Ac 1:15-26

28 May 2006

7th Sunday of Easter / Ascension Sunday

“Decisions, Decisions”

            Life is all about making decisions.  You’ve already made a bunch of them so far this morning.  Decision number one was whether or not to get out of bed.  (That’s assuming, of course, that you didn’t stay up all night!)  Following that were numerous other decisions, involving stuff like getting dressed, eating breakfast, going to church, maybe even praying?!

            A lot of our decisions we make without really thinking about them.  Others require great effort and attention.  Some we eagerly embrace; others we avoid like the plague.  Still, as the rock group Rush says in their song, “Freewill,” “If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice!”

            Our scripture reading in Acts describes a decision made by the eleven remaining apostles—remaining, that is, after Judas’ death following his betrayal of Jesus.  Peter is the one who raises the issue, feeling that the original number of twelve needs to be restored.  So they decide to select a replacement.

            I have a question to ask:  how do you feel about this whole undertaking?

            The decision to replace Judas has gotten mixed reviews over the years.  On the one hand, it’s been seen as an act of faithfulness.  The young church sees itself as the new Israel, with twelve apostles corresponding to the twelve tribes.  After all, Jesus didn’t select twelve apostles by accident!

On the other hand, it’s not that Peter and the other apostles are doing a bad thing.  They clearly have good motives.  They establish what appear to be sound criteria.  They make sure that the new apostle is someone who’s “accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us” (v. 21).  It must be one who’s been there through thick and thin—from the time of Jesus’ baptism until the present day—someone who can provide witness to the Lord’s resurrection.

            Two candidates are proposed.  The first is “Joseph called Barsabbas,” alias “Justus,” and the second is Matthias.  They pray that the one God has chosen will be revealed, and they cast lots—in effect, they roll the dice—to get the result.  And the winner is:  Matthias!

            I said that this business has received mixed reviews.  One reason for that is Peter’s rather suspect use of Psalm 109, claiming it predicts Judas’ deception, as well as their response to it.  In verse 20, he’s presented as loosely quoting the psalm, which is actually about some anonymous foe of the psalmist.

            But that’s not the main reason the apostles’ decision has been criticized.  To put it simply, it looks like they go ahead without hearing from God on the matter.  Our gospel reading in Luke 24 shows Jesus, just before his ascension, telling them to wait until the Spirit is poured out upon them.

Lacking any definitive guidance, they plunge ahead and use a method that’s been around for ages—casting lots.  It does seem to be relevant that, after Pentecost, lots aren’t mentioned anymore.  The Holy Spirit directs the young church.  Some point out that Matthias isn’t mentioned anymore, either—which may or may not mean anything.

Still, it’s hard to be too critical of them.  The Bible says that there were about 120 of them gathered together.  I can see why they might feel like they needed to take some kind of action.  Some of them may have been getting a little antsy.  Peter himself was known to be rather headstrong at times.

So I ask again:  how do you feel about all of this?  Faced with a decision like this, I wonder how we would fare.  (And speaking of decisions, how about the decision two weeks ago to take a slip of paper on which was written an action of love?  How many of those have been done?  There are still a few more days left before we get to my desired deadline—the end of this month!)

In a way, it’s not fair for me to ask you what you think of the apostles’ decision.  There’s the saying about not knowing what’s happening with someone until you’ve walked in their shoes.  We’ve all been criticized for decisions we made…by people who really don’t know what they’re talking about!

Let me tell you a little story about someone who faced a major decision in his life.  And as a result of his struggle, the world is better off for it.

In 16th century Spain, there was a military officer named Ignatius of Loyola.  He was a wild young man.  He kept himself well-groomed, because he loved the ladies.  While fighting the French at Pamplona in the north of Spain, a cannon ball, passing between his legs, tore open the left calf and broke the right shin.  Ignatius endured many painful months of recuperation.

While bedridden, he requested some of his favorite reading, stories of knights and chivalry.  They weren’t available, so what were brought to him were stories of Christ and the saints.  He experienced his conversion while reading those books.  Ignatius decided to use the energy he formerly devoted to warfare to the cause of Christ.  He became the founder of an order known as the Society of Jesus, the Jesuits.

What’s relevant for our purposes here is that in his book, The Spiritual Exercises, he includes a section entitled, “Discerning the Spirits.”  His use of the word “spirits” reflects a medieval concept; today, we would say “inclinations.”  On pages 10 and 11 of your worship bulletin, I’ve included “Ten Guiding Principles of Discernment.”  I really hope you’ll keep it—and even use it!

My guide to understanding Ignatius is Stefan Kiechle, a German Jesuit who published a book last year called The Art of Discernment:  Making Good Decisions in Your World of Choices.[1]  It’s a very readable book, and it helps you to see what a wise person Ignatius was.

Ignatius stresses the need, when approaching a decision, to become “indifferent.”  That’s not “indifferent” as we tend to think of it.  It’s not an attitude that says, “I could not care less what happens!”

For Ignatius, indifference is “a state where people no longer desire health more than sickness, wealth more than poverty, a long life more than a short life, honor more than dishonor, but instead they desire what brings them closer to the ‘end for which [they] are created.’  Therefore, one ought to be prepared to accept personal setbacks if they benefit a higher goal.”[2]

He sounds a lot like the apostle Paul, who in Philippians 4 says, “I have learned to be content with whatever I have.  I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty.  In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (vv. 11-13).

Ignatian indifference is inner freedom.  Only those who have faced up to their own disordered desires—Paul might say “works of the flesh”—can be truly free.  The greater freedom we have, the better our decision making will be.  Still, we rarely, if ever, achieve perfect clarity in our decisions.

“Apparently sound decisions are impossible unless one can reflect with a minimum of interruption.  We need to pause to bring about a change of scenery.  The moment we enter silence, our inner self comes to life…People who are constantly talking and keeping busy never pause to listen.”[3]

So far, the advice from Ignatius might sound pretty stern.  In that respect, he’s keeping true to his roots as a soldier!  But he’s quick to emphasize the need for love.  When approaching a decision, even one (or maybe I should say, especially one) that contains fearful elements, I should “ask myself if I’m making my choice lovingly.”[4]  I need to make my choice lovingly.  A loving disposition goes a long way toward overcoming the anxiety we often face.

We all have weaknesses.  When making decisions, we should be aware of them.  For example, do I tend to jump right in, or do I procrastinate as long as I can?  Do I have an exaggerated sense of self-worth, or do I have a major inferiority complex?  Do I tend to ignore reality in favor of some dream world, or do I insist on looking at the dark side of everything?  We all have our own traps.

 “Yet the fact remains that only those who make mistakes will learn something; only those who dare will mature as a result of the experiment—an important word in Ignatius.”[5]  It’s easy to sit back and criticize.  God wants us to lovingly stand up and get involved.

If you recall last week, I started my sermon by saying that my favorite example of God’s image in us is a sense of humor.  Ignatius also stresses the need for humor.  When we develop our sense of humor, it enables us to entertain other ideas.  We’re not so rigidly dead set on one course of action.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned an internet website I go to every morning:  “Sacred Space.”[6]  It’s maintained by a Jesuit community in Dublin, Ireland, and on it, you can see some of the themes I’ve already mentioned.  One of its prayer guides that I often see addresses this very subject of finding inner freedom:

“What most often stops me achieving freedom is my tendency to be caught up in fears and expectations about what I ‘ought’ or ‘should’ be.  My usual automatic responses tie me down and inhibit me from exploring new areas of growth.  I ask and pray for a greater sense of inner freedom and that I might reach the fresh and challenging possibilities that God wishes me to realize.”

            That’s all well and good.  We might expect a guide to prayer to say something like that.  I was a bit surprised, though, to find an emphasis on mourning.  (That’s number 8 on your list.)  ["Mourn the possibilities you ignored as well as the opportunities you missed."]

            Our Jesuit friend tells us:  “People who have to choose between two good alternatives are frequently attracted to both of them.  Once an alternative has been selected, the other alternative that has been rejected will have to be mourned.

People frequently overlook this need for mourning.  In the absence of mourning, there will be a tendency to cling for too long to the [rejected] alternative…One who keeps reproaching oneself for having made the wrong decision after all, feels dissatisfied, indeed restless, without any kind of inner peace.”[7]  We must be able to say goodbye.

            The lesson to be learned here is that we can’t have it all!  It’s true:  “Anyone who makes a decision says yes to a part, a fragment of what he or she desires.  We must learn to be satisfied with little.”[8]  I think deep down inside, we agree with this—but we don’t want to!  After all, don’t the TV commercials promise us that we can have it all?  Money, power, good looks—whatsoever thou desireth—there’s someone out there who can give it to you…for a price!

            Aside from these more run-of-the-mill inner conflicts, there are times and events that present a real crisis.  It could be that you’re under a severe constraint of time.  Maybe it’s a personal crisis like the death of a loved one, or a divorce.  Maybe it’s a spiritual crisis:  prayer seems hollow and God is a million light-years away.  It could be a combination of several things.  Ignatius calls this crisis, “spiritual desolation.”

            “The best advice [he] has for someone at this stage of a crisis is not to make a decision [at all.  Just wait.]  Those who are not in touch with themselves, with others around them, or with God, can be influenced all too easily by the evil spirit.”[9]  (That’s number 6 on the list.)  ["Do not make a decision when you are immersed in a crisis."]  This isn’t to say that those going through such times are bad people.  Sooner or later, everyone deals with this.

            In my final semester at Middle Tennessee State University, I got the idea in my head that I should leave school and go to California.  My interests had shifted considerably from the time I started college.

My major was Political Science, but with my exploration of religious faith—Christianity, and to a lesser extent, Buddhism and Zen—I began to see myself as a seeker of truth, wandering the Earth.  Combining that with my great love of music, I decided that I should return to the land of my youth, San Diego, and get a job in a record store.  I even went to the school library, looked through a San Diego phone directory, and found a store near the ocean.

            So I called my Mom and told her what God was leading me to do!  She didn’t have very much to say.  Without even realizing it, she tapped into one of the key principles of Ignatian spirituality.  She suggested that I go ahead and finish out the semester, since I was so close to graduating anyway, and then see what I thought.  If God really wanted me to make this major change in my life, waiting a few more weeks wouldn’t hurt.

And after a couple of days had gone by, it occurred to me that God really didn’t want me to run off to San Diego!  (And without my realizing it, I had implemented number 3 on our list.)  ["Place your thoughts and plans before the critical eyes of your friends.  Seek the advice of prudent people."]

Well, this sermon contains just the tiniest tip of the iceberg in learning to make good decisions.  As the apostles discovered, it’s vital to rely on the Spirit’s guidance.  But what role do we play in that?  How can we position ourselves to hear the Spirit?  Here’s a clue:  “We should promote the good in our souls, instead of fighting what is unclear or evil.”[10]  God can handle the rest.

A final thought from our friend Stefan:  “What will it take to promote the good motives…?  We can concentrate on real values and practice them throughout our lives; we can seek contact with great human beings and let ourselves be influenced by them; we can stay away from those places and people who promote chaotic and sinful energies; we can strengthen in ourselves the good forces by reading good books, by engaging in personal conversations, and by looking up to exemplary human beings; we can hold ourselves up in prayer to God and ask him for change; we can put our lives in order during quiet times or retreats and let God’s grace do its work.”[11]

And again, the similarity to the apostle Paul:  “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Ph 4:8).

The decision, friends, is ours.

back to home page