Sermon – Oct 24, 2021 – “An Authentic Life”

Rev. Joseph Boyd
There are many different words for authentic: genuine, honest, original, true, the real thing. It’s an important characteristic, and one that has become more valued in the last decade. We want leaders who are authentic, and I think many of us on some level want to live authentic lives. My definition of an authentic life is more feeling oriented: it feels as if things are lined up, we’re expressing our life in a way that feels genuine, fulfilling, true. The problem is that often something can feel off, out of alignment, a detour from what feels genuine and true. Buddhists have a good word for it: dukkha. It’s a Sanskrit word often translated into English as suffering or unsatisfactoriness, but I think it really expresses this sense that things are off, or not in alignment. A sense that something in our circumstances is getting in the way of us living a true and fulfilling life. Something in our circumstances we don’t like, something that we try mightily to change perhaps, but seems to endure. We have seen this sense now projected onto a global scale during this pandemic.

People of different perspectives saying those other people who act a certain way, those people are getting in the way of me living my true and fulfilling life. If only they would act differently, my life and our life would be much better. As a people I think we can truly start to believe without question that our circumstances have the power to completely dictate whether we’re living a true and fulfilling life. We can forever think without question that the reason we are so unhappy, unfulfilled, stuck, is completely due to our circumstances. And most of us will get that perspective validated by other people: it makes sense that you can’t live a full expression of your life, because of this or that in your circumstances. I think there is truth to this perspective; otherwise it wouldn’t be so popular. The reason why I’m not aligned or not fulfilled is because of something in my circumstances. But I’m not convinced that’s the full truth, and I’m not convinced that our ability to live an authentic, true, and meaningful life depends on this magic formula of circumstances lining up at all times.

I think there is another way. I’m not certain I’m right, and I say that with humility. But I think there’s another way, and I actually would like your feedback and perspective on this other way. I think our ability, my ability to live an authentic life is dependent on our ability to embrace, respect, and utilize imperfection. It rests in our ability to make full use of our circumstances, even as we seek to change them. I think instead of spending energy bemoaning what could be, what should be, what we’re owed, we do get the opportunity to reinvest that energy into turning into not away from our circumstances, with faith that in facing our circumstances, some transformation is possible. This perspective allows us to have preferences: of course we want to be happy, of course we want people to receive justice, and of course we want to see less suffering in the world. It is good to be dissatisfied to a certain extent with the way things are. But I think even that dissatisfaction can be fuel that we can use to reinvest in our life, in our circumstances, in this time we’re living through. We don’t need to wish for a better time, or wait for it.

We are willing to create it; we are willing to create conditions for possible transformation. I think the key to living a life that feels right and meaningful is not the right alignment of circumstances. It is the ability to be dissatisfied, to witness imperfection, to witness that sense that things are off and not quite right, and use that energy to invest in life, investing in ourselves, and investing in relationships. Another word for investment is presence: being present to imperfection, being present to ourselves, being present to relationships. I’ve learned from personal experience that the only way I can be more present is if I’m willing to embrace, respect, and in a sense trust that which is imperfect. I’m willing for a moment to let go of my expectation of the way I think things should be, and for just a moment I’m willing to trust what is, knowing that what is will be crucial for any kind of transformation.

I remember once with a group of worship associates we were talking about what worship is, and the answer I gave actually surprised me and has been working on me ever since. I said without thinking that worship is where we hand someone’s life back to them. We don’t necessarily make it better. We show them the beauty and preciousness of their life and life itself, and we hope to inspire some kind of sense that their life is worth living fully, it’s worth investing in, it’s worth being present to. Deep down, I think this may be true. It’s nothing special really, what happens on a Sunday morning. I’m not a magician or an alchemist. We get our life handed back to us. And perhaps we begin to notice, if we are present and pay attention, that this is not reserved to Sunday morning. Life is always trying to hand our life back to us, to show us beauty and possibility in the imperfection, to show us where we can plug in, and where we can find meaning. This may just be my own personal experience, but I hope it’s somewhat universal. I think living an authentic life is living fully the life we have, not the one we imagined, or even the one we wanted. It’s wanting what we have, it’s wanting to be who we actually are, even with our imperfections. It’s wanting to live fully during this time, even though often it feels like things are off and could be much better. It’s being willing to invest the same level of presence in circumstances we don’t like as in circumstances we do.

As Lama Rod Owens said in the reading if we do this, we will discover a space that opens up. A space for possibility, a space for creativity, a space for transformation. But it’s kind of a paradox that we only discover that great sense of spaciousness by investing fully in things and circumstances as they seem. You don’t manufacture a space, it shows itself. There is a great quote from Anne Lamott on the sign at First Presbyterian downtown on Market Street: “Forgiveness is giving up hope you could have a better past.” There is a certain surrender in the process of living an authentic life: we give up hope that things could’ve been different. We give up blaming or saying if only. We give up our conviction that in order to live a full and meaningful life, life must be what we personally want. We learn to slowly surrender that assumption, if we want.

Based on personal experience, I don’t think we can completely surrender that assumption, but I’ve learned I can loosen my grip a little. I still want things to be the way I want just like you. But I’m learning that my true life is not based on the right set of circumstances coming together in order to give me my true life. It’s based completely on my willingness to invest in who I am, not who I wished I would be. It rests completely in my ability to invest in life as it is, knowing that is the way to lasting and powerful change, lasting transformation. What I also learned from the reading is that there aren’t any real blocks or distractions. It’s all part of our life. What we often name imperfection, are aspects of ourselves and aspects of life that don’t fit our idea of who we should be or what life should be. And the paradox is that if we don’t face those parts with affection, they will feel like they are blocking us from living a deep and fulfilling life.

We can say forever ‘if only.’ If only I was younger, if only I was healthier, if only I was more talented, if only I lived in a different place, if only that thing didn’t happen, if only that thing would’ve worked out, if only I had more time, if only I had more energy. I think it is very easy to spend a good chunk of our life dedicated to some version if only. It’s based on an idea of perfection, and the repeated awareness that something is falling short, something’s not quite right.

I don’t think the logical response is to be a Pollyanna and pretend that everything is alright and we are perfectly satisfied all the time. I think it’s actually simpler and more challenging. We are willing to bring our presence, and invest fully in what is not alright, being willing to live to its fullness what is not satisfying, at least not on the surface. The reason why I think this is worth it, is because I’ve learned that things are never as they appear, not completely. There is always more going on. Once I’m able to fully investigate what is not satisfying, what is troubling, I find there is a space where possibility becomes clear.

We get to see we do in fact have choices, we have options, we get a choice about how we wish to live under these circumstances, whatever those circumstances are. That I think is the most prized gift we could ever receive: the realization that we always have a choice. Our circumstances don’t dictate our life, we do. Our choice to invest or not, is what makes our life authentic, deep, and real or kind of eh. Our choice to make use of what we have and who we are, rather than spending time bemoaning who we could be or what could’ve happened. That I think is the most healing part of grief when done in a context of community like this. In accepting what we’ve experienced including the feelings that we wish certain things could be different, we learn how to reinvest in our life. Our experiences, even hard ones, make us more authentic, more deep, more human. Our experiences deepen us, don’t diminish us.

But that is a journey we take together. We learn how to allow experiences to deepen us, and not diminish us. We learn how to make use of imperfection, vulnerability, things feeling off. We learn how to live the life we are actually given, not the one we created in our heads. We learn to trust that we can love, and this is almost always possible under any circumstances. When we look at our circumstances, when we look at the world, when we look at ourselves, we can learn to see a presence, not an absence. Over time we learn not just to see what is not there, but we learn to clarify what’s there, the power and life at the heart of any circumstances. We learn we don’t need to wait for certain circumstances in order to cultivate deep and lasting relationships. We can do it now. We don’t need to wait.

I thought I would close with a poem, one you’ve probably heard before, and one I still enjoy: Love after Love by Derek Walcott, the Nobel Prize Winning Poet from St. Lucia in the West Indies:

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.