PRESENCE AS PRESENTS

Rev. John P. Gaffney
December 10, 2000
 

Call to Worship: 

As the chill hand of winter tightens its grip upon us and sets a death
watch over a tired old year, let us kindle within our hearts the
gladdening flame of the yuletide season that we may fling against the
blackness of the long, cold nights and against the depth of human misery and despair, lives newborn in love, goodwill and mercy toward people everywhere.
--William D. Hammond

Chalice lighting: 

May the chalice we light this holiday season remind us of the glowing
love within the heart. May the carols we sing uplift our spirits and
renew our hope and vision. May the special moments we spend with family and friends strengthen the bond of caring between us at this time and throughout the coming year.
--Patrick G. Green

Sermon:

There are 15 days till Christmas or, as it is usually phrased, there are
15 shopping days till Christmas. Shopping. Presents. Gifts. Isn’t that is what Christmas is all about?  Someone said we should change the greeting:  not Merry Christmas, but Merry Merchandising. We have a problem here. We overwhelm our children--and the entire family for that matter--with gifts which can so easily smother the true spirit of Christmas. I’m as guilty as anyone. There are usually so many gifts under our Christmas tree that you would think that we were a family of ten. The more gifts there are, the less they seem to be appreciated and enjoyed.  Often there is an empty feeling once all the wrappings have been torn off the gifts and the loot is scattered about the room. What can we do about it? There are many partial solutions and I will give one here: Being fully engaged with another, our presence is the most valued present we can give. 

The deep spirit, the spirituality of this season, can be diluted by the
voluminous gift-giving. This is not a modern problem. The early Christian Church tried to outlaw gift-giving which they thought would detract from the sacred meaning of the festival, but the people cherished the custom so much that the Church had to abandon this attempt. Christmas had been established by the early Church on this late day in December to supplant the pagan, Roman feast of Saturnalia, which was marked by gift-giving.

The Church was successful in changing the festival, but not the
gift-giving.

History tells us that many throughout the years distorted the notion of gift-giving. It is reported that when gifts were presented to the
emperor, Caligula, he would publicly ridicule people if he felt that the
gifts were inadequate. In England, Henry III closed down the merchants of England one December because he was not impressed with the amount of monetary gifts he received. He tried to put them out of business. How do we, today  keep the giving and receiving of gifts in balance?  My suggestion is that the best present we can give, the one that truly honors the holiday is our presence. 

When this theme of Presence as Presents first came into my mind I was thinking of presents given to children. What better gift than presence, I thought, for a child whose dad or mom, is away so long at work and so preoccupied at home? The reading we heard earlier in the Service was entitled, “If I had a child to raise over again”. It says: “I’d take my eyes off my watch and watch my eyes. I’d take more hikes and fly more kites. I’d stop playing serious and seriously play. I’d do more hugging and less tugging.” When I read this a second or third time, it struck me that this was referring not only to a child, a minor, but to everyone--  no matter what their age. Each of us has the same needs as the child in this reading, whether we are husband or wife. brother or sister, or friend. When I speak of the gift of our presence, it can be a gift to people of all ages.

What do we mean by presence? Woody Allen said that “most of life was just showing up.” There is truth here but not the whole truth. Indeed we must physically be there but we must bring something much more. Here enters the spirituality of it all. To be truly present for another, to be totally engaged, we ourselves must first be focused, centered, or as I said in my sermon last week, we must be still. Last week I said that Nature and this season of winter speak to us, but we will not hear the message if we are not still. How much more is this the truth when we are talking about listening, being present to a son, a daughter, a wife, a husband, a brother, a sister, a friend? In a word, we must be still, at peace  with ourselves, connected to the loving person within each of us.

How can we be aware of another if we are not aware of ourselves?
How much at peace are we? Our lives are frazzled -- too much to do and too little time in which to do it. We are overworked and over-stimulated.

We have too many irons in the fire. We must stop this! When I say it to you, I say it to myself. Find time to slow down, to reflect, to listen to music, to nourish our soul. If there is one great lesson that religion is to teach to us, it is this. Not an easy task in our turbulent world, but oh so necessary. We cannot give what we do not have. We cannot give our presence--our full attention--if we are distracted, and exhausted. 

You might ask: How can I afford the luxury of being still, reflective or taking the time to care for my soul? This work, soul-work, if you might, is not a luxury but a necessity. In fact, it is the necessity of life. Everything else pales when compared to it. You might say that your life is full of stress and demands -- it’s like warfare --- there’s no place for this quiet time. Let me cite someone who is the master of this stillness which he called mindfulness. It is the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh.  In 1974, during the days of one of the violent wars of our times, the Viet Nam War, he wrote a long letter to a Brother Quang, another Buddhist monk, about this mindfulness, which is a quiet awareness of everything we do. It comes from the stillness of our soul. This letter was bound into this classic book, “The Miracle of Mindfulness.”    A miracle  indeed -- something that can be miraculous. If this monk could find the time and the emotional energy to be still in the days of the Viet Nam War, why can’t we do the same in our day, in the year 2001, in suburban Maryland? To be still and present to ourselves is the most valuable gift that we could give to ourselves this Christmas.

Armed, so to speak, with this gift of presence to ourselves, we are now ready to give this gift of presence to our loved ones: children, spouse, friends.  It means more than “showing up” in the memorable words of Woody Allen. It means to be totally engaged, totally be present to the other.

Our mind is not elsewhere, our eye is not on the clock. We are not
thinking of other things we would rather do or should do. We are not simply “putting in time” so that our duty is fulfilled and we can get on to something more important.

Another book that I brought along illustrates this point. The title of
the book is “Availability: The Problem and the Gift” by Robert J Wicks.
He talks about being present for another but he calls it availability. He
speaks about what a gift it is and what a problem it is to cultivate. He
says that “availability is a simple but great gift. The freedom to be
present when needed is something special. It is an opportunity to be
spiritual (there’s that word again) -- to be open to relationship in the
deepest, most elegant sense of the term.  Yet, this wonderful state of
living often seems hidden or distorted now.  Today, availability is at a
premium. He goes on to say that we are too available.  “We become  too busy to pray, too tired to reflect, and, ironically, too stimulated
interpersonally to really be present to others.” Too stimulated. Yes,
that is the problem. The author, Wicks, gives us a concrete example of this availability or presence. He says that while on a recent trip to
Ireland, he became lost on the back roads. He stopped to ask direction from a man working there.  The brief stop turned into a wonderful 15 minute encounter. He not only got directions but found that he wound up talking about a myriad of things. As he drove away he thought, “Wasn’t it nice that he took time out to talk to me. As he drove a bit farther it finally dawned on him what really had occurred. He hadn’t taken time from his day to be with him; he had made him part of his life.” This is the attitude we should develop. The son or daughter or whoever we are with becomes part of our life.

Another personal story comes to mind to illustrate this point. Nine
years ago I was pastor to a big UU congregation of some 17 souls. I
supplemented my income by working as a chaplain -- some 20 hours at a shock trauma hospital and 20 hours at the Finan Center, a state psychiatric center. I was also part of a program called CPE or “Clinical Pastoral Education.” Under the supervision of a minister-psychologist, our group of four would visit patients in these medical facilities, then write a report about our encounters, and present it to the group who would then dissect our interaction. During one of these session our instructor gave me an insight which I cherish to this day and illustrates the gift of presence. At this psychiatric hospital, the patients were the worst of the worst. If they had any kind of money they would have been in a private psychiatric hospital. Many of them had been confined there for many years. Most were wildly disturbed and some physically deformed.

Above all, they were a lonely group, rarely visited and treated in the
most cursorily and impersonal way by staff. I was friendly but in a
rather perfunctory way. Dr. Gene said, “You have the opportunity to treat each of the patients as a very special person, one you really care about.

You would need to stop, really look them in the eye, and speak to them as you would to a dear friend, not rushing on to something or someone else.

Your moment with them is special. You will probably be the only one who will treat them with such kindness and with the dignity they deserve.”

Such a simple insight but so profound for me. The next day as I entered the psychiatric ward, I stopped and really engaged a patient, as though he were a dear and cherished friend or even a family member. It really transformed me. I felt I really gave something to this poor soul and I received much more in return. I was present to this good person.

How present are you to your family? I’ve heard about some fathers, and I hope that most of them have died off, who would say, “I don’t do babies.

I don’t want to deal with them until they can talk.” This may be an
aberration, but I wonder if there are still some fathers who have little
to do with the baby, leaving such nurturing to the mother. Perhaps it is more relevant to ask: “In the course of a day, how present are you to your children and your spouse”? Do you make the time to fully enjoy them, embrace them, play with them, share with them? Or is your mind elsewhere when you are with them? Do you give them your undivided attention as though this is the most important thing you will do at that moment? Are you too often too tired to do this?  Have you gotten out of practice?

I thought of the stages of life and how we often go from the ideal to
something far less worthy of us and our loved one. Remember when you were courting and madly in love. You couldn’t wait to be with your beloved, your time together seemed all too short, and you hated to leave. Run the reel forward many years later and you hear the wife say to her recently retired husband: “You’re driving me crazy being around the house so much. If you don’t get out of the house more, we’ll probably ended up divorced.” And so he spends his day golfing and she gardening. They can’t stand to be present too much.

Remember there are only 15 days till Christmas. Some will consider these to be 15 days of frantic shopping. I suggest that you and I spend some time thinking about our gift of presence and how we will deliver it.  

Closing words:

I wish for you, all around you, people who love easily and forgive
quickly; whose eyes are stars when you are night; whose voices are
trumpets when you are silence. I wish for you people about you who are gifts in themselves and whose presence in your life is an all-year-round present.
--James Curtis

If I Had My Child to Raise Over Again

If I had my child to raise over again,
I'd build self-esteem first, and the house later.
I'd finger-paint more, and point the finger less.
I would do less correcting and more connecting.
I'd take my eyes off my watch and watch my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more.
I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.
I'd stop playing serious, and seriously play.
I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I'd do more hugging and less tugging.
I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often.
I would be firm less often, and affirm much more.
I'd model less about the love of power,
And more about the power of love.
--Diane Loomans