Do your ears tingle?

     Before I get started on where I felt led to preach to Advent this week, I need to address the low fruit that most other Christians will be hearing this week.  I share it not to be critical of other pastors—we each need to be preaching where we feel God is leading us in our congregations--, but I do think there will be the opportunity for us, members of the Church, to begin to reshape the dialogue regarding our political leaders.  I am, of course, referring to the fact that a wide array of pastors today will be preaching on the President’s comments regarding other countries.  It makes sense.  Nathanael sets that all up for us to go there by wondering whether anything good can come out of Nazareth.  Every colleague with whom I spoke or wrote this week intended to preach on it this morning.  That was not really a question.  The real question in their minds was whether they could say shithole countries from the pulpit and not cause heart attacks and shock in the pews.  Everyone agreed I could say it and not surprise any Adventers—I chose to take that as a compliment, as we know each other pretty well now--, but they struggled with how people would respond to earthy language being used by the preacher and quoting a President.  I guess none of them ever had to deal with LBJ’s language or the subject matter under President Clinton. . . . but that’s sermon for another time.

     I do recognize that many Christians are struggling with our current President, and I think rightfully so.  We have this strange habit of trying to select a President as “God’s choice,” and then we feel this incredible urge to defend everything they do as being done “in the name of God.”  I think I have made it pretty clear to you that we do not find our moral center in DC.  We find our moral center in the work and person of Jesus Christ.  Sometimes, when speaking of moral behavior and politicians in the same breath, I wonder if we are all on a foolish quest like Diogenes’s quest to find a wise man in the world when we seek moral behavior coupled with our elected officials.  And that is a question, I think, you can begin to ask around the water cooler, the coffee pot, the break room, or wherever these conversations will come up this week.  People vote for candidates that best align with their values.  But do we really think we have elected new messiahs?  New moral centers?  Should we really be shocked that our politicians say and do things that disappoint us?  Should we really defend them when they do and say those things that are morally offensive or against God’s revelation?  Maybe, if we really want moral politicians, we should hold them accountable and quit sending them back in light of such failings.  In time, they might take our concerns seriously, realizing we will vote them out, rather than simply pandering to us as if we are mindless and spineless idiots.

     Enough of that, though.  As I have said, that sermon comes up a lot in conversations around here.  Some years ago, I was in a conversation with a woman by the name of Benedicta Ward.  I had gone to Wycliffe Hall for some seminary work, and my bishop had strongly encouraged me to take her class on Medieval Mysticism.  Although parts of the class really bothered my ordered and sensible Western mind, some of her insights come back to me at the strangest times.  If her name sounds familiar to you, it should be.  As far as I know, she is still THE expert on the desert fathers, especially in Anglican circles.  I suppose some our Roman friends may claim others with a different pedigree, but Sister Benedicta takes a back seat to no one.

     We were chatting one day over the challenges of pastoring a church.  Benedicta was encouraging us ordinands to be mindful of God’s work in our people, in our parishes, and in the world.  She warned us we would have an incredible duty, but none were no more important than pointing out God’s work or presence in our daily life and work.

     By way of that, she shared a story.  I’ve never bothered to look it up, truth be told, but it captures a sentiment here in the West.  During the days of the desert fathers, younger monks would travel out to the stone pillars and other locations where the older monks, hermits really, lived in prayer and study.  For some time, a group of these younger monks would go and sit at the feet, somewhat literally, of a man named Abba Felix, Daddy Felix.  Daddy Felix was renowned for his wisdom, insight, and grace—think of a less famous Antony.  Anyway, the younger monks went to him for a period of years.  And never did Daddy Felix speak. 

     Finally, after some years of this, Daddy Felix asked the men if they had come for a word from God.  I can only imagine the mix of relief and frustration at the question.  Those poor guys trekked out into the heat of the desert, sat waiting on this guy to speak, only to leave after some days or weeks because Daddy Felix did not speak.

     The men all answered hungrily that such was the purpose of their pilgrimages to him, to hear the wisdom of God from his mouth.  Daddy Felix taught them unnecessarily that God used to give the hermits words, and the words would inspire the youthful monks to excited action and vocation.  But now God did not give the old men words, because the young men all turned a deaf ear to the very words of God.  They heard and did nothing in light of what they heard.

     Benedicta warned us that such was the attitude of many today.  Both doubters and members of our churches would doubt that God spoke to, let alone acted in, the world today.  Our job, she continued, was to remind people that God really was at work in the world.  Our job was to figure out where God was at work and point it out to the members of our churches, so that they, in turn, might see Him in their daily life and work and join in that wonderful kingdom work to which He calls each of us.  Our job, she said, was to inspire people to realize that God wants them to work with Him.

     You might wonder what Benedicta’s comments have to do with our readings today.  I was drawn to our reading in Samuel today for my sermon, and it was finally confirmed a bit for me yesterday as I gathered with some men from around the diocese for breakfast.  For those unaware of what is happening in the story today, there is a lot of background that sets the stage.  The time is the time of the Judges, when everyone did as he or she saw fit.  God is not speaking much because few are listening, not even the clergy.

     In fact, one of the aspects of the story that may make us uncomfortable is God’s judgement on Eli and his sons.  We learn earlier that Eli’s sons, Hophni and Phinehas, have been stealing from and blaspheming God, when they go about their sacramental duties at the sanctuary in Shiloh.  They are priests like their father because they are descended of the tribe of Levi.  What was their crime?  We are told that the two men would take the part of the sacrifice that was meant to be given to God and give it to themselves.  Even when the people ask them about it, they refuse to be corrected.  Worse, Eli does nothing about it when the people complain to him about their theft.

     I suppose the modern equivalent scandal would be if I reached into the offering plate as I was praying for God to accept these offerings and increase them as He did the loaves and fishes, and took out the $100 bills in the plates.  How would you all respond?  Some would rightfully quit giving, no?  Some of you might ask me what I was doing?  Some might raise the question with the Vestry or the bishop.  Now, pretend I am a jerk about being questioned.  How would that shape the community?  What would be its impact on us?  Now you know why God is mad at Eli and the sons.  Now you know why the judgment, which may seem harsh to our ears lacking context, is just.  And, truthfully, we should not be too surprised.  God continually warns us clergy not to lead others away from Him.  It’s better a millstone around our necks and all that!  Who knew He meant what He said, right?

     It’s in that kind of environment that Samuel is serving.  Of course, Samuel has a bit of a backstory, too.  A couple chapters earlier, we learn that Hannah is childless.  Unfortunately for her, that caused people to judge her.  Their judgments were confirmed by the fact that Elkanah had fathered children on his other wife, Peninnah.  In a culture that valued offspring, we can easily imagine the tension caused by one wife producing children and the other unable to conceive.  That tension was exacerbated by the fact that Elkanah preferred Hannah to Peninnah.  In any event, one day Hannah goes to Shiloh to worship.  She prays to God that He will give her a child and swears, if He does, she will consecrate that child to Him.

     God, of course, takes vows seriously, even if most of us don’t.  In due course, Hannah conceives Samuel.  Once the child is weaned, she turns him over to the Levites, Eli in particular.  Imagine what Hannah must have gone through.  You ladies, what would it take for you to bear a child, nurse that infant, and then upon weaning that child, hand him over to God?  Samuel for Hannah was vindication.  He was that visible sign that she was not forsaken by God.  And she had to turn Him over in accordance with her vow.  Talk about serious faith!  In many ways, Hannah is a pre-cursor to Mary, the mother of Jesus.  Upon learning that she is pregnant, Hannah proclaims the Magnificat of the Old Testament.  Much like Mary’s wonderful song, Hannah reminds us that God lifts up those who seek Him and cuts down the proud and haughty. 

     That all serves as background to our reading today.  Samuel is some years older, the rabbinical tradition seems to think he is about twelve when God speaks to him.  Much will be made of Eli’s blindness being as spiritual as it is physical.  Be careful about drawing such conclusions.  Does Eli fail as a father and senior priest to his sons?  Without a doubt!  But it is that same Eli who recognizes that God is speaking to Samuel in a day and age when God was mostly silent to His people.  It is Eli who counsels Samuel how to interact with God.  Eli even recognizes the uncomfortable word that Samuel has been given.  He has to drag the prophesy of God out of the young boy who is afraid to speak a harsh word against the priest and his family.  And it is Eli whose humility accepts that the Lord’s judgment is just, even though that judgment will cut off his family.  Eli is far more complex a character than many preachers would have us believe.

     All of that is great background, but where I was called this week was the tingling ears.  In a day and age where God is silent, how does God perceive that His new words will be heard?  In typical prophesy, God announces before He does something that He is about to do it!  But before He does it, He tells the acolyte-becoming-prophet that all who hear of what He is about to do will have both ears tingle.  How do we respond when we see or hear of God at work in the world around us?  Do not our ears tingle?  Do we not share in a rush of excitement or adrenaline?  Are we not nearly overcome either by the sheer scope of what God has accomplished or the fact that He uses normal people like you and me to accomplish His will on earth?

     I was reminded of the truth of God’s statement yesterday, as if I really needed a reminder.  I did want confirmation this week that I was preaching where He called me to preach, but I certainly did not feel I needed to be reminded of the truth of His words.  Yet here I was, ears tingling, heart rushing, and giving thanks to God for both His incredible work and His willingness to use faithful men.

     I had been invited to gather with some laymen in the diocese over breakfast.  It was a combination saintly and depraved meeting.  Our work was intended to be holy, but the location had been chosen to cause some anxiety in the life of another.  I share that to remind you that the men of this diocese, whether lay or ordained, are complex human beings, just like Eli or Peter or whoever you want to name.  During a lull in the conversation, I asked these men what they thought of Advent.  It was then that I felt a real kinship with Eli.  There was way too much hemming and hawing.  Nobody wanted to answer my question truthfully.  Y’all have great parking and are easy to get to.  Great, they think we are the church with sufficient parking and good roads.  Those are nice traits I suppose, heck, Holly† will share with you parking concerns she experienced over Christmas, if you ask.  Is parking and road access Gospel?  No.  I didn’t think so either.

     Y’all throw great parties!  Everyone loves it when you host events like the Advent laymen gathering or the upcoming Vestry Day with the bishop.  Now, fellowship is important.  We would all agree it serves the Gospel.  And, we are quintessentially Episcopalian.  As those of other denominations have noticed during recent funerals and gatherings, we seem to put the whiskey into “Whiskepalians,” or at least the wine.

     There were other suggestions made, but none struck me as particularly Gospel.  One guy’s church was known for their working with immigrants.  Another’s church was known for their support of homeless ministry.  Yet another’s was praised for their work in minority communities.  The adjectives used to describe Advent, though, were more milktoast, lukewarm.  And these were evaluations shared by men coming out into the snow and cold on an early Saturday morning.  None were new to me.  None were surprising or shocking or even evil.  Many had been shared with me during the laymen’s gathering in December.  They were just “meh.”

     For my part, I shared the difficulty I had had trying to help us discern a corporate ministry.  We chatted some about whether a priest should make a church do particular ministries.  Like some of you, some floated the idea of me making you work on the new Underground Railroad.  Then one of the gentlemen began to speak of his own problems with discernment.

     Those of you who know Rich can ask him at convention next week, but Rich shared how God put it on his heart.  Rich lives in Pulaski and had a heart for some years that he needed to work on feeding the hungry.  Friends at church, friends in the community, business leaders he did not know—everyone told him the hungry people were in Nashville, that’s where the help and kitchens are.  This went on for three or four years.  Eventually, though, Rich was connected with another man who ran a feeding ministry and the rest, as they say, was history, or rather His story.  Rich was given the opportunity to buy food at a deep discount through a ministry.  Naturally, he struggled how he would ever raise money to feed the hungry week in and week out, how he would ever get volunteers to help distribute, how he would get the word out that food was available, and all those other pesky little details.   The end of the story?  Rich shared that last week they fed 154 families in a community that was convinced there was no hunger.  Rich went on to share that the ministry, which started with a $100 gift from a gentleman who owned a jewelry store, has over $7000 in its account right now.  Rich went on to share that nearly every church in Pulaski was now involved.  It was not an Episcopal ministry but rather a Church ministry, in the best sense of the word.  And Rich went on to share he was resigning as the leader to let someone with better organizational skills take the reigns!  Guys asked Rich if he felt sad to be giving up “his” ministry.  Rich was absolutely appalled at the idea.  The ministry needs better organization, and that’s not his particular strength.  Besides, as he has continued to pray and seek God’s will, he’s discovered a new calling, he thinks.  Now he thinks he is called to minister to the homeless in Pulaski.  And Rich laughed a big old belly laugh when guys asked him about the need.  Everything is the same as when he discerned there were hungry people in Pulaski.  The same people tell him they don’t exist.  The same fears crop up in his mind.  Now, though, he has the feeding ministry upon which to look back.  This time, he is determined to get to work doing God’s will a bit quicker!

     Do your ears tingle?

     I share this story not as a “look at me” but as a reminder of how God can work when we do what He places on our hearts and how it shapes my advice and guidance to you.  As most of you know, I was in WV last week for a couple days visiting my mother.  I started receiving some calls from TN politicians.  Now, I am the first to confess a high level of cynicism toward politicians.  Many have earned that cynicism as far as I am concerned.  I have no doubt that each of these politicians was reaching out to me to convince me to tell you to vote for them.  But, they were calling me and, unfortunately for them, they were asking questions.  Now, I will be meeting with some members of the state legislature to discuss the financial needs in all aspects of human trafficking, not just law enforcement.  And this is not Brian nagging them.  This is them calling me.  Why?

     One legislator shared that that a parishioner had shared my work with him as a result of one of his position papers.  Two shared that constituents had contacted them over the Cyntoia Brown case, and they wanted to assure me that the Parole Board and Governor were taking the case seriously before they launched into their questions.  Another had engaged one of those three I had engaged about budget priorities.  What was happening, you may ask?  There is an effort to increase funding for the TBI to fight human trafficking.  That’s awesome, right?  Who can’t get behind that?  Of course, when they asked me what I thought and my support for that, I asked an important question.  What are we doing for those caring for survivors?  You see, ringing in my head as I spoke with these politicians was the difficulty facing those who care for survivors.  In my conversations about Cyntoia with Derri Smith at EndSLaveryTN, I learned that her services provided were up 471% in 2017!  That’s awesome, right?!  That means law enforcement are finding and freeing more minors.  Guess what the state contribution toward EndSlaveryTN’s work went up last year to reflect that 471% increase in their workload?  0!  Nada!  Not a single penny!

     Why is this important to you?  As you know, I have been trying to collect different methodologies of treatment and the associated costs for the RC and Anglican Task force to be able to give that information to Christian doctors, Christian sociologists, Christian psychiatrists, and any other field involved in the care of survivors so that we can evaluate what works well, what does not work so well, and how our priorities should be aligned before we start raising significant funds for an endowment to fund shelters and survivors care for those who have been enslaved among us.  To put it in English, we need that information to be able to justify to folks the associated expenses and to develop a business plan.  That all needs to happen before any joint worship service can happen!  You all know the frustrations and stonewalls I have experienced collecting that information.  Now, through no real work of my own, those who run survivor care are approaching me about their needs!  I’ve been given studies that demonstrate how the money spent on survivor care in the months and years right after freedom pales in comparison to the money needed to be spent later in their life if they do not receive proper care in those early months—a modern version of the ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure parable.  I’ve learned quickly how we trail other states, such as NC, in providing money for survivor care.  In short, I have received a wonderful and quick education on how things happen in TN, where the system needs some tweaking—as far as care providers are concerned--, and where we really need to focus our efforts to be that example for the country.  Whether we like it or not, the rest of the country watches TN in this fight.  Our laws are duplicated.  Maybe we should lead in a visionary way—maybe we should make sure our increases in the funding of law enforcement are tied to increases in survivor care.

     Even better, we live in a country bitterly divided over politics.  Republicans and Democrats refuse to compromise right now.  Interestingly, I have been approached by members of both parties.  Better still, each side has spoken about what the other side would demand or expect to get support for such a bill.  We should expect our tax dollars not to be wasted.  There should be some accountability; there should be some reflection in how we fight this evil.  Similarly, we cannot just arrest the bad guys and free the survivors and let them fend for themselves.  A compassionate society, a politician truly motivated by their Christian faith, must tend to the needs of the weak and marginalized in society.

     Do your ears tingle at the possibilities?

     The last example may well seem counter-intuitive to you.  Sean Root shared a ministry that Good Shepherd has been doing in partnership with Brentwood Methodist.  Some years ago, Brentwood Methodist discovered that there were children in the Brentwood school system who were at risk for going hungry when school was not in session.  I know, I know.  The men were surprised to hear this, too.  Brentwood has a well-earned reputation for its bubble.  To those living outside of Brentwood, we appear second only to the Promised Land!

     Anyway, a Methodist brother or sister began experimenting with how best to meet the need.  The final result was something they call “fuel bags.”  Yes, you heard me right, fuel as in gasoline or propane or food.  Members of the church began collecting items that could be bundled in bags and sent home with at-risk kids.  Things like canned soup, granola bars, fruit—those kinds of non-perishables.

     Distribution was, of course, an issue.  How were they to get the fuel bags into the hands of those who needed them?  Residents around here often live a pretend life that everything is great, that there are no issues.  We have spoken of this struggle as our neighborhood shifted from marijuana and alcohol to opioids.  Too many families are stretched beyond their means.  Too many families in our midst are an illness or firing/downsizing away from losing everything.  Children, as we all know because we were once one, are even more loathsome to admit things are hard, that things are not great.  Kids just want to fit in with the herd.  Through trial and error, the church learned that teachers were in the best position to know.  Better still, those same teachers were willing not only to share the names of their students who needed help, but to get the help to the kids in ways that kept other kids from knowing!  Now, Brentwood Methodist has partnered with a bunch of Brentwood schools and Brentwood churches to make sure, as much as possible, that no kid in the school system goes hungry over the weekend.  That’s not to say that there are not still issues.  Some items sent home get sold, reportedly to help cover the cost of drugs or alcohol.  But the end result is an ecumenical effort by the Church to make sure no children in our midst go hungry over the weekend!

     Do your ears tingle?

     I could go on and on.  Many of you have seen the movie, All Saints, based on the experience of All Saints, Smyrna.  What was a struggling church trying to figure its way out of deep divisions is now the subject of a movie.  What was a congregation that gave serious thoughts to closing its doors is now the beneficiary of Paramount’s movie needs.  What was a diocese that struggled with its budget and support of a mission is now a beneficiary of Paramount’s movie needs.  Paramount paid for all new altar linens and vestments in all colors for All Saints Smyrna; Paramount paid for the Parish Hall in the Cathedral to be painted entirely!  And a movie was made of the struggles, the real struggles, of a parish and diocese in their attempt to serve God by serving an immigrant community in Tennessee, at a time when such efforts are the subject of much political diatribe.  Some of you have participated in the historic worship with our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters here in Nashville.  Later this week we will gather as a diocese to conduct our business and to hear more stories of God at work in our lives.  In less than a month we will celebrate the life and work of Bishop Quintard and those Adventers who came before us. 

     Do your ears tingle?

     I famously argue with Jim Martin now over a lake in Chad.  It is no secret that Jim struggles with the starvation that is resulting from that lake drying up.  How can God let Christians and others die such painful deaths, if He truly loves them?  If God is real and powerful, why does He not provide food and water?  In my discussions with Jim I’ve often wondered why he is so hung up on Chad.  Chad is not a place that many of us, especially Jim, are clamoring to visit.  It’s not like Jim is as taken with Chad as he is with a tropical island when it’s cold and snowy in Nashville.  Yet it weighs on him.  And Jim hates this, understandably, but maybe Jim is to be the hands and feet or the head for organizing the feeding and watering of Chad; Maybe Jim is called to be the Rich of Chad.  Jim thinks the need is too great and his failings too big.  And then his idiot priest asks that great question, “you mean like fighting organized crime in slavery?”  You all laugh, but that is often the way God works.  He woos.  He whispers.  He burdens our heart.  And all He really requires of us is a willingness to go or do where or what He wants. 

     One of the great privileges of being a priest for God, as Benedicta taught me long ago, is the opportunity to remind His people that God is at work amongst them, that God is, indeed, doing the things that make our ears tingle; that God is still working out His plan of salvation for all of us.  The world we live in, brothers and sisters, is not much different from that of Eli and Samuel.  Each of us know far too many people who do things their own way, who care not for the counsel and instruction of God.  How many “clergy” function like Hophni and Phineas, creating a comfortable life for themselves on the backs and sweat of those whom they are supposed to be serving?  How many leaders, business, political, or otherwise, do we know who engage in nepotism, who fail to hold their family members to the same accountability as they hold others?  And how hungry is the world to know that this not the best that there is, that there is meaning and justice and love?

     Brothers and sisters, each one of us, by virtue of our baptism, has a ministry or has several ministry opportunities not unlike Samuel.  So often, God is speaking to us, giving us eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart to feel what He feels, and far too often we do not recognize His call or even try our best to hang up on Him.  And all He asks is that we listen and obey.  And once we commit to obey, once we say to God, speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening, then begins the real adventure, then begins the journey and story that makes the ears of others tingle!  We may not be tasked with anointing a king or two, as was Samuel before us.  We may not be tasked with leading His people a la Moses or David or some other hero or heroine you admire in Scripture.  But all of His callings are significant; all of His callings are important.  He used the obedience of a young girl to birth his Savior.  He used the obedience of countless saints to set His people free.  He has used the obedience of saints to remind those on the margins, those forgotten by the world, that He loves them deeply.  Best of all, brothers and sisters, He relishes in turning the wisdom and power of the world upside down.  When He accomplishes great things through our obedience, the obedience of those who are too old, too weak, too unsophisticated to understand how things really work, the world is stunned.  Those who hear have tingling ears.  And for a brief time, maybe only for a moment or for a second, they wonder at how whatever things came to be.  For a brief time, they are even open to the possibility that God is real, that God loves them dearly, and that He truly only wants what’s best for them.

     Brothers and sisters, where is He calling you?  What has He put on your hearts?  What would He have you do to glorify Him in your life?  Why not ask Him to speak as you listen, and then hang on for the most incredible journey of your life?!  Make no mistake, that journey will be challenging, it will be cross-bearing, but it will end in His glorification in your life, and your sharing in that glory, too.  That is His promise to all who choose to manifest His love in the world!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Go and do likewise . . . In memory of our brother, David.

     I suppose to begin this sermon, I should start with a couple confessions.  I was mightily tempted to say to each of you “Go and do likewise” and sit back down.  Any words that I could say, in truth, pale when compared to the sermon that David lived.  Those inclined to argue need only look around.  More than 200 of us are gathered here today, standing room only, from eclectic and even no faith backgrounds, to give thanks to God for the life of David Kline.  He was a husband, a father, a brother, a grandpa, a friend, a confidant, a rock, a kind word, a shoulder to cry on, and so much more to each of us gathered here to remember his life and to mourn with Mary and the family, even as we remind ourselves that his life is not ended, only changed.

     I was tempted to be incredibly short, but I realize that the manner of David’s death requires some further discussion.  For those of us who claim Jesus as Lord and Savior, David’s death seems untimely.  For those who wrestle with faith or struggle to find meaning in life, David’s death may seem to confirm our worst suspicions.  If there is a God who is good and all-powerful and all the things that David claimed, why did he let David die on the side of the road in such a meaningless way?  If God really cares about loving others, why did He not preserve David’s life when that truck and car struck him, each other, and the car pulled over on the side of the road?  If God is good and loving and all those wonderful things that David and we claim, why would he allow David to be taken from his family during Christmas time, of all times?  And how, how can we ever expect to see David’s death redeemed in our lifetime?  Yes, I have had quite the number of conversations with Adventers and friends and co-workers of David.  Those are some of the questions being asked, and it falls on the clergy to answer those questions as wisely and winsomely as possible.

     And before I get going, I’d like to thank all of you who showed up at the gathering before the service in the Parish Hall to share your favorite stories about David.  It was wonderful to hear of long-lasting friendships, to hear how David was admired by his coworkers and how he ran his shop!  It was a bit disappointing to hear he was a goody-two-shoes as a kid, but, hey, nobody, but our Lord, is perfect!  On behalf of Adventers and the family, thank you for sharing those wonderful memories.  I know it takes some guts to stand in front of a bunch of people and risk emotions and vulnerability.  And I encourage you to continue to share them as the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months ahead.

     If you are participating in an Episcopal service for the first time, and wondering at the strange way we do things, even as they seem somewhat familiar, welcome.  We are glad you are celebrating with us.  Our services have two parts, a Liturgy of the Word and a Liturgy of the Sacrament.  David would be the first to tell you that the preachers don’t always get the Liturgy of the Word right, so the Sacrament offers us a “second chance” at meeting Jesus during the sermon.  You may be surprised at the lack of pictures and by the presence of a pall covering David’s cremains.  That, too, is intentional.  The focus of this service, as was the focus of David’s life, is meant to be Jesus.  It matters not whether we are kings or paupers, each of us is promised to one day face our Lord.  And so the lack of “personal” items is intentional, to keep us rightly focused.  The only ornament is the Pascal Candle, which is lit to remind us that David has been raised to his new life in Christ, that he has been robed in immortality and imperishability, to use Paul’s description.  No doubt you will have other questions, and I encourage you to ask after the service or later in the week.

     My other confession was the sermon.  In truth, I had four sermons bouncing around in my head for this event.  Each of the readings came rather easily, and I cannot claim too much surprise that I had more than one sermon bouncing around in my head up here.  In private conversations, ome of you have asked about Resurrection and what I think has happened to David, and the Wisdom of Sirach and First Corinthians certainly speak to that.  Several of you have commented to me how David took his faith seriously in your eyes, that he was the furthest from a hypocrite that you could imagine, and so you might find comfort in Psalm 42.  Both Mary and I arrived at Psalm 139 independently of each other, so maybe there are a number of you struggling with the idea that God knows you intimately, loves you dearly in spite of your own perspective or self-worth, and would love to begin to work in you that which you saw in our brother David’s life.  In the end, I decided to preach on Luke’s famous Good Samaritan because, after speaking to so many of you today and listening to some of those words in the parish hall, it is the perspective of the Good Samaritan that so illumined David and guided his view of the world.

     Luke tells this story and begins by stating the purpose of the lawyer who asked the question of Jesus.  What must I do to inherit eternal life?  As is so often the case, Jesus does not answer the man directly.  He asks the man what he thinks leads to eternal life.  The man answers with the Shema, love the Lord you God with everything, and what we know as the Golden Rule, love your neighbor as yourself.  Jesus tells the man he has answered correctly.  Jesus goes on to say that if the man does this, he will live.  The lawyer, of course, is not really interested in Truth.  He’s looking for justification, for a pat on the back, for an acknowledgement of this prophet who claims to be the Son of Man, that he is headed for eternal life.  And who is my neighbor?  Clearly, at worst, the man expects to be told that all his brother and sister Jews are his neighbors.  At best, he may be hoping that Jesus will simply state those that live in his neighborhood.  He is looking for a clear boundary to be drawn, and for his works to have been on the right side of that boundary.  I say clearly because of the man’s response to Jesus’ story.

     Jesus answers the man by telling the story of a faithful man on the road between Jericho and Jerusalem.  That 16-17 miles road was a well-known dangerous stretch for those pilgrimaging to the Temple.  It’s a good climb, not particularly well-settled, and full of caves and ravines and boulders.  Our best analogy in modern times would be something like going to church in the hood of our major cities, driving our fancy cars, wearing our best clothes, sporting our best jewelry, and with wallets stuffed with cash for the offering place.  Like you coming to church, Jews pilgrimaging to Temple wore or brought their best clothes.  They brought their best livestock, or money to buy the appropriate animal from the Temple priests.  In some respects, we might say they were gullible.  God will surely protect us as we journey to Jerusalem.  The problem with that, of course, is that the bad guys knew it.  Pilgrims were easy marks, easy targets, particularly those who chose not to travel in larger groups!

     So, this man in Jesus’ story is attacked by bandits.  He is stripped of his clothing and all of his possessions.  He is beaten by the robbers—we can easily imagine him trying to keep his Sunday best or offerings to God as a pious man—and left for dead.

     A priest comes along and then a Levite.  Neither stops to render assistance.  Did they think him dead?  Were they in too much of a hurry to be delayed?  We do not know.  Jesus does not relate those details.  No doubt those of you who attend church regularly have heard that the two men likely assumed the man was dead and so wanted to avoid being rendered unclean by coming into contact with a dead body.  It sounds good, it sounds reasonable, except for the fact that the Mishnah makes it clear that, in the absence of family, the uncleanliness did not apply to a priest when dealing with a dead body.  Put in plain English, the priest could have touched him because there was no family present!  Yet neither do.  Neither seems to get close enough to realize that the man is still alive!

     Then comes the truly shocking part of the story.  A Samaritan comes along.  In modern times, I’m not sure we have the cultural equivalent of a Samaritan.  I suppose that some Americans despise Muslims, but nowhere near all Americans do.  Those of us that are older might think of some race or group stronger than the Commie bastards of the cold war.  Maybe we should think of the Civil War era Yankees with strong religious overtones?  Israel had a visceral hatred of the Samaritans.  The Samaritans were the descendants of those left behind when Assyria rolled through town and carried the northern kingdom off into slavery.  Because most Jews were carried off, those left behind were forced to marry those Assyrians imported in to the area.

     To complicate matters a bit more, both the Samaritans and the Jews fought about who was worshipping Yahweh properly.  Each had their own Temple and location.  The Samaritans accepted the first five books of what we call the Old Testament as Scripture, whereas the Jews discerned other books belonged in Scripture.   The idea of a Good Samaritan would have been the most extreme version of an oxymoron in Jewish culture.  They did not speak to each other.  They did not worship together.  They avoided each other like the plague.  Surely the Samaritan would pass by, too!

     Jesus’ audience would have been stunned by the rest of the story.  We are not as attentive to grammar today, but Jesus uses active verbs to describe the effort and intention of the Samaritan.  The Samaritan goes to the beaten and naked Jew.  The Samaritan pours oil and wine on the wounds of the Jewish man.  The Samaritan bandages the Jewish man.  The Samaritan puts the Jewish man on his donkey and leads it to the inn.  The Samaritan carries the Jewish man, presumably too weak to walk, from the donkey into the inn.  In the inn, the Samaritan takes care of the wounded Jewish man.  Once the Jewish man seems on the road to recovery, and no doubt attending to some delayed business, the Samaritan pays the innkeeper enough for the wounded Jewish man to stay and recuperate for two weeks.  Finally, he instructs the innkeeper to keep a tab for anything else required for the wounded Jewish man, promising to repay upon his return.  This aid, as Jesus highlights, is active.  There is no “oh, that’s too bad.  I hope God will take care of him.”  Empty prayers are not offered by the Samaritan.  No, indeed, the Samaritan takes it upon himself to see the Jewish man healed and restored.

     Then, Jesus asks that wonderful question: Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?  If you wondered whether I exaggerated the Jewish/Samaritan hatred, notice the answer.  The lawyer does not answer Jesus, “The Samaritan.”  Instead, he replies, “The one who showed him mercy.”  Then Jesus answers with that command that so tempted me as a summary of David’s life:  Go and do likewise.

     As is so often the case in Scripture, Jesus does a wonderful job of reframing perspectives and understandings with His own questions and answers.  And for those of us who proclaim Him Lord and Savior and Messiah, that reframing carries with it certain consequences, demands, and expectations.  What separates the priest and Levite from the Samaritan?  All three see the wounded man left for dead.  All three recognize there is likely a need.  Yet only one chooses actively to engage in the care and ministering to the wounded man.  All three have eyes.  All three have ears.  So what, in the end, separates them?  I think the lawyer’s answer to Jesus’ question, and our Lord’s assent, points us in the right direction.

     Throughout Scripture, human beings are described as in need of circumcised hearts.  Over and over again, God points out to humanity that we are not merciful, we are not loving, we are not compassionate.  Oh, we are polite in many cases.  Sure, we try to get along with others much of the time.  But how often do we really demonstrate the heart of God in the world around us?  How often do we see, hear, and understand need and then work, actively work, to improve the situations of others?  A few weeks ago, all I asked of us in Tennessee was to write a couple letters on behalf of a young woman whose circumstances caused us to change our laws, and 26 other states to follow suit, when dealing with survivors of modern slavery.  Yet how many followed through in that incredibly difficult fight against injustice?  Often, we will cluck our lips or remark at the need of others, heck, we may even say aloud, Someone should really do something about . . . , but how many of us follow through?  How many of us seek to be the ones who do what they have been given eyes to see, ears to hear, or hearts to understand?

     I know David’s tragic death has been hard for many of you.  I have probably spoken to fifty or sixty of you about the unfairness of his death, about the cruelty, about the wasted faith he had, and any other ways you have engaged me.  From a human perspective, I understand the hurt.  From a human perspective, I understand the doubt and the pain.  From a human perspective I understand the seeming futility.  David died for being a Good Samaritan.  David died, ultimately, trying to care for someone along the side of the road who may have been wounded.  And in that caring for others, he was rewarded by losing his life.

     Thankfully and mercifully, the human perspective is not the only perspective at play in this seemingly senseless and certainly tragic death.  Thankfully and gloriously, our Lord has something else to say to us.  Each of you is gathered here today to honor David and to mourn with his family.  As I listened to conversations in the parish hall, as I have spoken on the phone with many of you, as I have exchange e-mails with some present and some absent, I have heard clearly how each of you, in turn, felt loved by David.  I have heard over and over and over again how David was the shoulder to cry on, how David and Mary were people who helped you . . . and not just with prayers.  I have heard over and over again how David had something that just made you know he cared about you, wanted the best for you, and was joyed to know you.  And I am not saying I have not heard about any fights.  David himself spoke of family fights.  He and Mark could get it on like only brothers can.  He and Mary fought from time to time as only husbands and wives can.  And yes, even his beloved children and he got into it from time to time.  If he fought with those he loved most, I have no doubt he had fights and disagreements with others.

     But what many of you are struggling to name that you found in David or that you will most miss in David was described best by our Lord Christ in this story.  David realized some time ago that the onus was on him to be the neighbor.  It was not David’s job to figure out if this person or that person was worthy or deserving of help.  It was his job, whenever God gave him eyes and ears and a heart to see the need, to be merciful, to be loving.  And in being that lover of all his neighbors, look at the testimony of his life: you!  All of us gathered here this day to celebrate his life are mutts and mismatched parts.  David did not set out to love only Episcopalians or Anglicans—God knows there are too few of those around for such love to be significant.  David did not set out to love only Christians.  God knows some of those are challenging to love!  David set out each day with the intention of living a life like the Good Samaritan in Jesus’ story.  And your presence here today testifies to the success of his efforts!  When an eclectic group such as us comes together to mourn and to celebrate, someone got something right!  Today, we remember that someone was David.

     And, although each of us gathered here have reason to mourn, David would be the first to tell each of us not to mourn for too long.  David died as he lived, loving others as himself.  David died on the cusp of the season where we celebrate the Incarnation of God, incarnating that same kind of love that His Lord Christ would during His life.  And David would remind us that his life now is changed, not ended, thanks to His Lord who was, as in the words of Paul this morning, the first fruits of the Resurrection. 

     And in the end, that was the hope that drove David.  In the end, it was the power and promise of the Resurrection that convinced him that his perspective needed to be changed, that his heart needed to be changed.  In everyone gathered here this morning that David helped, there was a cost to him and to Mary.  In baptismal language, we would say he died to self each and every time he put our needs ahead of his own.  And now, we celebrate that he gets to experience the other side of that covenant, that if he died to self in Christ he will be raised to new life, just like his Lord Christ.  As a priest in Christ’s One, Holy, catholic and Apostolic Church, I can think of no better example in the flock to which I am assigned.  I will for a time mourn.  No doubt as I listen to Mary and to Lucas and others of you, I may be moved to tears by your stories.  But those tears are not the last word.  That sadness is not the end of David’s story.  I know, because of God’s faithfulness, I will see my brother again.  I may only see the back of his head because he will be up close to the eternal throne with all those who laid down their lives for friends and neighbors, but I will see him.  David’s fondest wish for all of you, too, was that he would see you as well.  He lived his life intentionally and cognizant of the fact that he was God’s appointed ambassador or herald in your life.  He lived his life certain of his calling, that it was his job to invite you to this amazing feast where he now waits for us, where the food is beyond anything this earth can imagine, where the wine tastes way better than Diet Cokes, and where amazing fellowship can be had for all eternity!

     Imagine, if you will for a moment, if we all lived like David.  How big would that party be?  How many more characters would be there?  How much more would our Lord be glorified, as He was in David’s life and death?

     Now, Go and do likewise!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Who are the prophets in your life? In whose life are you the prophet?

     Before I begin today, I just wanted to let you know that Liturgy & Worship will likely be calling us to celebrate Alleluia Saturday next year.  Now, stop groaning.  I think you will all enjoy this liturgy.  I’ve only really spoken to Christian, who heads the committee, but he was all in after hearing about it.  Knowing everybody else on the committee, I think passage will likely be unanimous.  What is Alleluia Saturday, you ask?  It would have been yesterday, as today marks Septuagesima.  That’s fancy speak for saying 70 days.  In the practices earlier Church, the next three weeks were their own season where we were called seriously to examine ourselves in preparation for Lent.  The season started 70 days before Easter.  A by-product of this season, though, is what excited me and then Christian.  Alleluia Saturday was the day that the Church banished the Alleluias from worship until Easter.  This, of course, was done by whipping a choir boy out of the church.  From the laughter, I can tell y’all think you know where this is going.

     Upon reading about this sacred tradition now, for inexplicable reasons, lost to the Church, I thought Jim would be a great choir boy.  He was all in at first when I asked him about serving in that role; heck, he’d done a solo a couple weeks ago.  Then I shared the liturgy.  Jim was then quick to nominate Robbie.  It made more sense to him that I would want to whip one of my own kids out of the church.  I had to remind Jim that Robbie was a lot faster than me and him.  I thought the comedy of Jim running, me chasing his with a whip, the occasional pause for breath by one or both of us, might make the liturgy memorable for those present.  Heck, maybe we could tie giving to the number of whips I got in, thereby inspiring him to run slowly.  Christian naturally agreed, but allowed the rest of the committee would need to be consulted.  I think we’ve all settled on Robert as a good compromise.  You can see by his face he was not yet consulted.  The thought was that DHS would assume people were speaking about my son when they reported the priest for beating Robert, but that Robert would be only a step or three faster than Jim!  So maybe next year, guys!

     I must confess a certain desire on my part to preach on Mark‘s Gospel today and the demonic.  I suppose my personal big spiritual wedgie in this area was a number of years ago—when my nicely ordered western brain had to come to grips with the reality of supernatural evil.  And, truth be told, there is a lingering fascination on the subject both with Adventers and those around us, and we do have a few mystically attuned individuals among us.  But I really felt called to preach on Deuteronomy rather Mark.  As I said, Mark felt more personal preference, so I went with our Old Testament reading this week.  So, if you want to follow along, turn to Deuteronomy 18:15-20.

     This is not rhetorical, I really want answers.  Who do you consider to be prophets during your lifetime?  I’m waiting.  Billy Graham.  Good.  Anybody want to argue about him?  Any other prophets during the course of your life?  Martin Luther King, Jr.  Certainly!  Any others?  Mother Theresa.  Hmm.  I’d have to say yes to that, I think.  She changed the way a caste of women viewed themselves simply by serving and loving them.  I know she impacted others in India with her service, but I think her real ministry was with those girls.  Any others?

      Some wondered at the early service why I did not ask us to name false prophets.  In truth, that was the easier question, was it not?  We’d be here for days citing televangelists, prosperity gospellers, scam healers, and political sycophants with theology degrees were I to ask that question.  No, I wanted us to think for a moment about prophets.  Are they common?  Do we still need them?  Does God still send them?  In many ways, our questions are like those of ancient Israel.

     A bit of stage needs to be set.  To take you back in history, we are at the point in Israel’s history where they are about to cross over the river Jordan into the Promised Land.  Those of us who grew up on Charleton Heston’s Ten Commandments know this scene fairly well.  Moses is about to give his mantle of leadership to Joshua because Moses is not allowed to journey into the Promised Land.  Moses has disobeyed God, and God was not buying his excuse “those people You gave me made me do it.”  The first set of the torah was destroyed by Moses when he came down the holy mountain and found the people of Israel in an orgy of sin.  The people of Israel have, as a result, spent their time in the wilderness dying off.  Now, as the name suggests, Moses is giving Israel “the law” a second time before he departs the scene.

     Imagine the anxiety that Israel must have felt on the banks of the Jordan that second time.  First of all, any students of human nature had to be worried some idiots might infuriate God again.  Can you imagine your worry that, at the banks again, someone or something would cause your brothers and sisters once again not to trust God?  There had to be a bit of worry floating around in the camp.  I’m sure I would have threatened my neighbors with a punch in the kisser if they forced me to wander in the wilderness any more by angering God.  Plus, Moses will not be journeying with you.  For the entirety of your life, Moses has spoken God’s word to you.  Whenever something needed to be done or said, Moses was there to tell you what God wanted accomplished.  Whenever catastrophe befell the people, Moses was there to remind you that God was redeeming you.  Whenever enemies attack the camp, Moses was there to remind you that God was fighting on your behalf.  Now, Moses was leaving.  Was God?  Now you get a sense of the angst that would have been added to the excitement and worry of heading into the Promised Land, the Land that was promised to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob so long ago!  No wonder the people needed God and the comforting thought of Him leading them.

     So, will God still go with them?  Or does this fulfilment of His promise mean the relationship is at an end?  Will God raise up another to speak for Him, or will He now go silent?  After all, Israel has certainly given God many reasons to abandon them.

     In many ways, we are like those in Ancient Israel.  Does God still speak to us?  Does God still raise up prophets?   I mean, we have the Bible and we have the work and person of Jesus Christ, His Anointed.  Do we really need anything else?

     Prophets, in case you have forgotten or were never taught, were an interesting group of people.  I know some modern denominations, like our own, speak loosely of priests serving the roles of priests, pastors, and prophets.  Those of us in clergy are often uncomfortable with the role.  By nature we are people pleasers.  Nothing is harder for people pleasers than telling other people they are not pleasing God.  But that was often the role of a prophet in Israel.  They called all the people back into a right relationship with God, signifying that things were going wrong.

     Prophets were not political, at least in the sense you and I understand the term.  Prophets were not really part of the king’s court or administrative system.  Now, when the king failed in his duties to lead the people in the worship and study of God, prophets were to be obeyed by the king.  Think of that for a second.  We all joke about how good it is to be the king, yet Israel’s king was required by God to listen to the prophet and obey.  In some ways, I suppose, we can think of prophets as serving as God-inspired vetoes or corrections.

     Usually, prophets were not those charged with leading worship.  That responsibility fell to the priests and elders.  From time to time a priest or elder would be called by God to be a prophet, think of Samuel a couple weeks ago, but those were the exceptions rather than the rule.  It may seem a minor thing to you, but consider . . . imagine you have come into my office to ask about something in your life.  I give you the answer you do not want to hear, but you know it’s the right answer, the answer that calls upon you to trust God rather than whatever idol you are considering.  What’s our relationship like then?  Typically, you are mad at me for telling you that you need to change your behavior.  I feel bad because I know I have just criticized you.  It does not matter how fair the criticism, our relationship is strained. 

     But I have the advantage of being the sacramentalist at Church of the Advent.  If we are to worship God here with the Eucharist properly, I have to lead it.  During that worship we are called to confess our sins and to be at love and charity before we consume the Blood and Body of our Lord.  Whatever strains exist prior to that celebration of the Eucharist must be addressed before we take communion, else we heap condemnation on ourselves.  I must reflect whether my instruction was loving; you must reflect whether my instruction was in line with God’s instruction.  Ideally, one of us recognizes that we are in error and truly repents and makes peace.  Prophets in Ancient Israel had no such opportunity to be reconciled.  Heck, for their prophesies and judgements, they were often run out of town, threatened with physical violence, imprisoned, or in any number of other ways cut off from the people to whom they were called to speak.

     Many of our struggles that we have with respect to prophets are no different than those experienced by Israel, as our passage today demonstrates.  In the Episcopal church, and in other denominations, we have processes in place which are designed to help us transition from one clergy to another.  Often these transitions, though, are anything but smooth.  Ever heard of a failed call?  What happens when a search process drags on?  We begin to wonder if something is wrong with us, or we begin to think something is wrong with those clergy?  Does God know our struggles?  Has God abandoned us?  And to be fair, those of us on this side of that experience have the same emotions when we are not called to a church that we really think could benefit from our guidance, to one to which we believed we are called.  You and I, of course, have the promises of God’s fulfillment in our Savior Christ.  Because of that perspective, we should never doubt His love and care and concern for us.  Still, we worry; still, we doubt.  In our story today, Israel was just getting the torah for the second time.  Can you imagine their worries and fears?  And let’s not forget, the last time mom and dad were here, things did not go very well.

     Moses’ sermon also carries a word of warning to the people.  Moses reminds the people of their history, of their desire to have a prophet among them.  God, in typical God fashion, gave the people what they wanted.  Have the people always listened to Moses even though they knew, absolutely knew, that he spoke with the voice and authority of God?  No.  The people have ignored Moses and God, the people have railed against Moses and God, and the people have complained bitterly about the leadership of Moses and God.  Yet here is Moses and God reminding the people and us that anyone who does not heed the words that the prophet shall speak in His name, He will hold accountable.  Because Moses and others have been among them, the people of Israel can never claim they did not know.  When Israel rejects God and His teachings, when Israel chases after the Ba’als in the generations to come, it will be their conscious sin.  There will be no “We/I did not know.”  The same judgment, of course, applies to us.  When we fail to love God with everything and when we fail to love our neighbor as ourselves, we have no excuse.  God holds us accountable.  Thankfully, that punishment has been born by our Lord Christ, but He bore it for us.

     God, though, reminds would-be prophets of the seriousness of His call.  If a prophet who speaks in the name of another god claims to speak in His name or if a prophet of His speaks a word He has not given the prophet, that prophet shall die.  A modest section of Deuteronomy is given over to this question of discernment regarding prophets.  If a community discerned that someone was not a prophet, the words of that individual were to be ignored and the individual was to be put to death.  Looking back on it, we may think that a harsh punishment.  But can you imagine living in a time and place where people would pretend to be God’s appointed leaders and try to lead His people astray?  How can we ever relate to that context?  Why are you all laughing?

     Lest we think this is something for that day and age, what does Jesus say to us who claim to be leaders in His Church if we cause others to stumble, to fall away from God?  That’s right, I heard a couple “millstones.”  It is better for us that a millstone be hung around our necks and for us to be cast into the sea than to intentionally mislead someone.  And let’s be fair, some clergy, some modern prophets make honest mistakes.  Jesus’ death covers those honest mistakes.  But there sure seems to me to be a cacophony of voices who should really be afraid of our Lord’s return, who should be glad we are not a Christian nation and that they are, thereby, subject to testing.  No doubt some of you have the same thoughts about me or, if you are visiting, your home clergy.  Perhaps now, though, you get an idea of the wrestling match we face regarding comments on social media, on wading into “social” issues that are being fought outside our flocks, why some of us seem to be double-minded.  It is a hard thing, a brave thing, a crazy thing, to stand before someone in God’s name and proclaim His will, His word, His truth.  If His people won’t listen to us, how well will we be received by those outside His flocks?

     That leads me to one last characteristic that we often gloss over, but I think is essential to understanding God’s call of prophets.  God’s calls prophets from among us.  Why?  Think of the audacity of the claim that mere human beings can relate the mind or heart of the eternal God.  How is that best done?  Relationally.  Moses bore the wanderings in the desert just like the people.  Yet, on top of those pains, he bore the pangs of leadership.  How was he ever going to save Israel from Egypt?  How was he ever going to water them?  How was he ever going to feed them?  How was he ever going to teach them the heart and mind of God?  Heck, the impossibility of his task was made obvious while he was on the Holy Mountain receiving the torah for the first time.  The people had witnessed all these miracles, they knew Moses was on the hill getting God’s instructions of what life in full communion with a holy, righteous God looked like, and still they could not wait.  Eventually, they began to sin boldly even as Moses was retrieving that for what they asked!  But the relationship between prophet and people allows the prophet both to intercede with God on behalf of the people—he or she really knows their needs and desires and fears and so on—and to relate God’s instruction in a language that they can understand.

     This last point is important but often ignored.  Every group of God’s people has its own language, its own culture.  You and I are Episcopalians, we are Anglicans.  Those of us who travel know the claim that our churches are very similar all over the world.  But they are only similar; they are not exact duplicates.  The music may differ, the preaching style or length may differ, the order of worship may be jumbled.  Think on it this way, if I remind you all today that we have a chili cook off before the big idol feast next weekend, how do you hear that?  Most of you know I played a lot of football.  Most of you know I like to watch football when I can.  Several of you know that I’m not as invested in the game next week because God’s team, the Steelers, are not playing.  See, you are laughing.  What if you were from North Korea?  What if you were from South America or Africa and had spent no time among us?  Is there an edge to what I am saying?  Of course.  Americans set their schedules around the NFL much like people did false idols in the ANE.  Is the NFL part of spiritual warfare in this country?  I think so.  Do I really believe the NFL is a Ba’al, no?  I do think our love of gladiatorial style games is used by the Enemy of God to tempt us to forget our priorities, though.  How many of us skip church when the Titans play?  Ouch!  I know, there’s that prophet thing again, calling us to assess our priorities.  Our relationship, though, allows us to have difficult conversations.  If you come into my office making sure its ok to blow off God because you have tickets or because the game is important, what will be my answer?  See, you know me well enough to joke that such activity is only forgivable when they play the Steelers.  In all seriousness, though, when I tell you that worship, giving thanks to God, should be primary in your life in such conversations, am I being a jerk, mean, a football hater?  Of course not, I’m trying to help you in your relationship with God. 

     I also understand the difficult relationship with have with this reading.  While we as part of God’s Body will worry whether He is paying attention or directing us, we will chafe a good bit at His instruction.  Validation or vindication becomes very important to us, whether we are “in the pews” or “in the pulpit.”  Much of what we talk about we cannot know for sure, based on our own experiences, until after our death.  In a culture that tolerates God, we recognize that false prophets may not have to give an accounting until they face the Lord.  We recognize that those wolves in sheep’s clothing will prey, literally prey, on the weakest.  They will use the fears and hurts and desires of those suffering the most to squeeze out of them their last dollar, their last bit of confidence that they are loved by God, their last bit of imago dei.  How does a body, claiming a correct relationship with God, function in such an environment?  Can we only be satisfied that God will, in the end, glorify those who trusted in Him and punish those who clearly despised Him?  Must we accept that God is content to let people dishonor Him for now, knowing that one day in the future, all will acknowledge Him and His?

     The answer, of course, is no and yes.  On the one hand, you and I have an obligation, as members of this mystical Body, to help our other members of the Body to discern.  When we hear false teaching, when we hear false prophesying, we have an obligation to speak against it.  We do so not because we are correct and the false ones are wrong, but because we do not want to see other parts of the Body stumble.  We don’t want the enemies of God to convince those of a weaker faith that their salvation is in any way dependent upon their own efforts to give or upon who it is they follow, save Jesus Christ.

     But it’s that pattern of life of Jesus Christ that reminds us that we do not need to be too concerned with what others say and “do” to God.  He will be vindicated.  He will take care of Himself and all those who place their trust in others.  So, while we work in our own lives to see Him glorified, and repent when we fail, we recognize that God is sufficient unto Himself.  Jesus lived a life of a prophet, calling the people of Israel and the rest of the world back into right relationship with God.  In fact, Jesus lived a life in accordance with the teachings in this book!  What did He get for His efforts?  Honor?  Glory?  Vindication?  No.  Humiliation.  Torture.  Death.  But even though it appeared for a time that the enemies of God had won, still God was not finished!  He raised Jesus from the dead that Easter morning teaching us that we who share in that Resurrection will one day be vindicated and glorified in our Lord!

     Brothers and sisters, I have spent more time on prophets this last week than I could ever imagine a couple weeks ago.  But it seems to have been timely given events in the wider world and my conversations with some of you over events in the news.  As God would have it, Holly will be installed as rector at St. Paul’s this Thursday, with a great reading from Numbers a part of the service.  There, Moses complains to God that he is not sufficient to the task that God has given him, that he lacks so much of what needed to lead God’s people.  God famously gives some of His spirit to other elders within the camp, that they might share in the burden of leadership.  When that Spirit falls on a couple men not at the Tent of Meeting, Joshua is concerned that they should not be prophesying, that Moses should put an end to it.  Moses rebukes Joshua’s concern for his honor and laments famously “Would that everyone was a prophet of God!”  You and I live in a time that Moses, and all Israel should have, longed to see.  By virtue of our baptism into Christ’s death and Resurrection, you and I are promised a share in the Holy Spirit.  When needed, you and I have access to that Spirit for discernment, for serving, and for being led into all truth.  In many ways, as shadowily as we see things now, we are in much better position than our Old Testament brothers and sisters who came before.  We have that perfect example of living in full communion with God in the Incarnation.  We have the reminder in His death that the world rejects its Lord and Creator.  And we have the Resurrection and Ascension of our Lord that signal of power that God can keep every promise He has made to us.  One of those promises was that there will always be a prophet from among us.  It might not be the guy or gal in a robe, it might not be the Vestry member, it might come from places unexpected.  But God will always call His people back to Him.  More amazingly, sometimes He will ask of us that we be the prophets in the lives of others!

In Christ’s Peace,

 Brian†