Waking the Wind

Only when they spread their wings are they the wakers of a wind: as if God with his broad sculptor's hands were turning pages in the dark book of the beginning. – Rainer Maria Rilke

Terra Cotta Wisdom

Terra Cotta Wisdom

2 Corinthians 4.5-12

Strolling through creation’s quiet beauty, God saw that it was good. This pleased God, who then plunged his broad sculptor’s hands deep into the rich clay earth, and carefully, lovingly, molded humankind, a creature of both spirit and clay; a creature capable of ascending to the very heavens to grasp the outstretched hand of God; but a creature that shares the fragility of clay as well and is destined to ascend, if ascend it will, through its brokenness and sorrow.”

– From Terra Cotta Wisdom

Destined to Ascend

The wisdom of the ancient Hebrews was long preserved in sacred stories rich in poetic imagery. It is still possible to imagine such a story passed on from parent to child when the day’s work was completed, and the chill of twilight had begun to set in. “Come, Isaac, come and warm yourself by the fire, and I will tell you a story of the beginning; when there was neither light, nor life… save God alone; not even a wisp of wind to fill the void, its gentle rustle giving some indication of space and time. ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ God declared, and a universe came into existence; a universe of fish, fowl, and animals of every sort; a universe of rivers and lakes, of mountains and seas.

Strolling through creation’s quiet beauty, God saw that it was good. This pleased God, who then plunged his broad sculptor’s hands deep into the rich clay earth, and carefully, lovingly, molded humankind, a creature of both spirit and clay; a creature capable of ascending to the very heavens to grasp the outstretched hand of God; but a creature that shares the fragility of clay as well and is destined to ascend, if ascend it will, through its brokenness and sorrow.”

“A creature that shares… the fragility of clay and destined to ascend… through its brokenness and sorrow.”  There is wisdom in this statement; terra cotta wisdom, an understanding of clay and all things fashioned from it.  What does it mean to be a creature of both spirit and clay, and how shall we ascend to grasp the hand of God? These are issues that Paul addressed with the church at Corinth almost two thousand years ago; issues that concern us still. Let us listen together to a portion of Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians.

For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way but not crushed; perplexed but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh. So, death is at work in us, but life in you.

Fullness in a Finite World

Judging from this passage, it is clear that Paul possessed his own version of terra cotta wisdom; insight into what it means to hold divine treasure in a clay jar, and to experience the fullness of God in a finite world. This passage is included in a letter that Paul addressed to the fledgling church in Corinth, a letter written in the hope of averting a crisis of faith.

It seems that a wandering band of Jewish-Christian missionaries had descended on the church and challenged both the integrity of Paul’s ministry and his authority in the community. Paul refers to this group rather sarcastically as “super apostles,” and his response to their challenge indicates that they tempted the Corinthians with an arrogant faith; claiming a definitive knowledge of God, and an almost divine power to heal.

Paul counters this threat with what I have called terra cotta wisdom; a clear declaration of what it means to hold the treasure of God’s presence in vessels of clay that are limited, delicate, and quite fragile. This wisdom flies in the face of a pretentious, arrogant faith; for it holds that while we are vessels lovingly molded by God; we share the fragility of clay; we are easily shattered and, thus, depend on God alone for all that we have and all that we are.

According to Paul this knowledge should lead not to arrogance and pride, as with the “super apostles,” but rather to humility. In humility we should recognize that our knowledge of God reaches nowhere near definitive; and that any power we have to minister derives from God and God alone. Paul’s message to the Corinthians rings with truth; and while it challenges our tendency toward arrogance and stings our pride, Paul’s terra cotta wisdom could bear significant fruit in our lives in the form of humility, courage, and compassion.

Humility, Courage, and Compassion

First, let us consider humility. Perhaps one of the most difficult aspects of faith to accept is the limitation of our knowledge of God. It is, after all, in God that we place our hope for meaning and fulfillment; and we want to know beyond a shadow of doubt that our faith has been correctly placed.

In candid moments, however, we have to admit that our attempts to name the whirlwind that we call God fail to exhaust God’s mystery and reality. They tell us something of God, but they could never be called absolute, final, and definitive. “Where were you when the foundation of the world was laid?” Do you remember this question God hurled at Job; this not so subtle reminder that he was not capable of understanding the infinite ways of God? When day is done it comes down to this; as creatures of clay, our capacity to know and to understand is limited, while God’s reality is boundless. Perhaps Paul expressed the matter best in 1 Corinthians: “…we see in a mirror, dimly.”

This truth should certainly humble our proud spirits, but it is a liberating humility.  Think about it; should Paul be right, we need not spend our time fighting about who possesses the definitive truth about God. All of our doctrines, notions, and concepts break on the shore that is God, and contain at best a mixture of light and darkness. If we could find it in ourselves to recognize and accept this, we would be freed to pursue God’s higher truth together; examining and challenging our beliefs gently and in good faith, flooding light into dark corners, discussing the direction God would have us move, and listening for God’s voice as we move – together – into the future of faith.

If we would put our faith in God, rather than in our knowledge of God, perhaps we would find that we share more in common with others than we have ever imagined. Dare we learn to make such a difficult and challenging distinction?  Paul, I think, would argue that it is worth the effort.

Second, let us consider courage. Paul’s wisdom could surely result in a courageous faith. Did you remark in the passage we read together that, for Paul, the life of faith does not preclude confusion, affliction, and suffering? Paul’s life was overly acquainted with such ills, which seem to be part and parcel of clay’s fragility.  Nevertheless, In Paul’s estimation, faith doesn’t insulate from but rather passes through affliction, suffering and the rest; and imparts to us the courage to see beyond such ills to a life of meaning they will never be able to touch.

The key to faith’s courage lies in Paul’s recognition that the same God who spoke into the void and created the universe shines in our hearts! This means that even in our brokenness and fragility, the creative, life-giving power of God is present at the very core of our existence, and can never be displaced by confusion, affliction, suffering, or even death. Faith does not provide a panacea for the ills of the world; rather, faith provides the courage to pass through these ills and rise to a life of meaning, purpose, and hope.

Have you ever wondered why the giants of faith never make requests of God for themselves? They never ask for cures, possessions, power, position, or prestige.  Rather, they ask only to know God, and this seems to be enough. Are the saints crazed?  Are they deluded? Or have they discovered something like Paul’s terra cotta wisdom that soars on faith above the fragility and brokenness of our world to grasp the outstretched hand of God that enlivens, empowers, and makes whole?

Third, Paul’s wisdom would result in a compassionate faith. He makes it clear in his life that the experience of God compels one to share with others through the ministry of compassion. It is for this reason and this reason alone that he can proclaim himself a slave to the Corinthians for Jesus’ sake, and declare, in fact, that everything is for their sake, so that grace might extend further and further. And it was for this reason and this reason alone that, a decade later, Paul lost his life in the effort to bring God’s Good News to the very ends of the earth.

A sacred story from the Buddhist tradition might help illustrate the compassion that follows invariably from the experience of God. It is said that after experiencing enlightenment, the Buddha was faced with a momentous decision; to enter immediately into a state of complete bliss, or to remain and teach the way of nirvana to others. Out of compassion for all living creatures, the tradition continues, he chose to remain and teach the faith for over thirty years, until his death as an old man. From this event in the Buddha’s life there arose the tradition of the Bodhisattva, saints who vow to work for the good of all living creatures, and to make the enlightenment of all a priority over their own. Oh, that such compassion would flow from our hearts.

The Beginning of Life

We are, indeed, creatures of both spirit and clay; but though we share the fragility of all things fashioned of clay, Paul assures us that we are destined in the Christ to ascend through its brokenness and sorrow to grasp the outstretched hand of God.  In our ascent, may we each know the humility that allows us to find unity even within a diversity of beliefs, and to work with others toward a fuller understanding and experience of God; may we know the courage that faces adversity, suffering, even death honestly, openly, and finds in the experience of faith the ability to rise above these ills; and may we know a deep sense of compassion that compels us to extend to others the grace that God has extended to us.

Come, friends, come and warm yourselves by the fire, and I will tell you a story of creation’s beginning… a story of terra cotta wisdom.

Comments

Leave a Reply