A Zen master once received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen. The professor arrived, full of knowledge and opinions, eager to impress the master with his understanding of Zen Buddhism.

As they sat together, the master offered him tea. He poured the professor’s cup full and then kept pouring and pouring. The tea spilled over the cup and onto the table, but the master continued pouring.“Stop! The cup is full!” the professor exclaimed.“Exactly,” the master replied. “You are like this cup—full of your own ideas and preconceptions.

How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

(Thanks to Cameron Trimble for sharing this story in her Piloting faith newsletter this week. Click here to read and subscribe https://mailchi.mp/4168c1935e45/wcyrz8ckz9-11194444?e=4f5c74eca4 ).

Friends, I don’t know about you, but I’m not very zen these days. My cup is pretty full on a good day, but I confess that these last days have left me overflowing with worry and fear, anger and judgment.

Worry, fear, anger, and judgment that aren’t helping me or anyone else around me, and certainly aren’t protecting me or changing the world around me for the better.

And I use the word confess intentionally. I confess that I am worried because it is one of the things Jesus is always telling his disciples not to do and I’m apparently very bad at obeying his directive. Jesus tells his disciples not to be afraid for the future, but I am.

I am afraid. And honestly, I think I have good reason to be. What’s so striking to me about today’s scripture reading is that Jesus’ disciples had good reason to be afraid too, and yet Jesus persists in telling them to chin up.

“Do not be alarmed,” he says, even as he tells them that the temple they love will one day be destroyed and the world as they know it will come to an end.

Do not worry about all of the natural disasters and the wars that will follow.

Don’t even worry about what you’re going to say when it all goes down: when your family turns on you, or people you trust hand you over to be beaten and tried and executed.

Just, you know, be aware.

Stay Alert.

Keep awake.

But “don’t worry,” says Jesus.

Don’t worry.

And I hate to say this, because I am not there yet, but deep down I know he is right.

Do not worry, says Jesus, not because there isn’t anything to worry about. There most certainly is. Please see the aforementioned list of disaster and destruction.  There was plenty to worry about back then just as there is plenty to be worried about right now.

“Do not worry,” says Jesus, not because everything is going to be ok… but because worry… doesn’t… help.

Isn’t that just the worst? Yes. Yes it is. But it’s true.

Do not worry, says Jesus, because worry in and of itself will not keep bad things from happening.

Bad things are going to happen no matter what.

Institutions you thought would last forever will eventually crumble.

People you thought you could depend on no matter what will let you down.

The future you have planned for, worked toward, maybe even deserve, will not always turn out the way you hoped.

But no amount of worry is going to change that. So first things first, says Jesus, let the worry go. Pour it out to make room for something else.

And friends, I get that. I’m not good at it, but I get it. Unfortunately, my nature abhors a vacuum. If I’m going to let go of worry, pour it out so to speak, then you know what I want to fill my cup up with first?

Information!

I want to know as much as I can possibly know about what’s coming and when. You might not know this about me, but I believe in salvation through publication. I believe that the truth is out there and I am just one book, article, or editorial away from having it all figured out. It’s why I read so much.

I understand why the disciples’ immediate response to Jesus’ dire prediction is a request for more information. “Tell us,” they said, “when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” I would have asked the same thing. Forewarned is forearmed after all.

But Jesus doesn’t tell them when because when it all goes down more information is not going to save them anymore than a N.Y.T. subscription or my favorite podcast or your favorite news anchor is going to save you. The Pod might yet save America, but it’s not going to save us.

No matter how much we know, bad things are still going to happen.

Isn’t that just the worst? Yes. Yes it is. But it’s true.

Bad things are still going to happen. They always have. They always will. The world is always ending for someone somewhere.

The question is not when or what we can possibly do to avoid hard times.

The question is who we will be when the hard times finally come? How will we respond?

What will we stand up for? Who will we defend?

Jesus doesn’t fill his disciples up with platitudes by telling them that it’s all going to be okay, nor  does he give them insider information so they, as his elect, can avoid the suffering that is to come.

“Instead,” says Rodger Y. Nishioka, “He sets out for them a way to live that does not focus all of their attention on the destruction of the temple or the second coming” (p. 310, Feasting on the Word, Vol. Year B).

“Be aware,” he says. “Stay Alert.” “Keep awake.” You can’t keep the bad things from happening, but you can show up in the midst of it all and watch for the places where you can help. If you’re not overly distracted by your own worries, you’ll be able to spot the places where God is at work and do your part.

So “lift up your head,” says Jesus! Stop burying your nose in the predictions of the prophets or doomscrolling through the writings of the pundits and pay attention to the people in front of you who need your help right now in the present.

To paraphrase Ram Dass, “Whether this is the first day of the Apocalypse or the first day of the Golden Age, the work remains the same…to love each other and ease as much suffering as possible.” Come what may, that’s where our focus needs to be.

And friends, I’ve been thinking a lot about this as I’ve been metabolizing the election results. Having lived and pastored through one Trump administration, I realize that I have a choice.

I can go into these next four years completely full of myself already - as full as that professor’s tea cup - full of my own worries and anxieties and preconceived notions of how this is going to go.

I can go into this assuming that I already know why people voted the way they voted, assuming I already know where a conversation with a political opponent will lead, assuming I already know how to respond to every outrage or react to every move of this incoming administration.

Been there. Done that. Guess I’ll just have to do it again. But friends, if I stay on that path, I’m pretty sure I’ll be out of mind and out of a job before Inauguration day and no help to anyone.

I can allow all of the anxieties and stress of the past to flood my system and take me down before I even have a chance to begin, or I can empty myself of my worries and fears and anger and judgment and instead try to approach this next season with a beginner’s mind.

I can empty myself of prejudice and bring myself into an awareness of the good intentions and high hopes, real fears and deep concerns that people I disagree with have for our country.

I can let go of my anger about the past and keep awake to where God is working in me and in them right here, right now. I can listen with an open heart to people I disagree with and watch for common ground and maybe even a common good that we can engage in together.

Friends, if we move forward assuming there is no hope for mutual understanding, there won’t be. If we go into this assuming the worst, the worst will happen. If we go into this thinking we know it all already, we won’t learn a thing nor will anyone else.

We can’t control the big picture and bad things are going to happen. They always have and they always will.

But we can control how we respond to the people around us. We can control whether we add to the harm and division or do our part to ease the suffering and increase our compassion for one another.

Reflecting on the story of the zen master and the professor, Cameron Trimble observes that we are all carrying cups filled to the brim with worry, judgement, and fear right now. “We live in a time of deep division, she writes:

each side feeling certain of its position, each person clinging to their beliefs as if holding on will protect them from an uncertain future. We crave unity and peace, but our cups are already so full of noise, tension, and resistance that there’s no room for new understanding.The invitation for us now is to empty our cups, to make space for something new… What would happen if today, in a moment of quiet, we chose to empty our cups? What if, instead of needing to be right, we became curious? (What if) instead of holding tightly to our fears, we allowed room for friendship?When we make space within ourselves, we invite peace, understanding, and compassion to take root. The path forward requires more than certainty—it requires the spaciousness of an open heart.

That’s what I am praying for right now, that God would empty me of all my fear and judgment and grant me the grace to hold space: space for hope, space for new understanding, space for new relationships.

I’m praying for a spaciousness of heart that will enable me to stay faithful to the way of Jesus, do good in the face of harm, embody love in the face of hate, be a force for peace in the midst of all this division, and remain fiercely kind regardless of what is to come. And that, my friends, is my prayer for you as well. Amen