I still remember the first time I heard Purple Haze.  To a kid raised on the Beatles and bands like The Four Tops, Jimi Hendrix blew me away.  The thumping rhythms and distorted guitar riffs, to say nothing of baffling lyrics, sounded other worldly.  It was summer 1967. And indeed the world was changing. Old certainties were unhinged.  Absolutes once thought unassailable gave way to “situation ethics,” while ubiquitous smiley faces urged us to “Have a Nice Day.”  Short hair cuts were out and bell bottom blue jeans were in. 

While Hendrix explained that his iconic song was inspired by a dream of walking under the sea and being saved by Jesus, fans instantly linked him and his song with a brand of LSD packaged in purple capsules.  Hendrix spoke to and for generation: “Purple haze all in my brain—lately things just don’t seem the same—acting funny, but I don’t know why—’scuse me while I kiss the sky.”

Whether prayer or hallucination, Purple Haze captured and inspired the spirit of the Psychedelic Sixties.  Students and not infrequently their parents were “acting funny” and didn’t know why. The world lately didn’t “seem the same.”  And it wasn’t.  The 1960s turned the world upside down. The assassinations of the Kennedys and King, the War in Vietnam, the Civil Rights and Women’s Movements were only tips of colliding social icebergs felt to this day. The 60s birthed not only Purple Haze but also Moral Haze—“acting funny and [we] don’t know why.” 

 

I suppose you could argue that the world has always known moral haze.  Paul certainly thought so:  “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil.” 

Are these days really evil?  Isn’t that an overly dour and pessimistic assessment?  Or even granting that these days are not evil, what then should we do? Separate from the world and hunker down?  Or go along to get along?  You know, blend in and don’t make waves. Or more simply, perhaps we should just do the right thing? 

But what exactly is the Right Thing?  That’s our problem.  We’re not sure what the Right Thing is—moral haze is all in our brains. And even when we think we know the Right Thing we’re not sure what to do about it or if we should act on it. It’s one thing to know the good and another to do it.

The 1960s didn’t help matters. The 60s hardly inspired the moral muscle we need.  The 60s taught us that if it feels good, do it and as long as you’re not hurting anyone, your actions must be okay.  The 60s taught us that morals are social constructs.  They vary from culture to culture, from age to age.  So, “Have a Nice Day.” And remember, “People who live in glass houses should not throw stones.”

Increasingly, expressive individualism of this kind is proving inadequate for national debates on issues like Health Care, The Long War on Terror, the Economic Recovery Plan, among other moral questions of our day.  The 1960s ethic of “Do Your Own Thing” has not curbed sexual misconduct once expected from Hollywood movie stars but now routinely seen among members of congress, governors, judges, high profile athletes and their coaches, and even sadly, clergy.  Expressive individualism has proven inadequate to fight the abuses of PACs and Washington lobbyists. It has not served marriage well or business and professional life pressed on all sides by a rapidly and ever changing world. 

Do I sound grumpy? Do I sound pessimistic?  I thought Sabbaticals were supposed to cheer you up.  Sabbaticals are supposed to recharge your batteries. Sabbaticals are supposed to make you upbeat, sunny.  My Sabbatical did all of that and more.  It gave me time to think.  And when I read Ephesians 5 this week, I thought, “That’s it.  That is what’s wrong, or rather, that is what we need: “Be careful how you live. . .”

  If we are to be the church God calls us to be, we need something to counteract moral haze. We need something to give us moral vision and not only vision, but backbone, courage for our convictions.

The word is peripateo.  “Be careful how you walk around. Watch how you tread the path.” Peripateo. 

In a world defined by moral haze, the church needs, and Christians need, careful walking--mindful walking.  We need wisdom not stupidity.  Understanding not foolishness. Minds filled by the Spirit of God not the stupor of fuzzy spiritual disciplines.

I may sound grumpy, but I’m not. I’m not in a bad mood this morning. In fact, I’m quite happy.  I wouldn’t say with Paul that our days our evil, but they’re definitely hazy.  When it comes to morals, and more particularly, when it comes to moral courage, we’re fogged in.  We’re like a man waking up from a drunk.  Moral haze.

God, however, is faithful.  God wakes us up from our moral stupor.  God gives what we need to recover from moral haze. God gives what we need to think clearly and to live rightly.  God gives his Spirit so that we don’t go all wobbly and lose our courage.  God gives his Spirit so we have moral backbone, so that we not only know his will, we do his will. 

Paul speaks out of both sides of his mouth—the days are evil—but give thanks to God at all times and for everything.  I think Paul’s a bit off, a bit extreme.  And that’s part of the problem.  Extremism is the bane of our age and we want nothing to do with it—not extremism of the right or the left. Our reluctance over extremism is not all bad.  I see extremists in the Middle East, shouting heads on TV, and nut job militia and I thank God I’m Presbyterian.  We don’t get carried away like that—we’re somber, sober, rational, calm, cool, collected.  Thank God for Presbyterians.  There aren’t enough of us.  Not only are we reserved but we reserve judgment. We’re cool.  And cool can be a good thing. But we must judge.  And by judge I don’t mean judgmental.  By judge, I don’t mean wagging fingers or shaking heads. 

By judge, I mean God calls us to decision. God calls us to critical thinking. God calls us to discernment, to wise living, wise walking around. Wise peripateo.  Wise living requires clear thinking. Wise living requires discipline. Wise living demands prayer.  It also expects fallout, repercussions. Wise living accepts risks because we do not go along to get along. Wise living parts company with conventional wisdom and hence also moral haze. That kind of living takes more than we have on our own. It takes spirit. God’s Spirit.

 

“Be careful then how you live . . .”

Hiking the Chattooga River this summer Paula and I encountered deer flies. Have you ever been bitten by a deer fly? Nasty little creatures. Boy, they’re fierce.  They’re kind of like Gulf Coast mosquitoes on crack.  On our way to the Chattooga, we had to fight through deer flies. After two days of losing warfare, we gave up and drove to the trail heads.  I don’t ever want to see another deer fly.

Anyway, I’d forgotten the awesome magic of our national forests. I’d hiked them as a boy scout and during college, but it had been too long—the sounds and smells, the sights and the solitude—it was beautiful except for the deer flies and the spider webs, the slippery rocks, and potential snakes.  You always have to watch out for snakes when you’re hiking the mountains—and bears.  We didn’t see any bears but we smelled them more than once.

The last time I was in the woods I was a whole lot more agile. At 56 and arthritic, I had to watch my step. I wasn’t as fast as I used to be, but still it was beautiful. It was grand. 

Here’s the thing—if Paula and I had only attended to the deer flies and spider webs, the slippery rocks and potential snakes, we’d never left the house, which means we would never have enjoyed the rhododendron still in bloom. Look at all we would have missed—waterfalls, towering white pines, the forest cool.  You can’t have Sabbath and you don’t live in the Spirit by staying in. To have Sabbath and to live in the Spirit you must enter the world.

Christian separatism simply won’t do. There are two kinds of separatism, one actual, the other spiritual.  Actual separatists have nothing to do with the world.  They create an alternative world, an enclave where like minded and like acting people are safe, protected.  The Amish are a case in point.  Separatism of this kind cuts against what Jesus taught. You remember, he said we are salt.  And salt can’t be salt if it stays in the cupboard on the shelf. Salt is no good until and unless it’s mixed in. Jesus wants us mixed in.  “We are the salt of the earth.” You can’t be salt in a box on a shelf. We’re only salt when we’re mixed in.  To be salt we must mix it up. 

Of course, there’s danger in that. And the danger is dissolution.  Salt can lose it saltiness and then it’s no good. So, there’s a risk of mixing it up with the world—there’s a danger we will lose our distinctive bearing.  But it’s a risk Christ expects us to take, which is why Jesus teaches us to walk carefully, to mind our steps on the path called Life.

Separatism can take another form that is equally unacceptable.  The kind of separatism I’m talking about does not physically remove us from neighbors but the results are the same.  The separatism I have in mind is the attitude which says (and we can be very clever and subtle in disguising this attitude, we certainly don’t advertize it, at least not openly, publicly) the attitude I’m talking about says, “I thank God, I’m not like other people.”  And you can name your otherness:  “Thank God I’m not a redneck.  Thank God I’m not a smart-aleck liberal.  Thank God I’m not a fundamentalist.  Thank God I’m not a tree-hugging, whale saving environmentalist.  Thank God I’m not a republican. Thank God I’m not a democrat.  Thank God I’m not a Baptist.” 

We don’t make ourselves distinct by making ourselves distant.  We don’t keep our saltiness by thinking we’re so very unlike other people. 

Jesus was never more fully God than when he was fully human. And Jesus was never more fully human than when he embraced neighbors. Some said he was a drunkard because he partied with sinners.  Some said he was demon possessed. His own family called him crazy.  Wise living makes us distinct but does not distance us from others. The distinction wise living makes is this: when God fills us with his Spirit we are empowered, we’re infused with holy medicine for sin sickened souls.  We’re made new. We’re made whole. We’re forgiven. And forgiveness means leaving moral haze behind. We are distinguished but not distanced from neighbors. Grace places us near neighbors. Grace awakens us to neighbors. Grace inspires compassion for neighbors.  When we are graced we are not distinguished in order to be brought near our neighbors.

“Be careful then how you live . . . not as unwise but as wise . . . not as foolish but understanding . . . not drunk . . . but filled with the Spirit.”

Faith is walked.  Peripateo.  Get on the path and stay there by walking with fellow pilgrims under the Word. Be done with moral haze and be filled by the Spirit so that you may give thanks to God “at all times and for everything.”   Amen.