Post It Notes & Ash Wednesday

 

Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

Ash Wednesday

Years ago a man working for the 3M Corporation invented a kind of sticky paste whose properties allowed one thing stick to another thing and then be peeled off without harming either thing or leaving behind any residue.  No one could think of a useful application for this paste and so it became just another idea buried in some file drawer.  3M thought so little of the invention they didn’t even bother to take out a patent on it. 

Well, one person believed the paste might be useful for office notes.  So he bought the rights to the sticky stuff for a little bit of money and began to market a product he called “Post-It Notes.”  The rest, as they say, is history.  Now we all use these little yellow pieces of paper to remind us of various things we don’t want to forget: phone numbers, appointments, grocery lists, etc.

Today, Ash Wednesday, might be called the “Post-It Note” day of the liturgical year.  We come here today/tonight because we want to remember something.  In a few moments I will take ashes, mark the sign of the Cross on your forehead, and say, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”  Think of it as an ancient, spiritual Post-It Note with a message you should not forget.

I hear people say, “I can’t wait for Christmas,” or “I’m ready for Easter,” but I have never heard anyone say, “I am really looking forward to Lent,” or, “Gee, isn’t it wonderful Lent is finally here.”  Lent, with its Post-It Note reminder we are dust and will someday return from whence we came, is about as welcome and refreshing as an ice-cold shower.  We spend our lives trying to feel good about things, trying to get as much out of the moment as possible, and trying to stay focused on the positive.  The Ash Wednesday Post-It Note runs against everything we are trying to do.  When I put the ashes on you and ask you to remember you are dust, there has got to be at least a small voice inside you whispering, “Thank you Father Keith for that piece of cheery news.”

One question we might want to ask is this: what is the danger of forgetting we are dust?  What happens if we miss the Post-It Note or simply avoid its reminder?  And what difference does it make if we are mindful of this truth and vigilant to its implications?

If we forget we run the risk of thinking time will never run out on us.  We put off until it is too late the things of ultimate concern.  If we forget we lose sight of our limitations and become frustrated with our imperfections.  If we don’t embrace we are dust we miss out on an essential connection to the world around us.  Ultimately, if we forget we do not recognize a fundamental part of our make-up.  We end up trying to be something else… something we are not.  We lose sight of our calling, our purpose, our capacities, and our limitations.

For Christians Lent begins with a disruptive and deeply disturbing message which abruptly interrupts the richness and pleasures of day-to-day living.  Lent begins with the grim reminder we are dust, but it moves forward with an invitation to a journey.  One image of Lent is that of a pilgrimage.  A pilgrimage is a journey to a holy place undertaken with a devotional manner.  For Christians the sacred journey of Lent looks like prayer and fasting, and committing oneself to acts of charity and occasions of public worship.  While the journey may not take us to a far off holy destination, it leads us on a spiritual path to the Cross and empty Tomb.

As you make your Lenten pilgrimage this year I invite you to do so with today’s Post-It Note kept squarely before you.  As with every pilgrimage, you always know where you are going… be it a holy place like Jerusalem or a holy moment like Easter Sunday.  The thing you don’t know about a pilgrimage is how it will affect you.  Even though you know your destination, you cannot predict who you will be when you get there.  The people you meet along the way, the prayers you utter, the way God’s Spirit speaks through the biblical lessons you read, the wonders you see, and the dangers you engage all work together to reshape you on your pilgrim’s way. 

Post-It Note: We are dust and to dust we will one day return.  But God is a potter who fashions and refashions our dust when we place ourselves in God’s skilled hands.  We begin our Lenten journey by remembering we are only dust.  We engage our Lenten journey by putting our dust in the hands of Master Artisan.  We trust when our pilgrimage is complete God will have shaped our dust in a way which allows us to be more like who God has created us to be. 

 

 

Jesus the Introvert

 

Mark 1:29-39

Epiphany 5 / Year B

We minister types refer to it as the “clergy coma.”  It is what happens to us on Sunday afternoons after a very full and busy morning at the church.  We go home and we collapse.  Multiple services, education programs, and people coming at us from all directions with all manner of concerns:

s  An update on a person in the hospital.

s  A question about the order of the procession.

s  Feedback on what the bishop is reported to have said or done.

s  A comment on an item for the Vestry agenda.

s  Anxiety about someone who has not been in church for a couple of weeks.

You get the idea.  And the more introverted a priest is by nature the more worn out she or he will be after all of Sunday morning’s activities are over.

If you have ever taken the Myers-Briggs personality inventory than you know the preference of introversion verses extroversion is all about energy – what drains you and what restores you.  Extroverts are energized by large crowds, speaking in front of people, and generally (from my point of view) living in the midst of chaos.  More than anything else, extroverts are exhausted by being alone.  I once worked for a priest who would do anything other than close his office door and write an article for the monthly newsletter.  That, for him, was torture.  We had three services each Sunday morning and by the time the last one ended, he had more get-up-and-go than the energizer bunny.  Me, not so much. 

Introverts tend to enjoy reading, coding, painting, and/or writing; activities one tends to do on one’s own.  We prefer to work alone rather than being a part of a group project.  You will find us hanging out in the corner at large social gatherings.  At Chanco clergy retreats the introverts gather outside out on the porch rather than in a noisy crowded room.  We tend to leave (escape) parties early, but (according to Myers-Brigs) I am off the charts extroverted in small, intimate settings and therefore tend to be the last person to leave the campfire at Clergy retreats. 

So here is a question: was Jesus an introvert?  Well, more than one introvert has said yes and written a book or an article to argue why.  You need look no farther than this morning’s gospel reading for evidence to support their thesis.  Jesus has had a hectic day.  He attends the local synagogue with his small band of followers.  He is asked to preach and teach, and what he says is well-received.  Then a man possessed by a demon becomes unhinged and Jesus confronts the situation.  Afterward he goes to Peter’s house for a Sabbath meal and learns the disciple’s mother-in-law has a fever.  Jesus takes her by the hand and lifts her up.  With this, as with the demon before, the fever leaves her.  The text then tells this:

“At sundown they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons.  And the whole city was gathered around the door.  And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons.” 

If you are an introvert by nature, this is a sure-fire recipe for a clergy coma!  Crowds.  Chaos.  No place to escape from it all.  This is not to say Jesus (or introverted clergy) don’t want to preach, teach, and heal.  He did and we do.  It is to say all of this activity leaves Jesus somewhere between drained and exhausted.  He gets some sleep and then rises while it is still ‘very dark’.  He slips away to what the text describes as a deserted place.  He is alone and wants to be alone… needs to be alone in a way extroverts don’t. 

In her book, The Powerful Purpose of Introverts, Holly Gerth explains why this is so necessary for Jesus and for those of us who are introverts:

When we turn inward, we’re not withdrawing or holding back; we’re choosing to show up in a sacred space of creativity, contemplation, and imagination.  Our inner worlds are where insights, innovations, breakthroughs, solutions, and intimate connections with God originate.

Extroverts experience the same things, they just get there in a different way.  They rely on group process and discover by talking things out.  They draw energy from communal settings because they relish being a part of the whole.  Jesus was able to minister to the whole because he made time and space to be alone… to pray.

Most Episcopal worship is an introvert’s dream, save for passing the peace.  Our liturgy invites you to go inward in order to hear God’s still, quiet voice.  We are not dancing to a praise band, clapping our hands, shouting ‘amen’, or dancing in the aisles (except when the Jazz Band is here).  Just as introverts need to be with people from time-time-time, extroverts need at least a little time to be alone with God.

There is in each of us a secret inner wisdom, a voice (if you will), which tells us things we need to hear, but never will if we don’t go from time-to-time to a deserted place.  This can be daunting and draining for extroverts, but it is work you need to do.  For us introverts, being in such a space is a natural as breathing.  At least once a day, Cindy will walk into my office, observe I am doing nothing, and ask what I am up to.  My response, “I’m thinking about Jesus!”  I encourage you to do the same.  Carve out a space – it doesn’t have to be long – where all you are doing is thinking about Jesus.  It’s good for you.

Get-Right Day

 

Mark 1:21-28

Epiphany 4 / Year B

Many of you will recall when the house behind us on Saratoga St. was used as a halfway home for some folks who, for various reasons, could not live on their own.  A few of the residents became regular clients of our food pantry and you may remember Reggie who attended Sunday services and lots of coffee, which, due to digestive issues, he was not supposed to have.

And then there was Mr. Johnson who was not permitted to leave the house, but ‘escaped’ from time to time.  One Sunday morning between services there was a wild pounding on the Parish Hall doors.  It was Mr. Johnson and he was ranting that the lady who ran the house was trying to kill him.  Well, some of you managed to get him settled down while I went across the street and fetched the supervisor.  She came over, corralled Mr. Johnson, and gave him a firm talking to as she escorted him out of our building.

Guess what happened the very next Sunday, again between services.  You got it.  There was a beating at the door and it was… Mr. Johnson complaining loudly once again the supervisor was trying to kill him.  This time I did not welcome him into the building, but started walking him through the parking lot and back to his home.  “She’s gonna kill me,” he protested.  “Oh,” I said light-heartedly, in an attempt to calm him down, “now you know she is not going to do that.”  But over and over and rather boisterously he professed an unwavering belief his life was in danger.  Finally, and fed up, I said with some force (loud enough, at least, for a person in the bank parking lot to hear), “Listen, she is not going to kill you, but if you come back over here again and pound on our door, I just might!”  I glanced over at the person at the bank and, from the expression on his face, could tell this is not something he expected to hear come out of the mouth of a person wearing a clergy collar!

This morning we read from Mark’s gospel about Jesus’ first public appearance after his baptism.  It is the Sabbath and he and his new followers go to the local Synagogue.  Just as we do here, he wanted to be a setting where he could worship, pray, read from Holy Scripture, and gather as a community in a peaceful setting.  Mark tells us on that day Jesus was asked to be what we would call the preacher.  The text does not tell us a single thing about the content of what he said, only that those present are amazed by the authority he exhibits while teaching. 

And then comes what we might call the Mr. Johnson moment.  Demons have possessed a man at the Synagogue and they cry out to Jesus: “What do you have to do with us?”  A more literal translation is “Why can’t you just let things be?” “Have you come to destroy us?”  “I know who you are.”

Why can’t Jesus let things be?  Because he is not going to allow anything to impede human flourishing.  He is going to teach God’s word so that we who listen might understand, and in understanding be empowered to think and do those things that are right.  He is going to banish anything and everything which might hold us back, drag us down, lock us up, or tie us in knots.  This is Kingdom work and, as we heard Jesus proclaim in last week’s reading, the Kingdom of God has come near.  This means every other kingdom, every other realm, every other dominion, every other power is being supplanted; now, in part, one day in full.

Suppose we were to spend some time pondering this reading and think about what it says to us and to our church.  Suppose it was the only Scripture we had to draw upon to gain a sense of identity and purpose.  Suppose from it we had to craft a mission statement.  What would it be?  I contemplated this for a while this past week and here is what I have come up with:

Come as you are,

leave as God intends for you to be.

And God intends for this particular person to be free from of all that possesses him.  With just a few words, spoken with authority, it happens: “Be silent, and come out of him.”  And with this the Mr. Johnson moment is over once and for all.  All present, who I suspect have seen the demons speak out many times before, are amazed, stunned I would say.

Word about this and other things Jesus does spreads throughout the region.  As Jesus journeys from town-to-town, locals expect it to be showtime… “Do here what you did in Capernaum.”  But for Jesus it is not showtime, it is get-right time.  He has come to help folks get right with God, with their community, with their family, and with themselves. 

You are here this morning and perhaps you sense the presence of Jesus in this place.  Perhaps you hear his message and respond in the silence of your heart, “Why can’t you just let things be?”  Jesus answers, “Because today is your get-right day!”

Come as you are,

leave as God intends for you to be.

When the Going Gets Tough...

 

Mark 1:14-20

Epiphany 3 / Year B

“After John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God.”

Somewhere around the turn of the last century a football coach is said to have told his team, “When the going gets tough… the tough get going.”  The first printed reference of this quote appeared in the Corpus Christi Times in 1953, again referencing a speech by a local football coach.  Since then, any number of people in any number of fields, from business leaders to motivational speakers to clergy like me, has drawn on it to inspire people facing challenging circumstances.

Now, certainly Jesus didn’t know the expression, “when the going gets tough…”, but he did have this to draw on from the Book of Proverbs:

The wicked flee when no one pursues,

  but the righteous are bold as a lion.  (28:1)

Perhaps this is why, on learning his cousin John the Baptist has been arrested, Jesus decides to return to Galilee – the very region ruled by John’s imprisoner. 

From the outset of his story, everything in Mark’s gospel happens quickly.  It begins not with a birth narrative, like Mathew and Luke, but with a title:

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

It then launches into the message John proclaims at the Jordon River.  At verse 9 Jesus appears and is baptized.  It takes Mark just five verses to tell us about this moment and how immediately afterward Jesus goes out into the wilderness to be tempted.  The comes verse 14 with the information Jesus returns to Galilee, his home, after learning of John’s arrest.

Now, we would not be surprised if Jesus went back and laid low; doing everything possible to keep his neck out of the noose.  Heck, we wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed as far away from Galilee as possible; a lesson he would have learned from his father, who upon returning from exile in Egypt and learning Herod’s son is ruling over the region of Bethlehem, takes his family to Galilee in order to be out of harm’s way.  And while we might think it unwise, we would not be completely shocked if Jesus went back home to call out the injustice of John’s arrest.  Jesus does none of these things.

Here is what he does:

“Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’”

Good news?  When John has been arrested?  When Roman soldiers brutally occupy the land?  When self-serving religious leaders fleece the flock rather than tend to it?  How can anyone talk about good news when bad news is rampant?  Well, Jesus can talk about it because he knows God is beginning to do something special.  He can feel deep in his spirit; a spirit which has been filled with the Holy Spirit.  The kingdom of God has come near, he says, and nothing can be more consequential and restorative than this.

This passage provides a wonderful lens through which we can reflect on where we are as parish at the occasion of our Annual Meeting.  Each of your wardens – Joby and Bill – present a similar theme in their reports to you.  They write about our building and attendance challenges, acknowledging the impact each has had on the Vestry’s morale.  This is the bad news.  The good news is found in eight new acolytes, an active youth group, beautiful, inspiring music from the organ and choir, enthusiastic hospitality after church, a talented and dedicated staff, faithful lay volunteers, the financial boost we receive from a well-managed, well-funded endowment, your financial generosity… I could go on and on.  This is the message I want to proclaim to you as we begin 2024 (the 382^nd year of our existence): the kingdom of God is near.

Yes, it is the same message Jesus brought to Galilee.  And he knows while he may be the standard bearer of the good news, but he cannot be the only one to announce it.  He begins to gather followers who will learn to live into the good news so more and more people will be caught up in it.  We need people here to live into the good news which is God’s presence in our midst.

If truth be told, three years from now, when Jesus is crucified, by objective standards very little will have changed.  Yes, a few people will have been healed, a handful of demons will have been banished, several thousand people will have heard Jesus teach, but the bad news will still remain.  Only through the power of the Resurrection and the imparting of the Holy Spirit will a mighty movement arise which will change the world.  We pray as we remain faithful to the good news in our lives God’s Spirit will rise up and lighten this darkened world of ours. 

When the going gets tough… the tough proclaim good news!

Transforming a Worldview

 

John 1:43-51

Epiphany 2 / Year B

Today’s Gospel reading is tantalizing both for what it tells and for what it does not.  It tells us Philip links Jesus to a long expected prophetic promise, but it does not tell us how or why he makes this connection.  It just reports Jesus says ‘follow me’ and Philip follows. 

But before (or perhaps as) he follows, Philip tracks down Nathanael to let him know what is happening.  On hearing where Jesus is from, Nathanael utters his famous quip, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”  Philip replies with a less famous, but very significant response, “Come and see.” 

In Philip and Nathanael we have examples of two distinctive ways of operating in the world.  Philip is open to possibilities.  He sees people for who they are.  He is drawn to their inner qualities.  Nathanael, on the other hand, makes snap judgments about people based on old and often unfounded stereotypes.  He has an “us and them” outlook which divides people into two groups – those who are like me and those who are not.  He has a tribal mentality.

Who are you more like, Philip or Nathanael?  I am a little like both.  In my better moments I recognize the humanity of people, even if they are very different from me.  But, there are times when I look down my nose at folks who I suspect don’t measure up to my standards.

The Dalai Lama said this:

In today’s interconnected and globalized world, it is now commonplace for people of dissimilar world views, faiths and races to live side by side.  It is a matter of great urgency, therefore, that we find ways to cooperate with one another in a spirit of mutual acceptance and respect…  Whether one is rich or poor, educated or illiterate, religious or non-believing, man or woman, black, white, or brown, we are all the same.  Physically, emotionally, and mentally, we are all equal.  We all share basic needs for food, shelter, safety, and love.  We all aspire to happiness and we all shun suffering.  Each of us has hopes, worries, fears, and dreams.  Each of us wants the best for our family and loved ones.  We all experience pain when we suffer loss and joy when we achieve what we seek.  On this fundamental level, religion, ethnicity, culture, and language make no difference.

Philip, I think, gets this.  Nathanael does not… at first.  Upon meeting him, Jesus says of Nathanael, “Here is a person lacking guile.”  Asked how he knows this, Jesus relates he saw Nathanael earlier when he was sitting under a fig tree.  Well, whatever this is all about, it is all Nathanael needs to know to be convinced: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God, the King of Israel.”  It is as if his eyes are opened and all his prejudices and preconceived ideas melt away.

This exact transformation is something we must work for and pray for in today’s world.  It is no longer possible to live in a community where everyone else thinks and acts and looks like you.  Archbishop Desmond Tutu said this:

We must embrace our differences, even celebrate our diversity.  We must glory in the fact God created each of us as unique human beings.  God created us different, but God did not create us for separation.  God created us different that we might recognize our need for one another.  We must reverence our uniqueness, reverence everything that makes us what we are: our language, our culture, our religious tradition.

Philip knew this.  Upon meeting Jesus, Nathanael discovered it.

Tutu goes on:

We are made for goodness.  We are made for love.  We are made for friendliness.  We are made for togetherness.  We are made for all the beautiful things that you and I know.  We are made to tell the world there are no outsiders.  All are welcome… We all belong to this family, this human family, God’s family.

In this season of Epiphany we celebrate God’s light coming more and more into the world.  And we yearn and strain to be followers, disciples, children of the light.  And as Jesus promised Nathanael, we too, as we allow the light of God’s love dwell in us, will see angels descend and ascend on all we do. 

Baptism & Acceptance

 

Mark 1:4-11

Epiphany 1 / Year B

Earlier this week, the Episcopal News Service posted a story about two priests in the Diocese of West Virginia.  What did they do to warrant the attention of the faithful?  Start a new outreach ministry?  No.  Baptize fifty people at a single service?  Not quite.  Write a new Christmas carol?  Hardly.  So what then did they do to be noteworthy?  Well, while watching the Duke’s Mayo college bowl game, they took offense when the announcers put mayonnaise on a pepperoni roll (apparently West Virginians have strong feeling about their favorite foods).  So the two priests, who both serve in the diocesan office, took to Facebook with their complaints, which in and of itself, does not merit comment.  However, their post, as they say, went viral and received over 13,000 responses.  This the Episcopal News Service deemed to be worthy of a report.  

David Lose, a Lutheran pastor and seminary professor, observes we live in a culture where people crave affirmation.  He cites social media as one manifestation of this.  How many ‘friends’ do you have?  How many ‘likes’ did your last post receive?  How many ‘hearts’ did the picture your dog get?  Some on social media give only a passing thought to this while others are obsessed by it.  Wherever you fall on this scale, we seek affirmation because we are social creatures.  We want to be noticed.  We want to believe our life matters to others.  We want to be liked.

Lose contends being on social media crates the perception we are surrounded by a like-minded community of people who value us.  He asks why then does research reveal people today report feeling simultaneously more connected and lonelier than ever.  His answer, while we crave affirmation, what we need is acceptance.

Acceptance, Lose contends, is not the same thing as fitting in; a skill we learn as children and draw on time and again as adults.  In order to fit in we change ourselves so we will be accepted in our various peer groups.  This helps to explain why we may present ourselves one way at church and a totally different way with, say, our bridge partners or bowling buddies.  It can be a lot of work to act up or act out who you suppose you are supposed to be.  To be accepted means you are absolutely valued for who you are just as you are.

Which brings us to the baptism of Jesus.  As he emerges from under the Jordon’s waters he hears God’s voice, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”  Coming just a few verses into the beginning of Mark’s gospel, we are given not even a hint of what Jesus has done to deserve such status.  As David Lose writes, this much we do know: “Wrapped up in these words of acceptance are the blessings of identity, worth, and unwavering regard.”

This new self-awareness, along with receiving the Holy Spirit, empowers Jesus to launch into his public ministry of preaching, teaching, and healing.  Is there a connection between a sense of acceptance and a pursuit of mission; a connection between baptism and the “blessings of identity, worth, and unwavering regard”?  You bet there is. 

I am so very proud of our teenagers who about a year ago identified food insecurity as something important to them.  Over time, meeting with young people from Main Street Methodist and Suffolk Presbyterian churches, the group got excited about participating in a nation-wide movement known as “The Lil’ Food Pantry.”  Based on the concept of the lending library box, but focused on food, its motto is “Take What You Need, Leave What You Can.”  Will Henderson and Graham Webb came before your Vestry to present the idea and ask for funding, which they received.  They then set out to build a pantry, which is now located just outside the door of the Parish Office.  Other young people have thought through how they can publicize this new ministry so the community knows it is here to help and here to be stocked. 

I am inspired by the vision, dedication, enthusiasm, and effort of our teenagers.  Now, you may take these words as being rooted in affirmation, and most certainly those who have worked on this project (including Lee Cross) deserve to be noticed.  But for me, the praise I offer is grounded in acceptance.  Every person who seeks to live out the faith deserves our support and encouragement.  I am so encouraged God’s Spirit has moved and our young people have responded.

In just a moment we will renew our own Baptismal vows and promises.  We will remember what we have renounced (Satan, the world, and the self) and who we have embraced (Jesus, our Savior, Lord, and guide).  We will affirm the core of what we believe by rehearsing the Apostles’ Creed and we will recommit ourselves to the basic values and practices of the Christian life… with God’s help.

In this moment I hope you gain a sense of how deeply loved and accepted just as you are… not only by God, but also by your family in the faith.  And while the national religious media may not report on anything you ever do as you live out your faith, your life matters and your witness makes world a more loving place.  We are richer for all you do.  Thank you for the way and manner in which you live into your baptism. 

Knowing Who You Are Not

 

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Advent 3 / Year B

When I was in seminary, the first week of January was a thing unto itself.  On our third and final year, you took the General Ordination Exams.  The first year we were taught how to be lectors – a little class we referred to as “Read & Bleed.”  In our middle year we were schooled in the Sung Service; what we called “Rant & Chant.”  Thankfully, this class was pass/fail.  Show up every day for a week then turn in a cassette tape of yourself chanting and you pass.  When I got my tape back it had a post-it note attached to it by the professor.  It read simply, “You may want to practice more before you attempt to do this in public.”  Well, I have never practiced, nor have I ever led chanting in a service.

Here is a question rattling around in my head all week as I have pondered today’s gospel reading: How do you learn what you are not good at?  Put another way, how do you discover who you are not supposed to be?

One of the amazing things about John the Baptist is he knows who he is not.  The John the gospel writer tells us emphatically the Baptizer is not the light.  He is a witness to the light.  John himself says, “I am not the Messiah.”  When asked, he says, “I am not Elijah.”  “I am not a prophet.”  Was there a time when he considered he might be the Messiah or Elijah or a prophet?  Perhaps.  I wonder how he discerned who he wasn’t.  When asked, John famously states, “Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.”  Rather than a statement about humility, this too is a revelation about identity.   

In Levitical law, if a husband dies before his wife gives birth to a son, the husband’s brother is required to marry her in order to sire a son who will carry on the original husband’s name.  The brother is referred to as the ‘kinsman-redeemer’ because he redeems his kin’s name from death.  Now, if the brother refuses to take on this role and another person wishes to do so, that person takes the brother to the public square and in the presence of the elders takes a sandal off the foot of the one who will not do his duty.  By so doing, the willing person announces he will function as the kinsman-redeemer.  So when John says he is not worthy to untie the sandal of the one who is to come, he is saying, “I am not the redeemer, he is.”

Over my tenure of serving as your rector, we have been blessed to have two wonderful Music Directors/Organists – Al Reese and Thom Robertson.  We have not always been as fortunate.  In 1952 we hired Leroy Gross to fill this position.  Often referred to in the Vestry record as “Prof. Gross,” it seems he had a hard time getting along with folks.  He could not hold to spending limits, is divorced by his wife for desertion, takes up residence in the Parish House’s kitchen, and generally makes a pest of himself.  At one point he is told in writing by the Senior Warden to confine himself to the Music Room and not to interfere with the operations of the general offices.  Let your imagination run wild as you ponder what was going on!  In 1956 he resigns his position and the Music Committee hires his replacement – a Mrs. Thomas.  She prepares the choir and is ready to lead the hymns on her first Sunday, only to discover Prof. Gross at the organ bench.  He decides on his own and unannounced to unresign!  Whatever you might want to say about ol’ Leroy, he certainly is not the model of knowing who you are and who you are not. 

It occurs to me the times I have been most ineffective have been when I asserted myself into roles for which I was not well-suited.  It also occurs to me from a very young age we begin to learn who we are largely by weeding out who we are not.  My college chaplain told the story about teaching in a religion class on the Temple’s sacrificial system when a student passed out.  After revived, he said whenever he sees blood or even thinks about it he feels faint.  Then he added he needed to overcome this problem because he wanted to be a surgeon.

When I entered into the search process which eventually led to your calling me here, I considered want kind of church would be best for me to serve.  Out of college I worked as a lay minister at a huge church with three clergy and multiple full-time employees.  The two churches I served at as an assistant had an average Sunday attendance hovering around 300 people.  The two churches I served as rector averaged around 100 folks on Sunday.  I was the only priest and the only full-time employee.  Experts refer to this as a Pastoral size church. 

Now, many clergy in my position would have been looking to “move up”, to seek a bigger parish and the supposed prestige which accompanies it.  I wondered how do I know I would be happy in such place.  What if I don’t like directing staff and clergy?  I discerned I liked working in a Pastoral size church and that I understood its needs and unique dynamics.  And the rest, as they, is history.  Accepting your call has been one of the best decisions of my life.

We often talk about discovering who we are supposed to be and what we are supposed to do.  Equally important, but often flying under the radar, is ascertaining who we are not and what we are not called to do.  Through his clarity of self and place John the Baptist models this for us.  And because he knows who he is not he is ideally suited to be the voice in the wilderness pointing to the Light.