The gift of fire
A long time ago, there was a man who invented the art of making fire. He took his tools and visited a tribe in the north, where the climate was bitter cold. The man taught the people how to make fire. And the people were spellbound. He showed them many uses for fire—they could cook, keep themselves warm, keep predators at bay, dance by firelight. So, they built fire and were very grateful. But before they could express their gratitude, the man disappeared, because he wasn’t concerned with recognition or gratitude. He was concerned only with their wellbeing.
Then the fire-making man visited a different tribe and began to teach the art of making fire. Like the first tribe, this tribe was mesmerized. But the tribe members’ passion, unnerved the tribe priests. It didn’t take long for the priests to notice that the fire-making man drew large crowds, and the priests worried about lost influence and power. Because of their fear, the priests determined to kill the fire-making man. Worried that the tribe people might revolt, the priests devised a clever plan.
Can you guess what they did?
The priests made a portrait of the fire-making man, and displayed it on the main altar of the temple. The instruments for making fire were placed in front of the portrait, and the people were taught to revere the portrait, and to pay reverence to the instruments of fire. The veneration and the worship went on for centuries.
But. There was no more fire.
There have been times in my life when the fire has gone out.
I write this on Pentecost Sunday (in our Christian tradition). It’s worth noting that the name (which means 50 days after Passover) comes from our Jewish brothers and sisters referencing the feast of Shavuot (the second great feast in Israel’s cycle of holy days. It was originally a harvest festival, but, in time, turned into a day to commemorate the giving of the law on Mt. Sinai.)
For Christians it is the gift of Holy Spirit fire, and the birth of the church. From Pentecost we get the word Pentecostal, rich with images of TV preachers thundering, apparently well-oiled on some kind of spirit; which made us marvel as we Baptists (in my upbringing) weren’t fond of (nor could we comprehend) any style of worship that went overboard.
Of course, like the tribal priests in the story, we all too easily miss the point.
We don’t see that the gift of fire, is the gift of empowerment; bringing gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—like affection for others, exuberance about life, and serenity. And we develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. (Adapted from The Book of Galatians, The Message).
We live in a world where fear, and uncertainty, are too dominant.
And sadly, for too many of us, the fire (and the light) has been doused.
Some for reasons of self-sabotage, some because life is just too big or too punishing. Sometimes we prefer being numb. And I confess that it can be easy to turn a blind eye. Whatever the reason, we lose connection with the gifts we’ve been given.
This I do know: I often feel the weight of the storm, and how easy it is to “be at the mercy of,” easier to shut down and to just life happen—as if everything is beyond my control. To feel like Lester Burnham (the character in the movie American Beauty), “I have lost something. I’m not exactly sure what, but I know I didn’t always feel this… sedated.”
Gratefully, he goes on, “But you know what? It’s never too late to get it back.”
So. This week, let us embrace the gift of fire. To embrace the reminder that while I am here on earth, I am, in fact, a servant. I am a vessel for hope and redemption. And that invitation, I must take to heart. And this isn’t just true for me. It’s true for every single one of us. I hope you hear that invitation today.
Here is what I know:
When I give myself fully and completely to this day—put skin in the game—there is fire.
When I don’t put a moral price tag on my laughter or my tears, there is fire.
When I don’t quell my sadness or my jubilation, there is fire.
When I let compassion spill on those around me, without a need to convert anyone, there is fire.
When I create a world where justice and inclusion live, there is fire.
When I do not lose my moral compass, even when given the opportunity for easy revenge, there is fire.
When I leave the world and the people I love in a better place, there is fire.
I close my correspondence with “Keep spilling the light.”
Because here’s the deal: that light is the reflection of the fire of wellbeing that already burns inside every one of us. We are literally, invited to let it spill.
I needed Pentecost, because this week, the news, quite literally, sucked the air out of me. Seeing suffering and pain impacting my friends in the immigrant community hurts my heart.
“If worship isn’t leading to the fire,” Anthony De Mello reminds us, “if adoration isn’t leading to love, if the liturgy isn’t leading to a clearer perception of reality, if God isn’t leading to life, of what use is religion except to create more division, more fanaticism, more antagonism? It is not from lack of religion in the ordinary sense of the word that the world is suffering; it is from lack of love, lack of awareness.”
As humans, we will always succumb to greed. But, let us never forget, that we can pursue peace and renewal and redemption. Let us embrace the gift of that fire.
I write this on a heat advisory day here in the PNW. I know, we’re not even close to the temperatures in the south, but in homes where air conditioning is not to be found, let’s just say, “It’s toasty here.” The garden continues to give life. And looking out as I write this, I see a swallowtail butterfly delight and dance and flutter. Almost Pentecostal, I’d say.
Quote for your week…
In everyone’s life, at some time our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. Albert Schweitzer
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Today’s Photo Credit: I love June in the garden, and on the walks near the forests and along the roadways, Lupine and Foxglove, seemingly endless. Ephemeral and delightfully beautiful. This foxglove in the garden outside my window as I write… And thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com
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Letters that do my heart good…
–There you go again Terry with another encouraging message. In reading this I was reminded of a couple of messages you said in your stand-up lectures. You talked about the daily grind of marriage; you said Marriage is so so so daily. The daily responsibilities, the daily but then as you continued, is the daily things that make the great things happen. At 65 years old now I still reflect upon those earlier lectures you did back in the 90s in Olympia, I think it was Portland Oregon I went to listen to one of your lectures too. How one life still touches another in various ways. Todd
–Terry. I have told my university students, family, friends and now congregation that gardening and lawn work are forms of worship for me, a living prayer. Phil
–Hi, Terry. I thought of you as I read these words by Henrí Matisse. You’re all about dancing! “Since there have been men, man has given himself over to too little Joy. That alone, my brothers, is our original sin. I should believe only in a God who understands how to dance.” Blessings, Jan
–Terry, Reading Sabbath Moment this morning reminded me of this quote from Mother Theresa. “If I had not picked up that first person dying on the street, I would not have picked up the thousands of others later on”. Be a witness. Geri
