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"Wonder"
Introduction to Scripture In Ecclesiastes, we are taught that for everything there is a season, at time for every purpose under heaven. This morning, perhaps prompted by the commemoration this past week of the 40th anniversary of that first moon walk, I invite you to wonder. Let us begin with the words of the eighth song, otherwise known as Psalm 8, and then listen to a contemporary song by Natalie Merchant called “Wonder.” (For those of you who are fans of the electric guitar, listen to its commentary on the lyrics, to the way in the last stanza it soars in joy.)
If you are old enough, you remember where you were when Apollo 11 made that first lunar landing, when you saw that earthrise as the Command Module came around from the back side of the moon and there, slowly rising over the rim of that craggy orb, a blue jewel, so far away, so fragile, our home, rose into sight. You remember being glued to that television set as the lunar lander found a safe rest at Tranquility Base, and then being awestruck as Neil Armstrong took that one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind. And you also likely remember that amazing mix of emotions that flooded through not only you and a nation, but the entire world – relief that they made it their safely, pride that we as a nation had accomplished this mighty task, a sense that this was bigger than nationalism, that somehow Armstrong and Aldrin and Collins were up there for all of us on this blue planet. All that, and underneath it all, this: wonder. A sense of awe, of astonishment, a marveling, an admiration of a universe so vast and beautiful. Of course, the opportunities for wonder are not limited to lunar landings. Take a walk on the beach late at night and gaze up into the cloudless sky and see all those stars twinkling away, billions and billions of them, sending out light from the dawn of time across the vastness of space. Walk down Main Street in Hyannis and simply observe the diversity in the people you see, the varieties of skin tone, of the way people talk, laugh, interact with each other. Sit by a train window and watch all the homes and the buildings and people go by; let yourself wonder what is going in that kitchen in that home, in that shop, in that office, and think of all the people they know and experiences they have had and realize that you, you will never know any of that, and yet all that stuff is going on all around you, and has since before you were born and will long after you are gone. And the wonder of it all is that there you are, and somehow you have been created with the capacity to observe all this, and be a part of it all, and can even ponder what it all means, and why it is so beautiful, and how it can move you in ways that you might not even be able to describe. Where do we fit in all this, we wonder? As the psalmist asks, “What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” Brita Gill-Austern, a pastor and professor of pastoral counseling at Andover Newton Theological School, is fond of telling her students of the old rabbinical saying that one ought to walk around with a clod of dirt in one pocket and a nugget of gold in the other. The clod of dirt is to help keep us humble, to remind us that it was from the earth we came, and that it is to earth we shall return. It is to remind us that in a universe more vast and complex than what we can see in the night sky, a universe that is billions of years old and will be here billions of years after we are gone, we are very ordinary and our lives quite fleeting. But then there is the gold in that other pocket, a reminder that we are of the utmost importance to our Creator. As the psalmist marvels, “you [O God] have made [humans] a little lower than God, and crowned them with glory and honor,” gifted and empowered to be partners with God in God’s work of creation and redemption. Centuries later, writing in the aftermath of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, John the Evangelist asks the same question,, and gives us this stunning answer: we are the ones who God so loved that he gave his only Son, Jesus Christ, that we might not perish, but have eternal life. We are at the same time both tiny in comparison to the wonders of the universe, but also unsurpassed in the love of our God. The whole creation sings with the joy of it – maybe that is why I am so attracted to Natalie Merchant’s song – “Fate smiled and destiny laughed as she came to my cradle, know this child will be able, know this child will be gifted with love, with patience, and with faith, she’ll make her way.” Can you believe, as she does, that you are one of the wonders of God’s own creation? And more than that, can you live this day as if you really believed that? When you are feeling knocked down and beat up from another round of chemo? When you are still reeling from being laid off yet again? When a friend or a lover has let you down? When you have let yourself down? Can you believe it, that you are one of the wonders of God’s own creation? Author and poet Madeleine L’Engle can, and so we will give her the last word, in this short reminiscence: Grandfather took us out Long after dark And set his telescope up on the lawn And showed us how to look through the lens. We saw the mountains of the moon! We saw the rings around Saturn! We saw the stars in the Milky Way – Too many to count! “See’” Grandfather said, ‘what wonders God has made!” And then he hugged each one of us And said, “And you are wondrous, too!” ---------------
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