A Little Lower Than

"Were the Whole Realm of Nature Mine"

11. “A Little Lower Than”

Psalm 8

First Presbyterian Church

The Reverend Donald E. Ray

September 5, 2010

We come to the close of our 2010 summer series - were the whole realm of nature mine. In some ways it has been an easy, comfortable season. Scripture has become so fraught with interpretations that, attempting to plumb the meaning of a text can sometimes be like traversing a mine field. The realm of nature is less cluttered with preconceptions. If anything, nature is taken for granted - its lessons neglected. I think that is a sense many of us have from this summer and it has been and offers the promise of enlightening and inspiring to exploration.

It has been refreshing to step beyond intellectual pursuits and invest our hearts, in the life of this world - the world that is not ours to claim and dominate but affords the environment for our living. While we wish for nature to be a revelation of God, at the most it is the back side of God we see. Animals can enlarge our vision of new dimensions of life, vegetation can teach us patience and awaken our awareness of that life force that sustains us.

Tom stirred up a hornet’s nest without saying a word. He just looked at it - well not just looked at it. The same as looking at a sunset or sunrise, the music of the night playing in our soul, is more than just looking. We walked in the wood and shared the wonder of children. Then there are the seasons that provide the rhythm of life and keep us in time, not revealing what is to come before its season.

When Tom and I outlined this summer, I was scheduled for five Sundays. The focus for four came easily. This fifth actually only settled in my mind two weeks ago. We have looked at the whole realm of nature as a laboratory, a curriculum - we as the students. But we are part of the whole realm of nature. The Genesis story distinguishes humans, but in the end we are one of the six days of creation. An immersion in the whole realm of nature would not be complete without a look at humanity.

St. Augustine wrote: Men go abroad to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars; and they pass by themselves without wondering.

Several weeks ago in conversation with my friend Rick Erickson, he mentioned a book that had come again to his attention; Fearfully and Wonderfully Made, co-authored by Philip Yancey and Dr. Paul Brand. I knew of the book but hadn’t read it, so I ordered a copy and began. As I anticipated, the book details from the scientific view, the wonders of the human and all our systems. Dr. Brand describes the intricacies of cell structure, unique in skin, bones, muscles and nerves. Its pages abound with descriptions of the wonders of the body’s bony skeleton - how the foot can support the weight of our bodies, adapt to uneven terrain, flex to cushion each step we take. The skin - that largest of our organs that protects, shapes, warms and cools as needed. The mind and nerves and the chemically produced electrical impulses that sense and transmit and process and direct.

With evangelical author Philip Yancey, the book draws correlation between the varied interconnected structure of the human body and the Apostle Paul’s “body of Christ.” Its perspective draws conclusions pointing to a superior plan and creativity as the handiwork of a God.

That I expected from what I knew about the book and of Yancey. What came as a surprise was the life story of Dr. Paul Brand that emerged. A brilliant, gifted orthopedic surgeon, he could have enjoyed a lucrative, prestigious practice. Instead, he devoted his life and work as a missionary surgeon in India , caring for the victims of leprosy. Couched in ancient superstitions, lepers were ostracized and left to suffer and die alone. From his work, Dr. Brand came to realize that it was not the disease that ate away the fingers and feet of its victims. Leprosy attacked the nerves and without feeling, persons could injure themselves and the untreated wounds became infected which ate away the tissue. Paul Brand and his team became convinced that most of the problems lepers had with their feet came with injuries from walking without sensation. Believing that if the feet could be protected from further pressure and bruising, they would heal, Dr. Brand spent every free moment carving wooden shoes to fit the feet of one of his patient’s, Sadan, who had come to the Vellore hospital in despair. With chisels and gouges and rasps and sandpaper, he shaped shoes from wooden blocks, matching every bump on Sadan’s foot with a hollow in the clog; every indentation with a raised spot to even the pressure. Over the next weeks, he checked Sadan’s feet for signs of pressure points and adjusted the clog accordingly. Sadan began to walk more easily and after several months, the skin and flesh on his feet once warm and tense had become cool and loose, finally free of infection and inflammation, the result of Dr. Brand’s tireless efforts.

Anthropologist, Margaret Meade posed the question, “What is the earliest sign of civilization? A clay pot? Iron? Tools? Agriculture?” No, to her evidence of the earliest true civilization was a healed femur - a leg bone. Such healings were never found in competitive, savage societies. There it was clues of violence - rib cages pierced by arrows, skulls crushed by clubs. But the healed femur showed someone cared for the injured person, hunted for him and brought him food, served him at personal sacrifice.

What does it mean to be human? The Psalmist writes that we are but a little lower than God. The writer of the Genesis story of creation describes that making of humankind in the image of God. What does it mean to be in the image of God. From time to time I have had a child look up at me and ask; “Are you God?” I know that when I am standing or walking normally, I tower over little children. And then there is this beard; it’s the beard that fits into that grandfatherly figure children’s story books picture as God.

Seriously, we use such words as omnipotent, omniscient, all knowing to characterize God. To be in the image of God, we elevate power and superiority and controlling as human virtues.

I have one of those vivid images from my childhood that over more than half a century unexplainably haunts me from time to time. Ours and neighboring farms afforded some 150 or so acres of open space habitat for rabbits, pheasants and squirrels. Located on the fringes of suburban sprawl, this open space attracted those whose heritage had been hunting and now looked for a place for their sport. But, our farm was also habitat for our dairy cattle. We placed signs to mark the borders of our land as a no hunting and trespassing zone. For most, that was enough but from time to time some would not heed the signs.

One afternoon, a hunter had made his way to nearly the center of our 50 acres and was stalking the brush bordering the pasture where the cows were grazing. My father walked across the field to turn him away from the cows. Never sure what happened out there, being a couple of hundred yards away, but I can’t imagine my father being other than politely firm in asking the hunter to leave. The hunter however, a picture indelibly imprinted in my memory, lunged at my father, striking and knocking him to the ground. My father, toughened and strong from years of farm work was not badly hurt, could have fought back, but he didn’t. The hunter stood there for a long moment and then must have realized that he could be in serious trouble. Trespassing, violation of hunting law and now assault; he simply left hurriedly. The necessary protection of our cows and property cared for, we all just returned to the day’s farm work.

I say that image is indelibly imprinted in my memory. I am sure so because I was scared beyond imagination that my dad, who at that stage in my life was my all, had been hurt. But I know now that it is there also because its message that violence, and might and retaliation are not the way of life for humanity. A couple of years later when in a nose to nose altercation with another boy in school, a quick left jab split my lower lip, that picture was there to tell me it was okay to stand down and find other ways to settle our differences. We did and became friends. If there had been then the bumper stickers that say “my dad can beat your dad” or “my kid can beat up your honor student” there would have been none of those on our family car.

Of all the wonders of humanity, the cells, bones, nerves; the most fascinating would be the skin. Classified an organ, averaging a mere nine pounds, it flexes and folds; is smooth as a baby’s behind here, leathery there on our feet, rough like a crocodile on the hands of a brick layer. While the skin of many animals is tough for protection, some covered with fur for warmth; human skin seems naked, vulnerable, incomplete. Human skin is designed for relating, for being touched and touching. Our skin has few voluntary muscles. We cannot twitch it like a horse shooing a pesky fly. But we do have control over our faces. Long borne pains and stresses can carve lines, set the lips that tell a life story. A smile conveys warmth and acceptance. Mark Twain observed that, man is the only animal who blushes---or needs to.

Paul Brand draws the analogy of the skin as the body’s connection with its environment, to the skin as the presence of the Body of Christ in the world. He notes that while law and discipline are important, some err by wearing their skeleton on the outside, rigid and inflexible in contact with others. In our bodies, it is the skin, the organ of touch and feeling that is on the outside. Jesus held to the principle of love, saying; All will know you are my disciples if you love one another. (John13:35)

Those of us who have lived much of our lives with the Christian story have the figure of Jesus as an image of a man who,, if indeed the Christ lived in him, it was not an image of omnipotence and might. If his life had been one primarily of power, it would seem he could have organized his miracles, paralyzed people here, feverish on this side, lepers over there - way over there; and then raised his hands over them and healed en masse. But Jesus’ ministry was evidently not a crusade against disease, but to individual people, some of whom happened to have a disease, that they might feel love and worth. Love is not readily demonstrated to a crowd. Love usually involves touching. (1)

If God and love are synonymous, and I think a case can be made for that, then to be in the image of God is to bear the touch of love. And perhaps omnipotence and omniscience and all knowing are human projections, while the image of God is love, care, humility.

The prophet Micah poses the rhetorical question; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

Among the animals and vegetation, hornet’s nests and acorns, seasons, sunsets and sunrises, the uniqueness of humanity in this whole ream of nature is our walk, humbly, just a little lower than God of love and humility.

Amen.

(1) Fearfully and Wonderfully Made by Philip Yancey and Dr. Paul Brand; p. 140

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