Sermon — Great Expectations
July 24th, 2005Expectations are powerful influences in our lives. They can bring excitement or pressure and lead to fulfillment or disappointment. We’re aware of them from the time we’re children. On one hand they can help guide and structure our lives but they can also limit us or worse yet, halt us in our tracks. Expectations are definitely worth exploring.
Today’s Story for All Ages, The Paper Bag Princess by Robert Munsch, is amusing because it shakes up expectations. Maybe there’s a lesson in our chuckles. Maybe expectations shouldn’t be blindly accepted. Perhaps we could all learn a bit from Princess Elizabeth daring to determine her own unexpected future.
In fact, we could learn a lot about expectations from kids in general. For most of us in this affluent society, as kids, we learn of Santa Claus. And if you want to see the excitement of anticipation and the joy of fulfilled expectations check out kids at Christmas. When we’re little, we think we have a sweet deal figured out. If we’re good, we can expect to get toys. But as we grow up, we learn that life isn’t always that simple. We can do our best and hope for the best and sometimes end up with just a lump of coal. And worse, sometimes it’s those who are the least good who end of with the most toys.
But even for us grown-ups, Christmas is a special time for many reasons. In a chapter of the book “A Chosen Faith” by John A. Buehrens (sent to me by our most recent intern, Vicki Rao, when she saw today’s sermon topic), Buehrens observes that Jewish and Christian religious holidays are closely tied to expectations. Even in the timing of the holidays. They give us celebrations to look forward to. And given that our culture is in the northern hemisphere, it would seem predictable that “winter holidays of light,” Christmas and Hanukkah, would appear during our darkest, coldest time of year - and if that doesn’t seem clear down here in Texas, head on up to Canada some December. Likewise, we would expect to celebrate new life in the spring - the perfect timing for Passover and Easter.
But it’s not just the holidays’ placement on the calendar that links them to the notion of expectations – that theme appears in the stories as well. Consider the Christmas story, for instance. Think of the events from Joseph’s perspective. The woman he plans to marry is suddenly pregnant. Now there’s a challenge to his expectations! But he stands by her — a great example of unconditional love. Then, this mysterious child goes on to have a powerful, and again unexpected, lasting impact on world history.
Overall, the stories of religious holidays often challenge deep-rooted expectations about how life goes. They inspire a type of faith that endures, and is even strengthened by, upsets to our assumptions about people and this world.
But what about the role of expectations in our everyday lives? Parents are some of the first people to impart expectations. I can remember when I was little, maybe five or six, asking my mom what my life would be like as I grew up? She said I’d finish elementary school, then go to high school, then to university, and then get a job, and maybe get married and become a mom too.
In my young life, the expectation of going to university was a constant. From my mom’s comments when I was as young as I can remember, going to university was not a choice as much as a logical plan. You go from high school into university, just like you go from grade 2 into grade 3. That’s just the way it would be.
I did find comfort as a young person in feeling that there was a plan in place; however, as might also be expected, by the time high school came along I challenged the choices that seemed to have been made for me. But after a couple of requisite arguments, I did decide to go to university. Nothing had changed from the original plan, but in wrestling with the choice, I made it own. I felt like now I had an expectation of myself.
My mom was trying to guide me along in her view of what would bring me the best future. Her view seemed always optimistic. But sometimes mothers, just as lovingly, see the need to ensure that their child is prepared to face struggles. Such is the case with the mom in Langston Hughes poem, “Mother to Son.” Hughes was a prominent writer during the Harlem Renaissance, a period in the 1920’s when African American literature, art and music thrived.
MOTHER TO SON
Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor –
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now –
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
Here the primary message from the mom seems to be about perserverence. When things get rough don’t just stop, don’t give up and “set down on the steps,” keep climbing on. She also talks of turning corners and going in the dark; in other words, continuing on in a new direction sometimes and moving forward even when the future is unclear. This all would be great advice for any of us. Likewise, we’re offered valuable parental insight from a father to a son in Proverbs 5: 25-26: “Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you. Take heed to the path of your feet, then all your ways will be sure.” Interestingly, it was my mom who pointed out this passage to me.
All of us, even those we’d expect to have the most gleaming of crystal stairs, run the risk of getting tripped up on expectations that don’t work out, and if we don’t let go, they can totally halt us. Such was the case for a very memorable character in Charles Dickens’ book, “Great Expectations” (he got to the title of this sermon before I did). Miss Havisham is an older woman (sixties perhaps) of great means. She slowly moves about a couple rooms of her house but really no farther. She’s wears a beautiful white gown and has a huge banquet spread out in her table with a grand wedding cake. The problem is that her dress has yellowed with the years and her banquet and giant cake in particular are delights only for vermin. The cake is being consumed by mice and beetles. We learn that something happened on her birthday many years ago, something that halted her. The clocks were stopped and nothing was allowed to be touched after that point. We may assume that she was jilted by her groom on that wedding day, but Dickens never tells us for sure.
Whatever happened, it’s clear that Miss Havisham expected to be married, and when it didn’t work out, she couldn’t move on. She tells Pip, the main character of the book, that she is being consumed on the inside just like the cake he sees on her table. Miss Havisham got trapped inside her own vision of what her future should be. I must say, she’s someone who could’ve really benefited from hearing “The Paper Bag Princess” story.
Miss Havisham is an extreme illustration of what happens when someone clutches forever to an expectation that just isn’t going to work out. I’m sure that (well, I hope that) most people don’t have a sugary, decaying metaphor at home to show it, but how many of us have gotten stuck at least for a while, waiting for something to happen, to pay-off? For things to work out the way we think they should?
It’s a universal truth — all of us will have to grapple with change and the resulting shift in expectations for better or worse. Change comes through a marriage or divorce, a birth or death, a promotion or job loss, a graduation or withdrawal from school. During the positive times, looking ahead to the future might seem easy and exciting but in times of disappointment we may wish we could just run away.
On a personal note, MS has taught me that when you fall (both literally and figuratively), you get back up, dust yourself off, and keep going. And if you need help, ask. Furthermore, if the goal you were moving towards suddenly vanishes or your abilities change, have faith that a new opportunity will come along. Be flexible. Be open to changing your expectations of life, other people, and yourself.
For a couple years after my diagnosis, I did “set down on the steps.” I made virtually no motion ahead in my own life. My head seemed turned around backwards, looking only at past achievements rather than anticipating my future. I could tell you a whole lot about current events back then too — watching hours of CNN every day made it easier to imagine that I was doing something worthwhile with my time, when in reality, I was watching the lives of other people rather than moving ahead in my own life.
Looking compassionately at myself, I understand that some of my haze was from medication, and of course, the need for my mind to adjust to a new style of living. But after a good while, it was time to get climbing again. Progress now is harder to plan and expectations have to be flexible, but hard-earned achievements are extra-sweet. And I’ve learned that there’s joy in the climb itself.
And joy is something that we all need. People, and other creatures, have limits on the number of times their hopes can be dashed. If enough disappointment arises, efforts to reach the goal cease. Psychology has termed this “learned helplessness.” An experiment was done in which a large, predatory fish was put in a tank. In front of it was a clear divider, separating it from an abundance of its favorite fish to eat. Over and over , the fish tried to get to its meal, bonking its head again and again. After a while, it stopped trying. After a little more time passed, the researchers removed the barrier and the little fish, its food, swam freely all around the hungry predator. It didn’t try to eat them. Even with the huge abundance of food, it saw no hope in trying to eat.
For us all, negative messages and beliefs can limit future success. When we consider this, we understand that the communication people receive from parents and teachers is so important. The underlying message that I got from my mom when I was young was that I was capable of succeeding in future endeavors, such as completing university. The mom in Hughes’ poem uses words to prepare and strengthen her boy for overcoming any future obstacles. The common thread in both mothers’ guidance was the intent (and presumed effect) of instilling self-confidence. These parents were also letting their children know that they’ve got somebody cheering them on.
Teachers also play an important role in people’s development and, therefore, need to be particularly aware of the messages they send out. There’s a world of difference between Charlie failing a math test and the teacher offering extra help and encouragement and the teacher returning the paper with only a stern look. But what if Charlie’s got a history of just goofing off? Well, the opportunity for him to improve must still be offered.
While working at a college, I saw evidence of the long-lasting effects of a tough experience with education. I remember one man in particular, a guy in his thirties. I was administering an assessment to determine which level of communications class would be best for him. He was the only person doing the assessment that particular evening. I spent a little extra time talking with him before he got started because he was so nervous, bordering on terrified. I emphasized that it wasn’t “pass or fail” like a test, just a tool to help find the best level for him to start at. He was still anxious, but started to calm down as we talked. It turns out that he had had trouble reading ever since he was a kid – the letters always looked jumbled. I asked if he’d ever been checked for a learning disability, and he seemed alarmed by the suggestion. I said that if he were to be found to have a learning disability, it would explain why reading was so hard and would also confirm that he had an average IQ or higher (since that’s part of the definition of being learning disabled). His face lit up at the possibility of that finding. He said he had always just thought he was stupid. I encouraged him to get a learning disability assessment and he seemed receptive to the idea.
He was stressed throughout his work on the college’s communications assessment. His face was red and sweaty, and he wore a look of frustrated determination as he worked, but he managed to finish. As he left the room, I encouraged him to feel good about having completed the assessment. I think he could tell I was sincere in saying that, not patronizing. I admired his courage – by returning to school (a place he had associated with so much struggle) after a long time away, he was turning a corner, and going in the dark, where for him in the past, there’d been no light. I didn’t see him again after that evening (that in itself wasn’t significant — I didn’t see most of the people I had assessed). I hope some success came his way.
That encounter was the most powerful example I’d seen of the lingering effects of a difficult educational background. Based on previous results he fully expected to fail, but he still pushed himself to try again. Of course, great teachers can do a lot to turn things around – I hope he found many.
Now what if you’re starting to think that expectations are more trouble than they’re worth. Perhaps you’d like to just follow the cynics advice of “Blessed are those who expect nothing, for they shall never be disappointed.” Maybe it’d just be easier to switch your life to auto-pilot and see where it goes. Well, you could. There’d be no shortage of people who would steer you with their own expectations.
To illustrate, I can remember mentioning to my boss several years ago that I really needed someone to help me with some very technical material.
“Oh, just give it to Bill,” he said.
“But he seems so busy,” I replied.
“Yeah, that’s we you give it to him,” my boss said. “If you have work that needs to get done, give it to the busiest guy ’cause he’s the one who’s doing stuff.”
Now let’s look at the situation from Bill’s perspective. Things are fine if he loves being involved with everything at work, and he’s trying to be the first guy people think of. Maybe he has an expectation of eventually being promoted or at least feeling like an integral part of the company. But what if he’s an auto-pilot kind-of guy. He might just go home with an ever-growing stack of paper to go through in the evening. It seems the faster he plows through it, the more work he gets. If we don’t have goals or dreams for ourselves, there’s no shortage of people who take our reins and have us work towards their expectations.
Bill like all of us needs to assess his situation. Is his situation in harmony with the life he would like to be living? What gets him excited? Is there something he’d like to be doing in the evenings besides paperwork? Bill can’t become his best self if he doesn’t take the time to understand what he wants and to chart a course in that direction.
For another auto-pilot example, we could return to Princess Elizabeth, our Paper Bag Princess. Plans were in place for her to marry Prince Ronald. That’s probably what the whole kingdom was expecting her to do. And while the last illustration in the book shows her leaping for joy as she charges into her Ronald-free future, she probably later had to face parents who were less than excited about her news. She could’ve just caved to the pressure of others expectations. She could’ve gone home and got dressed up, made herself pretty, like Prince Ronald wanted, and then gone ahead with the upcoming wedding. That’s what would’ve happened if she were steered by others’ expectations. But we know from the last line of the story that things ended up her own way: “They didn’t get married after all.”
We are all ultimately responsible for the direction of our lives. We have the responsibility to get to know ourselves, to discover what we’re truly capable of and to determine where we want our lives to go. We have free will, and life is filled with choices. Even if we choose not to take an active role in establishing our life’s direction, we’re still making a choice – we’re choosing to surrender our will to the expectations of others. So how do we manage expectations ourselves? Perhaps these Buddhist words may help:
Be ye lamps unto yourselves;
be/ your own confidence.
Hold to the truth
within/ yourselves as to the only lamp.
Finally, as we move now into the future, may we all dream big dreams and not be afraid to create our own truly great expectations.
Delivered on July 24, 2005 at Wildflower Church, Austin, Texas, U.S.A.
