The God of the Fuzzy Edges: A Homily on The Living Presence

My friends, welcome.

We are standing in the grey light of January. The pageantry is over. The ornaments are being packed into boxes, the pine needles are drying out on the floor, and the "magic" of the season is being dragged to the curb for pickup.

This is the moment when religion usually fails us.

For the last month, we have celebrated a birth. We have looked backward two thousand years to a manger, to a star, to a historical point. We have treated God like a favorite grandfather who visited once, long ago, left us some great stories, and then moved to Florida—or in this case, "Heaven"—never to be seen again.

We treat our faith like a museum. We polish the statues. We read the plaques. We argue about the dates. We build monuments to the "Founders"—to the Christ, to the Buddha, to the Prophet. We trap them in the "amber of time," as our text says today.

But I am here to tell you that a Founder who is only a memory is a dead thing. And a God who lives in the past is of no use to you in the traffic jam of the present.

Our reading today, The Sutra of the Everywhere, challenges us to stop looking backward. It says: "The Living Presence is not a statue of stone, but the wind that wears the stone away."

I. The Ghost of History vs. The Rain of Now

We have this obsession with "Original Intent." We want to know exactly what happened then so we can feel secure now. We think if we can just get the history right, we can lock God into a contract.

But look at how the great traditions actually speak of their Founders. They do not speak of ghosts; they speak of weather.

Consider the Lotus Sutra in the Buddhist tradition. In the Life Span of the Tathagata chapter, the Buddha reveals a shocking secret. He tells his followers that his "death" (Parinirvana) is actually a show. It’s a theatrical performance. He says, "I am always here, preaching the Law." He pretends to leave only because if he stayed, people would take him for granted.

Now, contrast this with Islam and the tradition of the Sunnah. Muslims believe that the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) is in the Barzakh (the barrier between worlds), yet he returns our greetings. When a believer sends blessings (Salawat), the Prophet receives them. But the Sufi mystics take this deeper. They speak of the "Light of Muhammad" (Nur Muhammadi)—a primordial light that existed before Adam.

Jesus the Zennist stands at the intersection of these truths. I say to you: "The Great Way is all-embracing". It fits in no chair, no throne, and no history book. The Buddha is not then. The Christ is not then. They are the "Circa" Now. They are the atmosphere you are breathing right this second.

II. The Softening of the Throne

We have a problem with authority. We want a "Big Boss" God. We want a "booming voice" to tell us exactly what to do with our lives so we don't have to take responsibility for them.

We approach prayer like we are submitting a legal brief to the Supreme Court. Dear Lord, please see Exhibit A regarding my rent payment.

But the text says: "The Presence does not require a legal brief. 'Words! Words! The Way is beyond language'" .

If you are waiting for a burning bush, you are going to miss the warmth of the sun on your neck. The "Living Presence" is the "soft focus" of faith.

Think of a camera. When you try too hard to focus on a specific object, the background blurs. But when you relax the lens, everything comes into a gentle, unified view.

"The arising of other gives rise to self... Know these seeming two facets as one Emptiness"

This is the "Softening of the Throne." The judgment seat of God dissolves, and what is left is the "In-Between"—the space between your inhalation and your exhalation. That pause? That is the Living Presence. It’s not flashy. It doesn't get high ratings. But it keeps you alive.

III. The News of the Week: The Return to the Grind

Now, why does this matter today, January 2nd?

Because the party is over. The biggest "News Event" of this week is not a headline; it is a feeling. It is the collective global sigh of returning to the grind.

The holidays offered a brief suspension of reality. We paused. We ate. We connected. But now, the emails are piling up. The bills for the gifts are arriving. The wars on the news tickers—which we briefly ignored—are still burning.

There is a profound sense of disconnection that hits us right now. We feel like we were "spiritual" on Christmas or Hanukkah, but now we must be "secular" and "productive." We partition our lives: God is for the holidays; stress is for the workweek.

This is the "Fallacy of Length" we read about. We think the "holy time" was too short and the "work time" is too long.

Here is the sharp application: Stop partitioning your life. There is no "secular" world. There is only the "One-essence."

"One thing and everything move among and intermingle without distinction" .

The boredom of your commute? That is the Living Presence. The frustration of the long line at the grocery store? That is the Living Presence. The quiet despair of taking down the lights? That is the Living Presence.

If you can only find God in the cathedral or the meditation hall, your God is too small. Your God is a hobby. But if you can find God in the "Circa"—in the approximate, messy, unfinished business of January 2nd—then you have found the "Living Presence... in the hearts of believers."

IV. The Union of the Approximate

We are terrified of being "approximate." We want to be distinct. We want clear boundaries. This is me. That is you. This is my money. That is your problem.

But the text gives us a terrifyingly beautiful image: "When the borders of the self become 'circa'—when they become fuzzy and indistinct—the Founder enters."

We are like ice cubes floating in water. We spend our whole lives trying to stay hard, sharp, and frozen, afraid of melting. We think melting is dying. But Jesus the Zennist says: Melt. "You are the salt of the earth, dissolved in the Great Ocean."

When salt dissolves, does it die? No. It becomes the ocean. The mystic knows that "in this world of 'as it really is' there is neither self nor other". "I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you."

This is the cure for the loneliness epidemic that plagues our modern world. We are lonely because we are obsessed with our "edges." We protect our edges with walls, with cynicism, with headphones. But love requires the softening of edges. You cannot hug someone without blurring the line between where you end and they begin.

V. The Comfort of the Near

So, my friends, as you step into this new year, do not worry about being "perfect." Perfection is a machine's goal, not a human's. Do not worry about having "strong faith." Strong faith is brittle; it snaps under pressure. Instead, seek "Circa Faith."

Circa Faith is fluid. It moves. It adapts. It says, "I don't know exactly where God is, but I know I am 'around' Him." It says, "I don't have the perfect words to pray, so I will just sit here in the silence."

"Do not get entangled in things; Do not get lost in emptiness" . Just reside in the nearness.

The "Founder"—the Christ, the Buddha, the Tao—is not waiting for you at the finish line. He is walking in your shoes. He is looking through your eyes. He is the very breath that is reading these words.

"Rest in the mystery. 'Trust in the Way... and in this nonduality you are one with the Way'"

Go in peace. But remember: you cannot go from the Presence. You can only go in it.

Amen.