Sermon: Transcendence
Scripture: 1 King 17
This past week, I watched the inauguration of the US president. Normally, incoming presidents use their swearing-in as a time to talk about unity, yet even in the short time I spent watching, the new president spewed dangerous thoughts that planted fear and harm, instead of peacemaking.
In response, the Right Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde used her chance at the inaugural prayer service to speak directly to Donald Trump:
“Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you, and as you told the nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now. There are gay, lesbian, and transgender children … Some who fear for their lives. [And the migrant workers] … Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land.”
The wisdom-heart is not about denying or eradicating fear. Rather, it’s the ability to acknowledge, understand, and live alongside the presence of fear without being controlled by it. The gift of non-fear is not about getting rid of fear but about cultivating the peace and wisdom that allows us to face fear with courage and stability. And the gift of non-fear transcends self. When we can practice it for peace within us, we can extend it for the benefit of others.
The gift of non-fear is the courage to face fear without avoidance. Just as the Right Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde demonstrated, the gift of non-fear imparts a sense of courageous resistance, combined with the spirit of resilience, for the benefit of others. You might notice that I emphasize the gift transcends ourselves for the benefit of others. For example, Mariann Edgar Budde shared her gift with others so the community listening to her message found a safe space to feel supported and less overwhelmed by fear. The gift of non-fear helps people feel a sense of safety and comfort in times of uncertainty, “unafraid” (v.13). This gift creates a beloved community of belonging, compassion, connection and courage.
Eventually, the gift of non-fear will not only be an inspiration; it will be learned and emulated by many others. Just as the bishop modelled, there is a time in which we, for the benefit of others, must speak for peace and stand against the powerful, even if we exist on the same level of uncertainty as those who must be comforted.
Now, holding the light of this teaching, the gift of non-fear, let’s look at today’s Hebrew scripture—the story of the widow and Elijah.
We begin with how Elijah came to meet the widow. The story unfolds in the northern Kingdom of Israel, in the 8th century B.C.E., when King Ahab was ruler.
Elijah, a prophet based in the southern kingdom of Judah, went to deliver God’s message to King Ahab. At the time, the northern kingdom of Israel was more developed economically due to its location as a hub of trade, while the southern kingdom of Judah’s economy was centered around the temple. During this time, King Ahab married Jezebel, a woman from Sidon in Phoenicia, to strengthen trade relations with Phoenicia. Jezebel and Ahab ended up worshipping Baal, the Phoenician storm god, bringer of rain and fertility.
The problem with worshipping Baal was that it created an economic system focused on accumulation of wealth for the elite, leaving very little for ordinary people.
In contrast, the tradition of Yahweh, the God of the Hebrew people, was not just about worship. Its economic system was rooted in a God-given vision for the community. It aimed to build a society where prophets upheld values like equitable distribution, eliminating economic exploitation, protecting society’s most vulnerable, like widows, orphans, and foreigners, and fostering just relationships. This idea is made clear in the teaching of Jubilee, which envisions economic justice and insists on equitable distribution of resources, redistribution of wealth, and liberation from slavery every 50th year, for all God’s people.
King Ahab, however, established an oppressive political regime that silenced and killed prophets who questioned or challenged this unjust, elite-centered Baal economic system. Elijah, the prophet of the southern kingdom of Judah, stood alone in his mission. He confronted King Ahab and delivered God’s message: unless Ahab changed the economic system and followed Yahweh’s vision for economic justice, “There will be neither dew nor rain for years.” Following this, Elijah fled and hid by the stream called Wadi Cherith, where he survived on water from the stream and bread and meat brought to him by ravens each day. When the stream eventually dried up, God instructed Elijah to go to Zarephath, a small village in Jezebel’s homeland of Sidon, to meet a Sidonian widow.
That’s how Elijah came to foreign territory (it’s also fair to call it enemy territory), seeking refuge. Bread and meat, brought by the raven’s beak each morning and evening, likely couldn’t have filled him up very much. I imagine that when Elijah met the widow, his hunger wasn’t so different from hers.
After Elijah asked her for a “morsel of bread” and was refused, he asked again. This time, he requested the “little cake of bread” she was planning to make for her son and herself. She refused again, explaining that she had only enough flour and oil for one meal—for herself and her child.
The widow’s fear was understandable. First, she had nothing to give (almost). Second, it was a time of great uncertainty, and the two of them were in a desperate situation, at the very bottom of the social ladder, and completely alone.
Elijah’s first words to the widow after hearing her response is “Do not be afraid.”
Elijah knows he could plead his case, but he could not force her to accept his request. When he said “Do not be afraid”, it could only be invitational; he could not demand her trust. He really has to inspire this widow.
From my reading, the request is given as an invitation: The invitation to generate compassion, remembrance and trust in her bodhichitta heart. For her to remember and to trust the traditional culture of hospitality and welcome to the stranger, deeply rooted in ancient custom and in the widow’s heart, deeper than the temporal rule of King Ahab. Elijah’s invitation is to awaken, in her understanding, how we can navigate the unjust times using the gift of non-fear and generosity and to trust something different. Even a miracle - which I would call a “long-term miracle”, not something achieved overnight, not something that ends quickly, but a sustained effort by self-transcending people who work together, being present and creating the space with and for one another. We don’t know exactly how that ‘long-term miracle’ happened. The story doesn’t tell us HOW it happened, but it tells us that both the widow and the prophet accepting and sharing the gifts of non-fear with one another led to the result that “The jar of meal was not emptied and the jug of oil did not fail” as long as Elijah stayed in the widow’s house, day after day. How many days, I don’t know. The number of the days is not important here, really. We do NOT know HOW, but we are told WHY the long-term miracle happened. Elijah’s “Don’t be afraid” was a call for the gift of non-fear, a request for solidarity, and an invitation to create a beloved community grounded in trust. The generosity made possible by the gift of non-fear was an emergent strategy for times of great uncertainty.
There’s a saying that became popular during Covid: we’re not all in the same boat. We’re in different boats depending on our circumstances and positions. LGBTQ+ individuals, migrants, Indigenous peoples, and others—those who the Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde referred to when she pleaded with Donald Trump, saying, “Have mercy on these people who are scared”—may be in different boats. Privilege, prestige, or the lack of them, could set each individual afloat in their own unique boat. However, what’s important is that, even though we may not be in the same boats, we are all in the same storm. We are all experiencing the same famine. This worldview recognizes the interconnectedness of our lives.
In Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings, there are three kinds of gifts of generosity: 1) the gift of material resources. 2) the gift of helping people rely on themselves. 3) The gift of non-fear. And the greatest among those three is the gift of non-fear, with being present with others and offering space for others.
My first class on Buddhism began with Professor Gil Hee-sung’s lecture on “Transcendence” in university in Korea. He was an exceptionally brilliant scholar who studied at the Harvard School of Divinity and “gave birth to” countless students. Gil made significant contributions to the study of Buddhism in Korea and to inter-faith dialogue. I remember one class vividly:
He was contemplating, his eyes closed. Then he wrote the word “transcendence” on a green chalkboard and asked us a question. I don’t remember exactly what he asked, but upon reflection, it may have been something along these lines: How is it that ‘transcendence’ plays such an important role in Buddhism and Christianity, especially in mysticism?
Gil believed that because the idea of transcendence exists in Buddhism and Christianity, in Buddhism, it allows one to transcend the notion of self, and in both religions, it enables love that transcends all dogma, making it possible to question the status quo, customs, and convictions, and to enter the path of transformation through faith.
What I like about the work of Thich Nhat Hanh, the author of Living Buddha, Living Christ, is that he interchanges the words of ‘transcending’ with ‘touching’: Touching the Kingdom of God. Touching life deeply. Touching mindfulness. Touching the Holy Sprit. To always remain touched by the spirit of life and transformed by the “radical amazement” (a concept from Rabbi Abraham Heschel) of the new, fresh and open quality and state of the present moment and of God’s new creation.
The practice of amazement enables us to begin new challenges again and again - and, encouraged, to go to the world as the healed healer, or even as a wounded healer… To resist evil and injustice, and in Pema Chodron’s terms, to enter challenging situations in order to alleviate the suffering of others; to hear the cries of the world. Transcending self is touching self, and non-self, deeply. Transcending is to touch, encounter, contact, reach out, and co-create a space of befriending, belonging, “be-loving”, in our society and in the world.
The touching of the widow’s life by Elijah, and Elijah’s life by the widow and her child—through this story, we witness how this small, extended unit of three people created the seeds of peace and survival through the times of storm, the times of drought, the times of uncertainty and injustice.
We may be in separate boats, but - we are making it through the same storm, the same drought.
We are the living Buddhas and the living Christs, reliving the “living scripture” today.
We are the widows. We are the Elijahs.
We are the bishops that speak truth to power.
We are the ravens that bring sustenance wherever, and however, it is needed.
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