Unclean

I was young, 29 years old, when I became Rector of my first church. There I encountered my first raging alcoholic. He was my Senior Warden and his story is one which he openly shares. It is the story of a war with an unclean spirit known as alcoholism.

Sometimes, particularly in the life of a small parish, the Rector has to call the Senior Warden at night. When I called Dewey, his voice would sound funny. It was slurred. I worried that perhaps he had a stroke. It took me about six months to realize that his slurred words, his red face, his falls were all caused by drinking.

When I realized the truth, I took Dewey and his wife to a rehab hospital. Dewey was still convinced that he did not have a problem. All of his physical ailments he justified in many ways.  His wife met him every evening at the door of their house with a glass of Scotch.

Dewey came to the treatment facility to humor me. His wife was beginning to realize that he would die. But she still hoped that she might be wrong. She still balked from telling him the truth because she was afraid that he might leave her.

They ushered us into a small room for triage, where we sat waiting.

The first person to enter our room was a pretty young woman. She seemed innocent and loving. She started with gentle, innocuous questions such as his age and weight. She took notes on a clipboard. After a few simple questions, she eased Dewey on with a gentle tone asking things like, "And how much scotch do you drink each day?" When he reported the enormous amount, she did not act shocked at all. She continued with a light tone, as if she thought all of this completely normal.  Dewey got more and more confident, more and more relaxed, and his true alcoholism came out. He began to be more open. You could hear how he justified his drinking, how he felt the he worked hard and that he deserved it. By the time the young woman left, she had completely exposed Dewey's alcoholism in all it's ugliness. You could hear it loud and clear, justified and smug. Dewey was relaxed. He was convinced that he did not have a problem. I began to feel afraid and wondered if I had brought them to the right place.

Then the doctor came in. A short man with glasses, he did not look like the warrior that he was. He came in with the clipboard that the young woman had completed. He pulled a chair up close to Dewey and his wife. And he spoke.

"I am a doctor. I am here to tell you that you are killing yourself, that you are poisoning your body with alcohol. Do you know that, if you continue to drink as you are doing, you will be dead in three years?" Then he looked at Dewey's wife.  "Do you want your husband dead? Yes? Then keep on doing what you are doing.  Dewey, all your physical ailments are caused by the drinking...you are poisoning your body."

It has taken me years to articulate what happened in that room. I had to learn how to name it in a new language. Because what was going on was not just medical. It was spiritual. And there must be a language, a spiritual language to describe it, but the language of the Bible has become so lost to us that it took me at least a year to find the right words.

In that little triage room, we were in the midst of a spiritual battle. What we were dealing with was an unclean spirit. But because of modern medicine, we no longer choose to use these words. They sound medieval, even superstitious. I want to be clear with you. This was an unclean spirit, a demon.

Almost everything we need to know about unclean spirits is given to us in this passage from the gospel of Mark.

Jesus enters the city of Capernaum, and when the Sabbath comes, he goes to the synagogue.  It is his refuge, the place of worship. He is drawn there. Just like he did when he went to Jerusalem at just eleven years old, Jesus goes to worship God.

As soon as Jesus arrives in the synagogue, there is a conflict, an incident. A man is not behaving normally. We don't know how this man behaved, how the spirit manifested itself. Mark does not take any time at all to describe the nature of this spirit or how it manifests itself. He is simply not interested in spending any time at all diagnosing this man. Does he babble? Does he hurt himself or others? We don't know.  All that is important is that this spirit is unclean.

Americans are embarrassed by these exorcisms in the gospels. Often we just ignore them. But unclean spirit in the ancient Greek means impure disposition, troubled mind, broken thoughts. All of us experience unclean spirits in the sense that we all battle wayward thoughts in the privacy of our own minds. Think of anxiety, depression, anorexia, addiction, self-hatred, rage...

It is important to note that Jesus encounters this spirit in church, not outside on the street, but in the very house of worship itself. You would think that everyone would be on their best behavior in church, right? But anyone who has been in church for awhile knows that sometimes our worst selves come out in church, our most infantile or insecure selves. There is something about the presence of Jesus that makes our dark sides emerge.

Most unclean thoughts do not want to be seen, articulated. They hide. And that is one way to identify a thought or feeling. Are you embarrassed to say it? Do you know, somewhere deep inside, that it is wrong? If you are hesitant to share a thought or inclination, that is an indication that your motivation is unclean.

The first sign of health is honesty. The first movement of God is to bring the dysfunction out in the open. And that is often the most misunderstood part of church. We all think that everyone should behave in church, that everyone should be kind and sweet, and so they should be. But somehow being in the presence of God can make the worst in us come out. In fact, all our unclean spirits will be exposed here in church. God does not protect us from them; God exposes them. The first thing that happens when Jesus walks into worship is that the unclean spirit is exposed.

Mark describes the spirit as unclean. Not evil, not horrible, just unclean. These are the thoughts in your head that are not of pure intent. The thoughts that might want to hide from Jesus. They don't have to be terrible, just muddied a bit. 

Unclean motivations operate out of fear. They are protective and defensive. If you are not open to feedback or the opinions of others, look at why. Unclean motivations are afraid of change and they are afraid of God. The unclean spirit is immediately defensive when Jesus arrives. "What have you to do with us, Jesus?" it asks.

When unclean thoughts are at risk, when they are at risk of being exposed as unclean, they make a lot of noise. Depression, anger, conflict - these can be the results when an unclean spirit is challenged.  And it does not mean that someone has done something wrong. Conflict is of Christ and can be a good thing. It is a myth that we should be surrounded by harmony in the church. Actually, when unclean spirits are involved (and they are all over us in this world), bringing Jesus in the room means more conflict and not less.

In the gospel, Jesus allows the unclean spirit to speak, to make itself known, and then he tells it to be quiet. He does not converse with it or answer its questions. He just tells it to be quiet.

Silence, he says.

Unclean spirits hate silence. They want you busy and noisy. For heavens sake, don't stop and really listen to what God might be doing in your life. The enemy of impure thoughts and motivations is silence. 

And then Jesus makes the unclean spirit come out of the man, but on it's way out it tears at it's former host, clings to him. Removing the unclean motivation is surgical. It hurts. It can be violent and painful and it can wound you on it's way out.

I felt that I saw a bit of Christ in that doctor that day.  But even with his truth and wisdom, Dewey still would not stop drinking. He refused to check himself into the hospital that day. In fact, after the doctor told Dewey the truth, he was furious. He stood and walked right out. And things got worse before they got better.

Exactly one year later, Dewey could not walk. He was seated in his chair at home drinking when the family and I decided to do an intervention. He said that he didn't care if he died, but when I told him that I was worried about the state of his soul, he got up. He went to rehab and he is still alive and sober today.

And almost every day, he goes to AA meetings where he tells the truth about his unclean spirit. He says, "Hello. My name is Dewey and I am an alcoholic."

If it hadn't been for his faith in Jesus, Dewey might never have gotten out of that chair. He is alive today because he believed.

When he became sober, we did a wedding in church. Dewey and his wife wanted to be married again, without alcohol. I will never forget that beautiful day.

What are the unclean spirits that you keep to yourself? What motivations drive you away from God?  What about yourself are you uncomfortable telling others? Bring these thoughts and fears to Jesus, into his silence and let him help you become clean.

"I will make you fish for people."

My grandfather was the quietest, most gentle man.  He used to make us lie on the floor and he would say "Stiff as a board! Stiff as a board!" and he would place his gentle old hands behind our little shoulders and lift us up to a standing position, tilting us like a board.  At first we would giggle and squirm, and he might make it worse by tickling us.  But sooner or later, we would learn how to be stiff as a board and he would move us forward and up.  He was so kind, so gentle.

My grandfather was a fisherman in his old age.  He retired to Sanibel Island mainly so that he could fish.  He parked his small boat in a little cove and every morning, early, he would putter out to sea and fish.

One day, my little brother Jonathan decided to go with Granpa on a fishing expedition.  Jonathan was about 5.  I did not ask to go; it simply did not occur to me.  But Jonathan made a formal request to fish and I remember how Granpa's eyes shined with pure pleasure.

They got in the boat early that morning.  We expected that they would not come back until lunch.  But by 9, we heard the puttering motor of the boat entering the small cove in which Gandpa's house sat. And we heard another sound: the sobs of a little boy.

My mother and I rushed outside.  Jonathan was weeping but he did not seem hurt.  He just kept pointing to the fish, lying dead in the pail.  "It couldn't breathe!" he gasped. 

Grandpa got out of the boat.  He was clearly quite disappointed and a little angry.  But in his simple, gentle way, he said, "I don't think I've got a fisherman here."

Jonathan became a vegetarian from that day forward.  That lasted about five years.  He also refused to speak to Granpa for the rest of the vacation, which I found to be a terrible shame.  Evidently, fishing was much more violent than Jonathan had thought.

Jesus said to his disciples, "Come to me, and I will make you fish for people."

There is no denying that fishing is a violent act.  The fish is swimming along, content in an environment called water, an environment which the fish could never identify nor articulate.  And all of a sudden it is yanked into another realm.  In this new realm, it has to die and give it's body for the nourishment of others.  It flails around helplessly, it's mouth and gills pumping, hoping to find water again, but it finds emptiness, air.  It is completely lost, out of its element.  Until it is caught, a fish does not even know that it is a creature of water.  It knows very little of its own existence, that's for sure.

What did Jesus mean when he said that the disciples would FISH for PEOPLE if they followed him? Did he really mean what he said, that they would be yanking people out of their comfortable lives into another level of existence, one in which they could not control their own destiny and they had to give their lives up?  Is that really what he meant?

A lot of us like to think that we spread the gospel in order to make people happy, to help them lead content lives.  We tell people about Jesus so that they can feel better, get their lives in order, right? That is such an appealing thought.  Sometimes I yearn to promise people that their lives will be easier if they become Christian and practice the faith.  But I would not be telling the truth.

In reality, we are introducing them to the One who will turn their lives upside down, the One who will ask them to give up everything, even their own lives, out of love and devotion to Him.  We are yanking them out of their comfortable lives into a realm in which they have little control, in which God alone has the last word.

A friend of mine has six children, and she agreed to house and temporarily adopt a little girl from Afghanistan.  This little girl had a severe heart condition and, through the efforts of a local charity, money had been raised to fly her here to Jacksonville to have surgery.  The little Afghan girl could not walk more than ten steps without getting out of breath.

The surgery was much more complex than the doctors had foreseen.  The little girls family had to be contacted in Afghanistan.  They had to hospitalize her for three months.  And when she was released, they kept her here in Jacksonville for another three months, just to monitor her.  My friend kept in close contact with her mother in Afghanistan.

As the little girl grew in strength, the host family took her to Disneyworld, where she was able to run and play for the first time in her life.  My friend took pictures and sent them to Afghanistan.  It was a miracle to see her play!

Finally, the little girl was ready to be sent home.  They filled her suitcases with new clothes and gifts for her family, marveling at the good work that God had done through the doctors.  They had saved her life.

A few weeks after her arrival in Afghanistan, the American mother got a phone call.  The little girl had died.

They don't know what happened, if it was the altitude that originally made her sick upon her return, but her parents got anxious and put her in the hospital in Afghanistan.  They have no idea what happened in the hospital but someone made a mistake, something went terribly wrong.  And her precious life was over.

Back in the United States, my friend was devastated.  How had this happened?  How could God have made this girl better only to take her life back at home?

The Afghan mother called again.  "I am calling to say thank you," she said.  "My daughter may not have lived long, but, because of you, she ran and played.  Because of you, she really lived."

I wish that I could tell you that fishing for people would make everybody happier, but sometimes living a life of sacrifice and learning to love God is like entering another Universe, where so much more is expected of you and you have so little control.  You flail around, doing the best you can, offering your life for something much larger than yourself.  You wake up to the fact that there is so much more to life than you can ever comprehend and sometimes the best outcome is the one that you least expected.

We do not follow Jesus to be happy.  We follow Jesus to be saved.  We follow Jesus because there is so much more to life than just being comfortable.  We follow Jesus because we get to taste eternity in Him and there is joy there, much better than happiness, there is joy.

On Martin Luther King Day, I walked the bookstore at Barnes and Noble and picked up a new biography of Dr. King.  Dr. Martin Luther King's close friends spoke of his loneliness and even depression, especially toward the end of his life.  He longed for someone who he could sit down with and share his loneliness, his pain.  He was not always happy, but he was saved.  Man, was he ever saved.

After the disciples were caught by the great Fisherman, they would go on to spread the gospel far and wide.  Many of the greatest disciples would be killed for their beliefs, but I bet, if you asked them, they would remember the day that Jesus walked by, the day that they were caught by Him, and they would give thanks for the gift of serving Him.  They would say that it was the best thing that ever happened to them, ever.  Because the gospel is about so much more than being happy.  It is about being caught by Jesus, belonging to him, and what that means for our souls.  It is about a life far beyond our existence here.  It is about joy.  It is about something greater than this life.  It is about God.

Worthy

Many years ago, one of my favorite movies was released. It was called Ordinary People. In the movie, there are two brothers, Buck and Conrad Jarrett. Buck is the older and the favorite of his mother. Conrad is quieter, and lives in the shadow of his brother.

One summer, the boys decide to go sailing. There is a terrible storm. The waves surge and the boat capsizes. Conrad manages to hold onto the capsized boat, but Buck drowns.

When Conrad returns, he is changed. He does not want to live. He feels that he doesn't deserve to be alive. He is depressed, despondent. After three months in the hospital, he goes back to high school. But all the things that he loved, he no longer cares about. Nothing means anything anymore. In a last ditch attempt to find help, he agrees to see a therapist.

The therapist is a Jewish man who works out of a small, dark office. He rarely speaks but mostly just listens to Conrad. For months, Conrad talks about how bad he is, how he doesn't care about anything. He is not interested in choir or sports or friends, nothing. He is lost. He believes that he is bad and deserves to die.

Late one evening, Conrad has a panic attack. In tears, shaking, he phones the therapist. "I need to see you now!" he cries. The therapist is smart enough to know that Conrad is at a pivotal moment.  He puts his coat on over his pajamas and meets Conrad at his office. Conrad paces the office and finally gets to talking about the events of the accident itself. He describes how the boat capsized and how he held on. "I should have let go and looked for Buck, but I didn't! I didn't!" In response, the therapist says something very simple: "Conrad, you are a good person....have you ever thought that you might have been stronger?"

With those words, Conrad begins to believe in himself again. Slowly, his life returns.

Stories of Jesus began to fly about after his resurrection, and it became so important for the people who saw Him, who knew him, to write their stories down. Mark was the first one to respond to that need.

The Gospel of Mark is the shortest of the four gospels. It is also considered to be the first gospel, the gospel that was written down the earliest.

Mark wrote his gospel with speed and precision. He only told the parts that he thought were most important. There is no story of Jesus' birth in the Gospel of Mark. No, Mark, the shortest of the gospels, gets right to the point. Mark does not consider how or where Jesus was born to be of importance. The first thing that Mark wanted to tell us was about Jesus' baptism, not his birth. For Mark, Jesus became Jesus at his baptism. It was baptism that began Jesus' life as the Son of God. The years before Jesus' baptism were just preparation for his ministry. Those years were important but they were preparatory. Jesus becomes fully himself, fully awake and aware, when he is baptized. Jesus was named by God at his baptism. And the words that God speaks aloud at Jesus' baptism are vital words; they are the words of life. Mark records only God's words, not Jesus' or John's, but only God's words.

We translate God's words into English in the following way: "You are My Son, the beloved, with you I am well pleased." I have never really liked the translation "well pleased." It reminds me of my grandmother, who would tell us that she was "pleased" with our grades over dinner. So I went back to the ancient language of the New Testament. And I discovered something wonderful. The words that God spoke really mean not so much "With you I am well pleased'" but instead what God said was more like:

"I call you good."

Or

"I name you good."

When God created the world, God said that it was good. God saw the light, separated it from the darkness, and identified its goodness. All the parts of God's creation were good. Part of the act of the creation was the declaration that each part was good. It was created and it was good.

But when we fell from God, we separated ourselves from that One who calls us good. And we no longer knew who we were. 

This happens all the time in our world. Children are abandoned and no longer consider themselves good. Parents divorce and the child wonders why, was it because she was bad? A parent hands over a child to be adopted and the child wonders if he was just not good enough. He wonders for a lifetime.

We have been hosting leadership breakfasts on the plight of the child in Jacksonville. The roots of so much of the crime in this country stem back to parents who abandon their children, hit their children or neglect them so badly that the child begins to believe he is bad, that he is capable of violence, that there is no compassion left in him. And it is a short walk from there to hatred and fear. It is as if the parents are telling the child, in ways deeper than words, that they are not good, that no one wants them. And once a child thinks he or she is not good, their life is hard to retrieve.

I know a woman who counsels men who have abused women. Her great gift that is from God is this - she is able to search for the goodness that lies deep inside the man. She is able to see beneath all the pain and violence and hurt to something more, some hint of goodness. And in her eyes, they can begin to see themselves as good. Healing occurs when they believe that they are good.

What happens in baptism is so simple, so primal, and so vital. God declares what was once true before the fall of mankind. God says that in Jesus, we are given names, we are claimed by God and we are good.

Today we baptize Hunter, Owen and Kristen. Today God declares them good. And all of you, every single one of you, is now called to see their goodness. Witness to it, call them to it. As they live their lives, as they make their choices, remind them of who they already are, who God calls them to be. Good.

Remember who you are. Any voices that tell you you are not good are not of God. God created you good and names you good in your baptism. Never forget that.

The Name of Jesus

Seventeen years ago, I came to this Cathedral to work as an Intern.  I was in Seminary and my husband, JD had a clerkship with Judge Tjoflat.  I was blessed to be here, to preach my first sermon, teach my first bible study, learn to listen and sing with the choir.  It was a wonderful year for me.  Now that I am your Dean, I look back on that year as God’s way of introducing me to you.

It is hard to begin work in a parish.  The first and most important thing to do is to learn the names of people.  It is vital to learn names.  When I mispronounce the name of someone, I hurt their feelings, and even make them feel unwanted.  I will never forget when I was ordained a deacon and my bishop called me Karen.  I wondered if I had actually been ordained.

Back when I first came to this Cathedral, I was watching TV at our beach bungalow in Atlantic Beach when a television pastor came on.  I will never forget his sermon.  He was preaching to a huge crowd.  At least 1000 people seemed to be gathered.  He had the crowd all reved up.  And this is what he said,

I am a Gator Fan!  With these words, half the crowd cheered and half booed.

But if the Gators loose three in a row, I just might become a Seminole Fan! Have the crowded went wild, half booed.

Because I like a winner!  

My Jesus, he’s a winner.  My Jesus, he’s an All-American!

I remember vividly turning to JD.  “Strange,” I said.  “I thought he was a Jew from Palestine.”

My Jesus.  Why did he think that Jesus belonged to him?  I was almost envious of the way that he claimed Jesus, as if they were best friends.

Most of us Episcopalians don’t speak a lot about Jesus.  We feel that his name is too sacred just to throw around.  We want to hold it close to our hearts.  Sometimes I wonder if we are also worried that we might offend people of other religions.  Should I or shouldn’t I, say the name?  Will it offend people?  It might.  Better off just to say God. One Baptist minister says, Honoring all faiths, I pray in the name of Jesus, but that seems awfully wordy to me. Why not just say God? But we rarely pray to Jesus. Most of the time, we say Lord.

Why is it that we are shy about using his Name?

I read a story about a college girl who was attacked while walking to her dorm one night.  She attended a beautiful college on a wooded campus.  She was walking on a well-lit path, with her backpack over her shoulder, when a man grabbed her from behind and dragged her into the woods.

The girl did something strange.  Instead of screaming or fighting, she began to speak.  She told him her name.

My name is Sarah, she said. What’s your name?

He tore off her backpack and pushed her to the ground.

My name is Sarah.  What’s your name?

My name is Sarah, she repeated as he stood over her, ready to hurt her.

And then he stopped.  He just stood there, staring at her on the ground. 

He left her lying on the ground.  He did not hurt her.  There was something powerful about knowing her name.  She made him see her as a person, not an object.  And he stopped his violence.

Many of us know that there are children all over the world who are starving to death.  We know the facts, and we know the numbers.  But we do not know their names, so we’re able to say, That’s too bad. And then we move on. But when an agency writes us with the name of one child, say one tiny girl who needs food, it is much harder to say no, much harder to stay detached.  For in knowing her name, she becomes real to us; she becomes, in some way, related to us.  And we cannot watch her die.  We must act. Why do so many relief agencies ask you to adopt a child?  Because then you will see a person, hear a name and you will be generous.

Eight days after their child was born, Mary and Joseph took him to be circumcised according to Jewish custom.  It was at this time that the child was given a name.  Jesus.  Babies died so often either in childbirth or in the first few days afterwards that they were not fully human until the naming ceremony.  When they were given a name, they became a person.  And their life began.

To this day, we take naming seriously.  I remember pouring over books before naming our first born.  I was aware of how his name would affect his character, perhaps his personality.  It seemed such a monumental decision.  Would we name him after anyone?  Would he have a name from the Bible? We understand how the name of a person can impact their life. 

When we baptize a child, I will ask the parents, Name this child. And with the name, the child is baptized.  Names are spoken in marriage, in burial, they represent the essence, the individuality of a person. To love someone is to speak their name.  Somehow the personality of the beloved is reflected, captured in the sound of the name.

This child was given the name Jesus.  It means The One who Saves.

God had given us a name once before, on Mt Sinai.  But the name had been so full of mystery that no Jew even dared to pronounce it.  Many Jews even today call God Adonai, which means Lord, rather than speak the name of Yahweh.  And to this day, because ancient Hebrew had no vowels, we do not even know how God’s name was pronounced.  We can only guess.

But when the baby came to us, God gave us a human name.  A name to speak with familiarity and with love, a name that we could pronounce easily and remember well.  God gave us the name of his Son, Jesus.

From the first centuries, Christians viewed this name as holy.  Inherent in the name itself was a bit of the presence of the one who bore it.  We were supposed to pray in his name, in the name of Jesus.  That was the way that all Christians were and still are called to pray.

For hundreds of years, Christians wrote his name in symbols. IHS. Jesous Hominum Salvatio.  Jesus savior of mankind.  Jesus, the one who saves the world.

So why is it that we are shy to speak of him when his name is a gift to us?  Why do we feel that we are somehow not being respectful if we talk to him as we would a friend?  Didn’t he want that?  Doesn’t he still want that?

When Mary was weeping at the tomb of Jesus, he appeared to her, but she could not recognize him through all her grief.  And then he spoke her name, Mary.   With the words of her name, she awoke and she recognized him. 

Do you want Jesus to speak your name one day, to wake you up to his presence?  If you want this, then don’t be afraid to speak his name.  Speak it every day, quietly and loudly, in prayer and in song.  Use the sounds that God has given you to speak of his Son.  The sounds are gifts to you, bridges to the presence of the Almighty.  His name is your gift.

It’s hard to believe that you are on a first-name basis with God.  But you are.

God said, Please, call me Jesus.

The Baby is God

It is possible that the baby Jesus may have been premature. Mary had to walk or ride a donkey from Nazareth to Bethlehem, a distance of many miles. She was young. This was her first child.  It would be very possible that she delivered that baby early.

She would not have eaten much on the journey to Bethlehem.  There were no prenatal vitamins or supplements.  I’m sure Joseph would have bought whatever he could, carried whatever he could.  But the rations could not have been great.  So Jesus was probably not a big baby, not fat with cuddly legs, but probably thin and small.

Mary and Joseph had no one but each other to help in the birth.  Neither of them knew what they were doing.  They must have been so scared.

I traveled to Bethlehem years ago.  There are small rolling hills and strong winds.  Shepherds to this day dig caves in which they shelter their animals.  There are no wooden stables like the ones we like to depict in manger scenes because the wind is too strong.  No simple wooden structure would stay up.  No, Jesus was most likely born in a cave dug in the side of one of the small hills, to keep the animals out of the wind.  That was why there would be a manger, a feeding trough for the animals.  And it was here that Mary laid the child, and wrapped him in bands of cloth, or rags.

This tiny baby was born in the harsh weather without a house or a doctor.  Born to young parents who did not know what to do.  And this fragile little baby was God.  How strange for the All Powerful Maker of the Universe to come to us in this form.  We make the scene into a fairy tale, but the reality is that the Christ child was born physically at risk in one of the most violent countries in the world.  Why did God chose to be born this way?

When I was in college, I traveled to Russia to work in orphanages.  One day, I visited a baby orphanage.  The Russian woman who took me told me that it was a sign of trust that I was even taken to the baby orphanage.  Not many Americans are allowed to see inside, she said.

I have never forgotten what happened that day.

I went into a room filled with babies. But it was so quiet.  Being only in college and not understanding why, I asked the woman why the babies were so quiet.  They would moan quietly and rock themselves. The woman explained that they stopped crying when they realized that no one was going to come, so they learned to comfort themselves.

But there was one little baby girl who was crying hard.  Her face was all blotchy and red.  I was drawn to her crib, rushed over in fact to see what was wrong.  I picked her up.

Her face cleared up quickly.  She looked at me with these beautiful eyes and gave me a watery smile.

You are the mother, the woman said. Take her.

But I was in college and the organization that I worked for did not allow us to try to adopt.  I asked the woman to tell me about this little girl.

She was found in a garbage dumpster two days ago.  The woman said. She still thinks that someone might come if she cries.

I left that day and did not go back.  No one would take me back.  But I still remember the little baby girl and her watery blue eyes and the way she smiled at me.

When my boys were born and they cried at night, I would bolt out of bed with this urgency.  What was wrong?  What could I do?  How could I help?

The cry of an infant is a sign that they need you, that they want to be held, or they just want you to look at them and be with them.  It is a sign of the need to be loved.

I want you to think of God in a different way this Christmas.  I want you to think of God as The Baby.

I want you to realize that God cries out to YOU.

Many of us pray because we think it will help us, or we want God to help others.  We think that God will bring us more peace or understanding.  But it is always because of our needs that we pray.  We never stop to think that God might want us.

But God chose to become a child tonight.  God chose to be born as the most dependent, small, helpless creature on the planet.  God chose to need us just as a baby needs its mother, just as a child needs to be held.  God chose you and God cries out to you.

When you pray, go to God as you would go to hold a crying baby.  Rush to God, without thinking or analyzing or wondering how much time you have: just run to God.  God calls out to you.  God has designed this creation in such a way that God is crying to you to come and be with him.

Remember the Garden of Eden? Remember how Adam and Eve ate the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil?  And once they had eaten that fruit, they realized that they were naked and they hid from God.  They separated themselves from God first; they did the leaving.  And God wandered in the Garden, calling to them…Where are you?

God has been searching for you ever since.  The baby cries out to you to come and hold him, come and be with him.

It is strange to think of us holding God.  It is strange to think of God wanting to be with us.  But God does long for us, yearn for us, cry out for us.  The All Powerful One, the Maker of the Universe chose YOU.  Not Mother Theresa or your faithful neighbor, but you.  Just you.  God wants you for exactly who you are.

That little girl in the baby orphanage did not care if I held her or just sat near her or sang or danced.  She just wanted me.  She just wanted to be with me.

I go up to the third floor chapel at the Cathedral to pray.  From the window, I can hear the children of the homeless shelter next door, Community Connections.  They are playing on the playground.  Some are crying, some are laughing.  And I hear the voice of God in their voices.

The baby Jesus wants You, and He cries out to you tonight.  He cries to you in the poor who don’t know where they are going to live.  He cries to you in the ill and those who are mourning someone who has died.  Jesus calls out for you to come to Him, help Him, minister to Him and with Him.  When you do anything to the least of these, you do it to me, Jesus said.   I came among you as a little baby who needed you.  And to this day, God calls out to you.  Come back to me, God says.  Come home.