Not Sentimental Gush, but Love Appropriate for the Crisis

Last Sunday Preaching at St. John's

Since Chico continues to feel the effects of the Camp Fire devastation, I kept up the theme of reflecting on how we can respond.

I preached last Sunday at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Chico, and since it was Episcopalian worship, I was preaching from four lectionary texts. 

Three were about prophecy (Malachi 3, Psalm 126, Luke 3). And one was an outlier—Paul’s prayer in Philippians 1. Here’s a key section, as paraphrased by Eugene Peterson:

“So this is my prayer: that your love will flourish and that you will not only love much but well. Learn to love appropriately. You need to use your head and test your feelings so that your love is sincere and intelligent, not sentimental gush.” Philippians 1, The Message

Obviously, this isn’t a standard prophetic text… except insofar as it tells forth (instead of forth-tells) what the community in Philippi was called to do in light of their faith in the promised Messiah, Jesus.

It seems like this prayer is critical for us in Chico as well.

Why? Paul directs the early Christian communities at Philippi to pray for both “hearts” and “heads”—to be filled by Christ that they might respond to the gospel. The most standard rendering goes like this, “And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best.” 

The Problem of Sentimental Gush

Do we need that at times like this, as we live in the devastation of the Camp Fire? We need to have deep emotions of compassion for those affected by the fire (as Ann Lamott has written, moral action comes from our guts in the New Testament). It may start there, but it has to be informed. How are we going to make it for the long haul in front of us without a love that’s “sincere and intelligent, not sentimental gush”? I can say that one thing I’ve learned from Laura’s work at the Jesus Center is that good, compassionate care for the homeless among us takes really clear thinking, planning, and implementation. 

You see, sentimental gush can very quickly become compassion fatigue and moral blame. I have to say I was challenged by this article in Aeon, “The Bad News on Human Nature, in 10 Findings from Psychology.” And how, especially as the problems continue in the aftermath of the Camp Fire that we might begin to blame the victims.

We believe in karma – assuming that the downtrodden of the world deserve their fate. The unfortunate consequences of such beliefs were first demonstrated in the now classic research from 1966 by the American psychologists Melvin Lerner and Carolyn Simmons. In their experiment, in which a female learner was punished with electric shocks for wrong answers, women participants subsequently rated her as less likeable and admirable when they heard that they would be seeing her suffer again, and especially if they felt powerless to minimise this suffering. Since then, research has shown our willingness to blame the poor, rape victims, AIDS patients and others for their fate, so as to preserve our belief in a just world. By extension, the same or similar processes are likely responsible for our subconscious rose-tinted view of rich people." Aeon, "The Bad News on Human Nature"

This kind of moral fatigue can lead to frankly immoral attitudes and behavior.

You see, sentimental gush can also very quickly become frustrated outrage.

Laura happened to be at Bidwell Presbyterian Church parking lot the week after the fire. And the church, after putting together a “pop-up” free store for a week to provide clothes and supplies for those devastated by the fire, decided to not open for donations on Saturday. 

As my wife, Laura, was there, a car that drove up with donations. They obviously hadn’t checked first about what was needed or whether the church was at the gunwales with donations (which they were). They asked if the church was accepting donations. She replied that she doesn’t work at Bidwell Pres, but that she thought they were taking closed today. And the person shot back indignantly, “What kind of church closes?” I’m not sure what Laura replied—and whether any reply would be helpful—but maybe it’s the kind of church that takes a break because it wants to be there for the community for months and years to come—the kind that’s been in Chico since 1868—and the kind that’s expressing love and compassion that’s sincere and intelligent, not sentimental gush.

Real, Compassionate Action Needed 

And maybe that’s why our Butte County Sheriff, Kory Honea, has become a bit of a rock star in Chico—because he combines caring and strength. Which is what we need in a time of crisis. At downtown Chico’s “Christmas Preview,” where the shops are open on a Sunday night and families stroll the streets with vendors and activities all around, we saw Kory, and everyone wanted to take selfies with this guy, not Santa Claus. Because he’s not just about sentimental gush, but real action.

Our questions then are this: “What do we hear from this text today? And how do we respond?”

For Chico-Paradise, for Butte County, we need to pay attention to the science of climate change and how best to manage our forests and fight fires, to know the needs around us and to respond in compassion. 

Are we ready to care and to bring a love that’s “sincere and intelligent, not sentimental gush”? 

Rhythm: The Time for Yes and the Time for No

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. 

Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. 

Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. 

Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. 

I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. 

Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.

Matthew 11:28-30, The Message

Grooving—that’s life at its best. That’s what musicians—and especially drummers—describe as that moment when you’re feeling the rhythm so deeply that you’re almost obligated to stay in it. Not too fast, nor too slow. You’re “in the groove.” You’re feeling “the unforced rhythms of grace.” (I love that paraphrase!) It’s the result of hearing the yeses, testing them, and then finding the right rhythm of yes and no, of notes and spaces. (You can see my video about this rhythm here.)

When the 16th century master artist, Leonardo da Vinci, was working on The Last Supper, he would without warning take a break.  The prior of Santa Maria delle Grazie was not amused and entreated Leonardo with tiresome persistence to complete the work.  The prior complained to the Duke who questioned Leonardo about his working habits. Leonardo, we are told, persuaded the duke that “the greatest geniuses sometimes accomplish more when they work less.”

Some like to describe this optimal state of life as balance. And that description works ok, if it implies the right mixture of activities that promote the good life. The problem with balance—or “the balanced life”—is that it sounds as if living well is to find some equipoise between equal parts of two different things, like relaxation and work.

I prefer describing life at its best as rhythm because it’s dynamic. Balance remains essentially a vision of things staying there on a scale. Balance is a teeter-totter that’s horizontal to the earth. It just stands there. A great rhythm, on the other hand, has movement and dynamism. It integrates a variety of different inputs. Some snare drum there, mixing with a thumping bass and spiced with a shaker, a tambourine, or some conga.

The key then is good rhythm among all the calls in life. Conversely, it’s not really work/life “balance” because I’m saying that all these three major areas in the triangle—personal life, work, and love—need to play off one another to create a rhythmic beauty.

Rhythm—and this is the most important part and the one that’s often missed—has that expert relationship between sound and silence. To keep making noise is just that: noise. But a good rhythm has notes and spaces, and that’s what makes it work. And even more than work, that’s what makes it interesting and sometimes scintillating. 

The Bible also describes these moments of refreshing, of returning to God in the midst of heavy activity and even strife. One of my favorite verses finds its way into the prophecies of Isaiah:

In returning and rest you shall be saved;

In quietness and trust shall be your strength.

(Isaiah 30:15)

This prophecy came to the people of Israel at a time of war and therefore great social stress. They needed to hear about the rhythm of working hard and of returning to God. Their strength would arise when they rested. The yes to work came out of the no-work of rest. Tellingly, they did not take up the offer because the next line reads, “But you refused.” Will you and I resist God’s call to work and rest?

We need to listen to the call to return and rest. And in this rest and returning, we practice the right rhythm of yes and no.