A central Taoist teaching is that of P’U, or the principle of the uncarved block. Benjamin Hoff, author of the Tao of Pooh (as in Winnie the Pooh) says: The essence of the principle of the Uncarved Block is that things in their original simplicity contain their own natural power, power that is easily spoiled and lost when that simplicity is changed.[1] Deng Ming-Dao explains this principle through a story. He writes the parable of a child who longs to grow up and do the things his father does – so he emulates his father, in ways both good and bad, pushing to embody that which he sees around him. When his father grows worried that his son is inheriting his bad habits, rushing to grow up too fast, he takes his son to the carver of temple figures, showing his son the statues in their various stages of completion. He then says to his son:
“I am more like one of these finished statues. I have my accomplishments, and I have my faults. Once this figure has been carved, we cannot change the position of its arms. But you, my son, are like the pieces of wood in the yard, still to take shape.”[2]
Our story takes us into another temple – where we meet a young boy in all his rich simplicity, about to take on some shape through the call of God. Young Samuel, we know, spent most of his life in the temple courts ministering by the side of Eli, the priest. This boy who had been virtually prayed into existence by his mother Hannah was then dedicated to God’s service by this amazing woman who recognized that this gift from God was not a gift for her own keeping. And so Samuel’s life takes shape in the inner sanctum of the temple, at a time, we are told, when the word of God was rare.
As Samuel sleeps by the Ark of the Covenant in the dark of night, he hears his name called three times. The call was loud enough to stir him from his slumber and spring him into action. Obediently, he goes to Eli, ready to respond, but of course, it is not Eli who is calling. Eli simply sends Samuel back to bed as all parents do at one time or another, when their young children rush to their bedside, stirred by a noise they have heard in the night.
But soon Eli, an aging man with failing vision, eventually sees what is happening. He realizes that this voice is not Samuel’s active imagination but is the voice of God. So he tells him what to do. “Go back to bed,” he says, “and when you hear the voice reply: speak Lord, for your servant is listening.” And even though the word God has for Samuel is a word of judgment against Eli’s own household because of the misdeeds of his sons, Eli submits himself to the word of God through Samuel, recognizing that Samuel is now a prophet and a priest of God’s own choosing – God’s instrument in the world.
As our Lenten journey unfolds, we mark the milestones along our life’s journey – recognizing that God doesn’t just engage our spirits during liturgical seasons or holy days. With intention we pay attention to God with us – through the stages that we can mark by days passing on a calendar, or through the stages that carry more of a heavy, symbolic meaning in our own personal growth.
Youth is a stage of life where the learning of life lessons is rapid and obvious. If we look at youth as the stage of ones life with the bookends of training wheels at one end and car wheels at the other, we notice the season of our lives marked by rapid physical, emotional, and spiritual development. This is the stage of incubation for independent living, where children and youth are nurtured, ideally within the safety of a loving home, that they might develop the skills to progressively engage the world on their own, to contribute their gifts, to shape the world.
Like the father in the Taoist parable, we hope that youth is a time that is marked with some freedoms – but as adults we often hope that those freedoms include freedom from certain responsibilities, from certain worries, from certain consequences. And as loving adults try to insulate the kids in our care from the pains of the world as much as possible we, like every tenth-grade English student have to likewise accept that youth is characterized, ultimately, by a loss of innocence where kids encounter in some measure the reality that pain and loss that is a part – not all – of human existence. Youth realize that there are real consequences for choices – choices that a three-minute time-out on the bottom stair cannot erase. We realize that there is such a thing as conditional love – and that sometimes people base friendship on hollow things like appearance or money or fame and forget that love is formed through the forging a lasting connection of the heart.
But, as we learn from Samuel, youth are not the only ones with a lot to learn. As in the exchange with Eli and Samuel, opportunities for learning – and for teaching – go both ways. In fact, we cut off a tremendous part of our community, a part of our family with a well-spring of insights and gifts, if we relegate learning to the youth and teaching to the adults. We risk missing a call from God if we ignore the questions, the presence, the wisdom of our youth. If Eli had kept sending Samuel away, he – and Israel – would have missed out on a word from God, in a time when God’s word was rare. Now, it’s true that if Eli had ignored Samuel he himself wouldn’t have heard of God’s judgment for him and his household – but he likewise wouldn’t have noticed the new thing that God was doing through Samuel. He would have missed the good news that God was talking again. That God was engaging the world through his anointed prophet, Samuel. He would have missed out on the realization that although his own sons had gone astray, he had raised a young boy to be open to the call of the Spirit and equipped him sufficiently to answer that call.
Like Eli, adults need to be open to youth, to include them in community, to welcome their insights and to affirm their gifts. Our attitude should not be one of dismissal or segregation. We should not relegate youth to the bowling alleys and upstairs classrooms of our church or of our lives, but to also find opportunities to engage in community and conversation together, always viewing our youth as partners in ministry, as God’s children gifted and called for a unique purpose.
And like Eli, we need to commit ourselves to cultivating that purpose within them. That might mean teaching Sunday school or volunteering at club 116 each week. It might mean mentoring a child or youth, investing an hour or more each week in the nurture and acceptance of a child. It might mean being an engaged and supportive parent or grandparent or aunt or uncle. But it also might mean smiling at the youth usher or complimenting the acolyte. That might mean encouraging the high school senior applying for college, and taking enough time to listen as a five year old shows you their loose tooth. That might mean assigning meaningful tasks to youth elders and deacons and looking for ways to include teenagers in leadership, and helping to support youth mission efforts. It might mean thanking the teenager who bags your groceries or saying yes to a 12-year-old neighbor who wants to mow your lawn. It might mean writing a letter to your congressman to ensure that every child and youth has access to healthy food, a solid education and comprehensive health care – and making these issues priorities at the polls each season.
One of the most important lessons we have to learn from Eli today is the willingness of the teacher to be the student, when the time is right. Even as Eli’s acceptance of Samuel’s prophecy meant an end to life as he knew it, Eli submitted to God’s word through Samuel trusting that God was at work through Samuel’s life. More often than not, accepting God’s word through one of our youth does not mean an end to life as we know it. It does not mean that adults are obsolete and that youth are the new trend. This willingness to be both teacher and student – to be discerning about when God is calling us to speak and when God is calling us to listen – creates a holy space for God to do new and exciting things in our midst. It allows us to look at life and faith in fresh ways, to recalibrate our lives with a greater awareness of what is important to a broader range of people, to increase connectionalism and deepen community.
In an effort to take a step toward this learning, I approached several of our youth over the last few weeks and said: If there was anything that you could say to the adults of the church, what would it be? While each kid is unique, the answers were shared in a group, and so I share with you the common themes.
They want us to know that they have minds of their own and ideas that are worth listening to. They want to be heard, not just talked to or at. They want to talk about who they are, what road they want to take in life, about what they’re interested in. They want the freedom to try new things – even if there is the risk of failing – but they want you close enough to make sure that, in the end, they’re safe. They want to be accepted, not changed.
They know that they have gifts to offer, and can – and are making – meaningful contributions to the church, to their schools, families, communities. They want you to remember that they are not bad just because they are kids. The kids in our church want you to know that they are responsible, good kids.
But when they do mess up, they do not want to be on display. They know that they will make mistakes – but they know, too, that everyone makes mistakes. When bad things are publicized, they want adults to remember that it is often only part of the story. And they want opportunities to move on from what they did wrong.
The youth of this church want you to know that they love ELPC. They don’t feel like they “have” to go to church – they want to be here. They all feel that if they stay in Pittsburgh after college, ELPC would remain their church. They feel invested in this community – now, and in the future. They love to volunteer in worship and as youth officers. They have a stake in the future of the church and want to be included in decisions and be asked for their input. They want to be thought of as people who help make ELPC such a special place.
It is no mistake that God called Samuel when he was a boy, just as it is no mistake that God called Mary and David and even Timothy when they too were just youths. They could say “yes” without calculating the cost, without trying to please their investors or play nice with their neighbors. They didn’t have to worry about how others would view them, or what all they would lose if they followed God’s lead. God assigned so many of the big, important jobs to youth – those viewed as naïve to the world, but who just might be wise to the way of surrendering to God.
To the adults out there: let us learn something from Samuel, from Eli, and the youth in our church. Let us recapture a willingness to say “yes” to God, to surrender to God’s lead without having to muscle for control. Let us nurture an inner desire to be authentic and obedient – even when the word is difficult. Let us tune our hearts to hear God’s call – for us and for others – and guide one another along that journey of faith.
And to the youth: never forget that you too are God’s children, God’s servants. God calls you – even now – to do amazing and important things. Remember that no matter what you hear out there in the world, and no matter who your friends want you to be, the core of your identity rests with God. You are loved, You are redeemed; God’s Spirit is with you. So make time for God. Pray. And listen up, so that you can answer God’s call and do amazing things.
No matter how old or young we are, let us remember that God has a purpose for us, a call for us. And God hasn’t given up on us – or on this creation. These moments still happen. These moments are NOW. So with a youthful willingness, let us be open to God’s call so that we too might say: “Speak Lord, for your Servant is listening.”
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[1] Hoff, Benjamin, The Tao of Pooh.
[2] Deng Ming-Dao, 365 Tao Daily Meditations. P 281.