End of the Day Tantrums and the wisdom of James

 

Rev. Molly F. James, Ph.D.

St. James’s, West Hartford, CT

September 22, 2024, Proper 20B

Psalm 1; James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a; Mark 9:30-37

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

There was an article in the New York Times recently that caught my eye: “End-of-day meltdowns are not just for kids.” Hmm. Oh, you mean that thing where I pick my kids up and am short tempered with them for no particular reason and just wish dinner would magically appear on the table and the laundry would all do itself is not just a me thing? Oh. 

The article went on to describe some helpful suggestions for how those of us parents (and really any adults) might alter our routines to help us have calmer transitions and more patience. Because of course the end of the day (or middle of the day) meltdown is not unique to working parents with small children. All of us get stressed and snap at those we love. 

All of us fail to live up to the wisdom we have in the Letter of James today: “Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.” 

Peaceable, gentle, willing to yield? Does that sound like how any of us feel when we are stressed out or melting down or dealing with a sense of overwhelm? I doubt it. 

So, what can we do? How might we help ourselves and those around us do better? Because I have certainly found it to be true that if I meet someone else’s grumpy with more grumpy that doesn’t serve either of us. If one of us can be centered and full of mercy then the whole situation changes. 

Fortunately that article had some helpful suggestions of a lot of small things we can do. 

First off, is to be able to recognize when we are feeling stressed. Hopefully we can learn to do this on our own, and sometimes we need help. I know I often need a friend or one of my children to say something to me like: “Hey you seem out of sorts. Are you okay?” A nice, polite and gentle way to say, “I really don’t like how you're behaving right now, and it feels like you are taking stuff out on me.

And then we need to de-stress. This doesn’t have to be a complicated regime. It can be some simple acts that take a few minutes. Take some deep breaths. Go for a walk. Pray. Especially saying a prayer that is familiar and grounding - Our Father, 23rd Psalm, one of those beautiful prayers from Compline. Or keep a favorite verse or two of scripture handy. Or have a cross or beads or a rock or something tangible you can keep in your pocket or your bag to help you reconnect with God. 

I know for me there is something important and profound that happens in prayer and worship. My mind is more focused. I have found my priorities again, and I no longer feel stuck in the swirling anxiety and stress of my own head. This is why worship matters. Why prayer matters. It actually makes a substantive, tangible difference in our bodies and our lives. 

The other thing that matters is that we have routines. We need to have habits to help us transition from one part of your day to the other. What if we don’t work right up to the last possible moment before we transition home for the evening? What if we are more intentional about putting our phone aside? What if we change our clothes when we get home? Or take a few minutes to listen to a song that always lifts our spirits? The possibilities are endless. 

And we need to be able to tell those around us what we need. Do we want to jump right into conversation the moment we walk in the door? Or do we need a few minutes of quiet? Are we 100 times more able to engage if the first thing we do when we get home is have a snack and a glass of water? And what about our kids? Are we asking them what works best for them too and then living into that together? 

This may seem like a long list or sound like a lot, and I hope you can see that they are small actions - just a few minutes, a few small changes here and there that can have a profound impact. 

No doubt the world and our lives need more of the “wisdom from above” that is “pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.” It is the life of humility and grace that Jesus describes in our Gospel today. When we act more like an innocent, joyful child than the squabbling disciples who are far too focused on who is the greatest. 

Imagine a world where there is more gentleness and mercy than envy and selfish ambition? Sounds beautiful right? Well, we may not be able to change the whole world this week, but if we can change our own hearts and habits it will make a difference in our lives. And who knows what the ripple effects of that could be? 

AMEN. 

Salt, Light, and Gregory the Illuminator

Embed from Getty Images

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom 

Gregory the Illuminator, March 23, 2020

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. And may that point us to the living Word, who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

“You are the salt of the earth.” “You are the light of the world.” “Let your light shine before others.” Today I am grateful for these familiar lines of Scripture. We need salt and light right now. We need that which gives hope, depth, and richness to life. The fear and uncertainty are swirling. Many of us are in states that are now in a virtual or actual states of lockdown. We can make quick trips out for essential items, but we have basically been asked to stay home. In a matter of a few short days our daily routines, how we do our jobs, how our children go to school, how we get our basic necessities, and possibly even how we understand the world, has changed. Things look so very different than they did. 

And we may know many others for whom the impact of this pandemic is far more immediate and severe - those who are ill, those who are healthcare workers or first responders, those whose dire financial circumstances are represented in the ever increasing numbers at feeding programs and in unemployment claims. So much has changed, is changed, and will change. It is indeed a blessing to be gathering daily with you all for a time of prayer.

I always find the practice of communal worship to be grounding. It reorients me and helps me keep my priorities straight. I find myself in need of that all the more in these days. I need to be reminded to take a deep breath, to let go of my desire for certainty or definitive answers. I need to be reminded that God is here. God is with us. We will indeed get through this, together.

Indeed, the Gospel for today is so apropos. We are the light of the world. The fear and the uncertainty can feel overwhelming. And we cannot let them paralyze us from acting. Nor can we let the fear trick us into thinking we are powerless. Don’t get me wrong, there are moments when this whole thing is like a tsunami and I am just standing on the beach waiting to be caught up in its tumult. But then I pause. I breathe. I pray. I check in with a friend, and I am pulled back to the truths of our faith.

We are salt. We are light. We have power and agency. We can do good works in the midst of all of this. We can keep connecting with each other. In whatever ways are appropriate given our various contexts, we can do what the Church has always done in times like these - we can care for those who are most vulnerable. We can ensure that the light of God shines in the darkness. We can ensure that the flame of hope is never extinguished in our own hearts and homes and in our wider communities as well.

It is important for us to remember that we are not alone in this effort to embody light and hope for the world. We can do it together. We can bolster each other in our faith and in our work. And we can remember that we follow in a long line of saints who have struggled through challenging times, who faced difficulties and yet did not waiver in their faith. Gregory the Illuminator, who we remember today was imprisoned in a well for 13 years because he refused to participate in pagan rituals. Thirteen years! That is a long time. A few weeks or even months largely confined to our homes is not looking so bad after all. In Gregory’s shoes, it could seem easy to give up, and yet he did not. He persevered and was able to share the light of his faith (he is Gregory the Illuminator after all) with people throughout Armenia.

So, my friends, while the challenges before us are real, and they will test our faith and our endurance, they need not leave us disheartened or disillusioned. There is always hope. In the midst of everything, countless acts of kindness and generosity are being done everyday. We are salt. We are light. We are finding more and more ways to stay connected to each other, despite our physical separation. Through our faith, through our actions, through all the good that is being done around the world, there is light in the darkness. And together we can make that light even brighter. AMEN.