Welcome to Spirit Expressing with Rev. Ed Townley

Wait a minute – what? Did the new President of the United States just tell us all to stop being childish? Really? What could he have meant by that?

Shouldn’t he have been assuring us that we’re pretty darn perfect, closer to divinity than anyone else on the planet and deserving of all the good we can manage to grab and hang onto? Isn’t that supposed to be the general tone of an inaugural address? Don’t incoming presidents generally thank us for our votes and then lull us back into a kind of political narcolepsy with assurances that they will take care of all the heavy lifting, and will deliver our entire Christmas wish list to our doors any day now?

This new president seems to think we are all adults, capable of hearing both good and bad news in terms of our status in the world. What’s up with that? He evoked St. Paul, for heaven’s sake! (I was going to write ‘for Pete’s sake,’ but Paul and Peter both hate it when you put them in the same sentence.) Cranky old St. Paul, who tried to spoil all the fun the Corinthians were having being … well … Corinthian.

President Obama’s scriptural reference was to I Corinthians 13, one of the best known chapters in the entire Bible. But familiarity can breed – if not contempt, then an assumption that of course we know what it means. And that’s always dangerous. So let’s take a look.

We all have Corinthian experiences in our pasts, and chances are we all look back on them fondly. I used to equate Corinth, in my Bible talks, to maybe New Orleans or San Francisco – places where pleasure is paramount and religious obedience is tenuous at best. Oh, there’s no lack of spiritual awareness – New Orleans has long been one of the most mystical cities in our nation – but it doesn’t usually fit into acceptable formats.

The Hebrew scripture experience most comparable to Corinth, I think, was the experience of Egypt. It was fun. It was heady. There was so much to experience, so much to learn. And eventually, in subtle ways, it became an enslavement – an addiction. There came a time when the Hebrews needed to put Egypt behind them if they were ever to move forward on their collective spiritual journey.

Corinth, like Egypt, was a center of high-energy social life, strange and exciting mystical beliefs and practices and an emphasis on enjoying the best the world could offer – along with a vaguely arrogant assumption of superiority just by virtue of being Corinthian.

My personal Corinthian experience was centered in New York City, and I don’t regret a moment of it – not even some amazingly ignorant and fear-based choices that are still painful to remember. I learned, I grew, I had unforgettable experiences, met some wonderful people. And I found it nearly impossible to let go when my inner guidance told me I was overstaying my welcome – it was time to move on. Not that New York City was the issue – it wasn’t. I was. I was addicted, fearful of letting go even when holding on became very painful.

The Corinthians to whom Paul addresses his letter were having a lot of trouble letting go. They were intrigued and excited by the new message of Jesus Christ that Paul had carried and taught so forcefully. But Paul has gone -- he's moved on to Ephesus -- and the temptations of their former lives seem to be growing stronger. They try to find some comfortable compromises. Could they avoid pagan rituals, but still join their friends for the feasts that followed, and eat the food that had been dedicated to the gods? Could they maybe ‘fool around’ a little bit? Passionate debates over questions like these were splitting the congregation; and when word reached Paul, he was quick to respond.

His answer was loving and firm: Now that we are awake to the Christ, now that we begin to understand our role in creating that new experience that Jesus Christ calls ‘the kingdom of heaven,’ new choices are required. Old choices will no longer serve us. Paul knows it’s difficult – it was difficult for him, as well. But achieving the kingdom is a process, and that process requires us to move forward, leaving behind old attitudes, beliefs and choices that are no longer appropriate.

“When I was a child,” Paul writes patiently in the passage to which President Obama made reference Tuesday, “I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish things.” So it is with us: when we become awake to the Christ within us, and to the spiritual purpose that fills us, it’s necessary to make new choices.

I’d like to make two important points here. First, there is no condemnation of the ‘childish things.’ It is right and proper that children think like children, and play with toys, and become dazzled and distracted by the glitzy and impressive world around them. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with that. There was nothing wrong with my Corinthian experiences – or yours. We had moments of great joy and times of great pain. We gained a lot of knowledge that will continue to serve us well on our spiritual paths. But we couldn’t stay locked at that level. We can’t be children forever. We have work to do.

The second important point is that there’s no guarantee we’ll get our toys back. We waste so much effort at times trying to get our toys back – and electing people who promise us that they’ll give us back our toys, and make it all the way it was when we were children. Those frenzied, backward-focused efforts may be the greatest waste of energy on the planet.

The Hebrews complained their way across the wilderness, longing to return to Egypt – and greatly prolonging their wilderness experience as a result. The Corinthians wanted to follow this exciting new path and still hang on to their favorite toys. Paul understood the temptation, but he loved the crazy Corinthians too much to lie. No, he writes, you can’t go back. You can’t choose to move forward and still cling to old fears and habits.

President Obama did not promise us that we could have our toys back, and for that fact alone my admiration and appreciation are beyond measure. The path out of the challenges that beset us today does not lie in returning to the childish ways of yesterday. We have new choices to make.

“So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled,” President Obama said. “With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children’s children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter.”

Some commentators are saying that it was not a great speech, because it wasn’t filled with juicy quotes and passionate oratory. I think that’s exactly what makes it a very great speech indeed. Like Paul, President Obama did us the courtesy of speaking truth to adults. We’re not going to get our toys back. And it’s not about finding ourselves some new toys to distract us. It’s time to remember the journey, and the spiritual purpose behind this human experience, and to put down the distractions and get back to the work of creating the kingdom.

It’s up to us.

In her inaugural poem Elizabeth Alexander powerfully captured the same essence. “We walk into that which we cannot yet see,” she wrote, and later “In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun. / On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp – praise song for walking forward in that light.”

We are no longer trying to get comfortable with old toys, with political expediency. We are claiming our spiritual journey, accepting our creative imperative, choosing to move through shadows toward the light of a new consciousness. At least, I hope we are. I hope I am. I’d hate to hold things up for all of us by clinging stubbornly to my toys.

It’s up to us.