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Biography
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"A New Thing"
A couple I know chose this passage for their wedding. They had waited a long time to get married, and we had waited a long time for them to do it. And when the day came, we were all gathered, friends and families from every stage and corner of this couple’s life, all of us part of the thick memory of their past, and we held our breath in utter joy for this daring thing they were about to do. It is quite a thing, to step into a future that is unknown, on a path that has yet to be cut. You enter a wilderness—a beautiful one to be sure, but a wilderness all the same—in that there is nothing safe or tame about this new journey. And all of us gathered there, stood and watched this couple go. But first, we listened to these ancient words from Isaiah. “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. It’s a beautiful passage, but a curious one, too. Do not remember the former things? That’s not what our counselors and psychologists tell us. They have a word for someone who refuses to deal with the past: the word is “denial,” and it is not a quality you especially want. People in denial are like ostriches who stick their heads in the sand, or a person who pretends that everything is fine, normal, when an enormous elephant is smack in the middle of the living room. Do not remember the former things? That’s not what our teachers and religious leaders tell us. They who forget their history are doomed to repeat it, my professors told me. One look at the newspaper convinces me always of that truth. And those of us who try to live as people of faith in this perplexing world have traditions, and sacred stories, and scriptures that we read, over and over, to one another. We aren’t in the business of forgetting tradition. We try to remember it, to keep it, honestly and faithfully. Do not remember the former things? How are we supposed to read that? There is the obvious, of course: for that wedding couple, Isaiah word’s about “doing a new thing” hit the nail on the head. In fact, for newlyweds, there isn’t much that doesn’t fall in the “new thing” category: new spouse, new apartment, new families, new names, new chores, new habits and idiosyncrasies to smile at, and sometimes to tolerate. But those “new things” settle down to routine soon enough. Pretty soon those newlyweds are old-marrieds. Or that city you relocated to becomes familiar; it’s your city. The new job is just your job. Time passes and we adjust. No matter how hard advertisers try to convince us, there really isn’t much that’s new under the sun—not for long, anyway. How could God do a new thing that would make us forget the former things? In this passage from Isaiah, I hear words to live by. God’s promise to Israel, and God’s promise to that wedding couple and even to us, is that each day we travel this beautiful wilderness of life, God will do a new thing. God will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert, so that we can drink the water we need and give praise to God. It’s a strange promise God makes, when you think about it. God doesn’t promise to subdue the wilderness; only to make a way through it. God doesn’t promise to take away the desert, or take you out of it, only to find some water in it. God doesn’t promise to tame the wild animals, or to keep your husband from turning into a jackal or your wife from acting like an ostrich (because God knows marriage occasionally is its own wildlife safari); no, the only promise is to make a way and to find the water, so that even the wild animals and partners and ordinary people will stop and see the new thing, and honor God. I think that is the promise for us, for all of us. God will do a new thing. No matter how wonderful things seem to us today, God will do a new thing. No matter how tired we may be tomorrow, God will do a new thing. No matter how mundane the routine, or sleepless the night, or painful the argument, God will do a new thing. And it isn’t clear what that will be; there is no promise to fix or mend or put more hours in the day. There is only the promise to make a way in the wilderness, a river in the desert—if we will look for it. “I am about to do a new thing,” says God. My prayer for that wedding couple, and my prayer for you, is that you will rise each morning and say to yourself and those you love, “Today, God is about to do a new thing.” And then, I hope you will go out and look for it. Don’t let your imagination be closed off by what has come before. Remember what you have. You have a thick memory of the former things: seas that split open so that the people could pass through on dry land; pillars of fire in the night that led the people through the wilderness; rocks that rolled away from the tomb. The dead raised; the lost found. You have a memory of God’s liberation. Put your faith there, and the ancient miracles will come to life in you. This is a great day. It is the day God has made. God is about to do a new thing. May those words be on your lips for every day you are alive on this Earth. Amen.
Conversation with Anna Carter Florence Daniel Pawlus: Anna, thank you so much for joining us and sharing your message of hope. Anna Carter Florence: Thank you. Pawlus: God will do a new thing. What I heard is you suggest hope in the present as much as in the future. Is that part of what you were going for? Florence: I think that is it. And the thing that just always strikes me about that passage is it’s not always what we’re hoping for. The content of the hope is that we will find a way in the wilderness; not necessarily the way we’ve asked for, but a way. I find that really striking. Lydia Talbot: That’s so important to discern that difference. You talk about the present and the future, but I want you to look back for a moment with us, Anna. How were those words from Isaiah first revealed to you personally in your journey? Florence: I don’t know that I can pinpoint a time. I just know that every single time I have thought I knew the way, it has become clear that God had a different plan. We laugh at the seminary because I tell the students over and over that you cannot say never: I will never do this, I will never do...because it always, always, always happens. And the thing that has made those words deep for me is that the way God makes is never the way that I would have chosen. Pawlus: I can certainly relate to that. I know the plan that I think is going to happen usually doesn’t. It’s always on God’s time rather than my time. But the other thing I like that you seem to intimate is that God is constantly creating new hope for us each day. I think we tend to ask for hope when we need it the most but it’s an ongoing process, isn’t it? Florence: Yeah. Water in the desert, enough to feed you, enough to quench your thirst. What you need, not cake in the desert, just something so simple as that. Talbot: How do you think, though, the promise in Isaiah speaks to families whose child has died or to someone who has lost a spouse or a loved one? How do those words speak to someone who is at the bottom, where they really believe that their worst possible reality has come to be? Florence: I remember when my father died very suddenly. I didn’t want to hear those words spoken to me, but I took great comfort and hope, I suppose, in knowing that I was part of the thick memory. Remembering that the story of God is a story of people who are fed and people who are brought through. And if I’m part of that story, then somehow that will be made plain. Maybe not today. Maybe not in the way that I wish. But that is the promise. And that for me at that time was profound. It didn’t always come from the words of others, but it came in knowing in my bones, I guess, that God is faithful. In the end, God is faithful. Talbot: And so the hope that is still there when your worst fears are realized. Florence: Yes. Yes. And it didn’t make it better. It didn’t make it easier. It just...it made it bearable, I guess. Pawlus: I was going to say, I think it nicely points out when we reach out to God, in a time of need, for hope. But you also talked about being open on a daily basis to more spontaneous hope. How can we do that better in our lives and in our families and faith communities, because it’s always there for us, isn’t it? Florence: We are constantly doing this at the seminary because I think the thing that makes a good preacher is someone who pays attention. And so I’m constantly asking my students just to go out and look. It’s really just a matter, I think, of simply disciplining yourself and reminding yourself—maybe just for five minutes at first, but then longer as time goes—to just look at what’s going on around you. And if you look through the lens perhaps of those words from Isaiah, things you wouldn’t notice just begin to...it’s a habit like anything else, you know. Talbot: Awareness and receptivity. Florence: Yeah! Right. And you have to start small and remind yourself, ok, I’m paying attention now for five minutes. And then it becomes a habit and you just do it and you see it. Talbot: Now, I suspect that you also, along with your mother, have the mind of a poet in your teaching and preaching. Don’t you teach a course in preaching and poetry? Florence: Yeah. I do. My mother is a poet and I use a lot of poetry in teaching because poets are people who speak the promises of faith. Talbot: And who notice. It’s that awareness. Florence: And who pay attention. The poet Mary Oliver says: “I don’t know what prayer is, but I do know how to pay attention.” And we use that a lot for the students. “I don’t know what prayer is but I do know how to pay attention.” And that attending is a prayerful way of living and then eventually, for students that I teach, it moves into sermons. Talbot: What are some of the ways that you weave the poetry into the sermon? Pawlus: What are your inspirations? Florence: I don’t know that I would...I use to, when I was younger, quote poetry. Just kind of quote those beautiful words. Now, what I try to do is I try to live the way poets do. I try to pay attention, as closely and carefully as they do. And I try to trust that the words that I use are going to do their own thing. Not to control it so much the way I did when I was younger. So it’s more of a way of trying to pay attention to a poetic process, I guess. Talbot: You must plug your new book, “Preaching as Testimony.” What is it? Florence: Yes. Well, gosh, it’s about preaching! I really don’t know what to say more than that! Pawlus: It’s a broad subject. Florence: It’s my take on it at the moment. It’s a book that I wanted my sister, my brother, my mother, my students, anyone I knew to be able to pick up and get through. I didn’t want it to be a technical thing. I wanted it to be a book that said some true things about what I think preaching is and also try to help pastors and people in congregations try to remember some of what preaching is when we strip away the fear. Talbot: So how do you do that? Florence: Well, the word testimony as I’m using it is not, “And now I’m going to tell you my story...” But here I’m going to tell you what I saw and I’m going to tell you what I believe about it. I’m going to tell you what I see in this text and I’m going to tell you what I believe about it. I can’t offer you anymore than that. Talbot: Give us an example. Florence: Well, in this sermon that I just did today, what I was trying to do was to say this is one thing I see in Isaiah. It’s not the only thing to see, it’s one thing I see. And I believe it so much I’m going to put my life behind it. And that’s the only proof I can offer you. Talbot: How do you hook kids into this? You have two young boys. Florence: Oh, my boys are wonderful sermon listeners! Well, kids have an innate sense of when something is authentic and when it’s not, you know. They have great BS detectors, to put it more clearly! Pawlus: They are your best test audience? Florence: They are. They know immediately when a preacher is faking it or when a preacher is so afraid they are not saying what they really believe or what they believe they see in a text. And so I think this is the kind of preaching we do when we’re young. And I think it’s the kind of preaching we all want to do when we’re not afraid. When we’re not worried about what people will think about us or whether they’ll fire me. It’s not unleashing on everybody, it’s just saying this is one thing I see in the text and I can’t prove it to you by any other way than how I’m going to live. Talbot: You are also married to a preacher. Florence: I am! Who is a teacher now. But I am. He’s my best critic. My best touchstone. Pawlus: We’ve got about 30 seconds left. Who is an inspiration for you? I know you are interested in women in ministry and so forth, in your work as well. Florence: Oh, well, here today I’ve met Sr. Joan Chittister and Sr. Helen Prejean. I’m floating! Pawlus: Fantastic! Thank you so much, Anna. Florence: Thank you |
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