“… We will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye…”
So said the Epistle Reading for today. What a brilliant sentence. It describes – at least to me – one of the most important aspects of faith: That faith strikes us in moments – in glimpses – in instants.
In 1902 William James finished a series of lectures following which he published a book called ‘The Varieties of Religious Experience”. A book that has become one of the most important books in the field, Psychology of Religion.
One of the things he had discovered through his work was that the above Biblical statement is not only a biblical postulate, but a reality as well.
He describes what he had experienced in the following way:
“Mystical states cannot be sustained for long. Except in rare instances, half an hour, or at most an hour or two, seems to be the limit beyond which they fade into the light of common day.
Often, when faded, their quality can but imperfectly be reproduced in memory; but when they recur it is recognized; and from one recurrence to another it is susceptible of continuous development in what is felt as inner richness and importance.”
When we experience God, we do so in moments, glimpses, instants. Common day will eventually always take over, as James argue. Yet we carry our various experiences with us into the common day because the experiences have somehow transformed us. Transformed us because the experiences somehow developed in us an indescribable ‘inner richness and importance’.
I do not know with you, but my spirituality totally fits the above description. Once I had an experience, an experience that transformed me and my take on all the common days I have lived ever since.
I cannot be the only one agreeing with James. After all, as I said earlier, his book is one of the most important books in its field.
Ingemann, I will argue, would have agreed with James as well. After all, in his famous morning hymn, ‘I østen stiger solen op’, (the hymn we opened this service with,) one of the verses goes:
Og med Guds sol udgår fra øst / en himmelsk glans på jord, / et glimt fra Paradisets kyst, / hvor livets abild gror.
And from the east God’s sun outpours / a heav’nly light on earth, / a glimpse from Eden’s sacred shores, / where light and life had birth.
Truly, Gods light hits us as glimpses. Glimpses from the shores of Paradise where the Tree of Life stands tall.
The third hymn we sang today was all about the same. Sadly, there is no translation of Rosendal’s beautiful hymn, but the song is called ‘de dybeste lag I mit hjerte’ which could be translated into ‘the most inner parts of my heart’, and it is all about all the above:
How faith in glimpses of our lives transforms us into caring an ‘inner richness and importance’ out into our common days.
If we turn toward today’s Gospel Reading another dimension of these glimpses are presented to us. In the Reading it said:
“‘The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; nor will they say, “Look, here it is!” or “There it is!” For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among you.’”
With the Holy Spirit among us, with the communion with Jesus in blood and flesh, and with God’s panentheistic presence in the world, the above is true: God’s kingdom is a reality among us.
The issue is not whether it is here or not, the issue rather is whether we experience it or not, how we satisfy ourselves with glimpses or not, or how we go look for it – wants to observe it – or not.
This is what truly matters. God’s light has already hit our shores with the glimpses we need. Whether we grasp the light or not, that is the question.
What hinders us then? What hinders us in a way so that we either do not receive, do not acknowledge, or do not believe the moments, glimpses, and instants of faith?
Regarding receiving, we must never forget that faith us a God-given gift. One that we must treasure. One that I somehow am sure God eventually have in store for all of us. After all he is a loving God who wants to restore his creation.
Regarding believing, I believe that believing always will be fragile for us human beings. After all, as the Gospel for today said, faith is not something that can be observed. Hence, it will always be – at least until its full realization – somewhat hidden and limited to us.
Regarding acknowledging, there probably is as many answers as there are individuals. Yet I want to share with you a story that I was once told from a colleague. A story that somehow shows how sometimes the most obvious things are hidden to us.
The story I want to share with you is a class for confirmation that my colleague once had. My colleague had taken her students on a hike. On the hike they were going through a forest, and they had started to talk about what trees could be used for.
They all started to come with examples: You make paper out of wood. You build buildings out of wood. My colleague had probably hoped that they have talked about the interior of a church – that most alters, and crosses is made from wood – but then a student said something, that somehow were even more brilliant:
Trees are good at making forests.
I guess what the student for confirmation said is the most obvious. Yet it probably is what the fewest of us would start saying. Maybe this is why we find it so hard to acknowledge faith:
Even though faith in moments, glimpses, and instants is the most obvious, what is most obvious sometimes is what we most easily forget.
With that story in mind, I believe the point of my sermon today is to make us more aware of the moments, glimpses, and instants of faith that occurs to us.
But not only that. Also, let us share faith – even when it is obvious to us – let us share its ‘inner richness and importance’ making it more visible to all.
In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.