Tears For Coyote

I could not have asked for a better father.

All of my boyhood memories are of my dad and I doing something together. He carried me on his shoulders when I was small. When I was older we played tennis, shot baskets, and threw the baseball and football three or four times a week. We went to all the state high school football and basketball tournaments. He came to all my little league games. I always knew he loved me.

My dad had a great sense of humor. I will never forget the jokes, of all different colors, that he and his brother Al would tell whenever they got together. My dad kept his sense of humor through all his recent health problems.

My dad was very intelligent. He was captain of his undefeated high school debate team, he was Phi Beta Kappa in college, he graduated first in his class in law school at D.U., and finished second in the state on his bar exam. When I was in ninth grade he drilled me in Latin nouns and verbs. His love of learning was amazing.

My dad also loved literature and music. I was always totally amazed when my dad would quote, from memory, verse after verse of Shakespeare, or Shelley, or Keats. He did this as recently as last month. I will never forget his love of the music of Gilbert and Sullivan, and I will never forget he and I singing the music of Rogers and Hammerstein together last year in his hospital room.

My dad loved to travel. He and Harriett went to so many places on so many continents that I could never name them all. He so much enjoyed experiencing the different places and cultures of the world.

My dad was very close to his mother, and I will never forget the family gatherings with his beloved siblings Ed, Al, Eleanor, Wilma and Ede. He was a wonderful husband to Harriett, and he was an awesome grandfather to all his grandchildren and great grandchildren. He valued family above all else. My dad was one of the nicest people I have ever known.

Over the last few days many of you have said that I am very much my father’s son. I will never be given a higher compliment.

I was going to end with a funny story about my dad, but I think I will save that for the reception. Instead, let me conclude with a conversation we had about six years ago. My dad was never sure about God, and over the years he and I would often discuss whether God existed or not. As he was approaching eighty I asked him again what he thought of God, and he said, “you know, I think I do believe in God now.”

I said "wow, what changed for you?" He said that when he looked at this immense and wonderful world, it just seemed like somebody had to create it. I agree dad. And when I look at your wonderful and loving life, I too can see the face of God.

So dad, we will all miss you. Thank you so very, very much.

Frozen Coyote Haiku

Another big storm
Coyote snarls with anger
Curse you El Nino!

Christ The King

A Special Place In Hell

I did it. But if I didn't do it, it wouldn't look like this.

At first glance this sounds like Coyote think. But then you realize it is O.J. inverted.

I know Coyote. Coyote is my friend. Sometimes. And O.J. is no Coyote.

Or J.F.K.

Getting It

Good morning. Ever since I was a small child, I have been interested in the mystery of how the world works. I remember watching the first space flights in the early 1960’s, and being amazed that people could leave the earth. When I was six years old I insisted that my parents take me to church, because I wanted to know what this God thing was all about. And to this day I read as much as I can about evolution, quantum physics, and the human brain. Life is a great mystery, and as much as possible, I want to get “it”, whatever that “it” is.

Now, as much as I desire to know how the world works, I have an almost equally great fear of not getting “it.” And it has become very apparent to me that whatever “it” is, some people just don’t get “it” at all. I want to tell you about two people who missed it completely. I pray that I will never miss it this badly.

My church history professor at Seminary, Doctor Bruce Shelley, traveled to New York City twenty years ago. He went into a small shop, and the walls and ceiling were covered with crucifixes. Dr. Shelley was a lifelong Baptist, and he was mesmerized by the beauty and craftsmanship of these beautiful crucifixes that were not a part of his religious tradition. He went up to the twenty-something young man at the counter, and said, “you know what, I really want to buy one of these crucifixes. The young man said, “cool, do you want one with or without the little man?” With or without the little man? He didn’t even know that “little man” on the crucifix was Jesus! He didn’t get it at all. He missed it completely. Scary.

My second example happened about fifteen years ago back east. A man was walking along a hill near a river, and he saw a pastor in the water baptizing a dozen or so men and women. The man was curious, so he went down to the river bank. When the pastor had baptized everyone, he warmly motioned for the man to come into the river. The pastor gently took the man’s hands, and then put him into the water and baptized him. When he brought him up, the pastor asked, “brother, did you find Jesus?” The man said, no. So the pastor put him into the water again, and when he brought him up he said “brother, did you find Jesus?” Again the man said, no. So the pastor plunged him into the water a third time, and held him down for about a minute. When he brought him up he said “brother, did you find Jesus!!?” Gasping for air, the man said, “are you sure this is where he fell in?” He didn’t get it at all. He totally missed it.

Now, as funny and alarming as these stories are, our readings this morning tell us the story of two men who, according to the people around them, missed it just as badly, if not worse, than the people I just mentioned. But we will see that though everyone said they just didn’t get it, Bartimaeus and Job actually got “it” more deeply than anyone could ever have imagined.

In the gospel of Mark Jesus is coming to Jericho, and whenever Jesus came to town, that was a big deal. Picture the crowd that followed Jesus. First there were the twelve apostles. Then came the disciples of Jesus, probably numbering forty or more. Several Pharisees always walked with Jesus to keep an eye on him. Then, in no way comparing Jesus to Jerry Garcia, dozens of groupies, or Jesus heads, followed Jesus wherever he went, to learn from his teachings and be part of the excitement. Then the crowds that simply appeared whenever Jesus approached often numbered in the thousands. So when a young child ran into town and yelled Jesus is coming!, that was a big deal.

So certainly as Jesus approached Jericho the city leaders polished all the doorknobs, swept the sidewalks, and did everything they could to make the city look good for Jesus and the crowds. And according to Mark everything seemed to go quite well until the very end. That is when Bartimaeus decided to make a fool of himself.

Bartimaeus was an embarrassment to Jericho. A blind beggar, certainly from a sinful family, Bartimaeus was just the kind of person who could make Jericho look bad. When Bartimaeus heard that Jesus was just down the street, he started to shout and make a scene. Great. Just what the respectable people of Jericho feared the most. So the good people of Jericho strongly encouraged Bartimaeus to keep quiet. I imagine they said something like this:

“Bartimaeus, you just don’t get it, do you? Why don’t you just shut up. Don’t you know a holy man is coming? Jesus is a prophet, a teacher, and some say he may even be the Messiah. You, on the other hand, are a blind and sinful beggar. Just go away. Don’t embarrass us. Crawl back into the hole you came out of. Bartimaeus, what we are saying is this: shut your miserable trap.”

And of course shameless Bartimaeus did just the opposite. He started spazing out and screaming all the more. Jesus walked by, and said to bring Bartimaeus over to him. I’m sure all the good people looked at the ground in embarrassment as “big man” Bartimaeus got his wish, shaming the city of Jericho.

Jesus said to Bartimaeus, “what do you want me to do?” Bartimaeus said, Rabbi, I’d like to see.” Jesus said, Go, your faith has healed you.” Wow. What a wonderful story.

Bartimaeus was in bad shape. He was an outcast, his spirit was surely deeply wounded, he was blind, and he had no hope. But he had faith in Jesus. He took a big risk asking Jesus to give him sight. But most important of all, Bartimaeus risked ridicule and embarrassment to get to Jesus. He would present his wounds to Jesus, no matter how embarrassing everyone else thought he was. That is true faith. Bartimaeus got it. He really got it.

The story of Bartimaeus is the story of every one of us. We are all blind. We are all outcasts. We are all wounded. Somehow, we have got to get past the good people of Jericho, and present our brokenness to Jesus. This is not an easy thing to do. Do you know why? Because we first encounter the good people of Jericho in our own hearts and minds.

Let me tell you what the good people of Jericho say to me. When I think about bringing my woundedness to Jesus, they often tell me something like this: “Jimbo, you just don’t get it, do you? Why don’t you keep your problems quiet. You’ve been to seminary. You teach Adult Education. You preach. Do you realize how embarrassed you would be if you brought your woundedness to Jesus? Just put your weaknesses back into the hole they crawled out of. Don’t make a fool out of yourself. Jim, what we are saying is this: just shut up.”

The good people of Jericho are powerful voices in my head, and in unique ways each of us have those same powerful voices in our heads, ridiculing us, and telling us to keep our problems hidden, and keep them away from Jesus. What we have to do, just like Bartimaeus did, is to push past the voices of embarrassment and ridicule in our minds, and honestly bring our woundedness to Jesus. Just like Bartimaeus, we have to be crazy, and foolish, and obnoxious, in order to get past the good people of Jericho and get to Jesus so we can be healed.

If we can get past the good people of Jericho in our minds, then we must be prepared for our second battle: getting past the good people of Jericho in those around us. That’s a tough one. To be honest, our Christianity often presents itself to the world more like the good people of Jericho than like the healing face of Jesus. Far too often throughout history Christians have ridiculed the weak and the broken, and told them to go back where they belong, instead of leading them to Jesus. So, unfortunately, if we are going to get to Jesus, we have to get past the good people of Jericho both in our minds, and in the church.

Many of us know the pain of having our weaknesses exposed, and then being rejected by our brothers and sisters. This is probably the deepest pain that a Christian can experience. If this has happened to us, I don’t know what else to do other than forgive, and then press on to be healed by Jesus. But there are several things we can do to make sure Christ The King continues to be a place where that kind of rejection never happens, and where the Bartimaeus in all of us can be held in love.

First, we all must do the hard soul work of identifying our weaknesses, and then allowing them to be healed by Jesus. We must all understand the process of how the Holy Spirit brings the embarrassing junk of our lives to our awareness, and then how Jesus heals us. When we understand this dynamic firsthand, then when it happens to one of our brothers and sisters, we won’t be uptight. We can hold them, and laugh with them as God deals with their sin, because God has done the exact same thing for us, in exactly the same way.

Second, we should expect embarrassing Bartemaeus behavior to regularly appear in our church. If we are all moving closer to the light of Christ, then more and more dirt is going to show up. Acting like Bartimaeus is the result of being close to Christ, not being distant from Him. When someone does something dumb, or gets into trouble, or confesses that they are struggling with a dark area of life, we should never hold our breath and wonder what we are going to do with them. We should instantly say, that is where God is moving in our midst, and it is with that person that we want to walk.

Third, when someone is wounded and struggling, we must go the extra mile in letting them know that we love them and will never abandon them. When someone is struggling they are acutely sensitive to the possibility that they will be rejected. We must go the extra mile in letting them know that this will never happen. We must assure them, above and beyond normal assurance, that we will not let them go.

The good people of Jericho thought that Bartimaeus just didn’t get it. But he got it more deeply than any of them could ever know. And we will get it too if we follow his example both in our own lives, and in the life of our church.

The second person in our readings today who seemingly just didn’t get it was Job. Job was almost the exact opposite of Bartimaeus. Job was rich, successful, healthy, he had a large family, and he lived a life where everything always seemed to go right. Job was a happy man.

But one day God was praising Job, and Satan said, “yeah, yeah, Job’s a good guy and all, but I bet if you took away all his happiness, he wouldn’t follow You anymore.” God said, go ahead, take his happiness away, see what happens. So Satan stripped Job of his wealth, success, health, family, and his happiness. Job was absolutely miserable. But in his misery, Job refused to believe that he had done anything wrong, or that God was evil.

Job’s “friends” confronted Job. They said, “Job, you just don’t get it, do you? Surely you committed some sin that got you into this mess. Just admit it. Admit that all human suffering is caused by our sins. Don’t be stubborn, Job. Either admit that misfortune is caused by our sin, or curse God, say he is an evil God, and die. What we are saying is this Job: admit you are wrong.”

The whole book of Job continues just like this. Job’s “friends” continue to tell him he just doesn’t get it, but Job in his integrity refuses to believe either that something he did made God punish him, or that God is an evil God. Job waits and waits for God to explain Himself, and finally, at the end of the book, God says okay, here is my answer to why you are suffering. And God’s answer goes something like this:

“Job, you just don’t get it, do you? Were you there when I created the universe? Were you there when I filled the oceans, or put the stars in their place? Were you there when I created all the animals?” And after two chapters of these ‘were you theres’, God’s point is, Job, are you God? Do you really think you can figure me out? Do you really think you can understand the meaning of life? Do you really think you can get it?

And Job, repenting in sackcloth and ashes, says “No, I don’t get it, and I can’t get it. I know that you can do all things, and that no plan of yours can be thwarted. I had heard of you for a long time. But now that I have seen you, I realize that I will never see.” And because Job realized he didn’t get it, his health, wealth and success were restored. Again, wow. What an amazing story. When Job realized he would never get it, then, he got it.

Just like we are all Bartimaeus, we are all also Job. We are all trying to figure out the mystery of life. And none of us get it. On one hand we are all trying to figure out the mystery of evil and suffering. It is tempting to think that when something bad happens to us, then God must be punishing us for some sin. I know sometimes when something bad happens to me, from some deep and ancient part of my soul comes the thought, is God mad at me? Did I do something wrong? But we know from our theology this isn’t true.

Evil and suffering can visit us for seemingly no reason at all. Sometimes tsunamis kill over a hundred thousand people for absolutely no reason that we can see. And even though some Christians are quick to point the finger, and tell us that we are suffering because of some sin, we have to wait with Job and admit that when it comes to evil and suffering, we just don’t get it.

On the other hand, like Job we are trying to figure out what kind of God we worship. If God is good, then why do his children suffer? If God is good, then why do good and innocent people die for no reason? If God is good, then why doesn’t He reveal Himself and make this world a better place? These are honest, authentic questions that we all must ask.

C.S. Lewis was devastated when his wife died of cancer. In his great suffering he said the problem for him was not that he would stop believing in God. The problem was that he would begin to believe such awful things about God. That was exactly what Job was wrestling with, and it is exactly what we wrestle with. In spite of everything, will we continue to believe that God is good? In spite of everything, will we continue to believe in God at all? Can we hold onto our faith when the whole world screams that we are all alone?

And will we, like Job, get to the place where we accept that we will never get it? Can we get to the place where we are left with nothing but mystery, and then say to ourselves, this mystery is holy, and I can rest in that. We know there is a God, we know He is good, and if that is all we know, then that is enough. Even not-knowing is to be in the holy presence of God. That was Job’s journey. And that is our journey.

One of the great mysteries of the Christian life is that all of us are walking the totally opposite journeys of Bartimaeus and Job at the same time. In one sense, like Bartimaeus, we all start out blind. We start with nothing, and when we come to Jesus we gain everything. We get to know Jesus more and more, and by giving our weaknesses and woundedness to Jesus we get to know ourselves more and more. And, as we all get closer to Jesus we get to know each other more and more. The Bible hints that this journey of knowing ourselves, each other, and Jesus, more and more and more, will go on throughout eternity.

But at the very same time, we are also following the journey of Job. We start with everything, and come to realize that we understand nothing. The closer we get to God, the less we know Him. The more mature we become, the more we realize how distant from God we really are. Just when we think we might be getting it, God reminds us that we don’t get it at all. This journey into greater and greater mystery is a holy journey, characterized by paradox, and what the Christian mystics call holy darkness, where God is closest when He seems most distant. The Bible hints that this journey into increasing darkness and mystery is a journey that will continue for all eternity. When it finally dawns on us that our Christian life is the life of both Bartimaeus and Job, then we will get it. Until God reminds us again that we really don’t get it at all.

This morning Grace Elizabeth Landvik and Joel Aiden Lewis are being baptized. I would like to conclude this sermon with a special prayer for them. Please join me in prayer: Dear Lord, As Grace and Joel become part of your body, the church, this morning, through the holy sacrament of baptism, I pray that as they walk through all the years you will give them, that they will deeply understand, and walk in, the journeys of Bartimaeus and Job. Lord, may they always know that the only place to go with their weaknesses and woundedness is to you, and I pray that throughout their earthly journeys you would surround them with Christian communities who will welcome all their embarrassments, and hold their woundedness in the sacred container of your love.

And Lord, I pray that as life confuses, frustrates, and threatens to defeat Grace and Joel, that they would remember and walk in the journey of Job, understanding that God is often found in darkness and mystery, and that when they seemingly find themselves far from You, that it will be then that You are really closest of all.

Finally Lord, I pray that through all their journeys, Grace and Joel would find You, the source of all life and love. May they search for You always, and when they have found You, may they never, ever, let you go.

In Jesus’ precious name we pray.

Amen

Coyote! Coyote! Howling Bright

Coyote! Coyote! Howling bright,
In the Deserts of The night,
What Immortal Hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful folly?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the laughter in thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare frame thy mirth?

And what shoulder and what art
Could elongate the nostrils of thy snout?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand did tickle your feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain? (good question)
What the anvil? What blind grin?
Cannot its deadly errors grasp, or rhyme?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make Coyote?

Coyote! Coyote! howling bright
In the deserts of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Didst frame thy fearful wisdom?

Enough Is Enough

I've had it. The Philadelphia 76ers lose to a Spanish club team in basketball. This has gone far enough. The best we can do in the Olympics is bronze, and now this. I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore. What to do? Chop down those God-forsaken adjustable backboards.

Several years ago we bought an adjustable backboard. What do my boys and my nephew do? Lower it, of course, and dunk. Dunk, dunk, dunk. Dunk left, dunk right, and dunk backwards. Awesome. But can they hit a shot from three feet? No sir. Can they make a layup? No sir. We have lost an entire generation. When I grew up all we did was practice shooting. Hours and hours of shots from everywhere on the court. Now they dunk. It is so bad at my house that last Father's Day in contests of HORSE, Around The World, and every other imaginable game of basketball shooting, I beat my very athletic twenty-something sons. I not only beat them, I have never lost to them! If you ask my boys what a pick and roll is, they don't know. If you ask an NBA player, a pick and roll involves harvesting and preparing marijuana. ENOUGH!!!

We must take action. Gangs of men from my generation must cruise the streets, and when we see an adjustable backboard, we must chop it down. It will take years to re-educate our sons, and surely clueless parents will re-plant these hideous backborard contraptions when they are cut down. But we will press on. We will teach a new generation to play defense. We will show them how to pass the ball. We will introduce the concept of teamwork. And one day, when the game is restored, we will once again see Olympic gold medals around the necks of America's finest.

It is not just a dream. It can happen.

Hoop. There it is.

October Coyote

Are you Chilly
This Morning,
October Coyote?
As autumn Sun
Transforms The
Leaves to Gold, where do you go at night? How do you stay warm?

I know. You chase your tail. Over and over again until you fall asleep. A deep Coyote sleep.

I wish I could chase my tail.

Silent Coyote

What is
There to
Say, silent
Coyote?
Children
Suffer,
Parents
Weep,
And nobody
Knows
Why.

Why?

If we ask
The Riddle Mother, Coyote, what will She tell us?

Monster Slayer and Child Born of Water

In the beginning, there was Changing Woman and her sons, the Twins, Monster Slayer and Child Born of Water. When the boys were twelve years old, they asked, "Who is our father?" Changing Woman told them the Sun was their father, so the Twins undertook a difficult journey to reach him.

(From the Navaho myth "Where the Two Came To Their Father")

Autumn Coyote

Autumn Coyote,
Lover of Yellow
And gold and red.

And yet,
You are sad.
Why, dear Coyote?
What is it about
This season that
Makes you sad?

Is that a tear
In your eye?
Where will you
Go this winter?

Coyote Of The Corn

Mythic Coyote
Walks in worlds
Where sand is
Art, spirits
Still walk the
Earth, and
Corn is life.

Coyote HTML

Coyote never stops grinning
As he struggles to post
Pictures to his blog.

Dearest Coyote.
Never forget that
The joke is on you!

A Most Handsome Coyote

Handsome Coyote, Grinning at yourself in The mirror.
How foolish you are, Falling in love with Yourself.
What would Freud Say?

Wise Coyote

Coyote says,

O.J. did it, and then came to
Believe he didn't.

John Karr didn't do it,
And then came to believe
He did.

Very wise Coyote.

Here's Your Sign

Good morning. I have never been big on asking God for a sign. But one time when I was in college I did ask God for a sign, and what happened was very interesting.

I was twenty years old, a Christian, and I thought it was about time I had a girlfriend. I told God of my desire, but because I wasn’t sure if this was God’s will, I asked God to give me a sign, to tell me if I should look for, and expect, a girlfriend. Immediately after I asked God for a sign, I started finding pens.

You see, in college I was always losing pens. I would buy a bag of pens every month to replace those I had lost. I joked to myself that I lost pens like I lost girlfriends. Well, the day after I asked God for a sign about having a girlfriend, I started finding pens. Everywhere. I remember walking to class one day, and underneath a tree I found four pens. Within the course of a week I had found at least thirty pens. The explanation was clear: if I lost girlfriends like I lost pens, then if I started finding pens, God must be saying that I was going to find a girlfriend.

I was walking on air! Life couldn’t have been better. I was a Christian, God had heard my prayer, and He had given me the sign I asked for. But best of all, I was going to have a girlfriend!

So I waited on the Lord, and within two months do you know what happened to me? NOTHING. Absolutely NOTHING. Not only did I not get a girlfriend, I couldn’t even get a girl to look at me. Two months earlier life had been as good as it could be. Now I was so low I had to play racquetball off the curb. I was totally depressed. I felt like printing up a shirt that said “I asked God for a girlfriend, and all I got were these stupid pens!”

Our readings this morning talk about journeys and signs. The journey of life is often a very difficult journey. Along the way, we often ask God for help, for a sign, to help us know what to do. Sometimes God gives us big, spectacular signs, and those are wonderful. When the going of life gets tough, though, it is the small signs that get us through. Sometimes we get the girlfriend, and sometimes we get the pens. But in small and precious ways, we always get God.

The prophet Elijah was living in very difficult times. Ahab, the King, was a bad guy. First Kings says that Ahab did more evil in the sight of the Lord, and did more to provoke God to anger, than any king before him. Ahab married Jezebel, the daughter of a foreign king, and began to serve the false god Baal and worship him. Ahab and Jezebel killed the prophets of the Lord, and things were so bad that Elijah wondered if he were the only one in Israel who had not kissed Baal and worshipped him. There was a real possibility that the faith of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob would not survive. These were desperate times.

And desperate times require desperate actions. Elijah confronted Ahab, and told him to assemble the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. The prophets of Baal and Elijah would each kill a bull and prepare it, and then call on their God. The God who answered with fire, to consume the sacrifice, Baal or Yahweh, that would be the true God. The prophets of Baal called on their God all day long, but no fire came down from heaven. So Elijah stood up and said, “O Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, let it be known today that you are God in Israel,....answer me, O Lord, so these people will know that you are God, and that you are turning their hearts back again.”

Then fire came down from heaven, and it burned up the sacrifice, the wood, the stones and even the soil. When the people saw this, they cried, “The Lord, he is God! The Lord, he is God! Then Elijah ordered all the prophets of Baal to be killed. What a day! The Lord had given the people of Israel an incredible sign----and then some.

For Elijah, it couldn’t get any better than this. He asked for fire from heaven, and he got it. He killed all the false prophets. He very likely saved his nation. Surely, Elijah was at the absolute pinnacle of human experience.

But then the air went right out of the balloon. Ahab’s wife, Jezebel, upon hearing that all the prophets of Baal were dead, sent a message to Elijah saying, “By this time tomorrow, I am going to kill you.” Elijah was very afraid, so he found a tree, sat down underneath it, and asked God to let him die. For Elijah, it couldn’t get any worse than this.

What happened to Elijah? How could he go from total victory to absolute depression in one day? I think the reason is because drawing close to God reminds us of how different from God we really are. It would be very understandable for Elijah, having felt the awesome power of God thundering down from heaven, to think that maybe, just maybe, some of that power belonged to him. Maybe being that close to the immortal God could make Elijah immortal too. But then Jezebel reminds Elijah that no matter how close to God’s power and immortality he has been, he can still be killed just like everyone else. Oh yeah, forgot about that. Standing very near to God reminds us, as nothing else can, that we are not God.

So how does God help Elijah in his depression? Does he remind him that fire came down from heaven just yesterday? No. Does he give him a different spectacular sign to shake him up? No. When Elijah was depressed and wanted to die, God says “I know the journey is too much for you”, and God then gave him a small sign: sound sleep, and a good meal of bread and water. This was God’s most profound sign of all. God was telling Elijah, “When the going gets tough, I will always sustain you.”

Sometimes the ups and downs of life’s journey can be too much for us, just like they were for Elijah. Sometimes we experience success in our work, and it feels great. We feel close to God and blessed by God. Then our company is downsized, we lose our job, and we realize how depressingly unsuccessful, and mortal, we really are. Sometimes our families are doing well, and we feel blessed and close to God. Then our mate leaves us, or one of our kids gets into trouble, and we realize in our depression that marriage and family happiness is often very fragile and very temporary.

Sometimes we get into good physical shape, and in that endorphin rush think that maybe, just maybe, we will stay healthy for a long time. Then a spot on our x-ray depressingly reminds us that we may in for a very rough time. No matter how good it gets in this life, and no matter how close we get to God, reminders of our mortality are only a conversation or a phone call away.

There is no doubt that success at work, marital and family happiness, and good health are tremendous signs of God’s presence. We should ask God for these blessings, and anticipate them on our journey. When we’re hurting, though, and when the journey has beaten us up, the signs from God that will get us through are those small, gentle signs that remind us that God is with us, and He will never leave us.

When the journey is too much for us, God speaks in small ways through the loving voice of a friend, a coincidence that isn’t really a coincidence, a special scripture verse, or the still small voice in our souls that tells us that we are never alone. These small signs are not usually what we ask for, but they are often the most precious signs of all.

In John’s gospel this morning we see that even when Jesus was worn down by His journey, God gave Him a special, small sign. The crowds were following Jesus after the feeding of the five-thousand, and they asked Him, “our forefathers ate manna in the desert. What miraculous sign will you give that we may see it and believe in you?” Jesus must have been delighted to hear this question, because He was the sign. Jesus said, “I am the Bread of Life. Those who ate the manna died, but whoever eats my flesh will have eternal life.”

Jesus was telling them, I’m the man. I am the one who has known you and loved you. I created the universe, and the grain that feeds you. I provided manna in the desert. I brought fire down for Elijah, and gave him bread and water and sleep when he was tired. I led you out of Egypt, I gave you the Law, I chose King David, and I have preserved you as a nation to this day. I love you, and I always will. You ask me for a sign? Great. I am the sign you are looking for. I am the Bread of Life.

Jesus wasn’t giving them pens here. This sign was girlfriend to the max. Angelina Jolie all the way. And yet, somehow, the crowds missed it. They got the girlfriend, but they thought it was a bunch of pens. They grumbled, saying, how can He give us His flesh to eat? And many of His disciples turned back, and no longer followed Him. This was a disaster all the way around.

I believe the most poignant verse in the bible is when Jesus is on the cross, and he says “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” That is heart-wrenching. I believe right here, when many of Jesus’ disciples turned away, is the second most poignant moment, because I think Jesus’ heart was crushed. Jesus reveals His love for His people, and they reject Him. His journey didn’t get any tougher than this.

Have you ever been in love, and sent your beloved secret gifts? Maybe flowers, or a sweet card from a secret admirer? This is what Jesus had been doing with His people throughout history. He had been loving them, protecting them, and preparing them. But they didn’t yet know it was Jesus who was their Beloved. Jesus sent them clues and gifts, and then, finally, they ask for a sign, and He says, here I am. It was me loving you all along.

What happened next is something that happened to me in college too. You finally reveal your secret love, and instantly a dagger goes through your heart, because the look in her eyes spells catastrophe. She is disappointed. She is disappointed it was you, and even worse, she is disappointed because she hoped it was someone else. That is a crushing blow. Jesus felt that kind of crushing rejection. He says I am the Bread of Life, I am the one who has loved you, and the crowd grumbles, and then slowly walks away. They wanted someone else.

So Jesus then turns to the twelve, and says, and I wouldn’t be surprised if He had tears in His eyes, “are you going to leave me to?” Peter says, Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the holy one of God.” It is really too bad that the crowds couldn’t have heard that, because that small statement is the greatest sign of all.

Peter is a great guy. When Jesus said He was the Bread of Life, I’m sure Peter had no idea what Jesus was talking about. Jesus as the Bread of Life went right over Peter’s head, just like most of what Jesus taught the disciples went right over their heads. And yet, they knew Jesus, they loved Him, and they would stick with Him no matter how much they didn’t understand. That is a small, but incredible sign of faith.

It would have been nice if the crowds could have said that to Jesus. That would have been a great sign. It would have been even better if God had roared from heaven, “This is my beloved Son, the Bread of Life.” That would have been a spectacular sign. But Peter’s confession of faith must have meant everything to Jesus. In the midst of profound rejection, Peter’s faith and love are small and precious signs that sustained Jesus on His journey.

On our journey through life we will experience rejection just like Jesus did. We will give everything we have, and some will be disappointed and walk away. Some people won’t like us. Some will even hate us. And, there will always be some we can’t please no matter what we do and no matter how hard we try. God won’t sustain us on our journey my making us popular. God will sustain us by providing a few special people who will cherish us and love us no matter what.

When our journey gets too tough for us, Paul tells us in Ephesians that there is a special sign that will get us through. That sign is us: we, the church, are the sign. Peter’s faithful commitment to follow Jesus, the Christ, no matter what, is the rock upon which the church is built. With Jesus as the chief cornerstone, the church is built of faithful believers, sealed with the Holy Spirit, and molded into the body of Christ. We are to sustain one another on our journeys. Each of us are the small signs that will bring one another Home.

Sounds good. And when we look at the sign of the church, all we see are girlfriends, and never pens, right? I wish. Unfortunately, the church is a sign that gives both girlfriends and pens. The church manifests both the best that heaven can offer, and often the most flawed that human beings can give. Sometimes the church will surprise us with how clearly God is reflected in our actions. And sometimes the church will break our hearts. We are a mixed up bunch of sinners and saints, girlfriends and pens, heaven and earth, hope and despair.

So what do we do? Paul exhorts us in Ephesians to put off falsehood and speak truthfully, don’t let the sun go down on our anger, do not grieve the Holy Spirit, and forgive one another, just as Christ forgave us. We are all on a journey together, and we must strive to reflect Christ, love one another, and be the small signs of God’s presence that sustain one another on our journey.

When the journey of a church and its people gets a little rough, like ours has been since Lou left, it is always tempting to look for big signs. We look forward to the search for, and the selection of, a new rector. And that is great. We continue to celebrate our 50th anniversary, which is wonderful. And we greatly anticipate revving up our giving, our worship, and our evangelism in the coming years. This is what we should be doing.

But, after we have a new rector, after we move past fifty years, and after all the new changes have been implemented, when church life gets routine again, then what? What small signs will sustain us on our journey then?

The answer is, we are the signs, and we will sustain each other, especially in the routine. Just as Jesus is the Bread of Life for us, so we are the Bread of Life for one another. All the time. Life is mostly routine, and occassionaly extraordinary and spectacular. The trick is to love and forgive and bear each other’s burdens during the long stretches of regular life.

Or, looking at it another way, there is no such thing as regular life. Every second that we live is extraordinary and spectacular. Loving one another, forgiving one another, and being long suffering with one another is the extraordinary way we are the Bread of Life for each other, all the time. This extraordinary and spectacular love is the sign that we are the church. This extraordinary and spectacular love is the sign that we are children of God.

The only question that remains is, when I asked God for a girlfriend, why did I get pens? I was on a difficult journey at the time. When a twenty year old guy doesn’t have a girlfriend, that is a tough journey in a special kind of way. I wanted a girlfriend so much that when pens started appearing everywhere, I jumped at believing this was a sign from God. It was a sign that God had a sense of humor. But it was not a sign that I was supposed to have a girlfriend.

But God did give me a sign I will never forget. A few months after it became apparent that I was not going to get a girlfriend, I remember sitting in my dorm room, and God spoke to me like he spoke to Elijah, in a still, small voice. He simply said, “Jim, you will be fine. I will take care of you. Trust me.” It was not spectacular. No shining light, no earthquake, no Catherine Zeta-Jones. But it was very real. And very powerful. I have never forgotten that sign. And God took very good care of me.

As the body of Christ, may we always remember that God speaks to us most often in the small and in the gentle. May God’s spectacularly transforming love infuse us at all times, and no matter what the world may bring, and no matter how confusing life might become, may we always hang on tight to Jesus, who shows us the way of eternal life. These are the signs that will get us through the journey. These are the signs we will never forget.

Amen

Coyote Dreaming

Midsummer night's Coyote,
Were you dreaming of me?

Five years ago you howled,
And I dreamed,
And you laughed.
Were you my friend?
I did not know.

Now I think,
Dearest Coyote,
That I was dreaming
Of you.
My midsummer
Night's dream was
All about me.
And you are me.

Don't growl at me
Like that.

If the earth dreams
The Dreamquest,
Then the earth dreams
You too.
We are both actors
In the dream
Of the earth.

Nevertheless,
Coyote,
I won't shake your
Hand.

What kind of dream
Would that be?

Coyote Two Face

Sometimes,
Dearest Coyote,
I don't know what to
Make of you.

Unexpectedly you bring
Delightful gifts.
Why?

And then you howl at
And mock all
Thoughts I have of
Meaning, and order,
And God.
Why do you do that?

If I could grab your
Tail I'd throw you in
The lake.

Would I sink,
Or swim?

Morning Coyotes

Running at dawn
I met two coyotes
On the path.

I said good morning
To both.
They just looked at me
Across their long snouts.

I kept running.
One coyote kept his
Eye on me.

Got him.

Not In Kansas Anymore

Good morning. Before I became an Episcopalian, one of the most interesting religious experiences I ever had was at a Greek Orthodox Pascha, or Easter, service. Worshipping Orthodox style was something I had never experienced before. You stand almost the whole time, three hours, and you chant all through the service. Incense fills the church, beautiful icons cover every wall, and you truly feel like you are in heaven. The Orthodox really know how to do Easter.

I was an evangelical at the time, and this was definitely not your three hymns and a sermon service. Part of me wanted to draw back from this kind of all-encompassing worship, but part of me wanted to let go, body and soul, and plunge into the heavenly rhythm. At one point in the liturgy, as I thought about letting myself go, for the first time in my life I was right on the verge of a full-blown mystical experience. I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I wasn’t a Baptist anymore.

I’ve had three thoughts as I look back on that experience. First, I wish I had let myself go. I was a bit afraid, and I wish I had trusted that if i let go God would catch me. Second, what really moved my soul was the Orthodox emphasis on the Trinity. In every possible way, through chant, liturgy, and icons and incense, the triune fullness of God was lifted up and exalted. I had never experienced the Trinity like this before.

Third, once I became an Episcopalian, I realized that everything I had experienced in the Orthodox church that morning I experience every single Sunday morning right here. In a different way, but in just as profound a way, we Episcopalians lift up and worship the Trinity in a deeply mystical way. Our tradition, our faith, and our liturgy are thoroughly, and wonderfully, Trinitarian.

Today is Trinity Sunday, and our readings this morning give us a glimpse into the great mystery of the Trinity. The early church was guided by three principles as they worked to understand and define the Trinity, and I want to use those same principles as we examine both the scriptures and the nature of our triune God. As we journey together this morning, we will discover, as I did, that when Christians gather together in the name of the Trinity, we are not in Kansas anymore.

Let me set the stage. Last week was Pentecost, and all kinds of people were having “I’m not in Kansas anymore” experiences and coming to know Jesus. This continued week after week, year after year, as the early church continued to grow. Over time, as Christians began to think about their faith, a need arose to define what these experiences were all about. Experiences without explanations can get out of control.

But there is a danger in explanations. Sometimes they detract from, and get in the way of, experiences. This was the tension the early church faced. In other words, how could the church become more definitional, while still remaining heavily experiential? We face the same issue today. As an evangelical, I could define and explain the Trinity as well as anyone, but I can honestly say I never experienced the Trinity in worship. Sometimes definitions seemingly bar the way to experience.


So, to insure that people could keep getting out of Kansas, and at the same time be able to talk about what was happening, the early church came up with three principles to walk this fine line between experience and definition.

The first principle that guided the early church in experiencing and defining the Trinity was this: “God is not a doctrine. God is a person. Sometimes, when we think and talk about the Trinity, it is easy to get lost in our thoughts. The early church was deeply concerned about this, so they insisted that no matter what our theological musings, we must never forget that God is not a doctrine. God is a person.

Our reading from Exodus perfectly illustrates this principle. Moses was in the desert, tending sheep, when he saw a bush that was burning, but never consumed. He knew something was up, and then God spoke to Moses from the bush, saying, “dude, take your shoes off, you’re standing on holy ground.” Moses was being addressed, not by a doctrine, but by the holy God of the universe.

God then says, “I am the God of your fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and I want you to return to Egypt and set my people free.” Moses looked around and said, “You talking to me?” God said, “yeah, I’m talking to you.” Uh oh. Moses was in big trouble. This holy God wanted Moses to step out in faith, and do something he could never do on his own without God’s help. That’s what happens when we encounter God. So Moses says, “okay, fine, but when I tell my people you sent me, what do I say? What is your name?”

And in one of the most famous lines in scripture, God answers, “tell them I am the philosophical first principle of all things. Tell them I am the existential ground of all being. Tell them I am the prime mover of all things that move. Tell them I am the first cause of all other causes and effects. Tell them I am the center of the web from which all things are connected.” Right Judy? Isn’t that what God said?

No. God doesn’t give Moses an explanation. God gives Moses an experience. He says to Moses, “tell them my name is I AM.” Wow. I imagine when God spoke His name the whole universe shook with God’s majesty and holiness. Moses must have been absolutely awestruck. God didn’t give Moses an explanation. God gave Moses Himself.

It is exactly the same with us. God doesn’t give us doctrines. He gives us Himself. When God gives us Himself, we are standing on holy ground. This is why the early church insisted that no matter what we are thinking about the Trinity, we must begin and end in personally encountering God’s holiness. We can talk all we want about explanations. But we must live experiencing God.

We are standing on holy ground right now. The minute we step in these doors God is giving Himself to us. In the music, the readings, the sermon, the creed, the peace, and especially in the Eucharist, God is with us. When we bow, when we cross ourselves, and when the bells ring, God is especially close to us. And we are never closer to God than when we receive His body and blood. Our whole church is full of burning bushes. We should all be on the verge of a mystical experience every time we gather.

Not only that, we should see God’s holiness in burning bushes everywhere we look. Nature is a burning bush proclaiming God’s holiness. The lost, the suffering, and the least of our brothers and sisters are all burning bushes full of God’s presence. LIke Moses, we cannot escape God’s holiness.

Even if we have the perfect understanding of the Trinity, if we are not living in the experiential knowledge of God’s holiness, then it just doesn’t matter. We’re stuck in Kansas. God is not a doctrine. God is a person. (By the way....)

The second principle that guided the early church as they sought to experience and understand the Trinity was this: liturgy precedes theology. (Repeat). This principle flows from the first principle, but at first glance it doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense. Surely, our liturgy flows from our theology, right? Well, maybe not.

We tend to think the early church worked out the doctrine of the Trinity like this: Christians at that time looked at the old and new Testaments, and said, “well, we see a lot of references to the Holy Spirit. Jesus taught about the Holy Spirit, and several times Paul seems to imply that the Spirit is God. We know what happened at Pentecost, we know the Spirit was present at Christ’s baptism, and if we put everything we know together, then the most reasonable theological conclusion is that the Holy Spirit is God. Therefore, our liturgy and our worship, our creed and our hymns, our life and our prayers, should all reflect the fact that we believe that the Holy Spirit is God. Sounds good.
In fact, however, just the opposite happened. Here’s how it worked. The early church was saturated with the presence of God. The Holy Spirit was pulsating and throbbing through their worship and liturgy. People were being healed of diseases. Miraculous gifts were being manifested. Thousands and thousands of people were coming to know God. Lives of sin were being transformed into lives of holiness. The Holy Spirit was so intensely present to the early church that they knew, as Paul tells us in Romans, that God was not just Father, but also Abba, daddy. The Spirit testified powerfully that Christians were children of God, and not only children, but co-heirs with Christ of God’s eternal Kingdom.

The church’s incredible worshipful and liturgical experience of the Spirit gave birth to its theology. Liturgy and worship precede theology. The Spirit who was so powerfully moving through the church could only be God. So, a theology was worked out that enshrined the church’s experience of the Holy Spirit in doctrine. We call that doctrinal understanding the Nicene Creed.

The problem for us today is that we start with the theology, but sometimes we never get to the experience. We recite the Creed, but sometimes we never encounter the Spirit. We never get out of Kansas. Let me give you an example of how this works.

We go into a great restaurant, the waiter hands us a menu, and as we look over the menu our mouths start to water. Oh man! Every single selection looks fabulous. Our stomachs are getting fired up, and we can hardly wait to get started. So what do we do? Well, of course, we start eating the menu. We rip that baby to shreds, and as the cardboard and plastic slide down our throats, we think to ourselves that this is by far the best menu I have ever tasted.

The Creed is a menu of our deepest beliefs. It is an incredible menu, put together by some of the best minds that Christianity has ever produced. But it’s just a menu. It’s not the meal. If we don’t get past the menu to the meal, then we haven’t had dinner. If we don’t get past the Creed to experience the Living God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, then we don’t know the Trinity.

That’s why the early church insisted that liturgy and worship precede theology. The ultimate goal is not to understand the Trinity. The ultimate goal is to experience the Trinity. When someone asks us to explain the Trinity, the best thing we can tell them is, come and worship with me. Taste and see the goodness of the triune God. But if we do this, we better be sure our lives, and our worship, are saturated with the presence of God.

The final principle the early church used in walking the fine line between experiences and definitions concerning the Trinity is this: “What is not assumed cannot be redeemed.” I wish I could tell you that the early church’s working out the doctrine of the Trinity was a straight line of agreement, of Christians slowly coming to a consensus about what the best definition of the Trinity was, and of the profound experience of Trinity shaping in a seamless and holy way the production of the Nicene Creed. But I can’t. There were many rough and dark places along the way.

As the Creed was being written, Christian history gets especially tough. Everyone did not define the Trinity the same way. It came down to one letter, the letter “i”. Those who accepted the Creed as we now have it believed that Jesus was, in Latin, hom “o” ousian, or of the same nature as the Father. Those who rejected the Creed as we now have it believed that Jesus was hom “oi” ousian, (one letter “i” added), that Jesus was of a similar, but not the same nature, as the Father. And then the wars began. Making a long story short, when the Nicene definition of the Trinity eventually triumphed, those who adhered to the Nicene Creed instantly declared everyone else heretics, they threw them out of the church, and they asked the emperor to declare these heretics traitors to the Empire.

It isn’t easy to know what to make of all this. Each of us must come to our own conclusions about what the best way is to deal with differences of opinion in the church over critical theological issues. For now, let me give just a bit of insight into the mind of those Nicene Christians who believed that adding a single “i” to the Creed required such drastic actions. It boils down to the principle that what is not assumed cannot be redeemed.

The early church was deeply aware of humanity’s sinfulness and brokenness. They were also profoundly aware of God’s majesty and holiness. The question that Nicodemus was groping for in John’s gospel today was the same question the early Christians were trying to answer: how are we saved from our sinfulness and brokenness? How does God’s holiness come to our humanity and heal us?

Jesus gives the answer in John chapter three: we must be born again. Unless a person is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the Kingdom of God. Unless God’s holiness transforms us in a second birth, through the Holy Spirit, then we are lost in our sinfulness and brokenness.

We are born again through the death and resurrection of Jesus, who is the bridge between God’s holiness and our sinfulness. In Jesus divinity takes on humanity, and so we are healed. Divinity assumes humanity, and so we are redeemed. This was the faith of the early church.

Now, what if Jesus is not God? How could humanity be redeemed if Jesus, the bridge between God and humanity, is not divine? How could humanity be assumed into divinity if Jesus is not God? How could we all be born again?

This was the key issue. The early church instinctively understood that our doctrine of the Trinity is intimately connected to our doctrine of salvation. If we define the Trinity in the wrong way, then we aren’t saved. If we get the Trinity wrong, then we’ll never leave Kansas, because there isn’t anywhere else to go. The church could compromise on some things, but they would not compromise on our salvation. A non-divine Jesus cannot assume our humanity. Thus the rallying cry, “what is not assumed (our humanity), cannot be redeemed.” If adding a single “i” to the creed would make Jesus like God, but not really God, then we are not born again, and Nicene Christians decided that keeping that “i” out of the Creed was worth fighting for, sometimes, literally, to the death.

It all boiled down to experience. If the early church knew anything, they knew what it meant to be born again. Under no circumstances would they let this absolutely sacred experience be defined away. We too must know experientially what it means to be born again. In our transformed, born again lives, people will see, and experience, the Trinity.

As I look back, my almost mystical, out of Kansas experience of the Trinity in the Orthodox church was actually my first step in becoming Episcopalian. I found everything about that experience, and more, right here.

The Nicene faith of the Episcopal church preserves for us, in a wonderfully delicate balance between experience and explanation, a holy Trinity, experienced in our worship and liturgy as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, in whose triune-divine life our humanity is taken to heaven, and we are born again.

I can think of no better way to end this sermon than by singing one of the greatest hymns of the faith, Holy Holy Holy, hymn 332. Please join me as we worship experience the Trinity together.