{"id":1657,"date":"2017-09-16T11:00:28","date_gmt":"2017-09-16T15:00:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/?p=1657"},"modified":"2019-09-22T13:39:40","modified_gmt":"2019-09-22T17:39:40","slug":"peter-berger-a-rumor-of-angels","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/2017\/09\/16\/peter-berger-a-rumor-of-angels\/","title":{"rendered":"Peter Berger: A Rumor of Angels"},"content":{"rendered":"

Alumni Memorial Service\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0After my dad died seven years ago we began to go through his things, as families do. Desk, tools, books, guns, clothes. (Order, play, hope, justice, humor). <\/em> We did not make much progress at first. After three years I noted: \u2018We still have not made that much. His desk, somewhat more ordered, is laden drawer after drawer. The many tools, both inherited from earlier generations and purchased as needed over a life time, still lie here and there in the basement. A doll house, made for a granddaughter and then taken in for repairs years ago, and then left unattended, did migrate to the home of the great grand daughter. The guns\u2014a relic of another time in the woods and deer hunting of northern New York\u2014were carefully removed by two lawyer siblings. The papers and records now are in boxes with little titles\u2014an improvement of sorts. His clothes still hang in the old closet\u2019.<\/p>\n

I was either assigned or self assigned or asked (or not) to begin to take care of the books, forty years worth of books in the lifetime library of a Methodist preacher whose preaching teacher at Boston University, Allan Knight Chalmers, for whom I was named, had admonished his pupils to read one book every day.\u00a0\u00a0 That is to say, there were more than a few books to look through.<\/p>\n

I dawdled, lollygagged, procrastinated, avoided, and otherwise shirked my solemn duty. I asked all those I could to go through the library and take at least two books. The books are mostly signed and dated, and of course they have the personal underlining and notes which are typical for most of us. I appropriated a few: a set of Jacques Ellul, for a Lenten series two years ago; a few books from BU\u2014Booth, Chalmers, Bowne; sermon collections from Weatherhead, Gomes, Tittle, Fosdick; others.\u00a0\u00a0 But I found my progress slow and slower. With each book, my willingness to skim and skip diminished. I found my intrigue at his notes increasing, and my attention to his underlining expanding. I dream on and off of a large oak door, heavy with metal locks and frame, unopened, chained shut: my dad on one side and I on the other. In the lasting grief I feel at the earthly loss of my dad, it has happened that his preacher\u2019s library has become a kind of spiritual bridge, a mode of ongoing conversation between us.<\/p>\n

There is range of life through which there radiates, like morning sunlight, high and deep and piercingly real<\/em> experience. Most of this range of experience is not, or not only, in worship or liturgy or ecclesiastical involvement or patterned devotion\u2014these are of course crucial and important, but more as signposts than as the actual meadows and still waters of religious, that is to say non-religious, religious experience.<\/p>\n

One day this summer, on one of my less than fruitful forays into the library, I came upon a book, the title of which is borrowed for this morning\u2019s sermon (A Rumor of Angels: NY, Doubleday, 1969\u2014portions quoted below found therein).<\/em> Published in 1969, hardly more than 100 pages, accessible to clergy and lay alike, brisk and direct in style, sprinkled with salt and light in humor and aphorism, the book, it happens, was written by a Boston University colleague and friend of mine, the premier sociologist of religion of our time, Peter Berger. Professor Berger has graciously endured lunches and conversation, including some semi-successful jokes, with me over these last few years. I knew of this book, both its title and its general argument, which is that God is not dead, religion is not dead and religious experience is not entirely absent from this earthly vale of tears. But I had never read it. I stuffed the book in my bag.<\/p>\n

It is hard to try to recreate the context, 1968, in which Berger was writing and thinking what hardly anyone else was thinking and writing. I will not try to do so. 1. But try to imagine, or remember, a time when Time magazine\u2019s cover read, \u2018Is God Dead?\u2019, or 2. when the most potent religious word was \u2018secular\u2019, or 3. when administrative malfeasance led to a drug experiment on Good Friday in the basement of Marsh Chapel, or 4. when the most successful camp meeting was a mud soaked musical weekend in the Upstate New York village of Woodstock. Just when all hell was breaking loose, Berger wrote about heaven. Like debate participants try to do, he caused people to take a second look at something, or someone.<\/p>\n

There is transcendence\u2014he speaks of the \u2018supernatural\u2019\u2014all about us. Maybe that is why you have come, together, to worship on this Alumni weekend. What are the signposts, the clues to transcendence we should look for\u2014in our lived experience? Berger\u2019s summary still works. You may be surprised by the clues he names, the rumors of angels he overhears\u2026<\/p>\n

First, give a little credit to your own blessed rage for order.<\/em><\/strong> Some of you are hoarders, of sorts, and bring order by refusing to get rid of anything. Others are the very opposite, \u2018when in doubt throw it out\u2019.\u00a0\u00a0 You have a desire to see things set right, one way or another. What were those kids doing at Woodstock, in the mud, listening to Janis Joplin, fifty years ago? They were shouting to the heavens that things were not right, that something was out of order. Berger: A. This is the human faith in order as such, a faith closely related to man\u2019s fundamental trust in reality. This faith is experienced not only in the history of societies and civilizations, but in the life of each individual\u2014indeed, child psychologists tell us there can be no maturation without the presence of this faith at the outset of the socialization process. B. Man\u2019s propensity for order is grounded in a faith or trust that, ultimately, reality is \u2018in order\u2019, \u2018all right\u2019, \u2018as it should be\u2019.<\/em> Do you have a longing for order? Underneath, just there, is a mode of religious experience. Talk a bit about it, parents and children.<\/p>\n

Second, and swinging to a different spot, pause and meditate a little on your own enjoyment of play.<\/em><\/strong> 1. I see grown men enthralled on a green field following a wee little white ball, which seems to have a mind of its own, for three or four hours in the hot sun. 2. I see grown women shopping together without any particular need, but immersed, self forgetful, in the process of purchasing, God knows what. 3.I see emerging adults fixed and fixated, days on end, in the World of Warcraft. 4. Families were mesmerized this past summer, glued to gymnastics in England. 5. Can you remember playing bridge in college all night long, to the detriment of your zoology grade? Berger: A.In playing, one steps out of one time into another\u2026When adults play with genuine joy, they momentarily regain the deathlessness of childhood\u2026<\/em>(Viewers of the recent film Moonrise Kingdom <\/em>readily understand this). The experience of joyful play is not something that must be sought on some mystical margin of existence. It can readily be found in the reality of ordinary life\u2026The religious justification of the experience can be achieved only in an act of faith\u2026B.This faith is inductive\u2014it does not rest on a mysterious revelation, but rather on what we experience in our common, ordinary lives\u2026Religion is the final vindication of childhood and of joy, and of all gestures that replicate these. <\/em> One said: \u201cI played basketball today, on the intramural team\u2014it was awesome.\u201d Talk about it a bit, parents and children.<\/p>\n

Third, we sense the (my word) supranatural, the transcendent, in the experience of hope.<\/em><\/strong> Hope does spring eternal in the human breast. Hope keeps us going when otherwise we would not. 1. You may have seen Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones dramatize this in the midst of their struggling marriage. The movie title: \u2018Hope Springs\u2019.\u00a0\u00a0 2. Parents hope their children will thrive in college. Students hope so too. So do professors and administrators and Deans of Chapels. We hope. There is something lasting, real, meaningful, costly and true about hope. 3. Where there is life there is hope. Better: where there is hope there is life. People with no regular religion at all know about hope, and its absence. Berger: A. Human existence is always oriented toward the future. Man exists by constantly extending his being into the future, both in his consciousness and in his activity. B. Put differently, man realizes himself in projects\u2026It is through hope that men overcome the difficulties of the here and now. And it is through hope that men find meaning in the face of extreme suffering\u2026There seems to be a death-refusing hope at the very core of our humanitas. While empirical reason indicates that this hope is an illusion, there is something in us that, however shamefacedly in an age of triumphant rationality goes on saying \u2018no!\u2019 and even says \u2018no\u2019 to the ever so plausible explanation of empirical reason\u2026Faith takes into account the intentions within our natural experience of hope that point toward a supernatural fulfillment.<\/em> I wonder if the generations sitting together in the pews this morning might, come Christmas, talk a bit about that most unreligious religious experience, a thing called hope, a place called hope, a time called hope, a feeling called hope?<\/p>\n

Fourth, we have burning desire to see real justice<\/em><\/strong> done, and also to see massive injustice called to account. Berger uses, well, the word damnation. I am using slightly different language because I cannot make his argument as well with this word this morning. It is too loaded. But the heart of the intention is true and strong. We want people who get away with murder not ultimately to get away with murder. E Brunner, after WWII, was asked why he spoke about the devil: Said he: Two reasons. Jesus did. And I have seen him.<\/em> When we think of mass murder, of horrific injustice, intentionally and painstakingly executed, we demand justice. There is something down deep in the human heart that just will not let things go. This is not about forgiveness. It is about retributive justice. Sometimes young people have a keener sense of this than their elders. Berger: This refers to experiences in which our sense of what is humanly permissible is so fundamentally outraged that the only adequate response to the offense as well as to the offender seems to be a curse of supernatural dimensions\u2026A. There are certain deeds that cry out to heaven\u2026Not only are we constrained to condemn, and to condemn absolutely, but ,if we should be in a position to do so, we would feel constrained to take action on the basis of that certainty\u2026B.Deeds that cry out to heaven also cry out for hell\u2026No human punishment is enough in the case of deeds as monstrous as these\u2026(this is) a moral order that transcends the human community and thus invokes a retribution that is more than human. <\/em>When adults talk as adults, younger with older, there arise memories and understandings, dark in hue and deep in sentiment, that call out for an extraordinary, unearthly, transcendent justice. How shall we talk about these? Talk a bit, bit by bit, in the years to come, parents and children.<\/p>\n

Fifth, one can sense the horizon of heaven, the transcendent radiance of mystery, the supranatural or supernatural, in the simple experience of humor<\/em><\/strong>, perhaps the very polar opposite of the cry for retributive justice. 1. Here I will pause to tell an ostensibly humorous story. I was asked to pray at the start of a billion dollar campaign. My reply: \u2018It would be my pressure\u2014I mean my pleasure.\u2019 2. People ask about interreligious life on campus and I say: \u2018The Hindus are the most Christian people I deal with\u2019. 3. Phyllis Diller died this year. You remember her husband: Fang. You remember her mother in law: Moby Dick. You remember her sister in law: Captain Bligh. You remember her self deprecation (\u2018I once wore peek a boo blouse. One man peeked and then shouted \u2018boo!\u2019). You remember her cackling laughter. Humor, real humor, stops time still. \u2018He who sits in the heavens shall laugh\u2019, says the psalmist. Berger: There is one fundamental discrepancy from which all other comic discrepancies are derived\u2014the discrepancy between man and the universe\u2026A. The comic reflects the imprisonment of the human spirit in the world\u2026B.Humor mocks the \u2018serious\u2019 business of the world and the might who carry it out\u2026Power is the final illusion, while laughter reveals the final truth\u2026It is the Quixote\u2019s hope rather than Sancho Panza\u2019s \u2018realism\u2019 that is ultimately vindicated, and the gestures of the clown have a sacramental dignity.<\/em> When you gather at Thanksgiving table, after the prayer and before the turkey, tell one funny story, or one joke, or one humorous memory. Talk a bit, talk a bit, talk a bit, parents and children.<\/p>\n

Here is our theme: Order, play, hope, justice, humor: religious experiences without recourse to religion. You may not be so religious, or so you think. But do you create order, and crave play, and desire hope, and long for justice, and enjoy humor? These are signs, for you, signs of something else, something lasting and true and good and extraordinary. Talk a bit about it, parents and children. As Bonnie Raitt put it: let\u2019s give them something to talk about!<\/p>\n

\n

– The Reverend Doctor, Robert Allan Hill, Dean.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Alumni Memorial Service\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0After my dad died seven years ago we began to go through his things, as families do. Desk, tools, books, guns, clothes. (Order, play, hope, justice, humor). We did not make much progress at first. After three years I noted: \u2018We still […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2679,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[22],"tags":[15,6],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1657"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2679"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1657"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1657\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1849,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1657\/revisions\/1849"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1657"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1657"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1657"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}