Life Is In The Balance
based on Deuteronomy 30:15-20
by Dr. David Rogne

Some time ago a young couple came to see me about the possibility of getting married in our church. In the course of the conversation, I asked the young woman whether they had a goal in life, to which she responded, "Yes, to be happy." Such an answer is not uncommon: in fact, whether we are asked to articulate it or not, that is probably the goal of most of us. It is in the pursuit of that happiness, however, that we begin to lose our way, for something has bewitched almost all of us into assuming that happiness will be the result of some material improvement or accomplishment; more money, a better house, a flashier car, a more attractive partner. But those who manage to acquire these things often find that contentment does not accompany them.

According to the book of Deuteronomy, when Israel was about to enter the Promised Land, Moses addressed the people in those words we read this morning and urged them to be careful of the goals they chose. Proper choices would lead to life; poor choices would lead to death.

The admonition for them and for us is the same: "Choose life, that you and your descendants may live." Of course, every one of us wants to choose life, which is another way of describing a happy, contented, fulfilled, rewarding existence. And yet, so many, desperately wanting to make the right choices, have made the wrong ones, and instead of finding life they have found death--the death of their dreams, their loves, their possibilities, even the death of their physical bodies. Life is constantly requiring us to make choices, and in those choices we find life or death. How can we know that when we make our choices, we are choosing life?

The first thing I would like to point out is that life is found in learning to balance freedom with relatedness.
Everybody wants to be free. Teenagers want to be free of family supervision. Parents want to be free of constant responsibility of raising, monitoring, feeding and guiding children. In a movie a few yeas back, Parenthood, Jason Robards makes a statement that many in the theater identified with. "The thing about being a parent," he snarls, "is that it never, never ends." The other day in the supermarket I saw a harried mother talk sternly to a small child, spank the child and sit him down hard in the shopping cart. My heart went out to the child, but also to the mother. I've been there. There had no doubt already been too many changes of clothes that morning, too many questions, too many tears, too little privacy and too little satisfaction for the mother. She probably would have given the kids away permanently for just an hour to herself. Freedom from endless responsibility looks like a wonderful goal.
People are dropping out of marriage more readily than ever, or becoming more wary of marriage in the first place. Marriage is seen by many as a limitation on freedom. The theme of our age is, "I've Gotta Be Me" and I can't be me, if I've got to consider you.

I recently asked a couple whose kids were grown what they did with their new freedom. "We go to Las Vegas every chance we get," they said. I asked them what they liked about it. They said, "We can get away from all our responsibilities and just do what we want to do". It sounds good, but when I have gone inside those casinos, I can't be sure whether people are having a good time or not. They are free to do what they want, but are they enjoying themselves?
We need freedom of expression all right. We need growing room, and if our current arrangement stifles it, whether it is marriage or parenthood or employment, it may very well be set aside in our quest for freedom. But will that legitimate desire for freedom produce the happiness that is sought?

One side of us desires freedom, but there is another side of us that desires to belong to someone. I was talking with a man whose business required him to travel frequently to different parts of the world. I observed that his life must be pretty interesting; traveling to different countries, eating in nice restaurants, staying in pleasant hotels, free time in the evening, nobody to be responsible for except himself. His comment was that after a day or two away from home he would gladly surrender all that freedom to be home with his family. I was reminded of an old proverb: "The greatest single happiness people can know is to have someone who really cares whether or not they come home."

In that experience we are dealing with a human fundamental. We are not merely individuals; we are essentially social beings. If we are to be fulfilled, we must belong to someone. Telly Savalas, who for so many years played TV's super cop, Kojak, seemed like a fellow who could make it on his own more than most. Yet he said in an interview some years ago, "My greatest fear is waking up one morning and finding myself alone . . . my family is my oasis."

When we choose to balance our desire for freedom with the requirements of relationship we find the fullness of which our lives are capable. Some relationships enhance freedom. I went to a symphony concert recently. Assembled on the stage were a variety of instrumentalists. As each one tuned her/his instrument there was no harmony, only cacophony. But when those instrumentalists surrendered their freedom to do as they wished and followed the direction of the conductor, they were set free to realize their potential. When two people commit themselves to a good marriage, they belong to something that frees them to discover the depth of their masculinity and femininity more fully than any number of fleeting affairs. When people enter into a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and make him the lord of life, they find far greater freedom to be the children of God they were created to be than when they choose to give free expression to every impulse that is in them. Life is found in the balance.

A second way we choose life is by seeking to balance self-fulfillment with other-fulfillment.
Each of us needs to feel important. Some years ago the then-mayor of San Francisco was campaigning for re-election. Suddenly his wife was missing. The mayor had gotten so busy with campaigning that his wife had rebelled and took off on her own. After about two weeks, it occurred to the mayor that she had not been around, so he called the police. The story was in the newspapers. They searched all over the state for her, and a couple of days later she showed up again. Her complaint was that, not only was there no life left in their marriage, but she was treated as though she were dead. She wasn't being considered anymore in the arrangements of their life.
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When people feel down, nothing picks them up so quickly as some experience that makers them feel wanted and important. Frequently on the late evening news a minicam reporter will go out to the sidewalks of some district near the studio and ask a question of passersby. Suddenly, ordinary people are on camera, and every one has an opinion. It may not even be a very well-though-out opinion, but they have been asked, it makes them feel important, and they come through.

Not long ago my daughter cut a picture of a friend out of the paper because the friend had asked for it. Never mind that the girl was little more than a dark shadow in the third row of a group, she was in the paper and she wanted friends back home to know it. Nothing wrong with that. Most of us have done it. And if we have scrap books, no doubt, they have clippings of our names or pictures in the paper. It helps us feel important.
Sometimes we stick with an organization long after it has ceased to be effective simply because we have a position in it, and that makes us feel important. I can still remember that in high school it was a matter of great importance to belong to as many clubs as possible, even if you didn't attend, so that you could have your picture in as many places as possible in the yearbook and go through and circle all the pictures when you signed someone else's book. I imagine it is still that way today.

Jesus understood that need, and often he would take the most ordinary human beings and help them to feel important. The New Testament church was made up, for the most part, of poor, obscure, and lowly people, yet they lived with zest and eagerness, because Jesus had given them the conviction that the way they lived and what they believed were of importance to the world. It is that message that each of us needs to hear! We are important! What we are and do counts, and we find life when we fulfill our potential.

On the other hand, we have to be cautious that self-fulfillment doesn't become self-centeredness, for when that happens, we become destructive of life for ourselves and for others. "I celebrate myself, and sing myself," wrote Walt Whitman in Song of Myself. He was ecstatic over his self. "I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious." Even his body odor sent him into religious ecstasy: "The scent of these armpits (is) aroma finer than prayer," he said. This before deodorants. "Nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is ... Nor did I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself," he wrote in Leaves of Grass. He certainly knew about the need for affirmation and adulation, and he bestowed it upon himself to a generous degree. But a world filled with such people, each revolving around their own center of self, would be a world bereft of concern for anyone else--a hopeless place in which to live.
Therefore, the Gospel points us in another direction. It says that we are fulfilled by helping others fulfill themselves. In the motion picture Gandhi there is a scene where Gandhi is lying near death as a result of fasting in his effort to bring Hindus and Moslems together in India. A Hindu leader comes to him, pleading with him to end his fast. Gandhi reaffirms that he will only end his fast when Hindus and Moslems stop fighting. The Hindu, with hatred for Moslems in his eyes, vows to keep fighting. To justify his resolve, he tells how Moslems took his little boy and crushed his head. He, in turn, captured a Moslem boy and killed him in the same way. "But," he added sorrowfully, "I have been living in hell ever since." Gandhi reflects on this a moment and then says softly, "I think I know a way out of hell." And with the Hindu hanging on his words, Gandhi tells him, "Go and find a Moslem boy similar to the son the Moslems killed, take him into your home as your son, and raise him as a Moslem.

We choose life when self-fulfillment is balanced by other-fulfillment. We get over loneliness by helping others get over loneliness. We get over boredom by involving ourselves in the creative enterprises of others. Our own healing takes place when we become concerned about the healing of others. Life is found in the balance.

A third way we choose life is when we balance physical life with a spiritual dimension.
We need to affirm the fact that we are physical creatures with the capacity to enjoy physical comfort. To deny ourselves physical comfort for no purpose is to fail to appreciate the goodness of life. London tax officials thought they had Bill Hughes dead to rights when they charged him with bookmaking and failure to pay taxes on the income. The 50 year old shipyard worker admitted to having saved $16,000 on his $56-a-week salary, but he said he had done it this way: He never ate candy, never drank, never went out with women, shaved with his brother's razor blades, charged his grandmother twelve percent on money she borrowed, worked a night shift and borrowed his father's shoes while he slept in order to save shoe leather, went thirteen years without buying a new suit, never bought a single flower, limited his life-long movie going to one picture, ate everything on the table even if he didn't like it, patched everything including his underwear, and never took a holiday trip that cost more than fifty-six cents. One could call him a person of thrift, but how much of the sweetness of life he missed.

I find far more affirming the attitude of an anonymous monk who wrote: "If I had my life to live over again, I'd try to make more mistakes next time. I would relax, I would limber up, I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I know of very few things I would take seriously. I would take more trips. I would be crazier. I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers, and watch more sunsets. I would do more walking and looking. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would have more actual troubles, and fewer imaginary ones. You see, I'm one of those people who lives life prophylactically and sensibly hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it over again I'd have more of them. In fact, I'd try to have nothing else, just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead each day. I've been one of those people who never go anywhere without a thermometer, a hot-water bottle, a gargle, a raincoat, aspirin, and a parachute. If I had to do it over again I would go more places, do more things, and travel lighter than I have. If I had my life to live over I would start barefooted earlier in the spring and stay that way later into the fall. I would play hooky more. I wouldn't make such good grades, except by accident. I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I'd pick more daisies."

Jesus was similarly affirming of life. He said, "I have come that you might have life and have it more abundantly."(John 10:10) For his own part he attended weddings and banquets and parties, and he acknowledged that the pious people of his day faulted him for it and called him a glutton and a drunkard. I think he was trying to make the point that life is a gift which God intends for us to enjoy. There is no requirement that godly living must be an intolerably dull and boring affair, a repressing of everything that one wants to do, a forcing of oneself to comply with what nobody would wish or choose. On the contrary, those who choose life should find it to be happy, adventurous and exciting.
Important as the physical side of life is, however, it needs to be balanced by a concern for the spiritual side of life. Some years ago a conversation took place between the theologian, Paul Tillich, and the noted psychologist, Carl Rogers. Dr. Rogers asked the theologian why he bothered with religion. He was implying that scientific explanations for human behavior

can provide all the understanding that is needed. Dr. Tillich responded that human beings have a horizontal dimension and a vertical one. The first is our relations with people; the latter opens us to the eternal, to God. In response, Carl Rogers acknowledged that he had experienced that vertical dimension in counseling. "When I'm really being helpful to a client", he said, "when I feel that something significant is happening ... I feel I am ... in tune with the forces of the universe, and that those forces are operating through me. . . I guess I feel . . . like the scientist does when he's able to bring about the splitting of the atom. He didn't create that with his own little hands, but he put himself in line with the forces of the universe and . . . was able to trigger off a significant event ... I feel much the same way with a person when I'm really being helpful in bringing that person back into life. The force of the universe is working in me." That "force of the universe" is what we call God.

"Choose life", said Moses. We choose life when we balance our appreciation of our physical opportunities with an awareness of our spiritual possibilities and make a place for both. For that balance to be maintained there has to be something in the center. That something is God. When other things are at the center of life--ourselves, even others--there is an imbalance that leads to destruction. When God is at the center of life other things fall into place. St. Augustine discovered that a long time ago when he wrote, "Thou, O Lord, hast formed us for thyself, and our souls are restless until they find their rest in thee: "Choose life", said Moses, "that you and your descendants may live," And where is life found? Life is in the balance.