I’m often reminded of the saying, “Preachers preach the sermons they themselves need to hear.” It’s true, at least in my case. Ahead of Sunday, I often ask myself, “What do they need to hear? And what do I need to say?” I don’t usually ask, “What do I need to hear?” But the sermon often ends up reflecting that in some way or another.
I love having the opportunity to preach, and like to think of it as a long conversation between myself and the congregation. I get to do a lot of the talking, but I depend on what people tell me—about their lives, about our world; what they are worried about and grateful for—and it need this, to have some sense that my sermon will be useful to them.
Last Sunday I preached about the anxious times we’re living in, when there’s so much bad news and plenty to worry about. I talked about how last summer I did way too much worrying, and how, in the end, that wasn’t helpful, and didn’t do me or anyone else much good. I’m not going to do that again this summer; I plan to worry a lot less, and enjoy the gifts and blessings this season has to offer. If you want to read or listen to that sermon, you can find it here.
Some of my inspiration for this sermon came from The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World, by the 14th Dali Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Archbishop Tutu writes, “Discovering more joy does not, I'm sorry to say, save us from the inevitability of hardship and heartbreak. In fact, we may cry more easily, but we will laugh more easily, too. Perhaps we are just more alive. Yet as we discover more joy, we can face suffering in a way that ennobles rather than embitters. We have hardship without becoming hard. We have heartbreak without being broken.”
This is what I want—that openhearted kind of living in which I’m more alive, more open to the pain and the joy. I listened to this book on a road trip during my sabbatical in the spring of 2021. But I’m going to read it this summer, because I want and need to have more joy in my life, and I’m grateful that these two spiritual leaders, who have been part of plenty of pain and suffering, got together to talk about and create a book on joy!
This is my wish for all of us this summer—less worry and more joy. Time to bask in the blessings of summer. Time to move slower, and to savor the abundance and gifts of this warm and light-filled season. Yes, let’s do what we can to help heal and bless our world. But let’s not forget about the healing we need, too. I hope you have time to listen to the birds sing, or watch the sun rise or set, time for a long conversation with a friend. Time for whatever it is your heart and soul is longing for. Less worry and more joy, for the living of these days.
