Paul Mullen

Scarboro United Church

Calgary AB

November 23, 2008

“Life On the Jagged Edge”

The King will reply, 'I tell you, whenever you did this for one of the least important of these followers of mine, you did it for me!' (Matt. 25: 40 TEV)

And the King will answer them, 'Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.' (Matt. 25: 40 NRSV)

    The jagged edge is not on the cutting edge – every college and university, training school, many businesses and institutions, including many churches describe themselves as being “on the cutting edge.” The phrase, says Wikipedia, implies a leadership in everything that is new, the position of greatest advancement or importance. I sometimes wonder if all these folk are on the cutting edge why more cutting isn’t getting done.

     A Goggle search of the phrase yields 6.5 million references to “the cutting edge.” I think the most accurate were a woodworkers’ tool and supply company, a landscaping outfit and an organization of surgeons.

    The jagged edge is not The Razor’s Edge either, although it is related. The Razor’s Edge is a novel by W. Somerset Maugham ,written in 1944. Its epigraph reads, "The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard." — Katha-Upanishad. Or, as re-stated in the 1984 movie of the same name "The path to salvation is narrow and is difficult to walk as a razor's edge."

    Jesus used an image of narrowness as well. In Matthew’s Gospel he speaks of the narrow gate and says, ". . . the gate to life is narrow and the way that leads to it is hard, and there are few people who find it. (Matthew 7:14)

    The narrow way, be it a gate or a razor’s edge is also important. There is strong element of discipline in being a disciple. It is not by accident that the words have the same root. An undisciplined disciple is an oxymoron.

    In spite of this, life on the jagged edge is not about spiritual discipline or spiritual perfection. If we are to grasp our oneness, our unity with God or with God in Christ, we can’t really force it to happen. We need instead to be where Christ is and Christ is present on the jagged edge of life.

In my sermon last week I tried to focus on the third servant in the Parable of the Talents, and look at the story from a Palestinian peasant’s point of view taking our minds back 2000 years. From that point of view the story is not one of investment capitalism or the stewardship of multiplying gifts.

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The master is instead one who gains wealth by exploiting others. His wealth is dishonourable.  Unlike the other two servants, the third servant refuses a part in the exploitation of others for the procurement of excessive wealth. Far from being the failure that he is often touted to be, the third servant is the one who acts with responsibility and honour.  In doing so, however, he puts himself on the jagged edge of reality. When the dishonourable master returns to collect his loot, the third servant is chastised for being lazy and thrown off the master’s property. As seen through the eyes of the peasant population, which are, I believe, the eyes of Jesus, the third servant then becomes the “least of these” living on the jagged edge of life and community. He also becomes one of the very ones our upside-down, downwardly mobile Jesus not only calls into fellowship and community, but invites into his family.

    The eyes of Jesus’ heart are eyes of compassion. How then do we see through the eyes of Jesus?

    Cynthia Bourgeault suggests we do this when we put on the mind of Christ. She challenges us to contemplate, to meditate on and to live into “the mind of Christ,” a non-grasping mind of self emptying love. As the Apostle Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians (2:5-8, TEV):

    Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the human likeness. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross.

    Having the mind of Christ means emptying yourself of all that you think you are, all you have been told you are. It means releasing all that you are clinging to and grasping for, not until you can grasp the mind of Christ but until it all falls away and reveals the mind of Christ that is already within you, waiting to emerge. I am the vine, says Jesus, and you are the branches.

    There is a wonderful scene in the movie "Hook" with Robin Williams as an adult Peter Pan, married to Wendy, and with a family of his own. He returns to Never-Never Land and the Lost Boys don't believe that he is really is Peter Pan. To them he looks like an out-of-shape adult to them, nerdy at best.

    But then, one little boy, the youngest of them all, asks Peter Pan to kneel down to his level. He looks, no gazes, into Peter's eyes. He gently touches his face. He stares at Peter's facial features and once again looks even more deeply into Peter's eyes. And then with a huge grin on his face, he leans forward and whispers, "You ARE in there, aren't you? You ARE Peter Pan!"

    Peter then looks inside himself too - beyond all the stuff he's been told he is, and all he has taken on in the world around him as his own issues (whether or not they are), and sees that he has forgotten who he is, rediscovering the Peter Pan or, if you will, the Christ inside. The smallest child, the least of these, risks the jagged edge and teaches Peter how to put aside all those small "settlements" he has made, and see his true self again for the first time.

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    Looking in the eyes of those on the jagged edge of life we begin to see them through the eyes of Christ and discover the Christ who lives in us and the Christ that lives in them. Seeing others as true human beings, beyond all the stereotypes and labels, changes how we see past all the stereotypes and labels we have accumulated ourselves, all the stuff that weighs us down and drags us down and to see the One that lives within and without. As we love our neighbour, as we love the least of God’s children, so we come to love ourselves. Not through heroic spiritual deeds but through simple acts of loving kindness in the hard places of life we are transformed into who we truly are.

    In her book, The Wisdom Jesus (pp. 99-100) Cynthia Bourgeault is quite clear that God does not punish us with suffering. At the same time she does speak of the truth we can discover in suffering by being fully present to those who are suffering and fully present to our own suffering. She writes, “It is precisely in the jagged edges of life that God’s love and presence is revealed.”

    Jesus tells us that the fruit of the spirit is not available unless we become like a little child. The way he relates to the poor shows a regard for them can only be described as subversive and revolutionary – it got him killed, hung on a cross in the ultimate act of self-emptying love. He died that we might live.

    Giving a cup of cold water to the thirsty, visiting the prisoner, clothing the naked – each of these small, insignificant acts shows our minds have been transformed. With the eyes of the heart, we no longer see the labels, but the people who wear them. We no longer respond as we have been taught, but minister to the presence of God.

    God calls us to risk life on the jagged edge, turning the world upside down.

    I wish I could say that because of Jesus the poor are with us no more and that children no longer suffer. Seven years ago Canada pledged to end child poverty and there are more poor children than ever. Each day around the world some 40,000 children die from preventable causes, mainly because of unclean water, inadequate shelter and lack of inexpensive medicines. Seen through God’s eyes these are the most important people in the world. “Whenever you have done this to the least of these members of my family you have done it to me.”

Amen