Forbidden Planet

Good morning. As you know, I love all the the Star Wars movies. But my favorite science fiction movie of all time is the 1956 classic, Forbidden Planet. Anybody seen Forbidden Planet? Forbidden Planet is about a planet in a distant solar system that was once populated by an incredible race called the Krell. The Krell were amazingly advanced. They had eliminated sickness and suffering, they were ethically and morally stellar, they had travelled the galaxy, and they were technologically light years ahead of earth. But, on the threshold of their ultimate cultural achievement, the Krell perished in a single night.

Two different expeditions from earth visited this Forbidden Planet long after the Krell had disappeared, and discovered that something dark and evil still haunted this world. At the end of the movie we learn that the Krell had been murdered, and this murderous evil still existed, threatening to kill all of the earth visitors.

What was this evil? The Krell heard subtle but devilish cultural voices tempting them. The Krell succumbed to these cultural voices and temptations, and by giving in, they created an evil that caused their extinction. The Krell listened to the voice of the tempter, and perished.

The cultural voices the Krell faced are the same cultural voices and temptations that Jesus faced while He was in the desert. The same evil tempter tempted both. And, the same cultural temptations, and the same evil tempter, tempt us in exactly the same ways. As we all begin the journey of Lent, I want to look this morning at three cultural voices and temptations that the Krell, Jesus and we all wrestle with. By looking at how Jesus and the Krell faced these three cultural temptations, we will learn what the devil’s cultural temptations are, how to resist them, and, what the tragic consequences are if we don’t.

Let me begin by painting the scene in Luke. The big picture that we so often miss is that when the Spirit drove Jesus into the desert, Jesus was going on a classic vision quest. Many cultures then, and still a few today, sent their young people away from society for a period of time to help them prepare for their public vocation or ministry. On a vision quest the goal is to get away from all the voices of family, culture, and civilization, and to clearly hear the voice of God, the voice of your own soul, and, the voice of evil.

Through fasting and isolation, the vision-quester is more open to hearing these important voices. This is why the Spirit drove Jesus into the desert. Jesus didn’t go into the desert simply to individually wrestle with Satan. Jesus went into the desert on a vision quest to turn off cultural voices, and turn other voices on.

But, voices we try to turn off always come back full force. Prepared by fasting and isolation, the very voices of culture that Jesus was trying to get away from on his vision quest came back at Him full force.

The first cultural temptation that Jesus faced was the tempation of compensating for human fraility with omnipotence. After living in the desert for over a month, Jesus is very hungry. The tempter says, “if you’re starving, turn these stones into bread. You are all powerful, use your omnipotence to compensate for your human frailty.” Human beings are frail. We are prone to sickness and suffering. We get weak from hunger, and we get scared when we are all alone. Culture, our shared human community, helps us with our frailities, healing us when we are sick, comforting us in our sorrows, feeding us when we are hungry, and providing us companionship when we are all alone. But, the voices of culture also tell us that we can compensate for our human frailty by becoming omnipotent.

Look at what humans have done to compensate for our frailty. We’ve turned deserts into oasis, we’ve cured diseases, we feed the world, we shelter ourselves from violent nature, and, if we continue on this path, who knows what else our power might accomplish. We just might become all powerful. We just might be able to turn stones into bread. This is the voice of the tempter, speaking through culture, telling us that we can become God.

The Krell also heard the voice of the tempter. They were so powerful that they had eliminated sickness, suffering, fraility, and vulnerability. There was nothing they couldn’t do. They were virtually omnipotent. They compensated for their fraility by almost becoming God.

This first cultural temptation we must battle on our lenten vision quests says if our fraility makes us insecure, then maybe our power can make us secure. Jesus responds to the voice of the tempter by saying that humans do not live by bread alone. Our security does not come by turning stones into bread, but by trusting God. We are secure not by becoming God, but by trusting God.



This is a tough battle. I feel this cultural temptation all the time. If I can make enough money, then I can turn that money into bread, and I will be secure. If I do just the right exercises, and take just the right supplements, then I can avoid sickness and disease, and be secure. If I can just develop myself enough psychologically, then I can turn that hoped-for maturity into mental security against rejection, failure, or political and economic unrest. And on and on.

I’m sure you feel similar temptations too. The cultural temptations to compensate for our human fraility by becoming God are everywhere. Like Jesus, when confronted by the voice of the tempter, we all need to compensate for our human fraility not by striving to become omnipotent, but by trusting our fraility to God.

The second cultural temptation that Jesus faced was the temptation to compensate for being limited to one place, by being able to go to all places. After a rough season in the wilderness, Jesus was feeling powerless and alone. Surely He was tired of living in the desert. The tempter leads Jesus to a high place and shows Him all the kingdoms of the world. “All their glory and splendor will be yours,” Satan says. Jesus, trying to get away from the voices of culture, is immediately hit with a powerful cultural temptation to be somewhere else.

The tempter says, “You can be everywhere at once. You need not be limited to one place. From this high ground all the kingdoms of the world are right here before you. There is no place you can’t have. There is no place you can’t reach” This temptation is about power, authority, and omnipresence.

The Krell, from their high place, were also tempted to be omnipresent. On the threshold of their greatest cultural achievement, Krell technology was so advanced that their computers and machinery could connect to the electromagnetic signals of individual Krell brains. This allowed individual Krells to project their presence instantaneously to any place of their planet. The Krell overcame the physical limitations of a body, and achieved virtual omnipresence. They listened to the voice of the tempter.

What are the high places in our culture from which we are tempted to become omnipresent? Militarily, omipresence means our army, navy and air force can fight the enemy anywhere and everywhere in the world. Tourism-wise, omnipresence means we can go to, learn from, and enjoy any place in the world. Internet-wise, omnipresence means we can connect to and communicate with anyone on earth, and, through fantasy, as super-heroes we can battle anyone we want, and, have sex with any image we want.

We can literally travel to the moon, and through our incredible telescopes see back to the beginning of the universe. We can go to the stars. We can color outside any lines. We are no longer tied to body, or to place. As the commercial says, we are without limits.

Jesus responded to the voice of the tempter by saying “you will worship God alone.” By worshipping God who alone is everywhere at all times, we are forced to remember that we are limited physical creatures. We do indeed have limits. There are all kinds of lines we can’t color outside of. There is no place high enough to get us everywhere. There is no place high enough to make us God. We must compensate for being physically limited to one body, in one place, at one time, not by being omnipresent, but by trusting God who is everywhere at all times.

The final temptation that Jesus faced was the temptation to compensate for being mortal, by being immortal. The desert Jesus was vision-questing in was not flat. It had hills and canyons, and certainly, weakened by fasting, Jesus must have worried about falling. So, the tempter took Jesus to the highest point of the temple. “If you are the Son of God, Jump! Your angels will catch you. Don’t worry about falling. Scripture says you can’t be harmed. You won’t die. You are immortal.” Satan tempts Jesus to compensate for His human frailities by trusting in His divine invulnerability and immortality.

Again, the Krell were tempted by the same tempter and the same temptation. Having overcome sickness and suffering, having overcome being physically limited to one place, the Krell were on the verge of attaining immortality. Immortality not through their achievements, and not through their history, but immortality by living forever. The Krell compensated for the greatest fraility of all, death, by swallowing up death up in eternal life.

The promise of eternal life is a profound cultural temptation that we must battle ceasely on our Lenten vision quests. In spite of earthquakes, tsunamis, plagues, and wars, culture keeps promising us eternal life. Think of how much money we spend as a culture on make-up and hair dye to keep us looking young; light beer, shiny cars, and pretty women to keep us feeling young, and angioplastys, stents, and bypass surgeries to keep us living and young. These things aren’t bad in and of themselves. But the subtle cultural message we are hit with all the time is that if we do the right things, then, maybe, just maybe, we will live forever.

Jesus responded to this temptation by saying, “Don’t put God to the test. Don’t challenge God to show you how mortal you really are.” We should trust our mortality to God’s immortality. We should not try to compensate for our mortality by trying to become immortal.”

These cultural temptations are not just quirks of 21st century humanity. Put all these temptations together and humanity has a very serious problem. I want to look at a recent example of how all these temptations came together at one time: Wall Street and the economic meltdown. I want to preface this by saying that my observations are in no way political, and, the executives, accountants, and brokers of Wall Street are not the bad guys. They are just like us, tempted by exactly the same things we are. The only difference is that the drama of their temptations and failures are played out on a much bigger stage.

What do Wall Street executives refer to themselves as? Masters of the universe. Through extremely fast computers and the internet they have the power and authority to economically make all the nations of the world bow down. They are rich beyond their wildest dreams. They believe they have computer programs and economic strategies that remove all risk from their financial activities. These masters of the universe are all-powerful, omnipresent, and invulnerable. And it totally fell apart.


And we are no different. In our small realms don’t we strive with all our might to be masters of our universe? Don’t we arrange our lives to such an extent that we believe, or at least hope, that we are invulnerable? Don’t we dream of what we would do if we were economically or politically powerful? Don’t we way too often spread ourselves way too thin in our quest to be at way too many places at the same time? Wall Street is us. We are Wall Street. We have all given in to the same cultural temptation to think we are God. And it always falls apart.

It all fell apart for the Krell because they thought they could become God. At the very threshold of being technologically able to travel and create everywhere, the Krell destroyed themselves. Having unlimited power, when the Krell went to sleep murderous monsters from their unconscious, that they didnt even know were there, were free to roam and destroy. In striving to be God their inner demons, given unlimited power, destroyed everything, and the Krell never even knew what hit them.

We are in danger of the exact same catastrophe. We think we are becoming masters of the universe. The same energy that fuels the stars humanity has harnessed in our nuclear weapons and reactors. Think about how amazing that really is. And I read recently that we are on the verge of creating life. Think about that. Not genetically altering life, but creating life from scratch in our own image. It is almost unbelieveable. And these almost unlimited powers are in the hands of a human race that is tempted to be God, with all kinds of monsters and demons running around in our souls. To be honest, this scares me to death.


If we as a species believe the illusion that we are progressing towards omnipotence, if we believe the illusion that we are progressing towards omnipresence, and if we really believe the illusion that we are progressing towards immortality, if we really believe like the Krell that we are progressing towards divinity, then we will be destroyed, and just like the Krell, we won’t even know what hit us.

So what do we do? As each of us go on a vision quest this Lent, how do we battle the cultural temptations to become God? Let me tell you what I’m going to do. Since Lent is traditionally the time of “giving things up,” let me tell you what I’m giving up to resist the cultural temptation to think I can be God. Many of you will find this shocking, disturbing, and even unbelieveable, and if what I am about to say makes you feel faint, ushers are standing by to help you. For Lent, I am giving up my iPod.

I know, I know, this is stunning, but let me tell you why. By being instantly connected to the internet wherever I am, I am tempted to think I am God. Through this iPod I can connect to all the knowledge of the world. I can be omniscient. By posting to my blog, twitter and Facebook, I can influence people all over the world. I can be omnipotent. As our resident philosopher Rob Jones says, with this iPod, no matter where I am, I can be somewhere else. I can be omnipresent.

And maybe, just maybe, by leaving a lasting, digital mark in this world that can be accessed forever and ever, I can be immortal. Maybe. This iPod is incredible, but it also subtley whispers in my ear that I can be God. So this Lent, on this vision quest, I am putting it away.

The voice of the tempter never changes, whether on a Forbidden Planet, or on our planet. Just as in the Garden of Eden, the devil is always whispering to us that we can be divine. We must not go this high place of arrogance and greed. This wish to be God takes us away from nature that gives us life, takes us away from our bodies that exist in only one place and time, and takes us away from the desert, the inhospitable desert, that always reminds us how mortal we really are. That is why Lent always sends us back to the desert. Because only in the desert are we reminded, beyond any doubt, that we are, after all, not God.

Amen

Transitions

All things considered, Maundy Thursday is my favorite service of the year. The Easter Vigil is a very, very, very close second, but if I had to pick, for me tonight is the most meaningful liturgy in the church calendar. There is so much going on tonight: the washing of the feet, the last supper and the institution of the Eucharist, which harkens back to and fulfills the Jewish Passover, the incredible upper room discourses, the stripping of the church, and walking to the altar of repose where the smell of flowers hits you before you even get to the stairs. Maundy Thursday is a multi-sensory liturgical experience.

I also love Maundy Thursday because of all the transitions, both biblically and liturgically, and all the befores and afters. Biblically, before tonight was the old covenant. After tonight is the new covenant. Before tonight the blood of the Passover lamb protected us from death. After tonight the blood of the Lamb of God delivers us from death. Before tonight our forefathers and mothers celebrated the Passover Seder. After tonight we celebrate the Eucharist. Before tonight Jesus was master and Lord. After tonight he is also a servant and friend.

Liturgically, we mirror this before and after by slowly transitioning, in a different direction, from joyful celebration, to stripping the church, and afterwards to waiting and praying. It’s as if Maundy Thursday is the large end of a funnel, and tonight we liturgically start down and get narrower, moving from celebration and life, to being stripped of everything, to watching and waiting, and then to death on Good Friday. Biblically, on this most holy night, the befores and afters go in a wonderful direction towards life. Liturgically, the befores and afters lead to the cross. That tension is why I love Maundy Thursday.

A little over two years ago I experienced a profound life transition when my father passed away, and as I look back, the evening he died reminds me in some significant ways of Maundy Thursday. That night was a time of transitions and tensions, it was a time of thinking back to all that had come before in my life, and it was a time of anxiously wondering what would happen next. As I fell asleep that night, I had three small dreams that spoke directly to the before and after of life and death, and tonight I’d like to share these dreams with you, because the texture of these dreams has a Maundy Thursday feel: a feel of transition, a feel of before and after, and a feel of tension.

When I got to the hospital on January 31, 2007, I was told that my father had passed away about ten minutes earlier. That news hit me like a punch in the stomach. I sadly went to his room, and as I held my dad’s hand, I was overwhelmed by two thoughts. First, whatever was happening, I knew that this was big, really, really big. Second, I was deeply aware that my dad’s death was in Christ’s image. Because Christ experienced death, human death is now in the image of Christ. I thought back to all my dad had meant to me in my life, and I wondered what my life would be like without him.

I cried as I drove home, and then cried and talked with Andrea. I felt sad and anxious, and I was waiting and longing for something, but I didn’t know what. After a while I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t, because, strangely, I kept thinking about atomic bombs.
Let me give you a brief context for this. A few weeks earlier I had read a book about the atomic bombing of Nagasaki, and the author said that in the Nagasaki bomb the fissionable material had lost mass, and that this loss of mass caused the explosion. Usually we think of nuclear fission not as a loss of mass, but as a chain reaction, the classic picture being a gymnasium floor completely full of armed mouse traps, with a ping-pong ball resting gently on each trap. If you throw one more ping-pong ball into the gymnasium, in just a few seconds the entire gym is full of flying ping-pong balls, because that ball springs a ball, which springs others, and the chain reaction is almost instantaneous, just like in a nuclear explosion.

But in the book I read, the author said another way to look at it was that the explosive charges in the Nagasaki bomb had significantly reduced the mass of fissionable material, and according to Einstein’s equations, lost mass is converted into incredible amounts of energy. I had never looked at it that way before, and this image of lost mass had been floating around in my mind for the past few weeks. On the night my dad died, for some reason that image of lost mass kept me awake. I couldn’t shake it, and I couldn’t fall asleep. As a therapist I have tried to train myself to welcome all thoughts and feelings, so I thought that maybe the destruction and loss of death was appearing to me in the image of lost mass and atomic destruction. Eventually I fell asleep.

My first dream was very brief, and in terms of the before and after of death, it clearly spoke to the after. I dreamt that a woman wearing dark glasses was looking at me, and as she looked at me she put on a fur coat, and took off her dark glasses. I woke with a start, and I knew instantly what this dream meant. Maybe atom bombs lost mass, but not my dad. This dream was not about lost mass, or lost anything, but about gain, gaining everything in the world. The fur coat was a putting on, gaining mass, being further clothed. I knew immediately this referred to Second Corinthians chapter five. Paul says in verse one:

“Now we know that if the earthly tent we live in (our body) is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked....because we do not wish to be unclothed, but to be further clothed with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.”

The fur coat said in death my dad was not losing anything. Instead, he was putting on, and gaining, everything.

I also knew instantly that the dark glasses referred to First Corinthians thirteen: “now we see through a glass darkly, but then we shall see face to face.” The woman taking off her dark glasses meant that the “then” was now for my dad. He did not see God darkly anymore. Now he saw God face to face. In death my dad had gained everything.

I was amazed at this small dream, and deeply thankful for its hopefulness. What a wonderful picture of what happens to us after death! I thought about this dream for a while, and then fell back asleep. My second dream was as brief as the first, and it also dealt with the after side of death. I dreamt that I was in a very large aircraft hangar, and a man of about forty was joyously leaping and dancing and doing pirouettes in large circles all around the hangar. Again I woke with a start, and again, I knew instantly what this dream meant. In death my dad had not been reduced or made smaller in any way. Now my dad was dancing in a world much bigger than this one. Now my dad was free.

On this side of death, on the before side of death, death so often seems like a reduction, a loss, a getting smaller, a freezing and stopping of everything. But my dreams were saying just the opposite. It was such a comfort to me that within hours of my dad’s death, I could feel him being clothed with life, and dancing with God in a gigantic world.

After a while I feel asleep again, and I had my third and final dream. This dream was clearly a before death dream. I dreamt I was in Arches National park, in Moab, Utah, which is one of my sacred places in the world. I was on a path, walking on the red desert soil, and on the ground I saw a dead rabbit. Behind me was double arch, and though everything else was completely silent, I could hear small rocks slowly rolling down the arches, and I knew the arches were slowly eroding.

Then I looked down on the ground again, and I saw an ear of corn. I picked it up, put the end to my mouth, and started inhaling as deeply as I could. I woke up suddenly, but this time the interpretation of the dream was not immediately apparent, and it took me a while to get a feel for the meaning. But slowly I began to understand.

In my very sacred place the symbol of the rabbit was from one of my favorite books, “Desert Solitaire”, by Edward Abbey. In this book Abbey talks about a dead rabbit, and how death is part of the rhythm of life. The arches, though seemingly immense and permanent, are slowly eroding, and one day will be gone. As the buffalo was the very life of the plains Indians, so corn was the very life of the native Americans who lived in the Moab area. By inhaling from the corn I was taking in all the life and mystery of this very sacred place.

Putting it all together, my last dream was about “this side” of the transition. On “this side”, before death, nothing is permanent. The rhythm of nature tells us that things are always changing. Life is born, and life dies. Incredible geology is slowly formed, and slowly erodes away. And, most important, the mystery of this changing life, on “this side”, before death, must be inhaled, taken in deeply, and lived to the full. Our life on this side of death is absolutely sacred.

We all can’t wait to get to heaven, where we will be further clothed, where we will see God face to face, and where we will dance in freedom forever. We all long for the eternal and the permanent. But though we long for heaven, we are not meant to simply wait for the sweet by and by. We are meant to experience this life of change and decay to the utmost, because “this side”, before death, is also sacred. This was the Maundy Thursday lesson of my dreams.

I am reminded of a marvelous quotation by Father Alexander Schmeman, a Greek Orthodox theologian. In his book “Great Lent”, he says....”Death is no more!...oh, death is still there, to be sure, and we still face it and someday it will come and take us. But it is our whole faith that by His own death Christ changed the very nature of death, made it a passage, a passover, a Pascha--into the Kingdom of God, transforming the tragedy of tragedies into the ultimate victory.”

Every transition in this life, every time we go from a before to an after, involves death. Every disappointment, every change in a relationship, every move in a job, every sickness and disability, every economic downturn or political upheaval, involves death. And we instinctively hate to die. But, because Christ has redeemed even death, all our little deaths can become a passover for us into eternal life. Every change can be a change into heaven. If we inhale this life and take it all in, taking in even death, then this life will be heaven, even as we wait for the heaven that is to come. That is the great mystery of Christianity, and that is part of the mystery of Maundy Thursday.

When the life of our church is taken down and put away later this evening, it will hurt. We will be reminded that sometimes death follows life in an instant, and that even our Savior did not escape betrayal and the grave.

But hopefully the dreams I had the night my dad died will also remind us that whatever this life is, we must experience it to the full, because through Christ and in Christ this life is the entrace to heaven, being stripped of everything is the door to being completely clothed, trying our best to see in the dark is the path to one day to seeing clearly face to face, and being buried in the ground is the portal to dancing with God forever, in a world bigger than anything we could ever imagine.

Amen.

What Is There To Say?

Please pray for my cousin, who lost both feet and one hand after a terrible fight with meningitis. It is so sad.

And now his life begins again.

Coyote

Incredible

Though I live to be a hundred
I will never figure out
What causes people to take their toys,
Go home, and whine and pout.

Poor Rush is so unhappy
With the good man John McCain,
That he will vote for Hillary instead;
Republican loss but conservative gain.

Whatever.

Coyote is a wise one,
And he swears upon his paw,
That this world has rarely seen an ass,
Like the sorry Rush Limbaugh.

The South Seas

The Joy of just being here on this beach
still without a Hilton or Sheraton.
Sand as at the dawn of creation, triumph
of existence. Look how the baby turtles
crawl from their egg shells.

Watch how they advance over the hot beach
to the sea which itself is life, the source of our own.
Taste this cool water fresh from the well.
We will not even eat the clams,
do nothing that would remind us of death.

Paradise lasting an instant.

The birds come. They nose dive,
rake low over the shore, then pull up
with prey in their beaks:turtles
just born. And the birds are not gulls:
It is the Luftwaffe over Warsaw.

With great anguish the turtles drag themselves to the tide,
victims whose only fault was their birth.
Ten out of a thousand will reach the sea.
The rest will be devoured.

Let others say this is natural selection,
survival of the fit.

For me it is the horror of the world.


Jose Emilio Pacheco
Translated from the Spanish by Michael Collier

A Great Mystery

Coyote looks in his crystal ball.
Which candidates will fall?
Not since '68 a race so great,
Obama, Clinton, or McCain?
Romeny? Huckabee? Edwards?
Say one, so say you all,
Denver's convention will be
A free-for-all.

Coyote's Warning

Now that Coyote is fifty, he once again reminds any and all, thou shalt not take my age in vain!

Big And Small

Good morning. Sometimes, the unpredictability of life can be funny, or serious, or both. Because my psychotherapy income is seasonal, I have worked, for the past three years, a small part time job delivering magazines to local stores. The income from this work helps level out the financial ups and downs of my profession. I set my own hours, and overall it is not a bad little job.

It was not a bad little job, that is, until about a month ago. Corporate, in an effort to cut expenses and increase profits, decided to significantly cut our mileage reimbursement. For a number of reasons this didn’t pass my smell test, so I wrote a nice little letter to our local General Manager, telling him that we have always received a generous mileage reimbursement, and that if we local employees could just stick together, maybe we could convince corporate to cut costs elsewhere.

KABOOM!!!! Talk about unpredictability! For some reason this letter was passed up to corporate, and literally, across the country, everything exploded. The previous General Manager, who now works in Sacramento, was massively chewed out because he answered a few questions I had about previous mileage policy, and I was told that supervisors would now follow me around, to find mistakes so I could be fired. I smelled a rat.

So I wrote a second letter to Human Resources, telling them if I lost my mileage reimbursement, I was going to file an arbitration claim for breach of contract. That got people’s attention. The GM in Sacramento got called on the carpet again, so he resigned. The president of the company called me personally from Virginia, promising to take care of this mess, and my Denver GM suddenly got very, very quiet. He was now in trouble too. Everybody was running for cover. My two little letters caused a ten thousand employee national corporation to shake like a leaf. That was the funny part.

The serious part is that a good guy resigned. And in Denver, in a move just short of retaliatory, work for all drivers was immediately cut back by a third. For some drivers this delivery job is their only source of income. Others are working to help support older parents. This cutback seriously affects them. That isn’t funny at all.

When I wrote those two letters I had no idea what kind of a journey I was about to begin with Dominion Enterprises. The unpredictability of how this story played out is both very funny, and very serious. When a journey begins, we have no way of knowing how it will play out.

Today we celebrate the feast of Epiphany, and contrary to popular Christmas mythology, I believe the journey of the Magi was filled with great unpredictability. I am sure this made their long journey to find the newborn King at times very funny, and at other times quite serious. Just like our journeys with God, we never know what is going to happen next.

Instead of the We Three Kings of Orient Are version of the Magi’s journey, imagine with me this morning what their journey might really have been like:

One night astronomers from what is now eastern Iraq, or Iran, or maybe even India, were studying the heavens, and they saw a new star. Their astrological and astronomical charts told them that a new star in this part of the sky meant a new King would soon be born. As they talked about this new star over the next few days, one of them probably said, “hey, maybe we should try to find this new King.” They all agreed, and their journey was born.

I believe that right from the beginning two unpredictable elements must have hit their plans. First, I’m sure the Magi expected their families and friends to be excited about their decision to find the new King. How could they not be? And I’m sure those around them found their quest very amusing. For example, if I told my wife that Phil and I and Bill Newbloom had seen a new star, and decided to take a few years to follow it, I promise you, Andrea would find that very amusing. I can’t tell you how amused she would be. The families and friends of the Magi must have felt the same way. Nice idea guys. Ha Ha. Funny and serious.

As it became clear that the Magi were serious about going, however, a second unpredictable issue must have troubled their minds. The quest to find the new king was big, and mythical. But for the families left behind, this journey was certainly not big and mythical. The Magi’s big adventure was not their friend. Why is life like this? Why do we sometimes have to decide between the quest, and home? Why do the things that inspire me seem hostile to someone else?

I am reminded of Homer’s classic The Odyssey. Odysseus has had many amazing experiences during the Trojan War, and now he is trying to find his way home. He is still having incredible adventures. But for Telemachos, his son, and Penelope, his wife, things at home are very different. Is Odysseus dead, or alive? Should Penelope marry one of her numerous suitors, or preserve Odysseus’ treasures, hoping that one day he will return? Penelope and Telemachos’ experience doesn’t feel mythical at all. Their experience is full of sorrow and uncertainty.

The big and the small often don’t seem to fit together. We feel bad for Penelope and Telemachos. But we in Western Civilization need Odysseus to experience and complete his journey. If Odysseus and Achilles had not gone on their noble adventure, even mythically, then Homer would not have written The Iliad and the Odyssey, there would have been no Trojan Horse, and, perhaps most important of all, we would never have seen Brad Pitt all bulked up in the movie Troy. That would have been an incredible loss!

But that is the mystery of the big and the small. We want big corporations to make money, but we don’t want them to treat their employees indifferently or with hostility. We want churches and denominations to grow, and build, and reach out, but we don’t want them to forget the everyday parishioner. We want our nation to be strong and successful, but we don’t want it to forget the sick, the poor, and the homeless. We want wise men and women to dream dreams and follow stars, but we don’t want other people to feel unimportant or left out. We want it all. Sometimes it works, but many times it doesn’t. That is the funny, and serious, and unpredictable mystery that must have weighed heavily on the minds of the Magi as they waved goodbye to all that was familiar, and set their sights to the West.


In my imagination the Magi’s journey to Israel must have had many unpredictable aspects, some of which were funny, and some of which were serious. Big trips like this never go as planned. Somebody always forgets their underwear, somebody always gets sick, somebody never asks for directions, and though the Pax Romana, or peace of Rome, made travel much easier and safer at this time, there was still the threat of robbers or murderers. And, of course, when you are traveling with a bunch of people for a long period of time, certain individuals don’t get along. That is unavoidable.

But balancing the funny and the serious, I think this part of the Magi’s trip was probably more fun than hardship. Whenever you go on a long trip, a special sense of camaraderie and community is always built. I remember a mission trip to the Grand Canyon I took in college. Everybody who went had a special and fun time, and we really got to know each other. I can still remember the song one of the students wrote, called “The Mole Skin Blues”, because all of us had blister and toe problems after hiking twelve miles to the Colorado River. I will never forget that trip.

I noticed this same dynamic with the people I work with at my delivery job. Until a month ago I really didn’t know any of the other drivers. I would pick up my stuff in the morning, and leave. But when things started rocking and rolling after the cutbacks and my letters, many of us would hang out for a while, discuss the labor issues, and just chat. We gained a sense of community that only a journey of labor versus corporate can provide.

In the life of any church, there are difficult seasons when people aren’t getting along, church life is boring, leadership is questioned, and the congregation lacks purpose and direction. Do you know what the best cure for this season is? A godly journey. Let me phrase this another way. The level of unhappiness and complaining in a church is directly proportional to the lack of a sense of mission and journey among its members. A happy and healthy church is a church that is going somewhere together. Because the Magi were going somewhere together, all the unpredictable parts of their journey didn’t trip them up.

So, finally the Magi arrived in Israel. If the journey itself was tilted towards the fun side of the balance, I believe that arriving in Jerusalem was definitely tilted towards the serious. For the first time the presence and power of Rome was clearly felt. I’m sure the Magi felt Rome as they traveled across the eastern side of the Empire, but upon entering Israel the visibility of Roman power very much increased. This gave the whole journey a much more serious feel.

And almost immediately the Magi made what could have been a fatal mistake. They started asking about a new King. Not a good idea, considering that the Roman Herod called himself a king. Maybe the Magi were naive, but it did get Herod’s attention. They were lucky; Herod didn’t kill them, he granted them an audience. I’m sure not many travelers got a personal audience with Herod, but they did.

This reminds me of my experience with corporate. When I was just complaining about cutbacks nobody listened. But when I said the magic word “arbitration”, the president of the company gave me a call. When the Magi said the magic word “new King”, they were quickly informed that Herod would see them. Their journey was seriously on Herod’s radar now.

Upon meeting Herod, I believe the Magi’s first impression must have been quite humorous. This guy is a King? From all we know about Herod from history, he was not a physically or personally impressive person. But it didn’t matter. This small person had the entire power of the Roman Empire behind him. Their life and journey was in the hands of this unimpressive man. And Herod said he wanted to worship the new king too. Yeah, right. Herod was unimpressive, and deceitful.

Then Herod seemingly made a big mistake. After talking with the Magi, he told them to check back with him if they found the new King. Bad idea. If you were Herod, what you should have done was send some spies to follow the Magi, and when they found the new king, to kill both them and Jesus. But for some reason Herod let the Magi go. I’m sure he heard a lot about new kings and new messiahs, and he must have thought he could wait and see. Herod was powerful, but he wasn’t necessarily smart.

We know from history that Herod was also unstable and unpredictable. When the Magi didn’t check back with Herod before they went home, this made Herod nervous. After a month or so he thought, “you know, I probably should have done more when those guys were here looking for a new King. I think I’ll just kill all boys two years or under in that area and I won’t have to worry about it.” So he went off his rocker, and ordered the murder of hundreds of children. Herod was a crazy man with the power of Rome behind him, a bad combination. The Magi were lucky to escape with their lives.


When someone’s power is threatened, they can act unpredictably. My General Manager is usually a nice guy. But when I sent my second letter to HR, he lost it. In his best Rambo voice he screamed at me, “I don’t get paid to drive home, why should you?” A perceived challenge to power can make a good guy say bizarre things. A perceived challenge to power made Herod go insane.

As Christians, we all know about power. We have seen churches use power both constructively, and destructively. But, when it comes to real strength, I think Christians have one interesting thing in common with Herod; we are personally small, but backed by a very great power.

I heard a story once that illustrates this reality. In the past, in Mexico City, certain giant intersections were controlled not by traffic lights, but by a person who climbed a large platform, and started and stopped traffic with his hand. One day, when one of these traffic controllers wasn’t watching, a small child climbed the platform and put up his hand. Instantly, all the cars stopped. On his own, there is no way this little child had any power to stop a car. But when this child was on that platform, he had all the power and authority of the Mexican government behind him. He could stop any car he wanted to.

We are like that little child. On our own, we are small and unimpressive. We have no real power. But because we have all the power of the Kingdom of God behind us, we can accomplish anything. We have power over the demonic, we have the power to overcome sin, we have the power of the gifts of the spirit, and we have the power to share the gospel to the ends of the world. With God, all things are possible.

Now we move to the final act. An historical note here: The Magi didn’t appear right as Jesus was born. The shepherds came immediately and saw Jesus in swadling clothes, but the Magi came about two years later. We know this because Matthew tells us they came to Mary’s house, not a stable. Also, Herod asked the Magi to tell him exactly when they first saw the star. When the Magi didn’t return to Herod, he killed all boys two years old and younger. So the Magi must have told Herod that they had seen the star, and begun their journey, two years earlier.

After the Magi left Herod, I imagine they kept asking questions, and finally zeroed in on Bethlehem, then an area of the city, and then a house. After a talk with Mary and Joseph, they were introduced to Jesus. Their first response was probably laughter; we traveled all this way, and this is the King? No palaces, no servants, no guards, nothing at all like Herod. How could this boy be a king?

And yet....and yet. Something big was here. The more time they spent with Jesus, the bigger He became, and the more powerful He seemed. But not a power like Roman power, which made others small and scared. This power made them larger, and courageous. And what was this other feeling? Belonging, happiness, community. Experiencing this bigness in Jesus made the Magi, and Mary and Joseph, a new community. They were all related to each other in a new way now, because they had been with the King. They were all on a new journey together. How could something so new, so big, be coming from this small child?

The only way to describe this mystery of something so big being in someone so small is through poetry. One of my favorite saints, St. Ephrem the Syrian, wrote these words about the big and the small, about Mary and Jesus, in the second century. They could easily be the words of the Magi:

“Your mother is a cause for wonder. The Lord entered her/and became a servant. He who is the Word entered/and became silent within her. Thunder entered her/and made no sound. There entered the Shepherd of all/and in her He became the Lamb, bleating as He came forth.

Your mother’s womb has reversed the roles. The Establisher of all entered in His richness/but came forth poor. The Exalted One entered her/but came forth meek. The Splendorous One entered her/but came forth having put on a lowly hue. The Mighty One entered/and put on insecurity from her womb. The Provisioner of all entered/and experienced hunger. He who gives drink to all entered/and experienced thirst. Naked and stripped/there came forth from her He who clothes all.”

That says it all. The Magi found everything they were looking for. And much more. They gave their gifts to the new King, and after a few days went home. The new King had changed them forever.

My journey with corporate America is not over. Every time I go in, I hear rumors of more changes and more firings. And though I have poked fun at this whole journey, I have to be honest and say that this has been a stressful experience. It isn’t easy to know when to speak up, and when to be silent. And, I am well aware that what I do has an impact on the jobs and careers of others. So I try to do what is right, and live by this principle: I don’t know what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future.

I believe this principle is what the Magi learned. Their lives, just like ours, continued to be unpredictable. But they had met the Lord of the unpredictable. They had met the King. And that King held their lives, and their futures, in his hand. In 2008, may we all experience the peace that passes all understanding, knowing that the Lord of the unpredictable holds our futures in His hand.

Amen

Marathon

Good morning. Before I begin, I’ve been asked to announce that after communion this morning the ushers will collect a second offering, the proceeds going to help me pay off a lunch bet with Father Phil, because, you may have heard, the Red Sox beat the Rockies in the World Series. I am a man of my word, and I pay off my bets, so Phil, I am going to take you to a very, very nice part of town; it’s called Commerce City. There is an elegant McDonalds there that serves awesome Boston Clam Chowder. Just kidding. Phil, congratulations to you and the Red Sox, and I promise, I will take you somewhere nice.

I learned a lot in kindergarten. I really did. But some of the most important lessons I have learned in life come my from experiences of running, but not quite completing, two marathons. Here’s the story.

About two years ago Charlie Schlaufman sent me an e-mail about a new race called the Colfax Marathon, and Charlie wondered if I wanted to run it with him. A marathon is a short race of 26.2 miles, and for someone of my limited running ability, running this distance would take only five or six hours, starting five miles east of Fitzimmons in Aurora, and running straight west on Colfax to Colorado Mills Mall in Lakewood. Piece of cake. Having run only seven or eight miles of distance at any one time in my life, I enthusiastically told Charlie I would do it.

I began training in January of 2006, and by May I had pushed my long runs to almost four hours. I was ready. On a beautiful day in late May Charlie and I took off at dawn. I was doing well until mile fifteen, when my quads started to tighten up. By mile twenty I could barely walk, and at mile 24, just two miles shy of the finish, my legs shut down. So I stopped. I had told myself if at any point during the race my body said stop, I would listen. My body said stop, and I was done.

I was disappointed, but I had had a wonderful time, and I immediately started training to try again in 2007. I did more long runs, I lifted weights, and I ate more nutritious foods. As I lined up at the starting line in May of 2007 I was confident that this time I would make it.
I should have known that getting the stomach flu one week before the marathon was a bad sign. I thought I would be okay. But at mile three I knew I was in trouble because the sweet gatorade I was drinking every mile was not digesting, it was just sloshing around in my stomach. Not good. More bad news came at mile sixteen as I experienced a digestive reversal; in other words, I threw up. At mile twenty-two, hot, sick, and about to reverse my digestion again, I stopped. As you can imagine, I wasn’t having any fun. My second marathon was over.

Today we celebrate one of my favorite days in the church year, the feast of All Saints, and I had assumed that the lessons of All Saints would be closely related to the lessons I learned in running, but not quite finishing, two marathons. I discovered, however, that sometimes the lessons of All Saints are exactly the opposite of what we earthly runners would expect.

The first lesson I learned from my marathon experiences is that training for and running marathons is often a long and lonely endeavor. Although I got in a few training runs with Charlie, most of the time I was running all by myself, sometimes for three, four, or five hours. I pretty much ran the entire second marathon all by myself. Running is not a team sport. Most of the time you are all alone.

One of the hardest parts of running all by yourself for long periods of time is not so much the physical challenge, but the mental. What do you think about for four or more hours? Boredom is a big problem. And finding mental tenacity is probably the hardest part of all. Before every run you ask yourself, how am I possibly going to do this? During the run you ask yourself, how am I going to keep going? Do I have anything left? Why, exactly, did I decide to do this? There is nobody to help you answer these questions. You are all by yourself.

Life is sometimes very much like running marathons. In many ways, we feel like we are all by ourselves. Maybe we have been dealing with an addiction or a character issue for years. It has been a long battle, and we feel worn out and all alone. Maybe we have been trying with all our might to make an important relationship work. We may be exhausted, and unsure if we have anything left to give, or if we can even keep trying.

Maybe we have been working for years at an unfulfilling job, and every morning we ask ourselves, how am I going to do this? Where will I find the energy and creativity to deal with a job and with people who bore me out of my mind? Sometimes life itself just wears us out, and we wonder, do I have anything left? Will my pain ever stop? We all must deal with these difficult questions, and many times, just like running a marathon, it feels like there is nobody to help us, and we are all alone.

But the message of All Saints is just the opposite. The message of All Saints is that we are never alone! In our Old Testament reading this morning Daniel is troubled. In a dream he has seen four different beasts coming out of the sea, and like Elvis, Daniel is all shook up. So he asks an angel what the dream means, and the angel tells him that the four beasts are four kingdoms that will arise out of the earth. But don’t worry, the angel says; the saints of the Most High will also receive a kingdom, and they will possess it forever, yes, forever and ever.

Who are these saints? Earlier in chapter eleven Daniel says that in his dream, as he watched, the Ancient of Days, or God, took his seat. A river of fire was flowing out from before him, and thousands upon thousands attended him, ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him. These countless thousands who are standing before God are his saints.

It is the historic faith of the church that these saints are God’s beloved people, living and dead, and that those saints who have died, the faithful departed, are just as real, and just as present to us, as we the living are present and real to one another. That is why, no matter how tired we are in life, and no matter how lonely we feel, because we are surrounded by the saints, we are never alone.

It’s like the new Verizon commercial, where somebody is talking on a cell phone, and suddenly they realize that they aren’t alone, but they’re surrounded by a network of thousands and thousands that make Verizon’s cell phone service the best of all. The slogan of that commercial is, “It’s the network.” That’s our slogan too. We don’t live the Christian life alone. We are constantly surrounded by a network of saints who are encouraging us and praying for us. Without that network of saints, we couldn’t do it.

And it’s important to remember that these saints don’t join us only when we die. Remember the final scene in the movie Titanic? Rose has told her entire moving story, and then she dies, and is reunited with her love Jack, and with all those who died on the Titanic that awful night. That is a great scene. But that scene has nothing to do with All Saints. We are not reunited with those who have died when we die. We are reunited with those who have died every single day, all the time, and we feel their presence especially as we worship together. Though life can discourage us in so many ways, the saints are always there to pick us up and help us keep running. That is what All Saints is all about.

The second lesson I learned from my marathon experiences is that there are often honest and legitimate excuses for why we didn’t finish the race. During my second marathon I got sick. What do you do? If I hadn’t gotten sick, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have finished. If I had done two or three more long runs, I am sure I would have finished my first marathon. The weather for both marathons was unusually hot for that time of year. If it had been in the mid-60’s, as is normal, instead of the low 80’s, I am sure I would have had enough in the tank to finish my first marathon, and maybe even my second. There are several other small things, like measuring the course correctly, that, if they had just been a little different, I likely would have finished both races. These excuses are honest, and legitimate. Sometimes there are good reasons why the race doesn’t turn out like we want it to.

Life is like that. Many times there are honest and legitimate reasons why our lives haven’t turned out like we wanted them to. Maybe we have real genetic inheritances that make us vulnerable to addictions, or depression, or anxiety. With a different genetic makeup, our lives would honestly be different. Maybe we were raised in truly dysfunctional families that deeply wounded our souls, and those wounds have made us victims in life, or perhaps perpetrators of the same pain. Growing up in a different family would honestly have made us different people.

Maybe we have made some well-intentioned, but bad choices in our lives. If we hadn’t made those choices, our lives would honestly be in a very different place. Or maybe life has simply dealt us some difficult cards. Maybe we have had to deal with medical issues, problems with a spouse, unexpected financial burdens, or simply been hit by the unexpected earthquakes and tsunamis that human flesh is heir to. Each of us have honest and legitimate excuses for why our lives haven’t turned out like we wanted them to.

But the message of All Saints is exactly the opposite. The message of all All Saints is that for Christians, there are absolutely, 100%, no excuses. And do you know why there are no excuses? There are no excuses because we have already won. We have already crossed the finish line. We are already champions. There are no excuses for why we didn’t make it, because we made it!


In Luke’s gospel this morning Jesus is ministering to the poor, the sick, and the outcasts of society. Jesus preaches to them the sermon on the plain, which is very similar to the sermon on the mount in Matthew chapter five. Jesus tell his audience that it isn’t necessarily good to be rich, because the rich already have their reward. Don’t envy those who are well fed now, because they will soon be hungry. And those who laugh now and have few cares will soon mourn and weep. But blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger, for you will be satisfied. And blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Jesus then says rejoice, and leap for joy, for great is your reward in heaven. We made it! The whole sense of the Greek in these verses is that the kingdom of God is ours, right now. No qualifications. We’re in.

I think that word heaven is what trips us up. When we hear heaven, we think of the next world. We have the idea that if we persevere in this life, then in the next life, in heaven, we will laugh, and be satisfied, and see God. Wrong. This isn’t Iowa. This is heaven. We are in heaven, in God’s presence, right now. All the blessings of the kingdom of God are ours, right now. We made it! If we don’t have to wait until we die to be reunited with God’s saints, then in the same way we don’t have to die to be a saint. We are all the saints of God, and wherever God is with his saints, that is heaven.

I know, so many times this world doesn’t seem like heaven. But on All Saints we celebrate the triumphant last chapter of the story, and what a chapter it is. Paul says in Romans eight that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. In today’s part of the story we see through a glass darkly, but we will see that God is transforming our genetic weaknesses, our family upbringings, our bad choices, and even our seemingly random fate into an incredible story of triumph and victory.

Our lives never turn out as we hoped. But our lives will turn out better than we ever could have imagined. No ifs, ands, or buts; no excuses or legitimate reasons. We did it. We made it to the finish line. That’s what All Saints is all about.

The final lesson I learned from my marathon experiences is that sometimes you give it your all, but you don’t get the medal. After I stopped running my first marathon Andrea picked me up, and we went to the finish line to congratulate Charlie. As I crawled out of the car I saw two young women marathoners walking by, and they had these beautiful medals around their necks, signifying that they completed the race. My heart sank. I knew I had done the right thing stopping when I did, but I would not be receiving a medal. I instantly thought of the apostle Paul’s admonition to run the race that you might finish it. I had given everything I had, but there was no medal for me. That was tough.

Again, I think life is often like that. Have you ever been in love with that special someone, and you said all the right things, sent all the right flowers, and wrote all the most beautiful poetry? You did everything you could possibly do, but when you looked in their eyes your heart sank, because you knew you were not the one. You gave it everything you had, but you didn’t get the prize. Or have you ever found the job that was just perfect for you? Your resume was awesome, your qualifications fit the job perfectly, and your interview went great. But your heart sank when they called to tell you they had chosen someone else. You gave it everything you had, but it wasn’t enough.

Or maybe you are a fan of the Colorado Rockies (though Red Sox fans know this experience too). You watch your team play perfect baseball for a month, and your spirits soar because everything seems just right to win the World Series. But then, even though they played their hearts out, it just wasn’t enough, and your heart sinks because they came so close, but they couldn’t capture the big prize. Sometimes in life, as players and as fans, you do everything you know how to do, but you don’t get what you longed for.

Again, the message of All Saints is just the opposite. The message of All Saints is that it is okay for our hearts to soar, because we already have a medal around our necks, and our joy has only just begun. In our reading from Ephesians, Paul says that “having believed, we were marked in Him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance, until the redemption of those who are God’s possession--to the praise of His glory.” The Holy Spirit, who lives in our hearts, is also the champion’s medal around our necks.

Picture it like this. You run a marathon, and as you cross the finish line, a beautiful medal is placed around your neck. That medal is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit, who we received at baptism, is the victory seal, the triumph symbol, written on our hearts, proclaiming that we are champions and God’s own forever. We did it! No sinking hearts because we tried with all our might and failed. Just victory and joy.


Then, you look down at that medal with great pride, and you tell the person who placed it around your neck that the medal is awesome. They say to you, “you think that medal is awesome, just wait till you see the post race banquet.” That is also what the Holy Spirit is. The medal around our necks, the Spirit, is our ticket into the post race banquet. If we have the medal, we are guaranteed of getting into the banquet. The banquet is our inheritance, eternal life with God, forever. A life of joy at God’s table that we can’t even begin to imagine. So, our life today is life is like a victory lap. We finished the race, we received the medal of the Holy Spirit, and now we are taking a victory lap around the track as we head to a banquet that will feed us for eternity. It doesn’t get any better than that. Every team winning the World Series forever. That is what All Saints is all about.

And don’t forget, the banquet doesn’t start when we die. We join with the saints at the heavenly banquet table every time we celebrate the Eucharist. Several of you have told me about impressions or visions of coming to the communion rail, and sensing that the rail extends off into heaven, with all the saints kneeling beside us. That is exactly what happens at every communion. Every Eucharist is heaven on earth.

So, there is only one question left this morning. Will I try another marathon? To be honest, I don’t feel a great need to try again. My two marathons were wonderful experiences, I got a good sermon illustration out of them, and I’m not sure I’m up for the hard work of training again. Plus, less than 1% of people ever even try a marathon, so though I don’t have a medal, my effort itself is it’s own reward. I had a lot of fun. Therefore, this morning I want to announce to my family, my friends, and my church, that my marathoning days are officially ooooo, let me try that again........my marathoning days are officially ooooooo, one more time, my marathoning days are officially oooooo, only just begun. Yes, I am going to try it one more time.

Why you ask? I’ll tell you. I have no idea. But here is what I want you do to. On May 21, 2008, as many of you as are able, please meet me at Colfax and Sheridan at about ten o’clock a.m. Come prepared to jog, walk, or crawl the final six miles with me, and bring food, water, medical supplies, umbrellas, and a wagon. Yes, a wagon. One way or another I’m getting in this time, and if I have to be pulled in, so be it. The point is, I’m not sure I can do it on my own. I need your help and support. And I’m going to get that medal. Isn’t that what All Saints is all about?

It is so appropriate that this morning, on All Saints, we are celebrating three baptisms, so please join me in prayer.

Dear Lord, thank you so much for Rebecca Sadie Lee, Magdalena Grace Lee, and Mason Harper Smith, three saints who are born into your kingdom today. As they begin the marathon of life, help them know that they will always be surrounded both by your presence, and by all the saints of God. Strengthen them when they are tired, keep them going when there are plenty of good reasons to stop, and always remind them that the Holy Spirit in their hearts is the champion’s trophy that guarantees their life with you for ever and ever. We pledge as your followers and saints to run with them every step of the way, and to greet them at the finish line, where we will all continue to worship you forever and ever at the glorious feast you have prepared for all your saints. In Jesus’ precious name, Amen.

Marathon

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")