First United Methodist Church
Birmingham, Michigan
Scriptures: Genesis 29:15-20, II Samuel 11:1-5, I Corinthians 7:10-16
February 13, 2005
I never knew Leo Sullivan but, according to the Detroit Free Press, he died the other day….right between Wilma Sugar and Lester Utterback. Or, as a semi-regular scanner of the death notices once said to me: “Isn’t it amazing how, day after day, all those people die in alphabetical order?” Whatever! Leo was 80 when he succumbed, one suspects to heart disease, given that memorials (in lieu of flowers) were directed to his best friend and cardiologist, Dr. Kim Eagle of the University of Michigan Cardiovascular Center.
Earlier in his life, Leo must have coupled fertile imagining with a love of rhyming, given that he named his five daughters Kathleen, Maureen, Colleen, Doreen and Janeen. But what interested me most was the sentence: “He leaves his best friend and wife of 62 years, Iris.” It was not the title “wife” or the number “62” that caught my eye, but the words “best friend.” For while great love may or may not start that way, I think that great love often ends that way, given the number of times I have heard spouses say of one another that “he (she) is not only my lover, my partner, my helpmate, and the father (mother) of my children, but also my best friend.”
Which beats what Jeff Nelson’s aunt said about his uncle on the occasion of their 40th anniversary. There, in the presence of family and friends, she cut the cake and said: “If I’d murdered him the first time the thought occurred to me, I’d be out by now.” I suspect she was joking. But who knows? I have a dear friend in the ministry who, speaking maritally, is cruising in on fifty. He often says that while the word “divorce” never crossed the mind of either he or his wife, the word “murder” often did.
This is the Sunday nearest to Valentine’s Day. In response to which, I have regularly spoken of love, marriage and romance (remember the title “Whatever Happened to Moonlight and Roses?”). And once, following the visit of family therapist Kevin Leman, I even read whole big chunks of the Song of Songs….an eight-chapter ode to eroticism that one finds smack-dab in the middle of the Old Testament….and talked about “Sheet Music.” For while the New Testament is filled with words about love, warnings concerning love, and Paul’s much-quoted definition of love (which we read to brides, even though it was originally written to churches), it is the Old Testament that is filled with lovers. Some of their stories, pretty. Others, less so. Some of the lovers, faithful. Others, less so.
Truth be told, one of the most beautiful lines ever written about romance is found in the book of Genesis when, after working seven very long and very hard years for his future father-in-law (in return for permission to marry his daughter), it was written:
So Jacob served seven years for Rachel,
and they seemed as but a few days,
because of the love he had for her.
Which, as you will remember, was not the end of Jacob’s labor, given that his father-in-law reneged on the deal and held out for seven more. But how did the Apostle Paul put it to the church of Corinth? Did he not say (at the beginning of his list of love’s virtues) that “love is patient”?
But Jacob could afford to be patient, given that the family into which he wanted to marry was wealthy….and that, had he given up on the relationship and gone back home, his brother (whom he had cheated and chiseled out of everything that mattered) was waiting to kill him. But here, as in life, the Bible merely demonstrates what repeatedly proves to be true. We’ll take our heroes flawed and if, over time, they make even a minimum move to redeem themselves, we’ll erase the majority of their sins from the pages of our memories.
Which prefaces anything I might say this morning about Charles and Camilla. She seems to be the longstanding love of his life, even as the dead-but-far-from-forgotten Diana has become the longstanding love of ours. So by marrying Camilla (whom Diana-devotees still describe as “the wicked witch of the empire”), Charles is jilting us….not that we count for all that much in the ultimate scheme of things.
In an article entitled “Royal Wedding II,” I read the sentence: “It’s about time they made it to the altar.” Except they’re not going to the altar. They’re going to Windsor Castle where, we are told, it is to be a civil ceremony. The church, apparently, will be absent from it. Though, were I asked, I would probably fly over and perform it. Not because I treat adultery with charity, but because I am so incredibly bullish on mercy. Divorce is always sin. Always, given that it represents a broken covenant. But one still has to answer the question of how God views sin and how the church treats sinners.
Still, I do not expect to be called to Windsor (the castle in England, not the town across the Detroit River noted for its casino and the tabletop ballet). But if I were, I would ask Charles and Camilla some hard questions, beginning with this one:
Why do you expect this relationship will give to you….and elicit from you….the happiness and stability that (in your past relationships) seemingly eluded you?
To which they will no doubt say: “Because we love each other.” How do I know they will say that? Because that’s what everybody says to me. More times than I can count. And, as answers go, it is both well-meaning and sweetly-spoken. But, as answers go, it is far from complete and far from enough. Charles and Camilla loved each other before….and didn’t get married. After which they loved other people….and didn’t stay married. And, as concerns adultery, I am sure that Dr. Phil would say to Camilla: “If he did it with you, he’ll do it to you.” And maybe Dr. Phil would say that to Charles about her. But if not, Dr. Laura would.
The attraction of the opposite sex….it happens. Or as a friend of mine, who is as “straight an arrow” as they come, once said (to explain the occasional turning of his head as God’s eye-catching creations slowly walk by): “At the altar I gave you my hand and my heart, but I don’t remember anything being said about my eyes.”
Ah, but the eyes get us in trouble, do they not? At least David’s did. The story needs no belaboring. I’ve preached it. You’ve read it. Nothing all that new in it. It is spring, the sap-running season. David is on the roof….above. Bathsheba is in the bath….below. He sees her. He wants her. He sends for her. He gets her. He does her. He impregnates her. And he marries her (after, of course, arranging to have her widowed….militarily….conveniently).
She was not his first. Nor his last. She simply was….looking very good. At a time when his marriage wasn’t….looking very good. His wife was a bit of a shrew, of course….given that she rained all over his victory parade (II Samuel 6:20-23) by daring to criticize his dance of joy in the streets of the city….or, more to the point, by daring to criticize what he was or wasn’t wearing when he performed his dance of joy in the streets of the city.
For whatever reason….and there’s always a reason….David’s marriage had browned up. Bathsheba was greener grass. And like sheep who nibble their way from brown to green, David nibbled his way from Michal to Bathsheba.
Which the author condemns. But which the author also understands. People think the Bible is naïve about life. Heck, most people think that preachers are naïve about life. But preachers know the color of the grass. And preachers know the difference between brown and green. Because if they don’t seek it sexually….and, in spite of the occasional story to the contrary, most of them don’t….more than a few have been known to seek it occasionally (as in, “My church is brown….his church is green….how might I escape from where the brown is and find my way to where the green is?”). Not that the ministry is filled with “career climbers.” It isn’t. Trust me, it isn’t. But from time to time, preachers have been known to be glancers. And preachers are not color blind. There is a colleague of whom it is widely said: “Within two weeks of arriving at his new appointment, he begins thinking about his next appointment.”
But when the “greener grass” issue is not vocational, but marital, the stakes are higher. Because the potential for destruction is greater. Far greater. Which is why the Bible is as down on divorce as it is. And which is why the church is as down on divorce as it is. Not just because of the sin, but because of the destruction. Destruction that is painful to all concerned.
Although some will say (because I’ve heard it): “But Bill, you don’t understand. I’m the one who’s in pain in this brown marriage. And pain relief is over there in that green possibility….or with that green person.” To which I have consistently said two things.
First, don’t be too sure. Not everything that looks green, is green. Listen carefully, because there is forty years of pastoral wisdom in what I am about to say next. If your marriage is lacking something you perceive to be vital to your happiness, your marriage will be vulnerable (indeed, you will be vulnerable) in the event someone enters your life who possesses what you lack….radiates what you lack….or appears ready and willing to offer what you lack. But what happens at that moment is that you discount and devalue (even to the point of being willing to discard) things you do not lack….because you already have them, but have taken them for granted.
Humor me. Assume, for the sake of argument, that a perfectly wonderful relationship consists of 26 qualities. Why 26? No reason. Except that’s how many letters there are in the alphabet, and I need the alphabet to make my illustration work. No relationship has all 26. No marriage has all 26. There is no perfect marriage. It’s an illusion….a myth, cherished by poets and songwriters, but still a myth.
So, for the sake of argument, let us assume you are in a relationship that is moderately (even woefully) deficient of B, D, F and Q. If you meet someone who brings B, D, F and Q to you, openly, willingly, unreservedly….or even hints of B, D, F and Q quietly, secretly, seductively…. you will say to yourself: “Ah, this is a meadow of green in my desert of brown. This is my Promised Land, my soul mate and my lucky day all rolled into one.”
The problem being,
It’s the wrong time and the wrong place,
Though your face is charming, it’s the wrong face.
It’s not her face, but such a charming face
That it’s all right with me.
Except, when that individual becomes available (because “it’s all right with them,” too) you may discover that B, D, F and Q are pretty much all that’s there. Because it’s what you lacked, it’s what you saw. But once you get it, you began wondering what happened to C, G, M and P. Which is when you remember that you had them, but left them….given that you couldn’t see them because, at the time, you had no reason to miss them. Which explains one of the real statistical oddities of my ministry….namely, how few marriages result from affairs (whether they be affairs of the heart or affairs of the body). Oh, to be sure, affairs may lead to divorce (though not as often as you might think). But once divorced, those people move on to marry somebody else. Far from being the rule, Charles and Camilla are the exception. So when you discover your eyes wandering from brown to green, don’t be too sure. That’s the first word.
And the second follows thereupon. There’s a difference between brown as in “dead” and brown as in “dormant.” The psalmist waxes eloquently about the reblossoming of the desert….flowers appearing….streams flowing….trees fat with fruit….grapes fat with wine. In the desert, no less. It’s a wonderful image of regeneration. You can look it up. If you need help, call me. I’ll look it up. Or go to Israel and see it for yourself. I can take you to desert places where drip agriculture is flowering the desert floor and feeding a desert village. Brown to green. It happens. And what is the underlying theme of the Holy Week narrative (Good Friday to Easter) if not the story of a God who recolors history….in a trio of days, no less.
There is more life in things that have browned up, dried up and shriveled up than any of us know. Which may, however, require a bit of memory so as to recall what the desert looked like when, once upon a time, it was green. And which requires a lot of work on the factors that created the brown-out in the first place. Which work has nothing (I repeat, nothing) to do with what you feel, and everything to do with what you do.
Desmond Tutu (of all people) writes:
You have very little control over your feelings. That’s why God didn’t say, “Like your enemy.” It’s very difficult to like your enemy. But to love your enemies is different. Love is an act of the will, where you act lovingly even if you do not always feel loving. We tend to think love is a feeling, but it is not. Love is an action.
This is not just true with our enemies. It is also true with our loved ones. With our spouse, we don’t always feel loving and romantic. If married life depended upon our feeling for our spouse from moment to moment, very few marriages would survive. True love is when you are feeling as dead as a stone, yet say to yourself: “This is the one to whom I have committed myself and she has committed herself to me.” You do not have a great deal of control over when you feel resentful or irritable, but you can still choose to act lovingly. Sometimes the best you can do is to say to God (or to yourself): “I want to love.” And there are even times when the best you can do is to say: “I want to want to love.” But when you do, you are more likely to act in a loving way, regardless of what you are feeling.
Certainly, it is wonderful when our feelings prompt us to act lovingly. But it is not realistic to expect that we will always want to do what we must do. Think of the mother and father who rise in the middle of the night to help their child. Do they feel like being loving? Probably not. Must they act lovingly toward their children? Absolutely.
The extraordinary thing is that when you act lovingly, you can begin to feel love. And if you act long enough in a particular way, you will begin to feel the feelings that accompany the actions.
Which returns me to the question implied in today’s title: “So where is the grass greener?” Generally speaking (Erma Bombeck notwithstanding), the grass is greener where it is watered.
Note: I wish I could tell you the source of the Desmond Tutu quote. It was shared with me by my pastoral colleague, Rod Quainton. I have reproduced it carefully and accurately, but lack the source.
As for Leo Sullivan, I stumbled upon his death notice in the Detroit Free Press on Saturday, February 12, thinking he was somebody I once knew. He wasn’t. Ironically, a few persons in the congregation remembered Lester Utterback from his days as an elementary school principal in an adjacent community. Who knew?
As concerns Jeff Nelson’s aunt, the story is not apocryphal. Jeff Nelson is another of my esteemed pastoral colleagues. So you can ask him.
Finally, the song lyric, “It’s All Right With Me,” comes from the pen of Cole Porter in the early fifties and was recorded by the likes of Peggy Lee, Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald.
