EAST OF THE GARDEN
A Sermon on War and the Human Condition

James Ishmael Ford
23 March 2003

The Text
And God said, behold humans have become as I, knowing good and evil; and now lest they put forth their hand and taste also of the tree of life, and eat, and live forever; I will send them forth from the garden, to till the soil out of which they were created.
So God drove them out; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden a cherubim brandishing a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life.
Genesis 3: 22-24


I think all the time about this war. It’s hard for me to not turn on CNN, or follow the web to various sites throughout the world seeking their comments and stories. It’s obsessive. It’s like the need while driving down the freeway to slow and stare at a burning car. I’m obsessed with this conflict.

And perhaps worse still I find myself thinking about what war suggests about our human condition. Mostly these are not good thoughts. Our tradition is optimistic; we Unitarian Universalists are inclined to believe in the great possibilities of humanity. But war and the various causes of war cast a pall over that optimism.

No wonder there are stories like those of the Hebrew Scriptures that speak of our human falling from grace. Grace. Webster’s describes grace as the exercise of love, kindness, mercy, favor. Wherever one may wish to put the responsibility for this war, in its totality, war is a pointing to how we have lost that gracefulness.

I’m not particularly comfortable with the biblical story of Adam and Eve and their eating the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, and how with that knowledge but before they could gain eternal life they and we their children were driven from the garden. But I am acutely aware of some deep sense of separation, of my, of our divided hearts, of a longing for something better, of that possibility of love, of kindness, of mercy while at the same time living with something much less.

The longing for me has to do with how in my heart of hearts I feel this gracefulness is what it is supposed to be about, what we are supposed to be about. I know this isn’t entirely rational. Dreaming of a world of grace is like dreaming of living forever. I’m acutely aware of our forward looking eyes, of our canines, of our taste for meat, and I can’t avoid how we share so much in common with predators. But, I also have this longing. I can’t fully account for this feeling, or from where it comes. But it is there. I do feel it deep within my being.

Now, in fact, our religious tradition has distilled much reflection on what might be the source of this longing, and our current statement of principles and purposes summarizes all this in the first and seventh of those principles, speaking as they do to our precious individuality and our complete interdependence.

But, sadly, just knowing somewhere in my bones this is true, isn’t particularly helpful. Just knowing we are connected and that at the same time each individual life is precious, isn’t enough. Children are still crying in fear. Men and women are still tortured by tyrants. Innocents find themselves at the mercy of merciless armies. Families are torn asunder as are human bodies. Blood is being soaked up by hot sands. And knowing we are all related just isn’t enough.

So, what next? What else? Well, in our regular required conversations about her internship, Suzanne said something I think particularly helpful here. Suzanne suggested the necessary consequence of these insights into our uniqueness and our commonality can be found in the fourth of the principles, which is a call to our "free and responsible search for truth and meaning."

Now, there are several things to consider within that statement. First there is the element of freedom. I believe there is a debate about nature and nurture, which is very much rooted in the question of freedom and necessity, simply because both are true. The questions really are only about degree. We are constrained by various things, but in some very real sense we also have freedom. At the very least, we can say yes or no. And that ability to choose is freedom.

And then there is truth. Pontius Pilate asks famously "what is truth?" And in our age of irony and distance, the favorite philosophies are those that disdain the possibility of knowing anything with any certainty. And there is truth to the observation of limits to our knowing truth. But, we can know enough. If through a mirror darkly, we still can see what we need to see. Our senses and our minds can indeed guide us on paths of righteousness, of grace, of love. When we open our eyes, we see examples all around us.

So knowing there is freedom if constrained, there is truth if shadowed, I then find myself thinking about responsible and what it can mean. As I searched out its origins the word responsible derives from respond which has to do with a promise. It is an answer or a reply to something. I suggest this suggests our response to that deep urge within us that says we can be more than our biological constraints.

So, how can we seek the truth hidden within that ancient story of the garden? How do we allow the deep intuitions of intimacy to flourish in this time of isolation? How can we heal the hurt? How do we manifest our free and responsible quest?

Well, I found a brief essay by journalist Jeanie Davis summarizing the work of academic physicians Emanuel Maidenberg and Daniel Creson of particular use in this regard. And maybe it could be of use for some of us in this room. She gives ten points for us to consider in this time of crisis.

1) Put some perspective on our fears. 2) Find trustworthy sources for information. 3) Think critically. 4) Take a stand. 5) Determine how realistic the risks are. 6) Don’t "catastrophize" everything. 7) Talk with friends, co-workers, family members. 8) Express our fears in writing. 9) Find some way to make a contribution, to volunteer. And 10) Keep our routine as normal as possible.

So, let’s take some of those points, and think of them as spiritual practice, as possible manifestations of a free and responsible search for truth and meaning. First, we need to put some perspective on our fears. We need context. Do you obsessively fear for yourself or your children? Are you afraid for the world? One child I know fears Saddam Hussein may climb in through the bedroom window. What is an adult perspective here?

In that quest for perspective find trustworthy sources of information. I have become very dependent upon the World Wide Web for research. It is a powerful tool. But, it is also swimming with misinformation. What I’ve needed to do is develop a sense for search terms, at once concise and broad enough to pull up a manageable list of links. And then to investigate those links I’ve had to cultivate what we’ll call here a "nonsense detector." In other places I use a rather more earthy term.

The point is there are those as it says in the scriptures wandering about seeking whom they may devour. Be wary of those who tell you just what you want to hear. Watch out for liars, for people who neatly put it all into one grand conspiracy. Usually you can sort the information out by finding several sources you or people you trust consider trustworthy and then comparing what they actually say.

All along the rule is "think critically." This is the core secret of our Unitarian Universalist spiritual way. It is the great gift of our humanity. Certainly we throw reason away at the peril of our very souls. These days it couldn’t hurt to memorize a few logical fallacies as if it were a spiritual practice.

And take a stand. We, each of us, must stand somewhere. So do it consciously. Of course as we take a stand, we’re also making commitments. So, determine how realistic the risks are within those commitments. But, also keeping perspective means not "catastrophizing" everything. This is the tendency to over-prepare, to live our lives out of our fears. Remember the call for perspective.

So, as important as I feel opposing the Bush doctrine and its consequent assaults on our civil institutions and the family of nations is; I also am living a life that has a spouse and a family, and among people who are living real lives with jobs or the loss of jobs, with children and parents. People get sick. Children are born. People die. And these things, and attending to them, are all part of the task of living authentically.

Then there is that point about writing things down. I suggest taking on any of those disciplines that give us a little perspective: writing, meditating, doing Sufi dancing, participating in a small group ministry. The point here is find a practice of presence and perspective, and do it. It will help.

And directly related to this, harkening back to the call about taking a stand is find some way to make a contribution, volunteer. Give something of yourself. However busy you are, what ever the necessary tasks of life might be, it really can help both for ourselves as individuals and as members of society at large, if we give some time.

And, yes, keep a routine. We human beings follow patterns, we enjoy, we need rhythms in our lives. We’re adaptable creatures; we can deal with the uncertain and change. But, finding a rhythm can indeed be the cultivating of a garden, the garden of our spirit.

Here, maybe that old image from the Hebrew Scriptures isn’t so bad, after all. Now I kind of like looking to the wild, at least metaphorically. Certainly there is a place for the untamed wilderness. But, we also need to find the patterns that allow our lives to grow deep. We need to tend. We need to cultivate.

We need that garden.

And as we cultivate ourselves in all these various ways we may well find ourselves not only returning to our true home, but coming to that mysterious tree of life itself.

This is the hope I find rising from deep within me.

And I think it is true.

Amen.