"Earth is crammed with heaven" -- a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Earth is crammed with heaven,
and every common bush ablaze with God.
Only he who sees it takes off his shoes;
the rest sit around and pick blackberries.
There's nothing wrong with picking blackberries. One might say that there are two kinds of people; those who see that earth is crammed with heaven, that everything that is, is holy and overflowing with heaven, and they take off their shoes in reverence. And then, there are those who go through their lives oblivious, picking blackberries. I would be in the blackberry-picking camp. I don't often have the eyes to see the holiness shining through my ordinary life. I don't have the eyes to see people brimming with heaven, and the world around me crammed with heaven. I'm really very busy plucking blackberries, thank you very much, and I don't see it, I don't notice it, I don't know it.
If only I had the eyes to see that earth is crammed with heaven. If only I had the eyes to see... I think that the goal of the spiritual life is not to see God, but to see as God sees. To look at the world through the eyes of God, and see that everyone is holy, everyone is beautiful.
One of the people who has helped me learn this important lesson about the spiritual life is a former Bishop of mine, John Thornton, someone for whom I have great deal of affection. Bishop Thornton told me a story once of a dinner party he attended. At this dinner party, he was seated next to someone who, in his words, was the most unattractive person he had ever seen. She had been in an accident, and her face was scarred and misshapen, and sitting with her at this dinner party was so disturbing for him, that it was difficult for him to carry on just normal dinner party conversation. So he was pleased when the dinner party was over, and he had the chance to leave.
Some time later, he was visiting that same town, and an attractive woman came up to him and began to engage him in conversation. This woman knew him, although he didn't recognize her. At some point in the conversation she realized that he didn't know who she was, and she said, "Bishop, I'm Debbie Conrad. We met at that dinner party." This attractive woman with whom he was having this delightful conversation, was the same woman that had had the disfigured face. She’d had surgery.
When Bishop Thornton recounts this story, he is ashamed. When he told me this story, he said that he was ashamed that he was not able to see her beauty when they first met. He wasn't able to look at her with the eyes of God.
Jesus was about to head toward Jerusalem to be crucified. He was about to head toward Jerusalem with his disciples, and in Jerusalem he was going to be beaten, he was going to be disfigured, he was going to be killed. It would have been very difficult to look at Jesus and see that Jesus brimming with heaven. But a few of his friends got to see it before the trip began. Jesus, right before he started for Jerusalem, took three of his friends to the top of a mountain and he prayed. While he was praying, the disciples were able to see heaven in Jesus. They were able to see God's Spirit shining forth. They were able to look at Jesus through the eyes of God, and see Jesus as he really was, crammed with heaven.
I have to believe that the momentary glimpse of the real world, of Jesus crammed with heaven, had to have given the disciples some hope and some perspective a short time later, when they were watching Jesus disfigured. They had seen for a moment, through the eyes of God, who Jesus really was. For me, the spiritual journey is a journey where hopefully I can grow to see the world as it really is, which is crammed with heaven. To see every person around me as they really are, which is holy and beautiful.
Bishop Thornton, when he told me this story of meeting Debbie Conrad, said, "If we don't see the world through the eyes of God, crammed with heaven, if we don't see the world transfigured, we will see the world disfigured." And isn't it a shame how easily we accept other people's disfigurements. Isn't it a shame how easily we look at other people through the lens of the least that they could be, rather than seeing them through the eyes of God, crammed with heaven, full of holiness and beauty.
This is a lesson that is taught to me again and again, usually while I'm plucking blackberries and not noticing heaven all around me. But on occasion, something will happen and my eyes will be opened to see what was there all along. I was given this lesson once again this past week, during Gilbert Hicks’ burial service.
For those of you who don't know, Gilbert Hicks was a custodian at the Cathedral, and he had been here for about five years, although I've only been here a few months myself, so my experience of Gilbert is just of the last few months. In my mind, Gilbert Hicks was a custodian. He wore the blue Trinity Cathedral custodian uniform, and in my mind's eye when I think of Gilbert, what I remember is usually seeing him from behind while he was buffing the floor of the Great Hall, with headphones on. Gilbert would buff the floor, and I would come in and see him buffing the floor, and I would go on to my office. Later on, I would be walking down the hall, and I would pass Gilbert. His face would light up, and he would look at me and ask, "Have you seen the floor of the Great Hall?" "No, not yet," I would say, then I would dash over and look at the floor, which was now shinier than it was ever created to be. Then I would find Gilbert and tell him what a great job he had done, and how beautiful the floor was, and he would just glow with happiness.
In my mind, that was Gilbert. Gilbert was a custodian, who had an odd obsession with shiny floors, and who lit up my life every time I passed him. But I never really had a conversation with Gilbert; I never really sat down and talked with him, I never thought that maybe he had something to teach me about God or about Jesus. You know, he was a custodian, and I was a priest, right?
Then I went to his memorial service this past week. The service was very well attended by members of the Cathedral, who stood up one after another and shared their experiences of Gilbert, which were similar to mine. Somehow after passing him or encountering him briefly, Cathedral members found that they were lighter in their step; Gilbert made them feel good.
Next we heard from Gilbert's family, his siblings and his nieces. They talked about how Gilbert was a spiritual leader for their family, and their extended family, and how he would lead them in Bible study. At every Bible study, he would pull out his guitar and sing them songs, and lead them in singing songs. Now, I never knew that Gilbert did that! Gilbert’s niece talked about how at the beginning of every Bible study, he would play for the family and have them saying her favorite song, which was "Jesus loves me, this I know."
Then one of Gilbert’s sisters got up and spoke. She said that when they were preparing for Gilbert service, she picked up Gilbert's Bible, opened it, and found a piece of paper there in his Bible. It was a piece of ruled three-hole-punched notebook paper that had scribbled on the front and back different pieces of wisdom. There were some scripture quotations, and some real-life proverbs on how to live one's life, pieces of wisdom from Gilbert.
I'd like to share a few of these words of wisdom from Gilbert.
Be careful what kind of thoughts you start your day with.
Be mindful to be a blessing.
Lie in bed and think of ways that you can be a blessing that day.
Set your mind to compliment people, to edify them, and to make them feel good about themselves. Mark Twain said, one good compliment can last me two months.
The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be appreciated.
Be a good listener.
The secret of being interesting, is to be interested.
Remember, be patient, and don't forget to compliment each other, building each other up in warmth and love.
God is love.
I never knew that. I never knew that Gilbert began each day by lying in bed, thinking about how he could be a blessing to other people, to us, to me. Do I do that? No. And, I never saw that in him, because I was so busy picking blackberries.
To have the eyes to see God shining in everyone around us; God shining in the person who is seated right in front of you now, or next to you, or behind you. Or to see heaven crammed in the people driving by the Cathedral right now, all around us. The goal of the spiritual life is not to see God; it is to see the world as God sees the world, which is beautiful, and holy. And to see everyone in the world like that.
I have one more story. This is a short story, a very small episode written by a surgeon, and it is written so beautifully I'd like to just read it to you.
I stand by the bed, where a young woman lies, her face postoperative. Her mouth, twisted and palsied, clownish. A tiny twig of the facial nerve, the one to the muscles of her mouth, has been severed. To remove the tumor in her cheek, I had cut a little nerve. The young husband is in the room. He stands on the opposite side of the bed, and together they seem to dwell in the evening lamplight, isolated from me, private.
"Will my mouth always be like this?" she asks. "Yes," I say, "it will. It's because the nerve was cut." She nods; is silent. But the young man smiles. "I like it," he says. "It's kind of cute." He bends to kiss her crooked mouth, and I, so close, I can see how he twists his own lips to accommodate hers, to show her that their kiss still works.
To see that, to see through the eyes of God, and not see people disfigured; to see them beautiful and holy -- to see that, is what I pray for. Amen.