"Experiencing God through: Beauty"
Knox, 21 November, 2010 © Scott McAndless
Genesis 9:8-17, Psalm 29, Luke 12:22-31
In January of this year, a man named Paul Vasquez was camped out on some land of his near Yosemite National Park in California. He woke up one morning to find a beautiful double rainbow on his front lawn. His reaction to what was very obviously a beautiful sight is now legendary. It is so legendary that I imagine that most of you have already seen it. But I am going to share just a few minutes of his reaction with you.
Now, Mr. Vasquez insists that, when he made that video, he was not under the influence of any strange substances (though some people have been a bit sceptical about that!) But I am willing to take him at his word. He experienced something that is actually not uncommon – even if his reaction to it was somewhat over the top. He encountered something beautiful. It was bright and vivid and it took his breath away. And that beauty was powerful and as he gave himself over to its power, it was like it took him into another reality.
There are two phrases that Vasquez repeats over and over again in that three minute video: “Oh my God!” and “What does it mean?” Apparently these are phrases that he naturally uses quite often, but they seem to take on special meaning in the face of this utterly beautiful natural phenomenon. It certainly reminds me (as it reminded Vasquez himself) of the story of Noah. If they came out of the ark after weeks and weeks spent in the darkness and found themselves face to face with such a beautiful sight, is it any wonder that they read a clear message and promise from God in it. Is it any wonder that they found themselves conversing with God?
The Christian practice that we are focusing on this morning is the practice of beauty. It is based on the notion that when people find themselves face to face with something that they experience as beautiful, it can bring them into a different reality – into the presence of God. This is not something that is rational or reasonable, of course. No one would call Vasquez’ reaction to that rainbow reasonable in any sense. But it is still real.
Beauty is, of course, also something that is very subjective. What do they say: beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What might sweep you away unexpectedly would perhaps provoke only a yawn in someone else. But the effect of an encounter with beauty is, sometimes undeniable and can be very spiritual.
But since the idea that an encounter with beauty can provoke an encounter with God is not primarily rational, this is not something that I can convince you is true through argument or explanation. So I’m going to have to use a different strategy. Christians have long used beauty in their worship – beautiful buildings, beautiful artwork, beautiful music. Beauty is, in many ways, a regular feature in the worshipping life of this congregation.
So what we are going to do here today is simply use beauty for worship as Christians have done for centuries – though we may just ratchet it up an extra notch or two. Let us intentionally dwell on some beautiful sights and sounds and words with the expectation that God can be present in these things.
I can’t help but think that whoever wrote the 29th Psalm had just seen something incredibly powerful and beautiful. What he had seen – what he describes as “the voice of the Lord” – was at first out thundering over the waters (I assume) of the Mediterranean Sea. Then it was over the land in Lebanon, the country to the north of Israel, famous for its giant cedar trees. But whatever this “voice of the Lord” is, it is powerful enough to break those mighty cedars into tiny bits. From there it moves to Sirion, a mountain on the borders of Lebanon. Next “the voice of the Lord” moves over a river (likely the upper Jordan) and stirs it up so much that it skips like a calf. Finally it moves a bit further south to a place called Kadesh which it makes to shake.
What is this terrible phenomenon that the Psalmist calls “the voice of the Lord”? It seems pretty obvious that it is some kind of mighty storm – the kind of storm that is, at one and the same time, terrible and beautiful (though it is mostly beautiful when you see it from a distance and mostly terrible when you are in the midst of it.) But the Psalmist seems to be observing from a distance – from the temple mountain in Jerusalem – and from there he and all the people can cry, “Glory.”
But the point in calling this powerful phenomenon “the voice of the Lord,” is to say that in the beauty (and terror) of the storm, it is possible to encounter God. It reminds me of a story I once heard.
In 1885 Carl Gustav Boberg, a Swedish poet, was just returning home from a church service when he and his friends were surprised by a mighty storm that seemed to come up from nowhere. They were in the midst of the fields and the whipping winds made the heads of grain dance like mad men. The thunder boomed so loud and deep that you could feel it all through your bones. But then the rain came, falling down gently to refresh the earth. Then, when the rain finally stopped, a rainbow came out.
Boberg made his way home as a new calm settled over the land. He went into his house and “opened the window and saw the bay of Mönsterås like a mirror before him… From the woods on the other side of the bay, he heard the song of a thrush…the church bells were tolling in the quiet evening.”[1] And Carl Gustav Boberg took out pen and paper and wrote the words that would one day be translated into English like this:
O Lord my God! When I in awesome wonder Consider all the works Thy hands have made. I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power throughout the universe displayed.
You know how it goes from there. So why don’t we stand and sing it together – thinking of the beauty of the natural world that surround us.
Jesus clearly had an odd way of living. He didn’t seem to have any possessions. He certainly didn’t have an income. He just sort of wandered around from place to place teaching, healing and preaching and he expected that God would provide him with what he needed to survive: food, clothing and shelter. It is a lifestyle that we would call unconventional – or maybe just plain crazy depending on how polite we are. But it seemed to work for him.
But it wasn’t just something that Jesus himself did. He also taught his followers to live in the same way. When he sent them out on mission to the towns and villages of Galilee, he told them to take nothing with them – no food, no money, not even a change of clothes. Indeed he taught everyone who would listen to him to take the same attitude even if they didn’t live the whole lifestyle: “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear.”
But here’s the interesting part. When it came to giving reasons why they should adopt such a radical attitude and go against all common sense, Jesus didn’t offer any. + Instead he encouraged people to stop, to look at beautiful things like flowers and plants, birds and animals and the promise was that if they did so, they would understand. I know, it’s crazy, but that’s what he said.
Okay, maybe it doesn’t make all that much logical sense. But perhaps we can take him at his word and contemplate such beautiful things for a while and see if they don’t give us a certain insight…