Rev. Ronald E. Halvorsen
August 27, 2006
Jeremiah 31:31-34; John 10:10b
''BOSTON SWAN BOATS''

When I was a boy growing up in the Boston area, each spring our family tradition was to go for a ride on the swan boats in the Boston Public Garden. For those who have not experienced these century-old boats, they are about thirty feet long with beautifully finished wooden seats resembling park benches, all facing forward. The operator sits at one end in an enclosure that looks like a giant swan and propels the boat by peddling a water wheel, like a bicycle. For over 120 years, these swan boats have been the harbinger of spring to native Bostonians-a time of new beginnings. As I recall, the ride was about thirty minutes and meandered around small islands teeming with birds. And among the wildlife were always the graceful swans swimming beside the swan boat. It is an image I have never forgotten-the grace and peacefulness of a swan effortlessly gliding in the water on a spring day.

This is the third of three sermons in my ''God and Summer Musings'' preaching series, which is an opportunity, during the contemplative times of summer, to find God’s grace in the mundane activities of our lives. Last week we explored some ''Nantucket Wisdom'' and declared that, as children of God, we are all sustained by God’s presence and light within us. In the eyes of God we all are inherently strong, whole and, above all, loved, no matter what our life’s circumstances. Earlier in July, in a sermon entitled ''Independence Day Musings,'' we learned that journaling about the thoughts and experiences that touch our lives can be a sacred and transforming activity. But today, I want to concentrate on the image of a swan. And, in particular, the contrasting images of a swan clumsily negotiating the ground it sometimes inhabits and that of a swan gracefully gliding through the water. I believe this image is a metaphor for our lives. However, unlike the swan, which moves instinctively from the ground to the enduring water, we often struggle to let go of the ''ground'' we cling to.

As you may know, the swan is one of the oldest and most powerful wildlife symbols. Swans are found in mythology as traditional symbols of the grace and beauty that lies within each of us. Swans were associated with the ancient gods and stories often reflected their ability to link different worlds and dimensions, transforming the mundane into the sacred. And the term ''swan song'' comes to us from Greek mythology and relates to the long held belief that the swan can teach us the mysteries of music and poetry. Yes, from ancient times, the swan has always represented profound human transformation.

The German poet, Rainer Rilke, who declared that ''our greatest human summons is to truly see the things in this world,'' used the swan in one of his poems to highlight our human dilemma. He writes:

''This clumsy living of ours which moves lumbering, as if tied in ropes, through what is not done, reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks. And to relax, which is the letting go of the ground we stand on and cling to every day, is like the swan, when he nervously lets himself down into the water, which receives him gaily and which flows joyfully under and after him, wave after wave, while the swan, unmoving and marvelously calm, is pleased to be carried, each moment more fully grown, more like a king, further and further on.''

Yes, all of us in this congregation, in many ways, are like a gaggle of swans. Like the swan, we too are called to let go of our ''ground'' and enter the peaceful water. In Rilke’s words, ''we lumber, as if tied in ropes, through what is not done in our lives.'' We often live awkwardly and every day we desperately stand on and cling to our ''ground,'' the ground we feel we have earned and are entitled to, and the ground of past hurts and injustices, which we can’t seem to let go. More and more our ''ground,'' and our inability to let go of that ground not only defines us, but sadly begins to limit us. In a simple, yet profound statement, Jesus said that he came that each of us ''may have life and have it abundantly,'' yet we add our own definitions of ''life'' and ''abundance.'' We become painfully and awkwardly stuck on our ground and, unlike the swan, we cannot let ourselves down into the God-given ''water'' that ''flows joyfully.''

William Countryman, an Episcopal priest and author, in his book Forgiven and Forgiving, addresses this profound human dilemma. He writes, ''the emotions of greed and hurt and anger are signs of danger to the soul, like pain is a sign of danger to the physical body.'' We often can deal with physical pain and let it go, but we are taught not to pay attention to our emotions, and thus we often can’t let go of our emotional pain. We become imprisoned by these emotions, that may have been triggered years ago by abuse in marriages or working relationships, through crime or injustice, through carelessness, through personal economic adjustments, and a myriad of other reasons, real or imagined.

And as we cling to our ground, we can become estranged from the joy of God’s love and from the abundant life that Jesus promises. Our souls become poisoned, and our emotions take on a life of their own and we often become our emotions. We become angry people, sad people, greedy people, hurtful people, and we find ourselves without the gift of hope to carry us into the future. Like a swan out of water, we struggle with the entanglements of hurt and anger and grope our way along a restrictive and difficult terrain of life.

However, Countryman says, ''the good news of the gospel is that the perspective of spiritual maturity can replace the perspective of poisoned emotions.'' The gospel is an invitation to see the world honestly but from a new perspective. We are invited to adopt a ''bit of God’s mind,'' to keep open the possibility that the past can eventually be redeemed by love. Yes, forgiveness, the conscious decision to let go of our ''ground,'' can transform even the worst wrongs and disappointments into ''building material for the new world of the future.''

Recently, I have been visiting a man named Adam, who has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and is receiving palliative care. As a trained chaplain I know that the first rule in professional chaplaincy is ''to leave our agenda at the door,'' but I must admit, I often violate this rule. My agenda with Adam, or more accurately my hope, is that we can travel a journey together as co-equal children of God. It should not be a journey of the minister with the patient, the well with the sick, the younger with the older. Rather, there is room for growth and healing on both our parts. I want Adam to tell his story-his successes, perceived failures, loves, disappointments, and most-importantly how this journey is affecting him. My second hope is that, like Rilke’s swan, he might choose to let go of some of the ground he clings to and move to his ''enduring waters.'' Finally, I hope he (and I) will find some peace and healing on the journey.

Now, Adam is a self-described stoic man. The joy in his life has been tempered by the illness of depression and he is burdened with family disputes that violate the very core of his values. These challenges make up the ''ground'' that he clings to. But, lying next to this ''ground,'' which is so hard to let go of, is his enduring waters. He loves history, is an accomplished horseman, has a significant collection of military memorabilia, and could be a speaker or published author on any of these subjects. He has great courage, an engaging personality, and an Irishman’s ''gift of gab.'' We talk about the choices he has-he can pass on his knowledge and possessions to friends and family, he can travel to places like Gettysburg and the Freedom Trail in Boston, he can let go of things he can’t change, and he can celebrate the things that have meaning in his life. In Rilke’s words, he can move to a place where he can be ''carried each moment more fully grown, more like a king, further and further on.''

Jesus, I believe, does not ask us to deny or evade our pain, but he does ask us to make a choice. He asks us to look for ''the power hidden within our weakness, to discover the power of being a human being who is loved by God, sustained by the source of life, and invited to participate in the creation of a new world.''

This power, that lies hidden in the midst of our apparent helplessness, is God’s power to make all things new-a power in which God invites us to share. By letting go of our ground, we are part of a great act of creation, of redefining the past and challenging its meaning as we shape the future. Far from being helpless, the person who lets go is taking charge of the past and imposing on it a new interpretation. We begin to believe that no one or no event has the power to separate us from God’s healing love and no one and no set of circumstances can deprive us of our hope of new beginnings, even at the end of life. Thus, the goal of Christian forgiveness is to ''get a new mind'' and ''adopt God’s viewpoint in place of our own.'' We are far from helpless and we do have the power to choose to let go!

This letting go, this surrendering of our ''ground,'' however, takes time. It is a journey, often a difficult journey. Like Adam, there may be important goals in our lives that we have to alter, former loving relationships we cannot mend, and profound losses that we simply have to accept. Ultimately, however, God gives us the opportunity for the ''abundant life'' Jesus promises us. Or, to paraphrase the prophet Jeremiah, ''God will put God’s law within us, and God will write it on our hearts; and God will be our God, and we shall be God’s people.''

Returning to our swan image, as we release our hold on the past, as we let go of the ''ground'' we desperately hold on to, we find that our journey becomes easier as our baggage becomes lighter. We find that we have a new life to live that is focused on a future abundant life and not the past harm done to us. We are no longer defined by those experiences and are more prepared to deal gently with human transgressions, our own and those of others. Instead of dedicating ourselves to the impossible task of getting the past right, we can find ourselves freed to fully live in the present and begin building something new and better for the future. Such a life and such an undertaking are not for weaklings. But, then God made swans and each of us quite strong. Thanks be to God! AMEN.