Emotion and Devotion

She is overcome with deep emotion. Her brother, who died, lives. And he lives because the person she blamed for his death, the healer who had the power to help him but initially stayed away and did not come to his aid, called him back to life: “Lazarus, come out of the tomb.” And now, a few days later, the healer and his companions are in her home having dinner. She is there with her sister and her brother. It is not the first time they have entertained the healer, but it is the first time since he raised her brother from the dead. She is overcome with deep emotion.


But it is even more than that. Mary is filled with a sense of awe and wonder. She now understands that Jesus is more than a teacher and more than a healer. She senses that he is the Lord of life, the Son of the Living God, the Messiah. She is overcome with deep devotion in the presence of one who is Holy Other.

Emotion and devotion are a potent and powerful combination in a person. Working together they can guide us to do amazing things; things which may not make sense to those who do not share our sentiments. We will give generously of our time, willingly of our talents, sacrificially of our treasure, and freely of life itself in response to God.

This past week the Episcopal Church celebrated the life and witness of James Theodore Augustus Holly who was born a free African American in 1829 and ordained to the priesthood in 1855. He served a congregation in New Haven for five years prior to accepting mission work in Haiti. During the first year there his mother, his wife, and two of his children died. Somehow Holly endured and, along with two young sons, he continued the work he felt called by God to do. In 1874 Holly was ordained bishop of Haiti, becoming the first black man to hold this office in our church. Over the course of his episcopacy Holly doubled the membership of the diocese, which is now the largest in the Episcopal Church. He also founded numerous schools, hospitals, and clinics prior to his death in 1911. As I read Bishop Holly’s biography this week, I was amazed at what he accomplished given all that he lost so early in his ministry. Emotion and devotion are a powerful and potent combination in a person.

Mary is overcome with both. She must do something for her Lord, but what? What act, what gesture, what words, what offering would capture even a fragment of what she feels for Jesus and what she believes about him?

She lands on what she will do. The text does not tell us if she planned this for days or if the idea comes to her out of the blue. She decides to anoint Jesus from head to toe with a pound of costly perfume. How costly? 300 denarii – a denarii being equivalent to a day’s wage. We are talking about a perfume that in our time would run anywhere from $25,000 to $50,000. Her act is lavish. It is extravagant. It is the product of deep emotion and deep devotion.

And it causes an outrage. The house quickly fills with the perfume’s aroma and all who are in it are drawn to Mary’s action. John’s gospel tells us that only Judas protests, but as the other gospellers tell the story they indicate that all of Jesus’ followers are offended by an act they see as wasteful beyond words. In a sense, Judas is correct. The perfume could have been sold and the money could have been given to the poor. Of course, he had no intention of letting any proceeds slip through his hands. Jesus accepts Mary’s action and defends her by saying the poor will always be with us, but rare are the opportunities we have to express devotion to him.

Today’s gospel reading interests the life of our congregation in a fascinating way. This is our first opportunity to worship in this space since the restored Ascension window is back in place. In a word, it is stunning. It will inspire worshippers for generations to come. On those rare occasions when my sermon is not up to snuff, you can turn your gaze to the north side of the building and be spiritually nurtured by this incredible piece of sacred art.

In terms of cost and the way in which it fills this space, the Ascension window shares much in common with Mary’s perfume. Perhaps some of our local historians know something of the life of Nannie Stuart Elley in whose memory the window is dedicated. A few of you may know of Alfred and Alice Verner in whose memory a previous restoration is dedicated. We certainly know the Holland family whose generosity has provided funds for this particular window during our current restoration project. I am confident that at some level each of the donors was motivated by deep emotion and devotion; gratitude for those they love, but see no longer and praise for the God who gives life at birth and after death.

This day we also collect change to fund a project that will provide a well for a village in an underdeveloped part of the world, transforming everything about daily life for those who receive it. The cost to do this is modest, $750. Many of us have given up something for Lent and set aside the money we have saved to contribute to the collection. Before this day begins we already have over $500 turned in. I give thanks for the way we have come together in Lent around this effort.

When all is said and done, our stained glass window restoration project will cost around $135,000. I don’t know how much we’ll raise for the well, but it would not surprise me if it exceeds $1,000. In the end, what we give to the poor in relation to what we invest in our windows will be in line with guidelines for the Millennium Development Project, which suggests every congregation contribute 0.7% of its budget to funding one of the goals.

The poor are always with us, as Jesus reminds us. I intend to keep this reality ever before our congregation. I am pleased that you respond to the gospel by meeting the needs of others and by being open and accepting of new opportunities we have to demonstrate Christ’s compassion to a hurting world. This drive within us as individuals and as a faith community is something much deeper than a desire ‘to do good.’ It is fueled by our love and devotion for our Creator, our Redeemer, and our Sustainer. What we invest in this building to enhance and maintain it is a sacred place set apart for prayer and praise is right and good and acceptable to God.

Serving God and extending compassion to others are powerful ways to express deep emotion and deep devotion. At some level each of us understands Mary’s actions – what she did and why she did it. At some point in our lives each of us has felt what she felt that day Jesus came to her home for dinner. Each of us has been touched by God’s grace and love and each of us has tried to find some appropriate way to express our gratitude and devotion. Mary’s act and Jesus’ acceptance of it gives us permission not to hold back; to abandon all common sense and restraint; to do that thing which is welling up inside us to give glory, honor, worship, and praise to our Lord. What might that be in you?

Get Up! Get Going! Get After It!

In the reading we just heard, some folks engage Jesus in a conversation about an act of violence. Pilate’s henchmen slaughtered a group of Galileans while they were making a sacrifice in the Temple. Keep in mind that Jesus is a Galilean and he is carrying out his ministry in Galilee. This must have been a hot topic for many in the area. If they had had talk radio back in the day, it would have lit up the phone lines. Then as now, senseless acts of violence spark outrage. Unlike, say, the Newtown shootings, this brutality was perpetrated not by one disturbed individual, but rather by the ruling political authority. Having grown up in Northeast Ohio, I would compare it to the 1970 Kent State shootings. I was nine at the time and was largely shielded from those events that took place fifteen miles from my home, but I can tell you that even today feelings run very, very deep with regard to what happened on May 4th.


It is not at all clear why the temple incident is brought to Jesus’ attention. Did he know any of the people who were killed? It is possible, but the text doesn’t say. And while we are not told why the question is asked, but you can be sure that people wanted to know what Jesus though should be done about it. Was he willing to rise up and lead a revolt?

It is Jesus himself who changes the conversation from what to why. His focus is not on what to do in response, but rather on why it happened. It might be more accurate to say that Jesus refutes a popular notion of why it happened. “Do you think those people were worse sinners than the rest of us? They were not.” And then Jesus refers to eighteen people who died when a tower collapsed. “Do you think they were worse sinners than the rest of us? No.”

To each statement Jesus adds the tag line, “Unless you repent you will perish as they did.” It is a jarring proclamation. Is Jesus really saying that violence and catastrophe await those who do not get their act together?

The parable he tells seems to reinforce this rather harsh teaching. A man plants a fig tree in his vineyard, but after three years it still does not bear fruit. In frustration he tells the gardener to cut it down, but the gardener pleads for more time. “Let me dig around it, fertilize it, care for it. If in another year it does not bear fruit then we will get rid of it.”

It is certainly not true that bad things only happen to bad people. Do you remember when Katrina devastated New Orleans and the gulf coast? Do you remember how some people said God created the hurricane to judge the city? When faced with something we cannot explain there is a human tendency to assign it to God’s will. “God has his reasons,” we say. A portion of our biblical tradition encourages this thinking. The Noah flood story is couched in terms of God’s judgment on human evil. But even there, at its end, the narrative tells us that God promises God’s self never again to act in such a way. Or we read of Abraham interceding on behalf of the city of Sodom, “God, would you not spare the city if it has just five righteous people in it?” “Yes,” God responds, “I would spare it.”

The truth is that we live in a world of randomness. There is not always a reason misfortune strikes one person and not another: why a car careens out of control and smashes into someone else rather than into me or why someone else gets cancer and I don’t or why a tornado cuts through one part of town, but not where I live. It happens that way because that’s the way it happens.

This, I think, is what Jesus is trying to say. Those people who were killed by Pilate and those people who died when a tower collapsed didn’t deserve it any more than any of the rest of us. It just happened. So how should you respond to this? When Jesus says, “Unless you repent you will perish as they did,” I hear him saying that life is short and carries no guarantees. We may be comfortable now, but each of us will know hardship and struggle. Therefore, he says, there is no time to waste. Get your affairs in order – that is number one. And number two – make your life count for something… starting today.

Get your affairs in order. I have been negligent in my duties as your priest, at least as far as one of the rubrics of the prayer book is concerned. To make amends, I ask you know to open your prayer book and turn to page 445. There we find the following:

The Minister of the Congregation is directed to instruct the people, from time to time, about the duty of Christian parents to make prudent provision for the well-being of their families, and of all persons to make wills, while they are in good health, arranging for the disposal of their temporal goods, not neglecting, if they are able, to leave bequests for religious and charitable uses.

Worse than dying suddenly is dying unprepared. For most of us a simple will will suffice. For young families especially, it is important that life insurance provides some finance assistance to help our loved ones move forward without us. As we get older and fewer people depend on us, we come to a joyous time when we can think about gifts that will support institutions that matter to us. I am grateful that Gail Pruden is working with Roy Waller, John Rector, Kent Spain, and others to raise awareness in the parish about making these kinds of gifts. For any of you so willing, I am more than happy to sit down and help you think through the details of the Burial Office – the last rite each of us will be a part of in the Episcopal Church. Picking out hymns and readings and articulating other details is a great gift and comfort to family members who otherwise might be groping to discern your wishes.

As a footnote, please don’t ask me if I have tended to these things. This is one of those times when you should do as I say, not as I do. I shudder to think of the mess I am leaving for family to sort through. Perhaps from time to time you can gently ask me if I am making any progress. It might encourage me.

Make your life count for something. If you feel like your life doesn’t matter then you need to make a change and you need to do it now. God’s world is pregnant with opportunity and groaning with need. This Lenten season we are pointing in this direction by reflecting on what we offer to God and to others. We have invited you to bring food and drink to distribute through our Food Pantry. Next week we invite you to bring a dish to share at an informal Breakfast Eucharist in the Parish Hall at 8:00 or Brunch Eucharist in the Parish Hall at 10:30. In two weeks we invite you to bring in change so that we can fund a well for a family farm in an underdeveloped part of the world.

Make your life count for something. I know that this is a hard time for several families in our parish who are effected by the sequestration. A 20% drop in income is very difficult to weather. What can you do with your day off that will be redeeming? How might you invest it in your family, your community, or in yourself?

This morning we hear Jesus issue what we today refer to as a ‘wake-up call.’ A senseless act of violence and a horrific tragedy serve to remind us that life is short and comes with no guarantees. For Jesus, this is not cause for sadness or anxiety, but rather serves as motivation. In the parable of the fig tree, Jesus is not the vineyard owner who wants to do in the fruitless tree, he is the gardener, working diligently to nourish us for good works. He tells us to get up, get going, get after it right now. There is not a minute to waste.

Walt Kowalski & Jerusalem Moments

Today’s Gospel reading casts Jesus as a provocateur. Warned that Herod wants to kill him, and keep in mind that Herod already has beheaded John the Baptist, Jesus (to use today’s terminology) starts talking trash. “Go and tell that fox this for me…” Herod fancied himself to be a lion, the king of the beasts. Foxes, well, they were just slightly better than rats and vermin. “When I finish my work,” Jesus says, “then I’ll make my way to Jerusalem because it is there that a prophet must die.” In effect, Jesus is saying, “Tell Herod I am coming for him.”

We don’t usually think of Jesus as being the one to ratchet up the tension, but that is exactly what he does here. Jesus meek and mild he is not. We might want to ask why. Why does Jesus need to go to Jerusalem? Why does he continue on a collision course that will cost him his life? 2,000 years later it is easy for us to answer this question because we know how the story plays out. But put aside all your theology about dying for the sins of the world and place yourself back in this moment. Jesus had plenty of other options, but he chose to go to Jerusalem. Why?

I suggest that we think of Jerusalem not so much as a city but as a symbol. It represents that conflict that can not be avoided. It stands for that injustice that must be confronted. It symbolizes for that problem that can not be ignored. There are times in life when you simply have to do something that is going to be costly. It is the only way to right what is wrong. That is what Jerusalem is as a symbol.

How many of you saw the 2008 film Gran Torino staring Clint Eastwood? Clint plays Walt Kowalski, a recently widowed, retired factory worker living in a Detroit neighborhood that has seen better days. Kowalski is as bigoted as they come, especially toward his new neighbors who are part of a growing Hmong community in the area. It matters not to Kowalski that these people fled Laos after the communist takeover. He does not distinguish them from the people he fought and killed in the Korean War.

In many respects we have seen Eastwood play this character before. Kowalski is a tough-talking, gun toting, take no guff off of anyone kind of person. Even in his late 70’s he stands tall and proud against neighborhood thugs and gangs.

As the movie unfolds, Kowalski is grudgingly drawn into relationship with his Hmong neighbors. He begins to mentor Thao, a teenager being pressured to join a gang. He finds in his neighbors the kind of ethic for work, family, and respect of elders that he admires and finds lacking in his own family. As Kowalski’s affection for them grows, so too does the tension between he and an area gang. In one scene, Kowalski saves Thao from a gang attack – how else – by pulling out the biggest shot-gun you have ever laid eyes on. In another scene he saves Sue, a young woman in family member.

One day the gang attacks Thao on the way home from school. When Kowalski sees the injuries he goes to the gang’s house and brutally beats one of the members as a warning. The gang retaliates with a drive-by shooting of the Hmong home and by kidnapping and raping Sue. No witnesses are willing to talk so there is nothing that the police can do.

It is time for Clint Eastwood to do what Clint Eastwood characters always do. It is time to ride over the gang house and, against unbelievable odds, take out all the bad guys. The entire film he has been on the road to this symbolic ‘Jerusalem moment’ and nothing is going to deter him. Standing in front of the gang house, making enough of a scene so that the entire neighborhood is watching, with a half-dozen automatic weapons trained on him, Kowalski slowly makes a move to reach into his jacket as if to pull out a weapon and is gunned down in a hail of bullets. He has no gun, only a cigarette lighter. Kowalski’s body lies on the ground arms extended outward. It is a crucifix position.

The gang members are driven away in police cars with the promise that they will be put away for a long time. The movie closes with a scene of Thao driving Kowalski’s Gran Tornio, which was left to him. The family is safe and their future is secure. The sacrifice of one person exposes evil for what it is and makes new life possible for many.

Have you ever had to go to Jerusalem; to that moment or place or encounter where you had to confront a person or a situation? I’m not talking about shooting it out with a bunch of bad guys. Our Jerusalems tend to be moral or relational in nature. It might have been something at work. Perhaps it involved something between you and a friend. Have you ever had to go to Jerusalem? I suspect each of us can think of at least a time or two when we accepted risk and did what needed to be done, no matter what the cost.

How about right now? Is there a Jerusalem on the horizon? Is there a situation in your life that you need to engage, even though there is a price to pay? Is there something you need to say to a friend or a family member that is difficult?

If so, here are a couple of things you might think about that we can draw from today’s reading:

• When Jesus learned that Herod was after him he said that he still had work to do, but that soon enough he would be on his way to Jerusalem. Jesus chose when, where, and how he was going to engage. It is never good to get drawn into confrontation when you have not set the terms.

• Make sure you are in the right or at least have the right motivation. It isn’t a Jerusalem moment if everything always has to be done your way. There is a big difference between confronting injustice verses matters of taste. How do you know you are in the right? I do three things. First, I pray. Then I talk to a few people I respect and trust, making it clear I want honest feedback, even if it is not what I want to hear. And finally, I pray even more.

• Jesus called Herod a fox. Name-calling is not my style. It tends to exacerbate the situation and make resolution more difficult. Still, there are times when revered villains have to be exposed for what they are. Naming it takes courage and can come at a cost.

• Speaking of cost, don’t forget what happened to Jesus in Jerusalem. He was betrayed, arrested, tried, tortured, and executed. The Herods of this world rarely play nice and even more rarely admit they are in the wrong. If you are going to speak the truth to power you had better be ready to accept the consequences that come from doing it.

• Finally, God promises resurrection – new life – on the other side of Jerusalem. What this new life looks like in any particular situation is hard to say. It may look like a restored relationship or it may look like an ending in order for something new to begin. I spoke with someone this week who grew so frustrated at work that he simply had to quit and go somewhere else and start over. It was a very difficult process, but he is much happier now.

Through our baptismal vows we promise to follow Jesus as our guide. His life witnesses to how life is to be lived. It is helpful to know that his life was not absent of conflict. Neither is ours. Seeing how Jesus handled his ‘Jerusalem’ is instructive for us. And more than being a model for us to follow, Jesus promises to be with us throughout life, but especially in our most challenging ‘Jerusalem moments.’

The Temptation to Forget

Each week, in preparation for writing a sermon, I do copious research to help me better understand the bible and subjects it addresses. This research can, and often does, take me down a rabbit hole or two. Knowing that the season of Lent always begins with the story of Jesus’ testing in the wilderness, I decided to google the word ‘temptation.’ I am here to testify that you do not want to look at the images tagged to the word ‘temptation.’ Don’t go there, just don’t.


While the image avenue proved less than fruitful, somehow I found my way to a link labeled as “Bumper Stickers about Temptation.” Because I love a good bumper sticker, allow me to digress for just a moment. These were my favorite non-temptation bumper stickers from the site:

“Cover me. I’m changing lanes.”

“Sometimes I wake up grumpy; Other times I let her sleep”

“Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies.”

“Very funny, Scotty. Now beam down my clothes.”

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am”

“I want to die in my sleep like my grandfather… Not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car!”

If you are looking to put a bumper sticker on your car that makes a statement about temptation here are your choices:

“Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself.”

“I generally avoid temptation unless I can’t resist it.”

“Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.”

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”

“Better to shun the bait, than to struggle in the snare.”

Today we hear again of the temptations Jesus faced. They are as old as they are new.

“Turn these stones to bread.” Given that Jesus was in the midst of a forty day fast, this temptation was aimed at a concern as basic as survival. In our time, it sets its sights on instant gratification for human cravings… I am hungry, I am bored, I want sex, I want to be comfortable. Think about the commercial industries that have mushroomed to prominence to satisfy these basic human drives. In our culture, these are not temptations, they are profit opportunities.

The bible describes heaven as being like a sumptuous banquet, so food in and of itself is not evil. In fact, in God’s Kingdom gathering for a meal not only nourishes the body, but it also creates community through table fellowship. It is an opportunity to thank God for daily bread, to extend hospitality to the stranger in our midst, and to share with those who have nothing to eat.

God wants us to be comfortable and promises that those who put their trust in God will lack for nothing. Note that lacking nothing is not the same as opulence or excess.

Sexual intimacy, which brings two people into a singular relationship, is ordained by God. The human drive toward relationship finds its highest expression not through promiscuous conquest, but through life-long, mutual commitment marked by fidelity, monogamy, affection, respect, and careful, honest communication: the kind of intimate relationship into which God seeks to enter with us.

We are much, much more than the sum of our human urges but we have lost touch with the purpose for and value of subduing basic cravings. We are to master them, not they us. And when they master us, we transform gifts God has given to us into something destructive to us and to those around us.

“Bow down and I will give you authority.” For Jesus this temptation must have been particularly tricky. You see, it is the Father’s will that, at a certain point in human history, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus is Lord. The tempter offers what the Father desires, but (as they say) the devil is in the details. The tempter’s offer involves a shortcut. No obedience, no suffering, no crucifixion, just kneel down now. “Take the easy road, after all you deserve it. Why study? Why work hard? Why save? You can have it all right now. You should have it all right now. You deserve to have it all right now.”

When we yield to this temptation we come to expect that the world owes us, well, the world. We shift from the godly call to mark our lives by offering to wanting to get something. We sit back waiting for someone to do for us when we are called to follow the example of our Lord and do for others. The easy road the tempter offers is a dead end.

I am now 53 years old; old enough not to be young and not to be old. I am old enough to have a sense that what authority I have in life has come the hard way: trials I have endured through the grace of God, persecution I have withstood while doing God’s will, deaths I have suffered from being faithful. None of these are to my credit. It is just what happens when by the grace of God you endure. I sense a little more each day and month and year people acknowledging an authority in me that comes from having been around the block once or twice. There is no shortcut to get this. It is won through faithfulness, admission of failure, tears, confession, tears, forgiveness, and more tears. It is especially tempting when we are young to short-circuit all of this for the easy authority we dream should be ours. It is especially tempting as we get older to be bitter about the things that never came our way when.

“Throw yourself off this pinnacle and let the angels catch you.” Today the tempter would offer to help Jesus go viral! We all want to be ‘somebody’; someone who captures attention, someone who is known for something, anything. The ultimate goal in our age of hyper reality is fame. Deep down we fear that we are nobody, that we don’t matter. This is where the tempter finds us most vulnerable. “I can make you somebody. I can make your life matter. I will get others to notice you. Once you are famous and people admire you, you will feel good about yourself.” So dress for success, sculpt your body into the likeness of a Greek god, upload a video of a stunt to YouTube, if you are really desperate, walk into a school armed to the teeth.

Who wouldn’t want to make the catch that wins the Super Bowl or walk down the runway in a designer dress or author an acclaimed book or even orchestrate a church initiative that revitalizes the prospects of a congregation we deeply love? The tempter’s efforts here are all about the show, not about the sacrifice. Jesus got what the tempter offered, except he died to accomplish it.

The tempter works on our notion that the only reality that matters is a public reality. Jesus reminds us that those who pray or fast or do acts of charity in order to be seen by others have their reward. They do get noticed. What they do not get is the benefit of developing a private, interior world where they will discover that they are loved by God and that this love is the most important thing in life. It is what we were made for.

Think about the tempter approached Jesus: “If you are the Son of God…” Do you recognize how this is a challenge to his identity? And coming within forty days of his baptism, it is no small challenge because Jesus cannot be at all clear as to the full meaning of the Voice he heard proclaiming him “the Beloved.” The tempter presents plausible possibilities. In the end, Jesus overcomes each temptation by knowing who God is and who he is in God’s eyes.

Who are we? The bible says you and I are wayward children adopted into God’s family through the work and love of Jesus Christ. It is not something we earn. It is something we embrace.

How differently do we approach the world when we understand ourselves to be loved and valued in God’s eyes verses if we believe ourselves to be lacking or worthless? Temptation is not so much something we get led into or stumble across – “If only I hadn’t clicked on that website or walked into that bar or sat down on the couch with a bag of chips” – but rather something that has its roots deep inside our soul and self-understanding. When we are confident in who we are to God then we move comfortably in this world. When we are unsure who we are in God, or when we reject who we are in God, then we turn to any number of things to fill that void and salve the hurt.

I suppose if I were going to make up a bumper sticker it might say, “The tempter wants us to forget. Jesus wants us to remember.”

You see, temptation is about forgetting; forgetting that we are God’s children; forgetting that the body is more than food and clothing; forgetting that greatness comes from serving others; forgetting that what really matters is not what we are known for, but who we are on the inside. Every time we gather in worship we gather to remember what often we are tempted to forget. We remember that we are God’s children, deeply loved for who we are, more precious than fine jewels, lacking nothing, possessing everything in Christ. We remember that our Savior Jesus Christ has shown us the way. We remember that what God says is what matters most and that the voice of the tempter only gains leverage as we forget.

Joseph Kennedy taught his children always to remember that they were a ‘Kennedy.’ No matter where you, no matter what you are doing, he said, always remember that you are a ‘Kennedy.’ His children grew up to be presidents, senators, and great humanitarians because they had an identity which they never forgot. You and I have an identity even stronger then theirs. We are God’s children and God showers the rich blessings of grace upon us each and every day. If you remember this there is no temptation against which you cannot stand. As we forget this, we experience how temptation distorts life and makes it something God does not intend. We are blessed that God invites us to remember and to return. This invitation comes to us each and every day, but is especially present during the season of Lent. Who are you? Do you remember? How do you need to reassert in your life your identity as a child of God?

Encountering the Essence of God's Glory

Well, I know the Christian calendar says today is the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, but in truth it feels like a national day of mourning – the First Sunday after Football. Did you watch the Super Bowl last week? I turned on the TV about half an hour before kickoff; in time to see Ray Lewis interviewed by Shannon Sharpe, a former teammate. Sharpe asked Lewis about two people who were killed after Lewis won the Super Bowl several years ago in Atlanta. The Baltimore linebacker was implicated in the murders and eventually pled guilty to Obstruction of Justice. No one has ever been convicted of the deaths and many questions still linger regarding Lewis’ involvement. “What would you say to those families,” Sharpe asked. “It’s simple,” Lewis said. “God has never made a mistake. That’s just who He is, you see.... To the family, if you knew, if you really knew the way God works, He don’t use people who commits anything like that for His glory. No way. It’s the total opposite.” The implication is chilling: Lewis’ on-field success is proof of his innocence. Moments after winning this year’s Super Bowl, Lewis, overcome with emotion, shouted into a microphone, “If God is for you, can’t no one be against you.” Ray Lewis is a vicious tackler, a sure fire Hall of Famer, and a brutal theologian!


We bristle when we meet someone who is a little too chummy with God; who has God’s ways all figured out – and figured out in such a way that always seems to coincide with his or her own desires and self interest.

In many ways, what I know with the greatest certainty of God is that I know little if anything at all about God. I believe in the power of prayer and know personally how it affects my life. It is something like turning on a radio and tuning into a particular frequency. That signal is always there, always around us, but we only hear it when we turn on the radio and listen. When I tune in to God through prayer, I find strength, hope, courage, direction, joy, forgiveness… many things, things of God that are always there. It is not like God is completely absent. But I when I pray I do not get the sense that I am encountering the full essence of God’s glory. Moments like that, if they happen at all in one’s life, are very rare.

Our lessons this morning describe two such experiences. From the Old Testament we read of Moses encountering the true essence of God’s glory. It is an event so profound that it changes Moses’ very appearance. His face literally radiates God’s glory. It shines to such a degree that people are afraid to approach him. Moses must wrap his face with a veil whenever he is in the presence of other people.

The other encounter takes place on a mountaintop when Jesus is transfigured in the presence of Moses and Elijah. Peter, James, and John witness the event. At first words fail each of them until Peter suggests they build shrines for each of the three figures in order to remain in this luminous moment forever. And why not, once you are completely in the presence of God, where else is there to go? Certainly not down the mountain to the messy world of healing the troubled and rebuking evil.

We have a record of Peter’s preaching in the Book of Acts and we have in writing two of his letters. It is significant that when preaching or writing about Jesus, Peter refers primarily to three episodes that form the core of his own faith. He does not mention how Jesus calmed the storm or walked on water or cured the sick or raised the dead. Instead Peter describes Jesus’ suffering, his resurrection, and the transfiguring on the mountain. This from 2 Peter 1:16-18:

“We had been eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that voice was conveyed to him by the Majestic Glory, saying, ‘This is my Son, my Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’ We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain.”

This was for Peter a life changing experience, eclipsed only by encountering the Resurrected Lord.

I spent some time this week rehearsing the events of my life and pondering if I have ever come close to encountering the full essence of God’s glory. Yes, there are many times I felt I have been in God’s presence. I have experienced a healing that I consider miraculous. I have been transported through prayer and praise to a holy dimension. But I don’t know that I have ever encountered the full essence of God’s glory in a way close to what Moses or Peter experienced.

I found myself thinking back to my first year as a priest when I ministered to Richard who was battling cancer. He and his wife were good people; the kind of folk you know you like and can trust from the moment you meet them. Richard put up a courageous fight, but cancer got the better of him. His family and I gathered around his hospital bed on a Friday evening. Richard was to have both feet amputated in the morning. Blood clots had become more of a threat than the cancer. The doctor walked in and talked with Richard, saying there was very little to be gained by the surgery. All agreed and it was called off. There, in that room, we took communion and to this day when I say the words, “It is a right and good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father Almighty,” I am taken back to that hospital room Eucharist where, in spite of all the challenges, for a brief moment, Richard, his wife, his children, and I were in a place and in a space where time was irrelevant and nothing else seemed to matter.

When I returned the next morning everything about Richard’s countenance had changed. He radiated something that words fail to describe. At best I would call it a deep, abiding peace, but that simply does not capture all of it. He was calm, he was confident, he was secure. He didn’t need to veil his face, but everything about him indicated that sometime in the night hours he encountered the essence of God’s glory. We talked for about two hours before I made my leave. Richard slipped away quietly about sixty minutes later. That morning visit, seeing and sensing something different in Richard, is the single most powerful experience in my ministry, and perhaps even in my entire life.

Unlike Ray Lewis, whose faith makes him cocky and self-assured about God and God’s ways, my experiences have left me speechless and humble. Like I said, the closer we come to knowing God the more we realize we know nothing at all about God.

I resonate with this poem by R.S. Thomas titled Via Negativia:

Why no! I never thought other than
That God is that great absence
In our lives, the empty silence
Within, the place where we go
Seeking, not in hope to
Arrive or find. He keeps the interstices
In our knowledge, the darkness
Between stars. His are the echoes
We follow, the footprints he has just
Left. We put our hands in
His side hoping to find
It warm. We look at people
And places as though he had looked
At them, too; but miss the reflection.

“His are the echoes we follow, the footprints [we step in that] he has just left.” That God exists I am confident. What little I know of God is overshadowed by what I do not and may never know. Still, what I know and have experienced of God fuels my need to worship, to follow, to obey, and to serve.

How tempting it is to fill the interstices of our knowledge and experience of God with what we want or need God to be. How human it seems to be to have the quick answer, the easy understanding, the domesticated theology that in effect leashes God to our own particular projection of God. It saddens and sickens me to hear a famous person say, “If you understood God the way I do you would not question ‘His’ way.” Better if Lewis had said, “If your thought process worked the way mine does you wouldn’t have a problem with my involvement in two murders.” Me, I am going to be content describing God’s footprint and what it feels like to miss God’s reflection that surly my friend Richard saw. For me, these glimpses of the holy are more than enough. They humble me. They leave me speechless. They shape and charge my life this and every day.

Last Sunday we heard the Gospel story of Jesus preaching in his hometown synagogue. This Sunday we read about the outcome. His friends and neighbors carry him out of the worship space and try to throw him off a cliff. It’s fair to say he was not well received. So what went wrong? The people were offended when Jesus declared himself to be the fulfillment of the Scripture and they were outraged when he refused to perform a sign or miracle for them.

We all live with the tension of having a sense of self that is developed internally verses that which is validated externally by those around us. This Gospel story describes a point early in Jesus’ ministry where these two forms of validation conflict in irreconcilable ways. Its one thing to have parents, family, friends, and authority figures greet with skepticism a childhood announcement stating when we grow up we are going to be an astronaut or a ballerina or a princess or a Super Bowl winning quarterback for the Cleveland Browns. It is something entirely different when we make a mature, well thought through decision based on intuition, prayer, and a reasonable assessment of our passions and gifts, only to have it pooh-poohed by those we hope will support and encourage us.

Ponder with me how you got to be who and where you are today. How did you discern your life’s calling? Who validated it for you? How was it challenged or tested? Lily Tomlin once said, “I’ve always wanted to be somebody, but I see now I should have been more specific.” Figuring out who you are specifically, and thus what you are to do, is one of the significant undertakings we face in life. It is easy to get it wrong, at least for a while.

I read recently a story about a naturalist who came across a baby eagle that had fallen out of its nest. He scooped it up, took it home, and let it loose in his barnyard. There, surrounded by chickens, the eagle learned to be a chicken. For a short time this is exactly what the little eagle needed, but over time it stunted its potential. Born as one of the most majestic creatures, the great bird did not know how to get off the ground, let alone fly. The naturalist tried everything he could think to awaken dormant instincts. He tossed the bird into the air, but back to the ground it fell, scratching for food in the dirt. He got out a ladder, put it against a tree, and placed the eagle on the highest branch within reach. Even this did not work. Finally he drove the eagle to a mountaintop. Standing at the edge of a high, steep face, he put the eagle on his arm and held out his arm to the sun. Slowly it happened that the great bird began to tremble. It stretched out its wings, let out a wild, screeching cry, and soared away toward the heavens.

How did you come to be the specific person you are today? Your story contains elements of internal awareness as well as external influence. Like the eagle, there was someone in your life – perhaps many people – who pointed you down a particular path. And like the eagle, there was a time when deep down inside, you embraced a sense of who you are and wanted to be. Each of us comes to be someone specific through some combination of these two polar influences.

Growing up, I greatly admired my youth minister and as early as 9th grade began to see myself doing the work he did. Others encouraged me on this path and my father even gave up on his dream that I would follow his footsteps as a chemical engineer. I entered college as a religion and economics major. Along the way, while doing actual ministry as a volunteer, I learned that this can be difficult work. Not everyone wanted to hear what I had to say about Jesus. In fact, some people really didn’t want to hear about it all. I was very discouraged by these failures and after graduation was completely unsure what I wanted to do.

I connected with an Episcopal Church and was hired to do youth ministry. After two years the rector told me in no uncertain terms that I was called to the ordained ministry and that I was going to seminary, so off I went. What began in me internally and was validated by others had gotten away from me. It came back to me because another person put it there. A few years later a seminary professor said to me, “Keith, it is easy for God to get people like me and you into the ministry because there is nothing else we want to do.” He was right and that was the moment I embraced internally who I was going to be specifically.

In today’s first reading we learn of Jeremiah’s call to be a prophet. It is not his idea. God issues it to him by telling him, “Before you were born up until this very day I formed you for this purpose.” Jeremiah, who was about the age I was when I started to think about the ordained ministry, protests: “I am just a boy. I don’t have a clue what to say.” His struggles are rooted not in self-doubt, but rather in self-awareness. He was right to perceive that he has no business being God’s prophet to an adult world. In response, God promises to speak through him and at some point the boy relents and accepts his calling. It is a slight variation on the internal/external drama.

Let’s think again about Jesus. How would you react if, brimming with confidence, you announced your specific plan for life to your family, your friends, your teachers, your coaches, your associates, and your priest, and they roundly tell you that you have got it wrong? I know that for some of you this is not a theoretical question. The human drive for esteem and recognition is, at its heart, a way of testing publically what privately we think and believe about ourselves. Sitting on the Commission on Ministry of our diocese I see first hand what happens when a person comes before us seeking entry into the ordination process and we determine that the person is not fit to proceed. It is devastating to that person. I imagine that being rejected by those close to him came as quite a blow to Jesus.

Here are some things we might take away from this:

First, rejection should motivate us to undertake a sober self-assessment. We are leery of people who believe God has called them to do something when not a single person affirms or supports their belief. Sometimes other people see something we are missing. Their wisdom, although painful, can be a saving grace. A good question to ask yourself is what are they seeing about me that I am missing?

Second, there are times when the best move is to move on and try again. This, in fact, is what Jesus did. He relocated to Capernaum. There, a new audience responded to his message with wild enthusiasm and sacrificial commitment. Jesus knew first-hand what he taught his disciples, “If a town does not receive you, shake the dust off your sandals as you leave and move on to the next place.” In truth, today’s Gospel reading says a lot more about the people of Nazareth than it does about Jesus’ calling.

Third, there is a difference between outright rejection and receiving a difficult truth about yourself. The person who rejects us cares nothing about us and is concerned only about him/herself. The person who will tell us the difficult truth loves us enough to do something risky. It falls on us then to hear what we are told and to do something with it. There is a difference between ‘no,’ ‘never,’ and ‘not yet.’ Being rejected is like a dagger to the heart. Being told a difficult truth can be like having a seed planted in your soul. Something good will come of it if your nurture it carefully.

Next, there are times when we need a voice from beyond to point us in the right direction. We may listen for the voice of God to tell us what to do, but, in my experience, it has always been another person who says to me what sometime later I come to realize as God’s words to me.

Finally, most of us here this morning pretty much have figured out who we are specifically. Of course we are always changing and feedback from others is always necessary, but for the most part we have discerned our call. The role we play most often now is that of the external voice for those younger who are in discernment. Ours is a powerful role. We can do great harm or great good in the life of a person. Ours is an important role. Validating another’s intuition, awakening gifts, inspiring dreams, supporting direction… take a step back, change the frame slightly and you will recognize that this is the work of the Holy Spirit in a person’s life. But it is our work too. It is how God works in and through us in the life of another person.

The Gap between Who We Are and Who God Wants Us to be

Have you ever noticed how the reference to most of the biblical readings in the bulletin looks something like this: Philippians 4:1-8, or Mark 12:24-30? They are straight from the bible… with no omissions. But every now and then, the framers of the lectionary try to slip something by us. Like today: a reading from Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, and 8-10. What happened to verses 4 and 7? What do they say and who decided you and I won’t get to hear it?

Well, let me set the record straight and reveal what is being kept from you. Verse 4:

The scribe Ezra stood on a wooden platform that had been made for the purpose; and beside him stood Mattithiah, Shema, Anaiah, Uriah, Hilkiah, and Maaseiah on his right hand; and Pedaiah, Mishael, Malchijah, Hashum, Hash-baddanah, Zechariah, and Meshullam on his left hand.

And now for verse 7:

Also Jeshua, Bani, Sherebiah, Jamin, Akkub, Shabbethai, Hodiah, Maaseiah [wasn’t he on the other side in verse 4?], Kelita, Azariah, Jozabad, Hanan, Pelaiah, the Levites, helped the people to understand the law, while the people remained in their places.

You know, this is the first year these two verses have been omitted. I used to so look forward to the Third Sunday after the Epiphany, Year C, because some poor lay reader had to make his or her way through – and I think we can all agree on this description – these unpronouncable names. There are not a lot of perks in the clergy business, and they just took away another one. I remember one time years ago when a seasoned reader stood at the lectern and said,

Ezra stood on a wooden platform that had been made for the purpose; and beside him stood some guys on his right hand and some other guys on his left hand.

Well, it is sad that these moments of improvisation and torture are no more.

Removing the reading of all those names does not diminish the fact that this passage is an important Old Testament lesson. It speaks about a spiritual struggle we still engage today and while it takes place nearly five centuries before Jesus’ ministry, there is something about it that feels like a New Testament moment.

Let me give you some background. The temple and the walls around Jerusalem were in ruins when exiles returned from Babylon in the closing years of the 6th century BC. Leaders like Nehemiah and Ezra the priest soon rallied the people to engage in a huge public restoration project. During the course of this work someone uncovered ancient scrolls of scripture.

These were and are the words of God and, because the exiles were not allowed to take the scrolls to Babylon, no one had read them or heard them read for nearly two generations. While in exile the Jewish people carried on with their faith traditions as best they could based on their memories. But memories can be faulty. Huge gaps in the faith tradition can go undetected while what are minor points can be overemphasized almost to a fault.

So once the city’s wall was repaired, it was time to do some repair work on the human soul. All the people gather around. Ezra reads and he chooses a couple dozen leaders to lead what are essentially small group discussions so that the people understand fully what they hear.

And here is what they heard: there was a huge gap between who they were and who God wanted them to be. Theirs is a timeless struggle we still engage today. There will always, always, always be a gap between who we are and who God wants us to be.

I had a friend in high school who went out for the track team in the high jump. He worked very hard at it day in and day out. We were at a huge meet and he represented our school. Before his event began, I found him, and wished him luck. He looked very dejected. Because this meet attracted the best athletes for miles around, the bar for the starting jump was set at 5’8”. My friend’s best jump ever was 5’4”. There was no way he was going to make it out of the opening round. Those four inches might as well have been four miles. It was a gap he simply could not overcome.

If you can imagine how he felt at that moment then you can understand how the people in Jerusalem felt the day when they heard God’s word read aloud. They were good and faithful people trying their best to do what they imagined God wanted them to do. But then, in an instance, in a holy, sacred moment, they learned just how far away they were from living lives that actually pleased God according the standard set by Scripture. And, in their minds, the gap between what they were doing and what they learned God expected was overwhelming.

Into this moment steps Ezra the priest. When the people became aware of the gap they wept, they mourned, and they fell into despair. They forgot about the how God had brought them back from exile. They forgot about the rebuilding they were doing. They focused only, solely, entirely on the gap.

Now I don’t want to minimize the sins and shortcoming of those folks gathered back in the day. I don’t want to say that it was unimportant. I don’t want to say that the people should just ignore it. Somehow, someway, they had to come to grips with their behavior and move forward. Ezra knew this, for sure, but notice what he does. He calls for a party! He calls for a celebration… a celebration of all that is good and godly in who the people are. It is to be a celebration rooted first and foremost in God’s love. Look at what Ezra says, “This day that we have seen the gap is a holy day. Do not be grieved. The joy of the Lord is our strength.” That is New Testament theology.

I once heard a pastor pronounce the absolution of sin after confession with these words:

“By the grace of God we are not what we once were.”
By the love of God we are who we are.
And we are not yet what we one day will be.”
That is “joy of the Lord” thinking and no person of honest faith can make his or her way in life without it.

Those of us who live in the joy of the Lord know that God meets us where we are, as we are – gaps and all. We know that God loves us where we are, as we are – gaps and all. And we know how God’s love shapes and molds us into a more faithful way of being. In a few moments we will receive communion. The name of the service is not “The Great Groveling before God because We are Unworthy Sinners.” The title of the service in the prayer book is “The Great Thanksgiving.” And we don’t perform the service in penitence, we “celebrate” it for it is the best food and finest wine of the week.

I think back to my high school friend. That meet came early in the season. He did not give up on the high jump or on himself. He kept at it day in and day out, meet after meet, working to get better. And do you know what, by the end of the season he was clearing 5’8” with ease. There is a parable in that story for us today. It calls us to know the gap in our lives by understanding scripture, to acknowledge that the gap exists, to celebrate what we can do, and to allow God’s grace to work on what we can’t. I don’t know what Maaseiah and the others told the small groups they led, but if I had been in charge of one, this is what I would have told them.