Do you feel perfectly safe and happy this morning? Or are you like many of us shaken by yet another report of poison letters, Anthrax sent by mail where it might do the most harm to those who report the news and to world business giants like Microsoft. Meanwhile we are bombing Afghanistan and wondering what may come next. Oh, yes, I sure could use a big dose of reassurance and a double dose of courage right now. And we will talk about how to find this. But let us begin small in our daily ordinary lives, within that blessed ordinariness we took for granted a short while ago.
So are you a scarecrow or a lion? Here is how you will know: Lions make a big show of it. They roar and shout and puff themselves up. Other folks in their company usually give in to lions if for no other reason than to save their ears. Scarecrows keep others at a distance, but up close are not that fearful at all. And of course Tin woodsmen and Tin woods women (for we must not discriminate even in the world of Oz) think that they have to go through the world without admitting to anyone how soft hearted they really are. Protected by a hard hollow shell or a "drop dead" power suit they have nothing to fear but feel, well oddly empty and hollow inside. Which one are you?
You have probably played all of them at one time or another. These characters from that beloved fairy tale The Wizard of Oz written by L. Frank Baum have become part of our collective psyche. Who among you have never seen the old Judy Garland movie or the funky remake the Wiz or heard about this penultimate American myth? Where salvation is found by stripping the wizard of his illusion of power and discovering that power within your true self. A good story for our times too. And one that still provokes school boards to try and ban it because it has a good witch in it and apparently certain religious conservative prefer bad ones!
One of the reasons this story has become so enduring is that it gives us hope. We can gain whatever we need by our own power ultimately but first of course we must go on a quest and face down dangers never found back home in Kansas. Let us listen to this familiar passage: While on the yellow brick road on the journey to the Emerald City with the tin man and the scarecrow, going through a forest they heard a terrible roar, and the next moment a great Lion bounded onto the road, with one blow of his paw he sent the Scarecrow spinning over and over to the edge of the road, and then he struck at the Tin Woodman with his sharp claws. But, to the lion’s surprise, he could make no impression on the tin, although the Woodman fell over in the road and lay still. Little Toto, now that he had an enemy to face, ran barking toward the Lion, and the great beast had opened his mouth to bite the dog, when Dorothy, fearing Toto would be killed, and headless to danger, rushed forward and slapped the Lion upon his nose as hard as she could, while she cried out: "Don’t you dare to bite Toto! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a big beast like you, to bite a poor little dog!" " I didn’t bite him," said the lion, as he rubbed his nose with his paw where Dorothy had hit it. "No but you tried to," she retorted. "You are nothing but a big coward." "I know it," said the Lion, hanging his head in shame; "I’ve always known it. But how can I help it?"
Poor cowardly lion! All his bluster and bullying and at the bottom of it all is fear! Oh, I have known a few lions in my time. I have sat across from them even at church meetings and have seen them in action driving hapless sales clerks to tears.
And yes the answer is to stand up to them. But isn’t that much easier said than done? Do you like being roared at? Most of us fear confrontation and so we let the lions of the world get by with it. Sometimes we ourselves are so afraid that we become lions ourselves. So how do we find courage? And what is true courage?
Well first of all I am going to tell you that it is not the absence of fear. All of us, I suspect, have at times shown great courage out of a foolhardy, ignorant bliss. At 15 I was part of a cross-country ski race in Norway and got caught in a blinding snowstorm. I had trouble seeing the little red flags marking the trail, I was on a mountain and not a very good skier at all. I could so easily have gone over the side, fallen into a ravine, broken my leg, gotten hopelessly lost, you name it! Yes, I was in real danger but was I afraid? Not at all, for at 15, you know, one cannot easily imagine that death is a real possibility. That was not courage but foolhardiness.
No, true courage is not the absence of fear. Despite what William Shakespeare wrote: Cowards die many times before their deaths the valiant never taste of death but once.
Well maybe so but I think that may be because they lack imagination! On the other hand though our imaginations can make situation that really are safe into monstrous, fearful events. I can guarantee that in our minds eye what we fear is most often far worse than the actual event turns out to be. Yes, even now I would say that is true most of the time.
Take a very common fear: public speaking. Now you probably think I am never nervous or afraid of that? After all here I stand every Sunday and speak my mind? Well I still get butterflies in my stomach but I have finally taught them to fly in formation. But for years public speaking was one of my dragons. And I still cringe a little when I remember my first sermon as a lay leader. Oh, I had prepared, I had researched whatever that topic was but my fear was intense. The night before I hardly slept at all and when I did I had a vivid nightmare. In this dream I began speaking and as I spoke the members of the congregation walked out one by one, frowning or yawning with boredom until the church was nearly empty. Then the minister stood up and told me off and said that was the worst sermon he ever heard. Well that dream did not help much. In an attempt to quiet my anxiety that morning I took a Benadryl allergy tablet, which I knew from experience would make me sleepy. I hoped it would calm me down. Instead it just made me anxious and sleepy and gave me a terribly dry mouth that felt like old leather. Somehow I got through that service, holding onto the pulpit for dear life so as not to shake too much and drinking so much water that I had to run to the bathroom immediately after the service! People were mostly kind but I said to myself: that is the last time I ever do this again. Well famous last words! My point in telling you this story is not that I eventually overcame this fear but rather that we can create the most terrible scenarios for ourselves, usually when we exaggerate the importance, in the larger scheme of things, of what we are doing. It was only a sermon! Monsters of our own makings can destroy our courage. Exaggerated fear can too. Did you hear about the hotel clerk that called the FBI because of talcum powder spilled on the floor?
Or have you read the headline where a doctor says our Anthrax fears are: "illogical"? I give him the "Doctor Spock (of pointed ears and Star Trek fame) award. Logic has very little to do with either courage or fears.
Real courage is facing our fears. Not denying them but facing them. "What makes you a coward?" asked Dorothy, looking at the great beast in Wonder, for he was as big as a small horse. "It’s a mystery," replied the Lion. "I suppose I was born that way. All the other animals in the forest naturally expect me to be brave, for the Lion is everywhere thought to be the King of Beasts. I learned that if I roared very loudly every living thing was frightened and got out of my way. Whenever I’ve met a man I’ve been awfully scared; but I just roared at him, and he has always run away as fast as he could go. If the elephants and tigers and the bears had ever tried to fight me, I should have run myself---I’m such a coward"
Finding courage comes from acting courageous. Courage is something we cultivate, nurture in ourselves. It may mean taking a chance, it may mean discovering our truest dreams and the fears that holds us back. It may take having our safe ground under our feet rudely taken away from us as in this Chinese story about a dragon. There once was a dragon that was lost at birth by its parents and raised among farm animals. It grew up to eat grass and walk the fields like other tame beasts. One day an older dragon flew over the fields, breathing fire and scattering all the animals in the barnyard. The young dragon on the ground was fascinated and frozen in its tracks. The older dragon, spying its young cousin, swooped down, grabbed the younger one in its huge jaws, and flew far up into the sky.
When they were so far up the houses looked like toys, the older dragon dropped the younger one from his mouth, causing him to fall screaming toward the ground. Then, just before the younger dragon would have been killed, the older dragon swooped down, caught him in his mouth, and returned him to the sky, where he promptly dropped him again.
This horrible fall happened several times before the young dragon, frightened and angry, finally spread his own wings and with a roar of fire, sailed high into the sky--becoming--for the first time in his life--his real self.
This young dragon's first realization of his true nature was what similar stories from the east call "the roar of awakening.''
Well I like that story. But I sure don’t like the sensation of being dropped. The price of courage is often high. The rewards can be great when it is the kind of courage where we pursue forgotten dreams. Or dare to look deep inside our souls to see what faith we do have, what gives us strength. But there are other kinds of courage. There is physical courage such as shown by athletes and soldiers. But this courage is grounded in training, discipline and practice, practice, practice. It seldom comes naturally. And it is easier for the young who still in their hearts of hearts believe they are immortal.
The hardest and truest courage comes when we stand at the edge of the abyss and face life’s tragedies and ultimately our own death. At the center of the ruins of the World Trade Center we have seen courage born of a stubborn determination that made the rescue workers go on day after day. If we can no longer help the living, they said again and again, we will find and bury the dead. And in so doing we will honor their humanity and ours. It is a brave act to confront evil without allowing our fears to take over our lives. Faith helps, faith that our actions matter, faith and trust in life, in God or in the ultimate goodness in human hearts despite our frailties and despite our fears. Sometimes all we can do is hang onto our souls and bear witness. I found an account of such courage written by Bernie Glassman.
My wife died unexpectedly last March. We had just arrived in Santa Fe, New Mexico, to begin a new life. We arrived on Monday and moved into our house on Tuesday. The following Sunday as we were hanging pictures on the wall, Jishu complained of chest pains. She was hurried to the hospital, where the doctors verified that she had suffered a major heart attack. For the next four days she seemed to get stronger and better. But on Thursday night she suffered a second heart attack. People ask me how I m doing. It takes a while for me to reply, for it is hard to answer them in words. Finally I tell them I'm bearing witness. But how do you feel, they ask me. I'm raw, I tell them. Do you feel sad? I shake my head. Raw doesn't feel good or bad. Raw is the smell of lilacs by the back door, not six feet away from her relics on the mantel. Raw is reading the hundreds of letters that come in, watching television alone at night. Raw is letting whatever happens happen, whatever arises, arise.
I live in a house chosen by my wife, reflecting her tastes and wishes. My own choice would be a studio in New York City's Bowery, not a house in a canyon overlooking a river. So I live in her house and do the things she would have loved. I greet the dawn coming over the mountains, watch the hummingbirds, prune the lilac bushes. Each time I think of the smile on her face had she been here to do these things. Instead I do them, bearing witness to her presence and her absence.
How am I doing? I'm bearing witness. And the state of bearing witness is the state of love.
That story moved me. God grant each of us such courage. " The state of bearing witness is the state of love." How true that is. Let us live fully each day, take in the beauty and the joy. It is a grace freely given each day we have to live.
"But what about my courage?" asked the Lion, anxiously. "You have plenty of courage, I am sure," answered Oz. "All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. True courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty." "Perhaps I have, but I’m scared just the same," said the Lion. "I shall really be very unhappy unless you give me the sort of courage that makes one forget he is afraid."
Well, like the wizard this is the only answer I can give whether it makes you happy or not: True courage is facing dangers even when we are afraid. But I have something to add. I have seen again and again that people find courage when they need it. It is there in our hearts behind the fear. How do we forget the fear? We think of others. How do we survive the fear? Deep down in our hearts there is another truth: We are not alone.