God’s beloved called to God’s purpose. This week’s message is the counterpart to that; Jesus admonishes them to remember not only who they are but also WHOSE they are. John is the one who makes the connection between love and obedience as central to the life of discipleship. This obedience is not to be understood as some dogged observance of rules and laws, but a relationship of trust and joy that is enlivened by the presence of the Holy Spirit, which Jesus promises will come to comfort them when he is no longer with them.

The Paraclete, the Comforter, the Holy Spirit is promised to those who love Jesus and keep his commandments. Jesus’ words are reassuring and encouraging, but also profoundly theological. He addresses the pastoral needs of the disciples not by analyzing the shaky situation, but by promising the permanence of divine presence. John’s gospel is the first one that makes that connection between love and obedience. God loves us; we love God. God expects something of us in return. If you love me, keep my commandments. Then comes the promise of comfort, the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Paraclete, which means helper. Now, obedience is one of those things that have fallen into not being very favorable in our time because we all want to believe that we are somehow in charge.

This morning, I’d like to take a light-hearted look at what it means to be Godly, by thinking about the things I have learned from Pearl and our regular romps in the Nursing Home. While Robert Fulghum may have learned what he needed to know in Kindergarten, much of I what I need to know I have learned from my dog. Here are a few lessons from dogdom that have taught me something about the kingdom.

Bark with your buddies. Barking is an act of community. When Pearl barks, dogs in the distance answer. Barking says, “We’re all in this together.” As we become more isolated from each other because of busy-ness, competition, “improved” electronic communication that convey words but fails to provide human contact, getting together and being in community is important.

There’s a reason worship is central to a life of faithfulness—we are created to live in community. Yes, we can pray on our own, connect with God in the mountains, on the water, and on the golf course, but there is no substitute for corporate worship; singing praise together, praying for one another, and greeting one another in the spirit and love of Christ. Bark with your buddies.

Greet loved ones with wagging tail. Nothing is more important than feeling loved and there’s not a creature on the planet that does it better than a dog. No matter how big a jerk I may be on any given day, when I walk in the door, Pearl is happy to see me and ready to give me a slurp. She reminds me that unconditional love is a beautiful thing and that I have a long way to go before I am even close. Pearl reminds me that loyalty is a good thing as well. Loyalty has fallen on hard times but it is a critical element of discipleship, for it speaks to our relationships with others: our spouse, our vocation, our community and our friends. Love and loyalty are closely related.

Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. You know how dogs eat, at least my dog: slobber flying everywhere, chasing the dish across the floor to get every last morsel. Twice a day she jumps around and barks and can’t wait to dive into the dish. She reminds me that eating is a celebration of life. Breaking bread together is holy. To nourish the body is not a chore, but a sacrament.

There is a reason the writer of John’s Gospel puts Jesus’ final words and instructions to his disciples in the context of a meal because eating together is holy. Eating together is deeply intimate. Barriers are broken down; relationships are renewed and strengthened; friendships are born and strengthened. Eat with gusto; enjoy all the flavors and spices of creation.

Run, romp and play daily. Physical exercise is as important for the soul as it is for the body. Pearl is absolutely unashamed and unabashed in her demand for daily exercise and attention. She sits at the door and barks and is not happy unless I follow her outside. She looks at the leash and barks. She reminds me of the daily need to care for my body and to take time to play no matter how busy I am or how many things I have to do. Think about it. Jesus tells the disciples that the Holy Spirit will come to them as a comforter; to us as human beings. We need to take some time to think about what kind of welcome mat we are putting out.

When you're happy, dance around and wag your tail. Thankfulness and celebration are powerful dynamics for successful and healthy living. Gratitude is a gift that we learn and benefits not only the ones to whom we are grateful but also ourselves. Gratitude enables us to affirm the essential goodness of life. Even when adversity strikes, gratitude helps us maintain our perspective and carries us through the low moments. Pearl reminds me to cultivate gratitude through the simple things. She doesn’t ask for much—a few minutes of my undivided attention, a short walk a couple of times a day, decent food, a safe dry place to sleep, and she’s happy. She’s low maintenance. She reminds me to be grateful for simple things.

Learn to be present. At the Nursing Home, Pearl picks out the residents she will go see and is different with each of them. When we walk into the big, common room, I let go of the leash. Pearl takes a minute and kind of saunters around. Then, she will wander over to a resident. If that person is playful, Pearl will be playful. If that person is withdrawn, Pearl sits down, and sticks her face in their lap and nuzzles gently.

Pearl has taught me the value of sitting close by and being present. I may have said this before, but one of the most valuable things I learned in seminary is, “When you don’t know what to say, for God’s sake shut up.” Pearl reminds me of the timelessness of that truth everyday.

We all have bad days. That's why we need encouragement and affirmation. When we are depressed, we know that it takes only a quiet word or a gentle touch to bring us around. A dog has this instinct that tells it when to be dancing and jumping around and when to just be there beside you. Words are not always needed, or even helpful, to convey sympathy. Sometimes, a gentle nuzzle will do.

Put a cover on the compost heap. Pearl has taught me to put the cover on the compost heap because if I don’t, it’s not pretty. In doing so, she reminds me that I have some responsibility to this planet that I live on—that what I do with the things that I no longer need impacts the creatures that depend on me for well-being and support. So, occasionally I forgot to put the cover on the compost heap and Pearl will show up with something. Put a cover on the compost heap. We are caretakers and stewards of the earth. Our pets remind us to take care of what has been entrusted to us.

Finally, when you choose to surround yourself with lives even more fragile than your own, you learn that time is fleeting and life is very precious. You see, in dog years, I’m dead. I have had quite a few dogs in my life. Each one lived a rich and full life, even though it was measured in time that was all too short. Pearl has lived more of her life than she has left and I know that, one day in the not too distant future, she’ll join my other canine, equine and feline companions whose presence have graced my life through the years. For now, she teaches me that time matters, tomorrow is promised to no one, and the little things I do each day make the difference between existence and a rich and full life.

I am grateful for my animal companions who teach me about life and remind me of the stuff I sometimes forget in the rush of daily living. I hope one day I might be half as good a Christian as my dog. Amen.

(Sources: Canine Candy Stripers—Homiletics 2002)