In the name of God, Merciful Father, Compassionate Son, Spirit of Wisdom. Amen.
Congratulations! After months of searching and careful deliberations the committee has selected you to receive the Servant of God prize… not for anything you’ve done – but for what you’re called to be.
You are called to be – God’s child, what you already are. You are called to be – his partner in service. You are called to be – his disciple, following his way.
You are called to inherit eternal life. You are called to be – a saint.
“The only tragedy is not to be a saint.”— Leon Bloy said it; my teacher Donald Nicholl used to love to quote that.
A saint? How can I be a saint? How can anyone be a saint?
That’s what the rich man wanted to know. That’s what the disciples wanted to know.
Jesus looked at them and said, ‘For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.’ (Mark 10:27)
A saint is not a person who is perfect – who has made it on their own – but a person who has trusted God, whatever their life circumstances.
A saint is one who is consecrated, set apart, for the service and worship of God.
A saint is one who dwells in the tabernacle of the holy, who lives within God's love.
And sometimes that is all we are - and all we have.
Job, that righteous man, stood naked before God: like King Lear buffeted by adversities (though not of his own making, Job’s daughters not being Lear’s) he voices his complaint even to the winds of the storm.
“Today also my complaint is bitter; his hand is heavy despite my groaning.” (Job 23:1)
Job feels no presence – just absence – as he tries to get a hearing with God.
“If I go forward, he is not there; or backward, I cannot perceive him; on the left, he hides, and I cannot behold him; I turn to the right, but I cannot see him.”
As Herb O’Driscoll pointed out, it’s ironically reverse from a familiar hymn:
Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me.
The psalm too, presents us with a man undone, laid bare to the eyes of all – and most of all, to the one who will be our judge.
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1)
It is the cry of the Exile, the cry of the homeless, the destitute; it is the cry of the powerless, the cry of the Holocaust. And it is the cry of Jesus on the Cross.
It is the cry of one utterly bereft of resources, completely unable to make it on his own.
How does it feel to be on your own?
“O my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer; by night as well, but I find no rest.” (Psalm 22:2)
And yet – we are not alone. God has called us, not to try to make it on our own, not to try even to earn our way into the kingdom of heaven. He has only called us to walk with him.
He has not called us to be perfect: he has called us to follow him on the way.
And he will walk with us, and help us find the way.
Herb O’Driscoll reminds us of C. S. Lewis’s observation that our faith does not provide us with a map for the journey forward; it simply gives us a compass – a directional aid.
So often we expect the future to be simply an extension of the past.
We may picture history, past present future, as like a map spread out before us – or a picture of Earth seen from out in space, turning toward the sun, with some of it already lit, some still in shadow. The line between that moves with the sun is called the ‘shadow line’.
The lit-up part is the past: we can see the roads, the bridges, the mountains and the passes through them. We can see where we have come from. That’s nice – it feels secure. Whatever the road was like, we know what it looks like.
Now – looking to the future is like trying to look past the ‘shadow line’ on a distant planet, or the moon: what is lit up is easy to see – the features can be discerned – but what is in the dark, not yet revealed, because the sun of the present has not touched it yet, is hidden from our view. We do not know what is happening – we do not know the way. We only know we have our guide with us, our faith-compass in our hand, and our road before us. We must step forward – in faith.
Thomas Merton, in his book Thoughts in Solitude, offered this prayer:
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.
We don’t know. That’s the peril of it – and the glory. What must I do to gain eternal life?
What, in effect, did Jesus say to the man who ran up and knelt before him?
You must let go, my friend, and know that indeed you stand naked before God and answer to him, that you cannot make it on your own. Follow him.
Follow Christ.
Follow the one ‘who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.’ (Hebrews 4:15-16)
It’s a hard road, but a true one. It leads to life.
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.’ (Mark 8:34-35, 37, 36)
Most High, all-powerful, good Lord,
Yours are the praises, the glory, and the honor and all blessing.
To You alone, Most High, do they belong
and no human is worthy to mention Your name.
Most High, glorious God, enlighten the darkness of my heart
and give me true faith, certain hope and perfect charity,
sense and knowledge, Lord, that I may carry out
Your holy and true command. Amen.
(Prayers of St Francis of Assisi)
O Christ, the master carpenter, who at the last, through wood and nails, purchased our whole salvation, wield well your tools in the workshop of your world, so that we who come rough-hewn to your bench may here be fashioned to a truer beauty of your hand. We ask it for your own name’s sake. Amen.
(Prayer for our own reshaping, from the Iona Community)
St Alban's Episcopal Church, Edmonds, Wash.,
October 11, 2009.
JRL
Sources and inspirations include "The Word Today" by Herbert O'Driscoll (Toronto: Anglican Book Centre) and the Franciscans' website www.ofm.org for Francis' prayers.
+
Showing posts with label BProper23. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BProper23. Show all posts
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sunday, October 12, 2003
science fair
When I was in sixth grade, and my brother Dave
was in fourth grade, we came up with a project
for the school science fair. Each of us had a pet
rat and we built a maze out of cardboard, put
cheese at one end of it, and then set them in the
other end. My rat, Herman, needed a nudge. Dave's
rat, Henry, would race through the maze to the
other end and get the cheese. Eventually Herman
got the message and he'd go racing through too.
By then Henry figured out he could jump up on top
of the maze and scamper across it and then
descend on the cheese. They got their cheese --
and we got first prize.
A few years ago a friend recommended a management
book, by the author of "The One Minute Manager",
entitled "Who moved my cheese?" In it, he took
the experiment a step further. What if, once the
rats had learned the maze, you moved the cheese?
In his management fable there were also two rats.
When they ran through the maze and got to the end
and found that their cheese had been moved, they
had different reactions. One rat just hunkered
down to wait for the cheese to come back. The
other had the gumption to accept change and move
on: he went looking for the cheese in a new
place. The author extolled the virtue of the
second rat.
[I remember when I was in Boy Scouts a couple of
years after the science fair, on my first campout
I wanted to cut some wood. But they told me, you
have to have a totin' chip. A totin' chip? A card
that certified that you'd been checked out on the
equipment for safety, and maintenance, and
handling. Then they'd sign off on a card, called
a totin' chip, and then and only then you could
use an ax. So I took the training, got the chip,
and got the ax and cut some wood.]
Years later, after college, I applied for the
ordination process. They gave me a checklist of
the things I had to do before I could see the
bishop. I made my way down the checklist and got
everything done. Then I wrote to the bishop
requesting an interview with him in his office in
San Francisco.
Well, let me tell you. His answer surprised me.
He wrote back, and he said, we're splitting the
diocese and you'll need to go see the new bishop
of El Camino Real down in Monterey. They'd moved
my cheese 120 miles!
Jesus tells us a story this morning (Mark
10:17-27) of a rich man who had kept all the
commandments, and went to Jesus. He felt he had
earned his cheese. What must I do -- what more
must I do -- to inherit eternal life? he asked.
What else do I have to do to enter the kingdom of
heaven?
Well, let me tell you. Jesus' answer surprised
him. He said, it's not about the cheese.
Why don't you give away the cheese, and come and
follow me. The rich man went away, shocked and
sad. He figured he had a lot of cheese coming.
In those days wealth was seen as a sign of God's
blessing. There are even references in the
gospels to "the pharisees who were lovers of
money" (Luke 16:10-15). But Jesus admonished
them, do not become a slave to your wealth.
And so, this rich man, who thought he had
everything, with the possible exception of a
gold-plated Hummer, was ready to cash it all in
for the big prize. And Jesus told him what he
sought wasn't the prize at all.
What he thought was the prize was instead a
provision. It's not about the cheese.
It's not even about the bread and the wine. Those
are provisions for us in our new life in Christ.
They not only feed us but they transform us.
The bread and wine become for us the body and
blood of Christ. We become through them the body
of Christ, God's faithful people acting as his
hands and arms and eyes, in the world. We are
made new creatures, members now of that heavenly
kingdom, an inheritance which we have not earned
but which we receive as a gift. Eternal life
starts now, when we give up the cheese, and open
our hands and hearts to receive something better.
Notes for a Sermon for St Patrick's Church, Kenwood, Calif.
Sunday, October 12, 2003
Year B
18 Pentecost (Proper 23)
Mark 10:17-27
was in fourth grade, we came up with a project
for the school science fair. Each of us had a pet
rat and we built a maze out of cardboard, put
cheese at one end of it, and then set them in the
other end. My rat, Herman, needed a nudge. Dave's
rat, Henry, would race through the maze to the
other end and get the cheese. Eventually Herman
got the message and he'd go racing through too.
By then Henry figured out he could jump up on top
of the maze and scamper across it and then
descend on the cheese. They got their cheese --
and we got first prize.
A few years ago a friend recommended a management
book, by the author of "The One Minute Manager",
entitled "Who moved my cheese?" In it, he took
the experiment a step further. What if, once the
rats had learned the maze, you moved the cheese?
In his management fable there were also two rats.
When they ran through the maze and got to the end
and found that their cheese had been moved, they
had different reactions. One rat just hunkered
down to wait for the cheese to come back. The
other had the gumption to accept change and move
on: he went looking for the cheese in a new
place. The author extolled the virtue of the
second rat.
[I remember when I was in Boy Scouts a couple of
years after the science fair, on my first campout
I wanted to cut some wood. But they told me, you
have to have a totin' chip. A totin' chip? A card
that certified that you'd been checked out on the
equipment for safety, and maintenance, and
handling. Then they'd sign off on a card, called
a totin' chip, and then and only then you could
use an ax. So I took the training, got the chip,
and got the ax and cut some wood.]
Years later, after college, I applied for the
ordination process. They gave me a checklist of
the things I had to do before I could see the
bishop. I made my way down the checklist and got
everything done. Then I wrote to the bishop
requesting an interview with him in his office in
San Francisco.
Well, let me tell you. His answer surprised me.
He wrote back, and he said, we're splitting the
diocese and you'll need to go see the new bishop
of El Camino Real down in Monterey. They'd moved
my cheese 120 miles!
Jesus tells us a story this morning (Mark
10:17-27) of a rich man who had kept all the
commandments, and went to Jesus. He felt he had
earned his cheese. What must I do -- what more
must I do -- to inherit eternal life? he asked.
What else do I have to do to enter the kingdom of
heaven?
Well, let me tell you. Jesus' answer surprised
him. He said, it's not about the cheese.
Why don't you give away the cheese, and come and
follow me. The rich man went away, shocked and
sad. He figured he had a lot of cheese coming.
In those days wealth was seen as a sign of God's
blessing. There are even references in the
gospels to "the pharisees who were lovers of
money" (Luke 16:10-15). But Jesus admonished
them, do not become a slave to your wealth.
And so, this rich man, who thought he had
everything, with the possible exception of a
gold-plated Hummer, was ready to cash it all in
for the big prize. And Jesus told him what he
sought wasn't the prize at all.
What he thought was the prize was instead a
provision. It's not about the cheese.
It's not even about the bread and the wine. Those
are provisions for us in our new life in Christ.
They not only feed us but they transform us.
The bread and wine become for us the body and
blood of Christ. We become through them the body
of Christ, God's faithful people acting as his
hands and arms and eyes, in the world. We are
made new creatures, members now of that heavenly
kingdom, an inheritance which we have not earned
but which we receive as a gift. Eternal life
starts now, when we give up the cheese, and open
our hands and hearts to receive something better.
Notes for a Sermon for St Patrick's Church, Kenwood, Calif.
Sunday, October 12, 2003
Year B
18 Pentecost (Proper 23)
Mark 10:17-27
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)