Courage

I  just finished reading a book called Quietly Courageous: Leading the Church in a Changing World, by Gil Rendle. Several friends whose judgment I trust greatly on these things had recommended it to me, as I now recommend it to you. 

Rendle focuses on the adaptive challenges that face the Church today; this is not a "how-to" on technical fixes. He begins by unpacking a metaphor for the kind of "quiet courage" he seeks, a story that comes from our Jewish cousins by way of midrash. I think we Christians have so much to learn from Jews about how to read Scripture. Too many of us in the Christian tradition have learned to read the Bible dogmatically in order to "prove" what we already believe. But Jews tend to read Scripture as way to generate conversation and questions and cultivate imagination.

So you know the story of the Exodus and the parting of the Red Sea as Moses and a band of slaves escape Egypt. Midrash simply means an oral tradition that emerges in conversation with the text. It’s a bit like the Sunday School curriculum Godly Play, learning to ask questions like: I wonder…

The midrash that Rendle shares in Quietly Courageous goes like this:

When the Hebrews got to the water’s edge they sat down and argued about who would step into the water first. Keep in mind the Egyptian army is in pursuit. Finally Nashon, son of Amminidab gets up. This talking could go on forever – he steps into the water, up to his ankles. Nothing happens. He keeps going, up to his waist. Still, nothing happens. Up to his chin but still the waters don’t part. Finally, when he takes the step that puts his nose under water, the waters part.

Rendle suggests that quiet courage is like this and the Church could use a double portion these days. He says that what Nashon remembered was why they were there in the first place. He remembers purpose and promise and knows that what is required is to trust in that and keep moving. How are we going to be the church in a changing world? Likely it won’t be something that the Bishop or a Canon or a General Convention does. It’ll take lots of Nashons with quiet courage. 

We are at the Red Sea, and the only way to go is forward, through it. And we may have to walk beyond our ankles, beyond our waists, up to our noses before the waters part and we move into the wilderness for forty years or so, in search of the Promised Land. The journey ahead will be a long one. It’ll require quiet courage, not just from Moses but from the Nashons who may or may not be ordained leaders. 

I take heart in remembering the Wizard of Oz and Dorothy’s traveling companions. This post is about courage, the gift the cowardly lion was seeking. We also need heart, and brains, for the journey that lies ahead but those are posts for other days.

I think what the lion learns in The Wizard of Oz (or at least what we learn as readers) is that courage is not the absence of fear. That’s not possible. Those who studied French will remember that the French word for heart is coer and that’s the root in courage which is not about the absence of fear but about facing our fears and doing it anyway – doing what we need to do like that lion, like Nashon. We may need some outward and visible signs – as the lion does – to remind us but in truth it’s inner work, it’s quiet work. It’s not about negating fear, it’s about facing it head on.

If we spend all of our energy trying to keep things the same, trying to save our lives or the life of what we value and know, it’ll be a losing cause. What Jesus says is that those who follow him by way of the cross may lose their lives, lose their bearings, even get lost – but in so doing they will find new life. That is the mystery of cross and empty tomb, of death and resurrection.

At the end of this book Rendle tells another story - this one about a young boy who lived on a farm. He was instructed by his mother to go out on a pitch-dark night to make sure the barn door was closed and locked. He left through the back door but immediately returned, telling his mom it was too dark. She handed him a flashlight and told him to try again but again he came back pretty quickly. He said the flashlight was too weak and he couldn’t see the barn. His mother said, “you don’t need to see the barn…you just need to walk to the end of the light.”

So it is with us as well. We may not yet see the Promised Land. We may not even yet be across the raging waters of the Red Sea. But we can walk to the end of the light. We can take the next steps, with God’s help. As followers of Jesus we keep our eyes on him, who illumines the path for us to grow as we go.