Fifth Sunday after Pentecost - Evensong
27th June 2010
Preacher: The Rev'd Gillian Moses, Assistant Curate

Theme: Life in Abundance

Readings: Ecclesiastes 3.9-22, Luke 9.1-11

There is a wonderful poem by Pablo Neruda called An Ode to an Artichoke. It paints an amusing picture of the daydreams and ambitions of this striking vegetable. Its armour-like petals inspire Neruda to imagine that the artichoke dreams of being a soldier:

 And then one day ,
with all the other artichokes ,
in willow baskets ,
our artichoke
set out to market
to realise its dream:
life as a soldier.
Amid the ranks
never was it so martial
as in the fair ,
white-shirted
men
among the greens
marshalled the field
of artichokes;
close formations ,
shouted commands ,
and the detonation ,
of a falling crate.

Sadly the dreams of the artichoke are for nothing. Along comes a shopper who buys the artichoke and cooks it , thus ending any possibility of military glory for the artichoke as the diners “eat the peaceable flesh of its green heart.”

The writer of Ecclesiastes might say here , ‘all is vanity!” What the writer does say is that people and animals (and dare I say artichokes) are just the same - we breathe , we are dust and to dust we shall return. Who knows what happens to us after that. Like the artichoke , it may be that our grandiose dreams are for nothing - we live and then we die.

That is all very existentialist. The Teacher goes on to say that one might as well enjoy one’s work , for what else is there. And while that can sound somewhat fatalistic , there is a strong thread that runs through Jesus’ teaching that encourages a focus on the here and now rather than on what lies ahead. So in Matthew’s gospel Jesus says “Do not worry about tomorrow , for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (Matt 6.34) And in today’s reading from Luke Jesus’ advice to his disciples is to take nothing for their journey , no staff , nor bag , nor bread nor money – not even an extra tunic for tomorrow. (Luke 9.3)

What we can gain by focusing our energy on the here and now is an increased valuing of life as it is. Living as though this is it is not an excuse to behave badly because there is no punishment in the hereafter. On the contrary , I believe that as Christians we have a call to live in the moment and value this life in order to live fully – or as Christ said , “to have life , and have it abundantly” (John 10.10)

Living abundantly is not necessarily about having great riches , or a nice house , or fancy clothes , but nor is it about denying ourselves and living ascetically , as though joy is somehow inappropriate. We all know those dour Christians we seem to believe that suffering in this life is a necessary preparation for a heavenly hereafter. I don’t think that is what the writer of Ecclesiastes is saying. I think he is urging his readers to find joy in their work , in their living , because this is how we have been created by God.

There is a great sense of accomplishment in working at what we love. We use the term ‘vocation’ in the church , and while some people think of vocation only as a calling to ordained ministry , the truth is that we all have a vocation. My vocation is to become most truly myself. Yours is to become you. Finding what you are passionate about is key to finding out who you are , and there is no more satisfying or abundant kind of life than one spent doing what you love. If we are lucky enough to discover our passion and our calling then work becomes less a chore and more like the gift about which Ecclesiastes speaks.

Brother Lawrence wrote about the blessedness of work in this way. Brother Lawrence was a Carmelite monk in the 1600s. He worked in the kitchens and wrote of how he learned that even kitchen duties became sacred moments when he worked to the glory of God. Work for Brother Lawrence became a form of prayer , a way of praising God and of listening to God. In this way even his humble kitchen duties became a noble and holy vocation.

What this all suggests is that when Ecclesiastes advises us just to work and not worry about whether there is any kind of life after life , it is not a prescription for a dutiful and dull existence , but rather a recipe for an abundant life. Life’s abundance consists in our living it properly. The artichoke’s dreams amuse us precisely because the idea of an artichoke being a soldier is ridiculous and we recognise that. The artichoke’s destiny is the cooking pot and the dining table.

So it is for us , in a way. We do not need to dream of impossible things. We do not need to strive to be other than ourselves. Our glory lies in being us – in the artichoke being an artichoke , in me being me and you being you. And so Neruda’s poem ends not with a sense of loss but with a sense of satisfaction:

And thus ends
in peace
the saga
of the armoured vegetable
we call the artichoke ,
as leaf by leaf
we unsheathe
its delights
and eat
the peaceable flesh
of its green heart.

The rightness of this end comes from the artichoke living out is proper purpose , which is not to fight but to feed. When we consider our own vocation I think that is our key as well. Peace comes only from doing what we are meant to do. The struggle comes in the journey of discovery as we strive to find out just what that is , and dare to imagine that maybe our dreams of glory may be fulfilled in a way we didn’t quite expect. And perhaps that is God’s great gift to humanity after all.