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Easter 4C
April 25, 2010
Genesis 1: 27-31, Canticle 12, Romans 8: 18-25, John 10:22-30
David M. McNair

The play Waiting for Godot can be difficult and sometimes baffling to watch or read. Yet, it is recognized as one of the most important plays of the Twentieth Century. The play is in two acts. Act I begins on a county road by a single sickly looking tree. It’s evening. Estragon, an old man, is sitting on a small hill trying to remove his boot. Vladimir, another old man, joins him. They begin to chat. Apparently their lives have been different before — but now they are homeless, debilitated, and often suicidal. Clearly, their lives are marked by sheer boredom and despair. They are waiting for someone they call Godot. While they wait, they share conversation, food, and memories. In the course of their conversation they become embroiled in an argument about the meaninglessness of human existence.

Then, their argument is interrupted by two elderly men, Pozzo and Lucky. Lucky has a rope tied around his neck and it  becomes evident that Lucky is the slave and Pozzo is his master. Lucky is carrying a heavy suitcase that he never sets down because his master never tells him to do it, and he cannot think for himself. These two clowns offer little in the way of direction and the audience is left wanting.

The first act of the play concludes with a young boy arriving on the scene. He tells Vladimir and Estragon that Godot will not be coming today but will be there tomorrow. The two men decide to leave but they don’t move from their position under the barren tree. It appears they have no intention of leaving.

As the curtain rises on the second act, Estragon and Vladimir are again waiting under the tree for Godot. The entire act is virtually the same as the first. This time, though Pozzo is blind and helpless and Lucky is mute and the tree has sprouted some leaves. After they leave, the boy arrives again with the same message as before: Godot will come tomorrow. Estragon and Vladimir decide to leave, but again they do not move as the curtain falls, ending the play. (Please don’t stampede the door to get out to buy the play).
The playwright, Samuel Beckett, never clearly indicated what he was trying to communicate in this play. Many have concluded that it represents the plight of modern women and men, waiting in hope. A hope that keeps them afloat in a sea of absurdity. A hope for someone, most likely God, who will never come. Godot never had any intention of coming. In fact, the play suggest that Godot may not even exist.

So, why are we considering this despairing play?  We are, after all Easter People. We profess faith in the living God and in Jesus whom God resurrected from the dead and in the Holy Spirit who is our abiding advocate and guide.

I think the play may provide a compelling metaphor — A metaphor for the ecological condition of our planet and the hope that we humans might come to our senses and realize our responsibility to do something about it. The non-human others who inhabit our planet are in a situation very much like Vladimir and Estragon. They are waiting and hoping beneath their barren tree. They are waiting for, as the Apostle Paul puts it, “the revealing of the children of God.”  A fitting name for the play depicting the current ecological crisis might be “Waiting for the children of Godot.” (1)

Paul lays out the plight of our sin in his letter to the Romans. He says that all persons have sinned and fallen short of the glory that God intended for us. No one can escape sinfulness on their own. He uses himself as an example of how we are all helpless slaves to sin. He languishes, “Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?  He does not stop with his own plight. He goes on to say that it’s not just humans who have experienced the fall. He says “The creation waits in eager longing for the revealing of the children of God…[when] creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.” (2)

His next image is even more explicit: the earth is like a woman “groaning in travail” — in labor pains, waiting to give birth to this new redemptive reality. The only thing lacking, it would seem, is a faithful midwife.

All creation – the rivers, topsoil, trees, plants, animals, air — are waiting, groaning in travail, longing for the new creation. The new creation does not disregard or replace the old creation. Instead it renews and redeems it to its intended glory. God has made us the crucial agents in the rebirth of creation. How are we then to be God’s agents of renewal and stewardship?  I hope we can gather a group of us together in coming months to grapple with this question.

We are not likely to save what we do not savor — so first we must savor creation. We will be the agents of rebirth only when we know wonder and awe. A person amazed is not likely to be a killer, or be cruel or indifferent.

What sounds, what smells, what sights amaze you? Will you let yourself be amazed?  “O World, I cannot hold thee close enough!” writes Edna St. Vincent Millay. “the world is full of the grandeur of God” — “Glory be to God for dappled things,” writes Gerald Manley Hopkins. Jesus said “Consider the lilies” – “look at the birds of the air.” He said this for reasons beyond teaching his disciples not to worry. Jesus is inviting us to be amazed. Emily Dickenson once said that the only commandment she never broke was “Consider the lilies.”

The poet Adrian Mitchell reveals amazement and delight in his poem Stufferation:

Lovers lie around in it
Broken glass is found in it
Grass
I like that stuff.

Elephants get sprayed with it
Scotch is made with it
Water
I like that stuff.

Clergy are dumbfounded by it
Bones are surrounded by it
Flesh
I like that stuff.

Well, I like that stuff.
Yes, I like that stuff
The earth
Is made of earth
And  I like that stuff.

From amazement and thanksgiving we move to glad obedience. When we love what God loves, we will care for what God cares for. Jesus said, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”  Love always propels us beyond thinking and feeling into acting and being. The poet and farmer Wendell Berry is living example of this. He has written twenty-five books and countless essays; yet, to this day, he refuses to use a computer. He says he would hate to think that his work could not be done without a direct dependence on strip-mined coal. Early in his writing career he returned to restore the farm land of his youth in northern Kentucky. The land had been exhausted by ill-use. For 40 plus years he and his wife Tonya have been slowly, steadily healing the damaged 40 acres of land they —in his words —“dress and keep.” 
 
He writes “The earth is what we have in common, that is, what we are made of and what we live from, and we therefore cannot damage it without damaging those with whom we share it. But I believe it goes further than that. There is an uncanny resemblance between our behavior toward each other and our behavior toward the earth.”(3)

As agents of the creation’s renewal and redemption we must remember that ultimately it is God — and not humans — who saves creation. We are called to be midwives of creation’s rebirth in our little corner of it. Single acts of kindness to a single person, to a single animal, to one plant, to one plot of soil are holy acts. William Blake says we minister “in the minute particulars.” 

There is a wonderful book called Noah’s Garden! It is about how you can make your own yard or garden an “ark” for God’s little creatures. Your home can be a part of God’s redemption of the earth, one square foot at a time. We need to start with our own home, our neighborhood, our school, our church, our community. No doubt, some people are called to take on the mega issues: How will corporate America balance profit and care for the environment?  Will they pay attention to the triple bottom line: What profits the share holders, the community, and the environment? God may call some of you to be an eco-builder or an eco-politician. Whatever our particular role as agents of rebirth, all of us are called to enjoy, love, nurture and protect some part of God’s creation.

Paul assures us that the New Creation is on the way. It will take time and faithful work. And it will live by hope, for hope is what keeps us going when we cannot yet see the New Creation or even progress toward it. Paul says, in hope we were saved.

All creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons and daughters of God. All creation waits for you.

Notes: