August 27, 2000

The garden was magnificent, the work of a master. Turn to the left: majestic trees marking the end of the lush grass and inviting you into the cool of their shade. A stream emerged from that cool shade watering the profusion of flowers that dotted it's banks. Turn to the right and the grasses appeared as a carpet, inviting you to lay down and soak in the sun. The garden was a delight to the eyes in every direction. The variety of color, the beauty of the flowers and the trees, the grasses and water and even the bare earth made the heart sing.

In the air this afternoon, the fragrances of the many flowers and trees were vivid and enchanting. With the warmth of the sun, came a breeze in gentle puffs — seemingly each puff bringing a new fragrance. The sounds of animals could be heard, and every now and then one could be glimpsed. Their movement serving as a counterpoint to the stillness of the garden. An idyllic scene to be sure.

Then came the word that both blessed and doomed the garden: "You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die." (Gn 2: 16-17) God blessed Adam, our ancestor in the faith, with everything including the freedom to choose what to do with his life. C.S. Lewis liked to call us "sons of Adam" and "daughters of Eve." And truly as sons of Adam and daughters of Eve we have inherited the precious gift given at the beginning of time, we have inherited the gift of choosing what to do with our lives.

You know the story. Sadly, our ancestors in the faith chose to disobey God's command. They risked disobedience and chose to taste the fruit of the forbidden tree, and doomed the garden and earned banishment for themselves. But the inheritance, the blessing of choice, the gift of choice, remained a part of the human family and in our day we are as free to choose as was Adam and Eve. We are as free to choose as were the all the people of Israel gathered in front of Joshua at Shechem. We are as free to choose as were the disciples gathered with Jesus in the wilderness and fed by the bread come down from heaven.

Living as we do in America, our lives are filled with choices. It can even feel, at times, as if we have too many choices. Just this morning you had to choose to get up or sleep in. You had to choose to come to St. Margaret's or stay home or go golf or go out to eat or go back to bed. You may have to yet choose what you will do after the service. For the majority of us there may be things we must do (by a certain deadline), other things we would like to do and still others things that would be good for us to do. We can choose to do some of things from that list or to do nothing from that list. From the very beginning of time, we have been blessed with the freedom to choose what to do.

A big part of our growing up is learning how to make good choices, moral choices, choices that are as loving as the actions of our Lord. We learn how hard it is to always do the right thing, make the right choice. We learn how easy it is to risk it all in a moment of passion or stupidity or weakness or ignorance. We learn which voices to trust as we make our choices and which voices to avoid. We learn both the joy of being a part of the majority in choosing and the awful doubt that can come when choosing to be a part of the minority, or even of choosing to go it alone.

Usually our choices come quickly, maybe even automatically, because they are so simple. Should I get up or stay in bed this morning? Should I wear this blouse or that one? Should I have cereal this morning or toast? But as we gather this morning, we know also about the choices that bring life and death—physically and spiritually.

We are, or we know, the alcoholic who chooses to drink. We are, or we know, the alcoholic who chooses not to drink. We are, or we know, the couple, or the woman who must choose whether to have this baby, or choose to terminate the pregnancy. We have had to decide, or had to journey with those who wrestled with the decision about what kind of treatment to use to fight the cancer now growing inside — or, to use none at all. We have had to decide, or journey with those who agonized with the decision to "pull the plug" when all medical remedies had been tried and found wanting.

We are the man or the woman, or we know the man or woman, who wonders if this new person in their life is in fact their soul mate, the one who will make them whole and complete. We are the person, or know the person, who wonders if the choice of being single is the life-giving choice it seems to be. We are the person, or know the person who, wonders if there really is a loving God, a God whose love can even embrace them. We are, or we know, the person who has chosen to follow Christ, and has found new joy and new wonder in everything.

We are at once fragile and powerful. Our choices make a difference to others, to ourselves, to creation and to our God. The most perplexing situations, the most complex choices, can reduce even the strongest among us to tears and a confused indecision. We sense our lack of wisdom and our lack of a far vision, we feel fragile and vulnerable, in those moments. And yet, the blessing is not withdrawn. By God's blessing in the beginning of time, we are powerful to choose even in matters of life and death. Heaven may hold its breath while we make up our mind, while we put off making a decision, while we wish with all our might to be excused from decision making this one time, but by God's blessing the power to choose is and will remain ours.

We are kin, after all to Adam and Eve. We are kin both to Joshua and to that group who heard him say "as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord." We are kin to that great crowd who swore at Shechem: "we also will serve the Lord, for he is our God." We are kin to those who tasted the bread in the wilderness and who heard Jesus declare "I am the living bread which came down from heaven . . . he who eats this bread will live forever." We are kin to those who found his words difficult and made the choice to turn back. And we are kin to Peter, and to those for whom he spoke when he said: "You have the words of eternal life. . . . you are the Holy One of God."

In fact, I picture Jesus holding his breath as he waited on Peter's choice. "Do you also wish to go away?" Jesus asked. And he held his breath. I believe he prayed for the Twelve, his closest disciples. After all, he prayed to the Father before he chose these men. He prayed with them after their work on his behalf in proclaiming the Kingdom of God. After he asked the question, as he held his breath for their answer, I believe he prayed for them. Finally, Simon Peter answered "Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life." And, Jesus breathed an Amen to his prayer.

At the risk of sounding maudlin, at the risk of painting with too simple a palette, I want you to know that I believe Jesus prays for us, too. When the "big choices," the life and death choices are upon us, and they can come in so many different ways, I believe Jesus prays for us. He cannot choose for us, he cannot force our choice in one direction or another, but neither will he abandon us in the moment of our need. In the moment of our greatest need, even when it feels as if we are deserted and alone, I believe Jesus stands with us, praying for us, loving us, blessing us in our choices.

We count ourselves among those who have come to believe that Jesus does indeed have the words of eternal life and is in fact the Holy One of God. We believe that he hears the prayers of our heart, the call of our heart even before we speak it. One of the simplest prayers in scripture is found at the end of Revelation (22:20): "Come, Lord Jesus!"

I encourage you to invite the loving, praying, blessing presence of our Lord into all your decisions, small and big, using this prayer, "Come, Lord Jesus!" Let us daily walk with him, learn from him, and ask his wisdom in the small choices of life; let us daily walk with him, learn from him, and count on his prayers, his wisdom, his love, his blessing in the "big choices "of our lives. "Come, Lord Jesus!" Amen.

The Rev. Daniel Rondeau
drondeau@stmargarets.org
27 August 2000