The Growing Edge

Howard Thurman

• Publisher: Friends United Press
• Year: 2014
• eBook ISBN: 9780944350942
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religion

The Growing Edge is a book of Howard Thurman 's sermons. For Thurman, the sermon is an act of worship in which the preacher exposes his spirit and mind as they seek to reveal the spirit of the Living God upon them. Thurman presents his sermons in six sections: Concerning Enemies, Concerning Prayer, Concerning God, Concerning Peace, Concerning Festivals, and Concerning Christian Character.

PART VI

CONCERNING CHRISTIAN CHARACTER

1. THE LIGHT THAT IS DARKNESS

MEDITATION

How good it is to enter together into the fellowship of silent waiting, joined by one another’s presence and by a great invisible host whose languages we cannot speak, whose knowledges we cannot grasp, but who, after the pattern of their own lives, their own needs, their own urgencies, are waiting somewhere in their own silence.

Each of us has the smell of life upon him, each of us has his problems, his needs—problems and needs which seem utterly personal and unique. Each of us has his joys—joys which seem utterly personal and unique. Each of us, in his own way, is trying to find answers to crucial questions. For some of us, the seeking has been long and hard, sometimes terrifying, sometimes heartbreaking. For some, the Ending has frightened us and given us an overbearing sense of responsibility and fear that dries up the springs of our activities and paralyzes our hopes. It is good to know that none is alone. It is good to feel the presence of others surrounding one’s own privacy, spilling over into one’s personal needs their strength and courage and hope.

To Thee, our Father, we expose the inward parts of our minds, holding back nothing, including in our offering the bad and the good, our failures and our successes, the things of which we are ashamed and the things in which we rejoice. Just as we are, without pretense, we expose to Thy light and Thy love, O God, our Friend and Redeemer.

READING

“Let not thy will be set to sin.” These searching words are from the book of Tobit. The attitude toward wrongdoing depends upon the character of the individual conscience. Conscience is rooted in the sense of value which is a part of the working equipment of personality. This sense of value is given; the content varies. Here the results of training, of observation, of social heritage, of religious experience and instruction, are made manifest. The judgment which says of a deed that it is wrong is always a reflection of the content of the individual’s sense of value. So often such a judgment concerning wrongdoings does not involve the will of the individual. There seems to be an automatic, unreflective element in conscience. A man says: “I do not know why this is wrong, all that I know is, this is the way I feel about it.” Or he may say: “I know my feeling of guilt for what I have done does not make sense, except to me.”

Again and again we find ourselves reacting to the events and situations of our lives apart from our wills in the matter. It is the way we are trained, conditioned, taught. But this does not alter the fact of our responsibility for our acts and our reactions. An important part of living is the process by which the individual Will brings under its private jurisdiction the behavior of the individual. This is an essential element in any doctrine of selfmastery or, more accurately, of self-knowledge.

How many things have you done during the past week for which you have an after-the-event sense of responsibility, reflected in guilt, hostility, or pride—deeds which did not express your conscious intent because the doing of the deed did not come before your will for review: it was automatic, the result of long-established habits, training, conditioning? But once the deed was done and you were faced with the consequences, you realized that this kind of behavior was not your intent. The common cry is: I did not know. I did not understand.

It is important to make the full conquest of one’s life pattern to the end the deeds of one’s life will move more and more from the center of one’s intent. Perhaps this is a goal that is never reached, but to work at it is to become increasingly mature and responsible. Meditation and prayer are helpful in providing a climate in which the deeds of one’s life may be exposed and the character of the deeds understood. In such a climate, the most natural desire of the heart is the quiet utterance to God-

Let not my will be set to sin.

An elderly lady nearing the end of her life paused to look back and recall some of its great moments. She wrote, among other things, about an occasion when she was walking in the country. She had been under great strain but suddenly the strain snapped like the breaking of a cord. To quote her own words: “I was flooded with an ineffable soul light which seemed to radiate from a great personality with whom I was in immediate touch. I felt it to be the touch of God. The ecstasy was beyond description. I was passing through a patch of beggar’s grass with its wiry stems ending in feathery heads. Every head shone and glistened like pearls. I could hardly walk for the overwhelming sense of the Divine Presence and its joy. I almost saw God.”

A little dog that had been walking quietly beside her looked up into her face at this point and began to bark in great excitement. I do not doubt that he saw in her face the great effulgence that she saw in the grass. I am glad to think that the glory of God is at the heart of beggar’s grass as well as at the heart of men and that little dogs as well as human beings may see and rejoice.

The Fourth Gospel refers to the light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world. This light is the very ground of all being, the ground of creativity. Every creative thing has within it the signature of the Creator—His imprint, His stamp. You may think of the light in every man as that seal of the Creator. There no one is devoid of that light. Every man is born with it. We do not deserve any credit for having it. In truth we cannot get rid of it; it is an inherent part of our nature. There is something very consoling and refreshing about light in that sense, which perhaps in essence is metaphysical.

Jesus also refers to a light of another kind, light that is understanding, light that is meaning, light that is value. If that be darkness, then what a darkness it is! This is the light that we see in the dawning conscience and oh, how often we try to short-circuit that light. I have been watching the developing conscience in a puppy that has just come into our household. He has been told not to climb in a certain chair. It has been demonstrated to him that to do so is to find that the world is not friendly. So, when he gets up into this place that is forbidden, and I ask him to get down, he pretends that he does not hear me. He looks away from me. But because he remembers a time when we had an encounter about this matter, his eye steals slowly around to pick me up in his field of vision. He hears my voice and quickly swings his head back. He is trying to put his light out, but he cannot quite do it. Finally, with great reluctance, he jumps down from the chair.

Now that is the way we all behave, isn’t it? We develop a certain knowledge, and the more skilled we become in the use of this knowledge, the greater becomes the strength of experience. But also, the more likely are we to disassociate ourselves from the responsibilities that are involved in having knowledge. This is the crucial peril of any kind of professionalism; for instance, I am a minister; again and again I am impressed with the fact that it is not easy to grow in sympathy and understanding of other people. It is very easy to become professionally a religious person, professionally a minister, and let my knowledge of the Bible, my knowledge of the history of the Church, my knowledge of the psychology of religion, become a substitute for getting on my knees, seeking forgiveness of my sins, wrestling with my spirit in the presence of God. If I let my knowledge become a substitute for my understanding, then the light that is in me becomes darkness. If the light that is in me becomes darkness, what a darkness.

Sometimes a man’s light becomes darkness when he knows distinctly what he ought to do; he looks his duty, his responsibility, clearly in the face, calls every aspect of it by its right name, and then refuses to do it. When that happens, his light becomes darkness.

Just before he died, Hugh Price Hughes, celebrated Congregational minister of England, wrote an allegory which illustrates what I have in mind. He calls it “The City of Everywhere.”

“It is the tale of a man who might have been I, for I dreamed one time of journeying to that metropolis. I arrived early one morning. It was cold, there were flurries of snow on the ground and as I stepped from the train to the platform I noticed that the baggageman and the red cap were warmly attired in heavy coats and gloves, but oddly enough, they wore no shoes. My initial impulse was to ask the reason for this odd practice, but repressing it I passed into the station and inquired the way to the hotel. My curiosity, however, was immediately enhanced by the discovery that no one in the station wore any shoes. Boarding the streetcar, I saw that my fellow travelers were likewise barefoot, and upon arriving at the hotel I found the bellhop, the clerk and the habitues of the place were all devoid of shoes.

“Unable to restrain myself longer, I asked the ingratiating manager what the practice meant.

“ 'What practice?’ said he.

“ ‘Why,’ I said, pointing to his bare feet, ‘Why don’t you wear any shoes in this town?’

“ ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘That is just it. Why don’t we?’

“ ‘But what is the matter? Don’t you believe in shoes?’

“ ‘Believe in shoes, my friend! I should say we do. That is the first article of our creed, shoes. They are indispensable to the well-being of humanity. Such chilblains, cuts, sores, suffering, as shoes prevent! It is wonderful!’

“ ‘Well, then, why don’t you wear them?’ I asked, bewildered.

“ ‘Ah,’ said he, ‘That is just it. Why don’t we?’

“Though considerably nonplused I checked in, secured my room and went directly to the coffeeshop and deliberately sat down by an amiable-looking gentleman who likewise conformed to the conventions of his fellow citizens. He wore no shoes. Friendly enough, he suggested after we had eaten that we look about the city. The first thing we noticed upon emerging from the hotel was a huge brick structure of impressive proportions. To this he pointed with pride.

“ ‘You see that?’ said he. ‘That is one of our outstanding shoe manufacturing establishments.’

“ ‘A what?’ I asked in amazement. ‘You mean you make shoes there?’

“ ‘Well, not exactly,’ said he, a bit abashed, ‘we talk about making shoes there and believe me, we have got one of the most brilliant young fellows you have ever heard. He talks most thrillingly and convincingly every week on this great subject of shoes. He has a most persuasive and appealing way. Just yesterday he moved the people profoundly with his exposition of the necessity of shoe-wearing. Many broke down and wept. It was really wonderful!’

“ ‘But why don’t they wear them?’ said I, insistently.

“ ‘Ah,’ said he, putting his hand upon my arm and looking wistfully into my eyes, ‘that is just it. Why don’t we?’

“Just then, as we turned down a side street, I saw through a cellar window a cobbler actually making a pair of shoes. Excusing myself from my friend I burst into the little shop and asked the shoemaker how it happened that his shop was not overrun with customers. Said he, ‘Nobody wants my shoes. They just talk about them.’

“ ‘Give me what pairs you have already,’ said I eagerly, and paid him thrice the amount he modestly asked. Hurriedly, I returned to my friend and proffered them to him, saying ‘Here, my friend, some one of these pairs will surely fit you. Take them, put them on. They will save you untold suffering.’

“But he looked embarrassed; in fact, he was well-nigh overcome with chagrin.

“ ‘Ah, thank you,’ said he, politely, ‘but you don’t understand. It just isn’t being done. The front families, well, I—’

“ ‘But why don’t you wear them?’ said I, dumbfounded.

“ ‘Ah,’ said he, smiling with his accustomed ingratiating touch of practical wisdom, ‘that is just it. Why don’t we?’

“And coming out of the ‘City of Everywhere’ into the ‘Here,’ over and over and over that query rang in my ears: ‘Why don’t we? ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface
• I. Concerning Enemies
• II. Concerning Prayer
• III. Concerning God
• IV. Concerning Peace
• V. Concerning Festivals
• VI. Concerning Christian Character
• References