How John the Baptist Listened

There were 24 priestly families. Zechariah was part of the eighth family, the priests of Abijah.  The duty of caring for the Holy of Holies would rotate from family to family. On this day it was the order of Abijah who assumed the care of the inner sanctuary of the temple.  Those in the family of Abijah drew lots and the lot fell on Zechariah.  Only one man could enter the inner room and replace the incense. This space was considered so holy that no one dared enter except the one priest assigned to replace the incense. We do not know if Zechariah had ever had this privilege before. What we do know is that when Zechariah walked into that holy room, his life changed forever. An angel visited him and told him that he would have a son.  And he was to name his son John.

I saw a friend of mine a few weeks ago.  His name is also John and he is a priest.  We had not seen one another in years.  We were at a short conference together and I had the opportunity of sitting with John over dinner.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I am well,” he said.  “In fact, I am more than well. Kate, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.” I said.

“I had an experience of God.  It was such an experience that I find it hard to put into words. It is hard to explain and I wonder if people will think that I am crazy so I don’t mention it much.  Can I tell you about it?”

“I would love to hear…” I said.

John proceeded to tell me of how he went to visit the Wailing Wall in Israel, the only wall of the temple still left standing in Jerusalem today.  I’m sure that you have seen pictures of it if you have not seen it yourself. It is enormous and every crack and crevice is filled with the prayers of Jewish people and others who come to the wall to pray.  Jews stand facing the wall, praying with their phylacteries and often swaying as they sing or speak their prayers.

John approached the wall and he felt the urge to reach out and touch it.  The moment that his finger touched the stone, he had a vision.  It was as if he was transported in time.  He could see his own past.  He could hear the prayers of people far away on the wall.  He saw how he and all of humanity, how very frail and precious we were. It was overwhelming.  He took his hand away, thinking that he had lost his mind.

The next day John went back to touch the wall again.  “Maybe I was dehydrated,” he thought. “Maybe I was not in my right mind.”  So he touched the wall again and the very same thing happened.

“Kate,” he said to me, leaning in as if to tell me a secret. “This experience has changed me and it has made me lonely.  I have a hard time sharing it with people.  It was so overwhelming.  It was scary. 

“I am afraid and alone and yet I am so grateful to have had this experience.  It was like no other and it changed my life.”

John the Baptist was a priestly son, born into a tribe of Israel that was seen as the highest class.  John was loved like no other child, for his parents were old when he was born and they thought that they would not be able to conceive.  John was educated by the best priests and scholars.  John had a good life.

John decided that his comfortable life was not enough.  He wanted to listen for God, so he left everything behind: his education, his family, his career.  He left everything to walk out into the desert and live as a homeless man.  And it was there, in that quiet place that the Word of God came to John.

What is implied by this simple verse is something immensely important.  The Word of God came to John and John was listening.

John was listening. 

If John had a message to preach, why would he have moved away from people?  Why not stay and spread the news of repentance right there in Jerusalem?  I think that John thought that listening was even more important than preaching.  And he knew that he could hear better in the desert, away from the crowds.  He left to be alone.

It is scary to listen to God.  You must be willing to silence the cacophony around you.  You must be willing to make space in your mind.  Have you ever cleaned up a very messy room?  You have to lift clothes off the floor, take laundry baskets downstairs, sweep the floor.  It is a lot of effort to make space, to clean things up, to make a path straight. 

When you pray, if you chose to really listen, it is a forceful act. Your thoughts will rush at you like an oncoming train and you must constantly put them aside.  “Yes, I hear you. Wait.”  Let me clear a space in my mind for God. Let me clear a path, make a path straight.

John had the courage to really listen.

The scary part about listening is the potential for God to speak.  God might tell you to move to the desert.  To give away all your belongings, to preach in the streets.  Most of us are scared to find out what God will ask of us, so we get busy and pretend that we cant really hear right.

It is painful to listen and it can be lonely.

There is no one who was more revered by Jesus, more honored, than John the Baptist.  “Of those born of women, there is no one greater,” Jesus said.  And John was alone.

At the end of his life, John is still listening.  And the voices of darkness and doubt enter his mind when he is in prison.  He wonders if he has made a mistake.  He fears that maybe his entire life has been in vain.  Maybe Jesus is not the Messiah after all.

John sends a message to Jesus just before he is killed. “Are you the One or are we to wait for another?”

Did I make a mistake?  Was this all a big mistake?

John doubted at the end.  He wondered if he had listened to the right thing.  And this, more than any other part of his life, makes me admire him.  John was listening so hard that he was even willing to admit that he might be wrong.  He was willing to admit that his whole life might have been one big mistake.

I think the thing that scares me the most about religious extremism is the certainty with which they act.  Not only do these Muslim extremists believe that God asks them to kill but they seem to be so certain.  And holy men, like John the Baptist, have room to doubt.  Holy men and women are always listening, always willing to admit that they might be wrong.

I wish I could thank John for what he did.  The great messenger.  He showed us what it means to listen to give your life to God.  And he will be remembered until the end of time for his faithfulness.  

The Woman and The Sacristy

This past weekend, I traveled to the Diocese of the Central Gulf Coast to run a retreat for the women of the Diocese.  The women were extraordinary.  We talked about Mary Magdalene and her role as someone who suffered from demons and who became one of the greatest followers of Jesus.  Some of these women were Daughters of the King and many had served in their churches for years.  There were some incredible stories told.  I want to share one of them with you…

After fifty years of marriage, one woman came home to find that her husband was leaving her for a younger woman.  She was so distraught that she went to bed.  Her sisters convinced her to come to this same Diocesan women’s retreat and she went but immediately got back in bed once she arrived.

One of her sisters scolded her and told her to get up, that God had work for her to do.  So she got up and started wandering around the Camp and Conference Center.  She wandered into an old sacristy which was messy, dirty and covered in cobwebs.  She said to herself, “This room looks like how I feel,” and she began to clean.

As she cleaned that sacristy, God came to her and it became clear that she was to work in her church.  This was her way forward, this was her path through her pain.

This past summer, at the General Convention of the Episcopal Church, she was recognized as a Woman of Distinction for all the work that she has done.

What makes us who we are?  It is not only the crises that we must endure, but it is how we choose to respond to them.

The Great Divorce: Faith and Mental Health Today

This presentation was made on Saturday September 14, 2015 at the conference on Faith and Mental Health offered by Baptist Medical Center in Jacksonville, Florida…

I want to dedicate this presentation to a young woman. I will call her Kathy.  I knew her years ago, when I was a young minister in my very first parish.  She was very tall and generally scary looking. She wore black always. Combat boots. She looked like the kind of person you didn’t want to cross. She came not just on Sundays but began to drop by my office during the day. It was a small rural church in South Carolina. We would sit together in my office. She would perch on my sofa and wring her hands, unable to speak. She showed me where she had cut herself.

Over the months, Kathy told me what had happened to her mainly by writing it down on small scraps of paper that she would bring in with her.  I got her to see a therapist quickly, but she still wanted to come by and talk to me. And this was her story.

Kathy was raped beginning around the age of four.  Her uncle came to live with the family and he would find many ways to hurt her.  Her mother was working full-time. She was often alone with her uncle. She didn’t know how to explain what was happening, how to put it into words. She thought it was her fault.

So she began washing her hands. Over and over again, many times a day, she would wash her hands until they became chapped and dry and red. And still she would wash them.  Her mother didn’t understand why. It took her mother four years to discover what was really happening.  Four years.

There are many different kinds of vocabularies that we use when describing mental illness.  What Kathy did was suffer trauma as a child that resulted in mental health issues.  Voices inside her head told her she was dirty and unworthy and that she should die.  These voices and feelings originally came from outside her.  They were instilled in her by trauma. They were a normal response to a horrible situation. Kathy was just trying to make sense of a crazy world.  She was just trying to survive.

Kathy grew up into this tough young woman who carried a knife in her pocket, took martial arts and was plagued with anger and misery. We would pray and she worked so hard in therapy.  When I moved away, I was certain she would be OK. But just three weeks ago, I heard from her mother that she had moved away from her support system and all alone in a new city, she had taken her own life.  She was gone.

Like so many of you who have worked with patients or had loved ones who suffered, I feel such sadness and inadequacy when I think of Kathy. I wish I could have helped her more. I wish she had been born into a world that was fair and kind and treated her like the child of God that she was and even still is.  So I dedicate this presentation to her and to all those who suffer from mental health issues. To you, Kathy.  I am so sorry.

And as I look back, I wish that I had talked to Kathy about the value of her therapy.  I wish that I had taught my entire congregation about the value of mental health professionals.  We were on the same team. I simply referred her to a therapist and then did not mention it again.  As a clergy person, I might think of Kathy’s struggle as a struggle against the evil that happened to her as a child, as the spiritual battle with demons of self-hatred that were instilled in her when she was raped.  The therapist would have other words…But why did we not support one another?  Could we have done more for Kathy if we had acknowledged each other? 

This is a presentation about a divorce that happened at the dawn of psychoanalysis.  The divorce that Sigmund Freud initiated when he brilliantly began to articulate a new discipline called psychoanalysis in order to understand and heal the human mind.  It is my firm belief that if we are ever to truly help young women like Kathy or others who suffer from mental illness, we must join the hands of faith, science and medicine in a multidisciplinary approach to mental health. This divorce of the psychological from the spiritual has left us inadequately prepared to hear the sufferings of our fellow human beings. We have tried to dissect the human mind into psychological issues as opposed to spiritual issues.  This has handicapped us in our treatment and in our compassion.  Jesus made no such distinction.  Nor did the great teachers of other faith traditions. It is time for us to admit that this divorce has not done us any good. The segregation of our practices weakens our work and ministry.  It is time for a reconciliation.  Human healing and wholeness can only be achieved when we join hands, when mental health professionals teach in churches and clergy come to the rooms of patients. We need one another.

In 1907, in one of his first books, Obsessive Actions and Religious Practices, Freud argued that religion was a neurosis created in an effort to fend off a fear of death.  He called religion a “universal obsessional neurosis.” (The Freud Reader, p. 435) Those who truly wanted to be mentally healthy must admit that religion was a crutch created out of a need to answer questions which could not rationally be answered. If one was to be taken seriously, in Freud’s opinion, one must say good-bye to any kind of faith in God.

Freud was a genius in many ways. Because he was the pioneer in a new discipline, his voice still echoes today.  All mental health professionals must consider at some point Freud’s thesis that faith is born of neurosis and is just another sign of mental fragility.  For decades, mental health professionals were taught in some circles that matters of faith could only serve to illumine a patient’s mental illness.  Religion was a symptom of dysfunction and not a source of support. This is very much the case in New England, where I am originally from. 

If faith and the spiritual life are in themselves symptoms of deep insecurity, then they can never be part of a treatment plan for mental health. Even if you go to therapy, you must not admit to prayer or any such nonsense, lest that become another symptom of your neurosis. 

At the same time, the religious community has reacted to the rise of the mental health profession with skepticism.  Mental health practices have often been criticized, even as seen in direct competition with faith communities.  If you want to be well, all you need to do is pray.  Jesus said clearly that your faith made you well so if you are struggling with mental health issues, then you must not be praying right. Don’t go to a therapist, simply put your trust in God and God will heal you. And if you do go to a therapist, it means that you are being unfaithful. You are not putting your trust in God.

In addition, Christianity has piled on guilt and even spoken of damnation when addressing the mentally ill.  Talk of sin and demons and evil itself has made those who suffer from mental health issues afraid to admit that they need help.  Look at this cartoon…Mocking the mentally ill…

Without realizing it, the Church has accused children of God of succumbing to temptation, wallowing in sin or simply making bad choices.  The formula of prayer alone as a remedy for mental health has led to shame and in many cases suicide for those who cannot find relief simply by praying. The Church has abandoned them to judgement and loneliness. St Paul taught us that all illness is community illness-that we are the body of Christ, but we have abandoned our brothers and sisters who suffer from mental health issues.  Our fear of that which we do not understand has caused us to shun them, label them and force them into hiding. Like Adam and Eve in the garden, those who struggle from mental health issues find themselves running away from God and hiding for fear of showing their vulnerability in a church that has no words of comfort, nothing to wrap around their shoulders. Instead of embracing the mentally ill, we have treated them like the lepers of our day. We have treated them as if they are weak at best and evil at worst. We in the faith community have much to confess in how we have maligned and treated those who suffer from mental illness.

The mental health professionals and the faith communities have existed too long in separate silos. Both sides of this divorce have limited their resources by insisting that the mentally ill need only one disciple to find health and wellness. We have crippled ourselves in our arrogance.  The shame is on us. All of us.  Has not God given us the mental health profession to help us understand the human mind?  And has not God given us faith communities as sources of support and strength?  We make a grave error when we think that any one of us can do this alone.

Strangely, this divorce between the psychological and the spiritual did not seem to happen as deeply in the field of medicine.  Other than Christian Scientists, most Americans have sought out medical care for over one hundred years. We believe in prayer, but Jews, Christians, Muslims and Hindus will all show up in the ER if they are bleeding.  And many will articulate the belief that God works through the hands of surgeons and doctors and nurses.  In almost every hospital parking lot, there is a space reserved for clergy.  So why is the physical body fixable by doctors and clergy together while the mind must choose between a therapist and priest? Why is it that, in the mental health field, we somehow feel that we are competing for the same territory?

In order to begin the process of reconciliation between faith communities and mental health professionals, we have to begin with the concept of SHAME.  We must destroy the shame that has been associated with mental illness.  In the recent JCCI report entitled Unlocking the Pieces: Community Mental Health in Northeast Florida, JCCI reports that one of the greatest reasons individuals don’t seek treatment is because of the stigma that is still associated with mental health issues. “The stigma of mental illness is both pervasive and firmly entrenched in our society,” they write.  This stigma leads to a lack of hope, despair and alienation. This stigma is very real and present here in Jacksonville.

How do we combat shame? We combat shame with by inviting Adam and Eve to come out of hiding.  We combat shame by showing our own failings, our vulnerability. We combat shame with honesty.  We combat shame with integrity.  We combat shame with courage.  Clergy, we must be willing to talk freely and openly about our own battles with mental health issues and the battles of our loved ones.  We must, without shame or fear, show the world that even those who pray can suffer from mental health issues.  Mental illness is a disease and just like a cancer patient, those who suffer from mental illness deserve our full support.

So let me begin with my own story.

This is a picture of my dad on his 70^th birthday. My dad suffered from debilitating clinical depression when I was growing up.  The mental health care of our day was not sufficient.  He would go to bed for months, months. When I started therapy at the end of college, I thought that he had been in bed for three years, but he clarified that it was three months.  That was the longest stretch.  He would lie in bed with tears streaming down his face.  And he would tell much, when I was far too young to hear this, that the only reason he didn’t kill himself was because he believed in God.  And he believed that it was a sin to take his own life.

So I began to pray.  As a very little girl, the first memory that I have of prayer is of trying to write a letter to God in my head.  It was a simple letter.  It read, “Dear God, Thank you for life, love Kate.” I thought that you had to write to God in your head to pray so I would lie in my bed at night, look at the birch tree outside my window and say that prayer.

And I became a priest. Freud would have a field day.  It was God who kept my father alive, even if it was purely through the fear of damnation. So I dedicate my life to God.  And even as a child, when I entered the church, it felt safe.  I felt my worry and anxiety melt away.  There was a kind of solidity, of trust-worthiness there.  There were grown-ups who seemed solid and stable and who seemed to love me even when I didn’t show up for months.  I found my home.

My father has tried everything: medical, therapeutic, spiritual. In his effort to find relief, I was exposed to all kinds of methods as a child.  My dad took medications, all kinds of them. He had electroshock therapy, back when it was a bit rougher and caused memory loss. And we prayed.  I still pray for him daily. 

Why would I ever consider that my dad should only pray and not receive treatment for his depression?  Does not God work in all things? Are we not called to be Christ’s hands and feet in the world?  God works through the love and support of a community. God works through the gifts of mental health professionals.  We are all on the same team.

Take a moment.  There is a piece of paper at your table.  Write down someone in your life who has suffered from mental illness.  Let’s take a moment for you each to ponder who in your life has been touched by suffering in this way…

Now, turn to your table.  Share a story.  Model honesty.  This is the only way that we can combat shame.  Have courage.  Talk to one another.

Give me your feedback…You impression of what it is like to talk openly to one another…

Here is JK Rowling on depression…

It is time for a change. This conference marks one step in a movement to rectify our mistakes. It is time for us to learn from one another and to seek strength in the insights of each other.  Our disciplines are not at odds with one another.  We are all on the same team!

We must agree with the fact that mental health is a continuum.  The mind is like a garden.  It must be tilled and cultivated.  There is no such thing as a simply healthy mind.

Jesus often used images from nature when trying to explain our relationship to God and to each other.  One image that he used over and over again was the image of the wheat and the weeds. 

Just yesterday, I was pulling weeds in my overgrown Florida yard. They grow up so fast, especially when conditions are right.  Our minds are full of wheat and weeds.  All you need to do is sit down in silence for ten minutes and you can hear them.  We have thoughts that are life-giving and thoughts that are destructive.  Our job is to identify the wheat from the weeds. And notice that Jesus tells us that only God can rid us of our weeds.  We can’t pull the weeds from our own minds, we cannot strip ourselves of destructive thinking or feelings of despair. But we can identify them and learn to live with them. I don’t have to listen when I tell myself that I am fat or stupid or a bad mother.  I can realize that that though is a weed, planted there sometime when someone said something hurtful to me, and I can just let it be there. Worry, obsession, even addiction…weeds of the mind.  Weeds can choke and even destroy a mind if left unchecked.

Doesn’t the world of therapy agree with this notion that we are to identify the weeds and get to know them?  That we cannot get rid of them? And do we really think that there is a human mind out there that has no weeds?  And would not we call this process of self-realization a holy process?  Is not the Holy Spirit present when one human being truly listens to another?

One thing that I know about weeds is that they tend to look alike.  The same weeds come up again and again and again.  I pull one and another grows in its place.  It is a constant battle.  A healthy mind takes upkeep and analysis.  We can’t just let it go.  Just like the physical body needs exercise, so the mind needs observance, listening and careful cultivation.

The Bible talks clearly about the fact that we all have unclean thoughts and feelings.  Even Jesus himself was tempted.  It is part of what it means to be human, to be tempted.  And we notice that it was Jesus who mastered his temptation before he set out to help anyone else.  For we all know that you cannot truly help others if you don’t know how temptation works in your own mind.

If we could only understand that to be human is to suffer, and to be human is to grapple with mental health issues.  To follow God is a process of continual discernment, constant self-reflection.  Just like we care for the body, so we must care for the mind.

For the person of Jesus’ day, soul, spirit, breath were all one. There was just one word for them. In our effort to understand and dissect the human mind, we have tried to pry apart those things that coexist in a dance of mutuality.  We have tried to dissect and segregate those things which are in fact one. 

It is time for us to understand that we all are approaching a great mystery together and that mystery is the human mind and spirit.  We come at this mystery like blind men feeling an elephant. Faith communities can help in one way.  Mental health professionals in another way. We treat the same mystery from a variety of perspectives, none of us fully understanding that which only God can fully comprehend.

So I dedicate this conference to Kathy.  Let her not have died in vain.  Let us come together in this battle for the human spirit to be free, as God intended for us to be. 

Soul Food

My friend Christopher is a priest in San Francisco and a budding poet. He recently sent me a series of poems that he wrote about the Eucharist. They intimidated the heck out of me. It takes me a long time to read poetry and I always feel like I have missed three quarters of its meaning. When I read poetry, it takes me a lot of time. There seem to be so many layers of meaning. Poetry is rich, complex and can be incredibly profound. 

It is important to remember that the Gospel of John is really poetry. It is set up like a magnificent poem. Jesus performs seven miracles or signs and each sign is accompanied by a speech. Scholars call them the signs and the sayings. Jesus is constantly saying I AM and then he uses some incredible imagery. I AM bread, light, the gate, the good shepherd, resurrection and the life, the way the truth and the life and I AM the vine. I AM is the name of God. Yahweh. Which is the same as your very breath...AH, AM...every time you breathe, you say God's name.

Today Jesus says that he is bread. Food. God is food. And today this means very little to us.

Who cares about food? I don't know about you but I spend most of my time trying NOT to eat food. While on vacation, I gained five pounds because who can resist a French chocolate pastry in the morning, especially when it's hot and accompanied by the best coffee ever? We not only have too much food, we need to protect ourselves from the onslaught of dinner parties, fast food and the candy in the line at he grocery store. Food is a battle for me.

But it wasn't a battle in Jesus' time. You must remember that they had no fast food. Everything had to be cooked, dough for bread kneaded, fish caught and cooked. Food was scarce and it was a constant source of worry, when you were going to eat again. Hunger was real, so to say that God was food was to say that God fed you. And this kind of soul food that Jesus came to offer, it feeds the soul.

I am convinced that even though most Americnas are overweight and need to diet, our souls are starving today. Starving.

What is soul food? Today a little body will be baptized and the journey of his soul will begin. He will have this inner life, like a plant, that needs to be nurtured and fed. He will enter into a special kind of relationship with God and his soul will need food. Normal food just goes in and out of the body. Soul food feeds the soul. Things like...art, music, beauty, intimacy, truth...this is the stuff that really keeps us going.

It is often easy to see the state of a human soul when a person is dying. I can see clearly if the soul has been nurtured and fed or if the soul has been ignored and neglected. People who have a soul life have this joy and a willingness to let go and trust, a belief that there is something more than what they can see  or even understand. Soul people are mystical and they can let go.

The movie and book Unbroken are based on the true story of Louis Zamperini, the son of Italian immigrants, who was captured and held for years in a Japanese concentration camp. Zamperini had this inner strength that kept him alive, even while they starved and tortured his body. When he was fighting for survival, there was an image that would flash into his mind when he needed strength. It was the memory of watching his Italian mother bake. As a little boy, he would sit on the stairs and look down into the kitchen. She would fold the eggs into the dough. She would knead it. The smell, the sights, the sounds of her baking, it would stay with him because that bread was not just food for the body, it was her love incarnate. It was soul food. And when his physical body was dying, he was kept alive by the memory of soul food.

Many of you have heard me tell the story of the Russian priest that I met when I was in college and researching the Russian Orthodox Liturgy. At the end of my studies, I gave this priest money to fix up his church. It needed so much work! Icons were aging, the floor was sagging, the roof needed repair. But when I gave him the gift of some money, he told me to come back the next day. 

Father Boris took me to the grounds of an orphanage where he handed out 100 Swiss chocolate bars to the children. That was what he did with my money! It was not practical at all. He didn't fix anything. He bought chocolate! But I realized that he was buying soul food for children who had no concept of joy and of a free gift. He was handing them God's love wrapped in a chocolate bar.

Micah's mom came to this cathedral a few years ago. She took  Basic A and out of that class she and some other women formed what is called the Basic A gals. They meet together and pray. It is the kind of group that I want for each and every one of you, because it feeds the soul. The Basic A gals cooked breakfast for the church this morning to celebrate Micah's baptism. They wanted to feed all of you.

If we really understood what this Eucharist is, if we really understood the meaning of this bread and wine really were, there would be lines out the door every Sunday. But the only way you can taste soul food is by beginning to be fed. If you eat this bread and drink this wine regularly, you will begin to realize that a part of you that has long been neglected is being fed. Something deep down inside. 

Strange, how we can be busy and overstuffed with food but all the while we are lonely and our souls are starving for connection, for meaning. 

What feeds the soul? The beauty of a painting that takes your breath away. A song that moves you to tears. A smile from a child. And this...this bread, this wine.

How can explain it to you? It is poetry itself. That God could be food. 

Loaves and Fishes

Jesus was accosted by the crowds. Once they realized that he could cure diseases and heal the sick, that was it. They would not leave him alone. He was forever trying to find time alone or time with his disciples. In today's gospel, he climbs a mountain with his disciples but just as they sit down, they see a mob of people struggling up the mountain to be near Jesus. 

Five thousand. Who knew if anyone counted. The point is that there were more than you could count. Too many. Women, children, uncles and aunts- babies and older folks, climbing in the heat of Israel. Hot, sweaty, tired and hungry. You can almost see them coming. All those people. All those needs and desires and wants. So much for time alone.

Jesus sees them coming and he says the words that all of the disciples must have been thinking. Jesus names their fear. He identifies the elephant in the room. 

Where can we buy enough food for these people to eat? How can we provide for them? Do we have enough? What have we got? Is what we have enough?

Philip gives the first response, the honest response. He says that we don't have enough. Six months wages wouldn't buy enough food for all these people, he says.

A lot of us consciously or unconsciously answer Gods question with...there is nothing I can do about it...I can't help the world find peace. I can't do anything about all the children who have suffered, all the people who are hungry, all the teens who have become lost to drugs...what can I do? I don't have enough.

But a few of us answer differently. When faced with life's challenges, we are more like good old Andrew, Peter's brother. Andrew tells Jesus not what they do not have but what they do have. Andrew looks around and assesses the situation. Then he tells the truth. The truth is that the people did not come empty-handed. 

"I saw a small boy who had a little food..."

There is a little boy who has five barley loaves and two fish.  

If you want to see God at work in your life, you must point out what you do have. For God multiplies our gifts. God takes our meager offerings and makes more of them.  God uses what we have to offer, however little it may be. That is how God works. Jesus did not make food out of nothing. He used what little they had and made it enough.

A new Presiding Bishop has been elected in Episcopal Church. His name is Michael Curry. When he was a young boy, his mother fell into a coma because of an aneurysm caused by a childhood head injury. For nearly a year, she remained in that coma. Eventually she was moved from the hospital to a nursing home. But her family did not despair. No, Michael, his brothers and sisters and his father went to her room every day where they just acted like family together. They did their homework and watched TV, they talked and every night before they left, they prayed together with her. Even if there was not enough of her there, they gave thanks and shared her life. When she did die, Michael realized that the time they spent with her had taught him many lessons. God had made their time rich, their love was enough.

It is very easy to feel sorry for yourself in this life. We all have tragedies. We all have ways in which our lives have not gone as we had planned. There are times when we look at our lives and compare them to the lives of others and we feel as if we haven't been given enough. How many times have people come to my office asking me if God is punishing them? Why not longer health? Why can't they have children? Why are they lonely? Often whatever we have been given doesn't seem like enough.

We all have to chose between Philips answer and Andrews answer. When Jesus asks us, "What have you got?" We can either say that we don't have nearly enough and give up, or we can give to God whatever we have and pray that God can make it enough.

What will it be? Have you been given enough in this life? Can you take whatever you have been given and multiply it to feed the world? Michael's family had only a short time with his mother but they used it to love her and each other. And it shaped his life. It made him into the man he would become.

Michael would later write that this time with his mother taught him that life can be hard, but "A life with God can be a life triumphant." 

A life with God can be a life triumphant.

The Church of England sent a missionary priest to Africa many years ago.  The priest served in a rural township, in a church where he soon came to love a little boy who was his most faithful acolyte. The little boy fell ill and because of poverty and politics, the nearest hospital was a long distance away. But the priest went many times to visit this little boy and he told him stories from the Bible, stories about Jesus and Moses and God's love for us.

When the boy got better, the priest was sent to another area, but the two stayed on touch. Many years later the little boy would grow up and become a priest himself. He would never forget the missionary who told him simple stories in a small hospital room. The missionaries name was Trevor Huddleston. The boys name was Desmond Tutu.

A few stories told to a little boy in a poor hospital in Africa. And God multiplied the offering. And it was more than enough.

So maybe you haven't had the most miraculous life. Maybe you have been dealt only half the cards that some others have to play. Maybe you don't have much to offer. But no matter what you have, how will you answer when Jesus says, "What have you got?"

Will you tell God that you just don't have enough to make any difference at all?

Or will you hand over your paltry offering, your five loaves and two fish, knowing that it is not enough but that God can make it more than enough.

God does that you know, multiplies your gifts and feeds the world with them.

And every Sunday, we give God some wafers, a little wine and what does God do? God feeds us with a food so unfathomable that if we ever could catch a glimpse of its value, we would never miss a Sunday again.

What have you got? What ever it is, God will make it more than enough.

Don't Kill John the Baptist

Jessie was four years old when a little bird flew into the glass picture window while she was eating breakfast in her kitchen. The little bird was killed instantly. Jessie was very sad and cried a lot. It was the first time that she had seen anything die. She decided to enlist her dad's help in burying the bird. So together they found a small cardboard box and covered the box with a paper napkin shroud. They processed the bird in its small coffin to the backyard where they dug a hole. When the hole was ready, Jessie carefully placed the box in the ground. Then Jessie's dad suggested that she say a prayer. So this is what she said, 

"Dear God, we have buried this little bird. Now you be good to her or I will kill you. Amen."

When they were walking back, Jessie's dad asked her why she had to threaten God. Jessie said, "Well, I just wanted to be sure that God heard me."

King Herod Agrippa had married his brothers Phillip's wife. I cannot imagine how that must have played out. Talk about a soap opera! Taking your own brother's wife while he was still alive was the worst form of rivalry. It was cruel and selfish. But Herod was King and, like David before him, he wanted what he wanted. And Herodias probably was flattered and happy to be elevated to the status of queen. But deep down, they both knew that they were wrong. And no one dared say a thing, no one.

The King and his wife had a daughter who Herod named after her mother, Herodias. Herodias grew into a beautiful young woman and her dad loved to show off her dancing. Most of the public had either simply forgotten that Herod had taken his brothers wife or they were too scared to say anything, but then John the Baptist came along. John spoke out to say that it was wrong. It was unlawful for a woman to marry one man, then divorce him and marry his brother. And it was unlawful for Herod to take his brothers wife as his own, even if she did so willingly. So John told Herod what he thought. No matter how much time had passed, it was wrong. Herod could not hide. 

Herod threw John in prison but he did not execute John for he realized that John was a man of God, a man worth listening to. Herod knew that he could still learn from John, even if he disagreed with him. Herod would call John to him and listen, with fascination, as John told the truth. I don't think that Herod had ever met anyone like John before. John fascinated and perplexed him. But Herod's wife hated John because he made her look bad and she wanted to think of herself as the perfect queen. 

Herodias was insulted, personally insulted and affronted. She had been openly criticized by John and she did not just disagree, she wanted him dead. Dead. The most deeply insecure people do not just hate those who point out their flaws, they want to kill them. Like Hitler and Stalin after her, this woman wanted John dead for his opinion. And so, when her daughter pleased her husband by dancing at a party, and Herod offered her whatever her little heart desired, Herodias told her daughter to ask for the head of John the Baptist. I cannot imagine the psychological impact that this one event had on this girl. She did what her mother wanted and became a murderer. And we never hear more about her again.

I can only imagine the look on King Herod's face when his own daughter came to him asking for the beheading of a holy man. Herod had a choice between his pride and the life of an innocent man. All his friends were looking at him. He had made a promise. And they were watching as he weighed his options. His reputation or the life of a man of God. Herod chose his reputation. Just like Pontius Pilate, Herod was willing to murder an innocent man rather than look bad. He was willing to kill rather than being shamed or proven wrong. He would rather murder than have admitted to making a mistake. 

When we disagree with one another today, we don't murder one another, at least not in this country, not most of the time, but we do try to get rid of each other. We don't want to be around people who don't think like us. 

All over this country, when you walk into church, it only takes a short while before you can tell if it is a liberal or conservative church. It is not hard to tell. People are worshipping only with those who think like them. After all, how could they find God if they disagreed? It might make them feel uncomfortable. 

But my vision for this church is to be more than a place where people agree. It is a harder vision, a tougher vision. This church is one of very few churches in this nation where people who disagree are still worshipping together. Church has become one of the most segregated places in our country. People tend to worship only with others who think like them and look like them. In essence, if someone disagrees with us, we get rid of them either by leaving ourselves or by forcing them to feel so uncomfortable that they leave. I have watched over the past decade as thousands have left our denomination. And we have let them go, thinking, great, now we can do what we want to do. But whenever we kill off those who disagree, we kill off the very people who can really help us grow.

You see, God works best when we are not sure of ourselves. God works best when we realize that we do NOT have all the answers and that everything we do, we do with the utmost humility and respect for those who disagree with us. God works best when we truly listen.

But the only way that we all will move forward is for us to continue to communicate. Disagreement should not mean that the body of Christ splinters. Disagreement is an opportunity to move more deeply into community. Read the book of Acts. The church is always disagreeing and has always done so. We do that. It is part of our life together.

Imagine if John the Baptist had not died. Imagine what he could have said and done. Imagine what he could have contributed to the people who knew and loved Jesus. Let us not be like the religious extremists who want to simply get rid of all who act differently than they do. 

When I was at General convention, people wore name tags. The name tags would tell not only your name but what diocese you were from. And people then took to putting buttons on their name tags to identify the causes that they believed in. Rainbow buttons, Anglican Covenant buttons, on and on they went on everything from liturgy to the environment. You could see a persons politics just by looking at the array of buttons. But I began to realize that we were no longer looking at each other in the eyes. All we were seeing is the cause, not the person.

I remember getting on an elevator and immediately reading the person across from me by his buttons. And I did not even look into his eyes. He had become nothing more to me than a series of political opinions. It was then that I vowed to take off my buttons and look into people's eyes.

When that young man walked into that prayer group in Charleston, he actually stayed and listened for over an hour before he killed those innocent people just because of the color of their skin. And in that hour, he realized that they were nice to him. He started to see them, to listen to them, as people. But he could not stop the hate in his heart and he ended up killing them to prove a point.

Look at each other. Do you see each other? Each of us is a human being. Each one of us is so much more than just one issue, more than our political persuasion, or ethnicity or race or gender or sexual orientation. Look at each other. Stop seeing a cause or a perspective. See the person! Do not stop being in relationship when you disagree. In fact, when we disagree is the moment that we should move closer not further apart. Don't try to get rid of each other and don't flee. This is just when we can become a real community, this is the time when things get rich and deep and we all realize that we know nothing when it comes to understanding God. This is the moment when we can become a great leading community in the Christian world and beyond. We still have disagreement here! That's when we can truly start to listen and be changed by one

 another. That's when Christ's work of reconciliation can truly be done.

Unbelief

Jesus goes first to Nazareth. After he has been baptized, after he fully realizes what God has called him to do, he takes the message home. It is the first place he goes...Nazareth. Of course he goes there first! If you discovered that you had the best news in the world, the message of salvation itself, wouldn't you want your loved ones saved first? Jesus walked home to begin his ministry.

I can only imagine how excited he must have felt, going home.  He had learned who he was. He was going to share news about God that was so good that it would change the world. And he couldn't wait to go home and share this news with his family, his friends, with the people he loved. Judging from his surprise at their reaction, Jesus expected that everything would go well. But it didn't. Jesus first attempt to tell people about God completely failed. Remember that, if you ever think that following God means immediate success. Remember that Jesus failed the first time he tried to do what God asked, and his failure did not mean that God was not with him. Success does not mean that you have God's backing and failure doesn't mean that you have failed God.

What Jesus found was that the people of Nazareth strangely couldn't hear him. Instead of listening to him, all they could think about was what they already knew about him. "This is the carpenter's son. We know his brothers and sisters. We already know him." They could not hear a word that he said. They had already made up their minds about him because he was one of them. He was, quite literally, too close to home.

The people of Nazareth had watched Jesus grow up. They had watched him play with other kids and get water from the well and work and eat and sleep. How could he be anyone special? He was one of them. Who was he to tell them about God?

We often cannot see the greatest gifts that God gives us because they are simply too close for us to notice. Our loved ones, our homes, our safety...even our country. 

Just a few days ago, there was a scare at the Navy yard in Washington, DC. They thought that a shooter had snuck onto the property. And Luke, my sixteen year old, was there. Luke is doing an internship on Capitol Hill and was working out in the Navy Yard early in the mornings. I woke to the phone ringing. Don't worry! My husband said. Luke left five minutes before the shooter arrived. He is fine.

My heart felt like it might stop. What would have happened if he had been hurt? It took my breath away.

We live and breathe and work and learn in a free country. The ramifications of this great gift are so great as to change the face of the earth, but often we do not stop to appreciate this gift because we simply take it for granted. It is our home. We live here. It has always been this way. This is the air that we breathe, the water that we swim in. Why should we give thanks for it? But every once in awhile we are jolted awake and reminded to give thanks for the great gift of the country and for freedom.

I just spent the past ten days in the midst of a democratic process in our Episcopal church. Once every three years, we meet with representatives from all over this nation. We debate from morning to night. We argue. We pray. We worship. We make each other mad. We vote. Some lose the vote. Some win the vote. But we do not hit each other or resort to gossip or swear words (at least not in public), we stick it out and keep praying together. 

At the root of democracy is a kind of trust and humility. Our country is built on that trust and so is our church. We are called to believe that the wisdom of a whole body of people may be greater than any one individual opinion. Each of us must hold to the humility that we as individuals may in fact be wrong, so when I lose an argument, I can accept the outcome.

Hear me out on this. Let us not forget how blessed that we are. We live in a country where debate and questioning are possible. Just this past week, 75 children were slaughtered in Iraq because they did not practice Ramadan. Some of them were crucified because they had been accused of acts of sodomy.  They are prisoners. They are slaves. They have no freedom. Even their lives can be taken from them if they do not say or act in a particular way.

I am so sorry that we have to disagree. I am so sorry that the world cannot be easier. But I would rather live in a community that disagrees than a community in which everyone thinks the same thing. Church has become the most segregated time of the week in this country. Let us not aim to worship in a place where everyone thinks as we do. Then we might get so comfortable that we miss Christ. Then we might become like the people of Nazareth, so sure of ourselves that we miss out on what God is calling us to do. I am proud to lead a church that is willing to ask hard questions and suffer the consequences. I am proud to lead a church where disagreement is possible, where failure is possible, where we can pray even when we don't see eye to eye.

We look to the founding fathers with a kind of reverence on this day. We admire their tenacity, their incredible wisdom in designing this democracy, their faith in the wisdom of the people. But they were not gods. They were men (and their women were behind them but at the time they were mostly men). And they struggled. They disagreed. They were not always right.

When Jesus came, he ushered in  a radically new way of thinking about God, a new way of worshipping, a new way of praying. But the people of his hometown missed out because they could not listen. They could not open their hearts to his message. They had already made up their minds about who he was. They were too comfortable.

The gospel says that he marveled at their unbelief. He marveled at their unbelief. What is unbelief? I think it is when we start thinking that we know so much that it is time to stop listening, time to stop questioning. Unbelief is certainty without humility. It happens when we become so attached to the world as we know it that we can no longer open our hearts to Christ. Unbelief occurs when you stop listening and watching for what God is doing in the world. It is not only denying faith but perhaps more importantly, believing that you have all the answers and that everyone should think like you think. Unbelief, that is the word that Jesus used when describing the people of Nazareth. Unbelief.

The people of Nazareth were not free so long as their minds were already made up. And that is all that I ask of you on this weekend of our Independence. Give thanks that you are free.  But make sure that you embrace the gift of your freedom by never ceasing to consider other perspectives, to ask questions, to remember that it is God alone who knows all in all. Listen to one another, pray with one another, and give thanks for our freedom. 

Unanswered Questions

In 1813, Morris Brown started a church for black slaves in Charleston, South Carolina. He was joined by Denmark Vesey, a man whose name came from the slave owner who sold him. Denmark had purchased his freedom for $1,500 because he was a gifted carpenter. However, the slave owner would not sell him the freedom of his wife and children. So Denmark Vesey began to preach at the church about the Book of Exodus and how Almighty God led the Hebrew people from slavery into freedom.

No one knows if Denmark Vesey ever did anything more than preach about the Exodus. What we do know is that his church grew to 3,000 strong. And in December of 1821, Denmark Vesey was arrested along with dozens of other members of the church. They were tortured and some broke down, confessing a plot to fight for their freedom. All of them were hanged.  They say that Denmark Vesey was stabbed to death but no one ever found his body. And, as a punishment for insurrection, the black churches in Charleston were closed for over thirty years.

After the Civil War, Denmark's son, Robert Vesey, rebuilt the church as an African Methodist Episcopal Church. They named it Emmanuel which means God is with us. Booker T. Washington and Dr. Martin Luther King would later preach in that church. It became a leading church in the Civil Rights movement.

On this past Wednesday, a 21 year old man named Dylan Roof walked into Emmanuel AME Church and joined a prayer group. After almost an hour of sharing and praying in which he was welcomed and included, Dylan shot and killed the participants. He killed them simply for being black.

A storm arose at sea when the disciples were in the boat with Jesus. It was night and it was dark so they could not have seen where the storm came from. It was strong. It blew the water causing great waves and wind. The disciples were afraid. Terrified. And Jesus remained asleep.

I have always wondered how Jesus could have slept through all that. Was he just so exhausted that nothing could wake him? Or was he so trusting in God's providence that he knew he would not die? Or was it that he was not afraid of dying? Could he simply ride the waves without fear? How could he have slept through all that wind and water, while the disciples were scurrying all over the little boat trying to get the water out and talking and praying and yelling to each other. How could Jesus have slept through that storm?

There are so many storms in our lives. Violence that makes no sense. Racism. Terrorism. These evils just seem to rise up and almost swallow us whole.  There are more Christians dying in this century than at any other time. And sometimes it feels like God is just asleep. How could an all-powerful God allow a man like Denmark Vesey to be hanged just for preaching a truth in Scripture? How could God allow the innocent pastor and the faithful members of a Emmanuel Church be murdered for nothing but the color of their skin? Is God just asleep? Does God even care?

The disciples at least had Jesus in the boat. Physically, bodily, their Lord could be woken up. They could shake him awake. They could talk to him, ask him what the heck was going on.  They could ask him how he could sleep through such a storm. "Do you not care about us?" they said. "Do you not care that we are going to die?"

That's what we all want to ask when a storm comes. "God, why don't you do something about this? Don't you care at all? 

When Jesus awakened, he calmed the storm. He brought peace. Just like he healed when he saw someone who was sick or cast out demons when someone possessed crossed his path. He calmed the sea for the disciples but he was clearly disappointed that they asked him to do that. After he calmed the sea, he turned to them and asked them THE QUESTION. 

"Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?"

"Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?"

When we come to God asking God to calm the storm, asking God to save the lives of those faithful at Emmanuel, asking God to simply stop this evil and violence in our world, God responds with a question...Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?

It is the same with our brother Job. The storm destroyed his whole life. His family was dead, his wealth gone, his friends were no help. He sat alone in the dust and when he asked God to wake up, God said, "Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?" In other words, "who are you to ask me how this is supposed to happen?" You cannot understand me. You must trust.

There are some questions that cannot be answered in this life. Why are there storms? Why do people suffer? Why is there evil? Why is life unfair? Why do good people like our brothers and sister at Emmanuel AME Church have to die? They did not deserve it. They did nothing but be kind and loving and good. 

And when we say to God, "Please wake up and stop this storm! Please just bring us peace. Please just fix our problems," God answers with a question. One very important question...

"Why can't you trust me?"

Faith is not just about believing in God. Faith is also believing that God knows more than we know. Faith is believing that when good people suffer and die, it is not the end of the story. Faith is ability to trust that something beyond our understanding can come out of violence and hatred and death itself. Faith is believing that the cross can become the resurrection, even when we don't know how or when or why. Faith is believing that God is God and we are not.

My yoga teacher took the day off on Thursday and drove with her husband up to Charleston. There were thousands out on streets. Flowers left at the church. The families of the victims were talking about forgiveness and people were flooding into the city, just to be there, to pray and to eat at the restaurants and offer our condolences. People were so kind, she said. They thanked her for coming. 

And all across the country at 10 a.m. this morning, church bells will ring to remember those who died. Let us not let them die in vain. It is time for this country to unite and vow to serve one another, to bridge racial boundaries, to look out for our youth, especially when they seem lost or disturbed, to take better care of our children, to pray for one another. Out of these ashes, let us rise.

Denmark Vesey dreamed of a time when black people would be free. So long as there is violence and hatred like what happened on Wednesday, none of us our free. So we must put aside our whys and work toward peace and pray. We must always pray to the One who alone can bring peace, to Jesus.

Let us read aloud the names of our brothers and sisters who died at Emmanuel AME Church. 

Remembering Bernie

I have never done this before. Never, in all my years, has anyone requested that their funeral be held on Sunday morning at our normal service. And really, this is not a funeral. Father Bernie Dooly didn't want a funeral at all. He wanted us to worship together as we always have, as he did for decades. He wanted us to share in the body and blood of Jesus and to remember him at the same time. He did not want a special service giving thanks for his life. He just wanted us to come to church together and give thanks. He wanted to be with us when we came together to worship. He didn't want it to be all about him. That was so much like Bernie. 

I have known Bernie almost all of my adult life. I first met him when I came here to this very Cathedral to do an internship during Seminary.   He was a new Canon, having served as a chaplain at FSU for two decades. He was really happy at FSU. And so we both felt a little lost in this big Cathedral. I would wander down to Bernie's office and he always had time for me. He would lean back in his chair and just listen. I cried in his office and probably made a fool of myself. When I had to preach my first sermon, he suggested that he listen first. And so Bernie stood in the back of this empty Cathedral when I preached for the very first time to him alone. He just stood there and smiled. I can still see him there.

Bernie was Irish. He was born in Ireland and it was so much a part of him, in his blood. He also loved God and found God particularly in silence. Maybe his exposure to silence happened when he was young and suffered from double pneumonia. He would follow that sound of God in silence into the priesthood, reading and studying about God. He became an Irish Catholic priest and served in the church, finally being sent here to St. Augustine. 

When you love God in silence, it is easy to retreat into solitude, but Bernie's life was not complete with only solitude. All his life, he would struggle to find a balance between his love of people and his love of silence.  

It was in St Augustine that Bernie met and fell in love with an artist. Marcia had two daughters. She exposed Bernie to a kind of freedom and beauty that he had never known.  He gave up the priesthood to marry Marcia. Bernie became a father and he adored his girls.  Bishop Cerveny welcomed him as a priest into the Episcopal Church. 

Bernie loved all people but especially the young. He was so happy being a chaplain at FSU, where he and his students could be creative with all kinds of liturgy. Bernie was not one for tight schedules or hierarchy. He would always give up his seat in the chancel, always make himself available to listen. He had the students at FSU do everything, from having a Vestry to officiating at liturgies. Bernie was always ready to give up his seat. 

Our lives are a balance. We all need the sound of sheer silence that Elijah found when he was searching for God in a cave so long ago. But we also need one another. Bernie's face would light up when he spoke of Liz or Marta or Marcia. He adored Marcia's art. Her paintings gave him joy. But after beholding the presence of God in silence, Bernie could never just surround himself with business and people all day. He needed both, both people and quiet, and so do all of us.

In yoga sometimes we practice balancing. We stand on one foot and stare straight ahead. It is amazing how balance is nothing more than constant movement. The muscles in your foot and leg are always moving, first one way and then the other. After lots of practice, it becomes easier, but the movement from one side to the other never goes away. Bernie's life was spent balancing between his two joys, his need for God in silence and his need for all of you. When he spent too much time around people, he would become quiet, even a soft kind of grumpy. When he was alone too long, he would take joy in people.

At the end of his life, I think that Bernie struggled the most with being so weak. His body was giving out. That pneumonia that he had as a child led to him having a hole in his heart all his life, but he didn't know it until after retirement. He found himself weak and unable to care for Marcia as he wanted to. But he was a giver and he didn't know how to ask for help. I would go to see him for spiritual direction but, although I could always use Bernie's wisdom, I knew that he wouldn't let me come if the visit involved taking care of him in any way. He was terrible at that! 

I feel regret that Bernie did not let us help him more. It is so hard to age. I hope that he didn't feel alone. 

Bernie would want this message not to be just about him but to be about you. What kind of a balance have you found in your life? We all need to hear the sound of sheer silence that Elijah heard, for it will fill our hearts, but most often we run from that silence because before we can get to it, we often must hear our own crazy and disturbed thoughts. So we fill our lives with noise and activity. We run away from God.

If Bernie wanted one thing for you to receive from this service, I think he would want you to receive the gift of silence, to know that deep down, below the chaos of your thoughts and the noise of this world, there is a presence, so deep and so beautiful, so full of love as to take your breath away. And when we can't feel that presence it is not because it isn't there. It is because we are too rushed or wounded or angry to truly listen. Most of us have a storm of sorts in our minds, a storm that moves over the top of silence, making us think that that is all there is, so that when we are quiet, all we hear is worries and regrets and noise. But there is so much more beneath all that.  

The silence waits. It is always there for you and once you touch it, you will want nothing more than to find it again and again. It used to be translated as a still small voice. Then scholars got back together and decided that this translation was inadequate. So they called it the sound of sheer silence. My seminary professor translated it as eloquent silence. But words are still not good enough. There are no words to describe such things. The only thing Bernie would say about it was that it is God.

Bernie gave this Cathedral a few gifts. Along with Louise and Mary Busse, he gave us the gift of the Center for Prayer and Spirituality, a part of this Cathedral that will already remind us of the presence of God in silence.  He also gave us a chapel located on the third floor of Cathedral House. You can take an elevator up to it. It is full of Bernie's books and statues and icons. It is a place to be quiet. The only sounds that you hear are the children playing in the playground of the homeless shelter across the street. Bernie gave it to us, his community, so that we could find a place of quiet, a place to pray, a place apart from the hustle and bustle of life. It is always open to you. 

You have to fight for quiet in your life. It is a battle. But please try. It is vital for your mental and spiritual health. And try to find the other side as well, that balance that is community, the people who make your heart sing, with whom you can be yourself. Nurture those relationships, tell them who you really are. God is Trinity and God cannot be known alone. God must be known also in community. Three in one and one in three. God is all about balance. To try to find God is to dance your way to finding balance in your life. And balance between quiet and community looks entirely different for each and every one of you.

Bernie knew the beauty of loving people. He knew the beauty of time spent alone with God. He knew the beauty of nature and art and music. He lived and he loved. And we give thanks for his life. After all, that is what the Eucharist means...thanksgiving.

Jump

Anna was three. She loved to jump on the bed and into her daddy's arms. She would jump on the bed, higher, higher, warming up. And then she would start telling her dad what to do. 

"Take a step back, Daddy! Another one...another one!"

"Is this far enough, Anna?" He would ask, beginning to get nervous.

"No! Not far enough! Another one!!" And then, finally, she was ready.

Daddy would hold out his arms and she would jump, without hesitation or fear, she would jump. She was like a bird, like a superhero flying through the air. She would jump and he would catch her, every time. It was their game. It was so much fun. He always got nervous but she didn't. She knew that he was there, solid and good. She knew that he would always catch her.

Last Thursday, I went to see George Weller in the hospital. George has been a member of this church for many decades. He was bright and chipper and sitting up in bed, in fabulous shape for 93. He was so happy to see me. We talked and prayed together and I found myself saying, "George, you are 93. If you should see Jesus come and open his arms to you, just go to him. It's OK. Just jump."

The very next day, I got a call from George's daughter. He was dying. Could I come and say the last rites? I drove over to the hospital, marveling that Jesus and come to him so quickly. I arrived in his room and he revived a bit, enough to tell me that he was glad I came. "Two days in a row!"he said. I should have felt sad, but I was not. I felt joyful. We gathered around his bed and joined hands. Into your hands, we commit your servant George, we prayed. And I whispered to George, "Great job! You are getting ready to jump!"

But then I knew that I needed to leave. People tend to get excited when I show up. He needed to not be distracted. He was getting ready to jump, after all. So I gave the family my cell phone and I left. It took him three more days to jump. Just a mystery. They are so much alike, dying and being born. I guess it is also a birth, to eternal life.

George's ancestor, Reginald Heber (1783-1826) wrote the famous hymns Holy Holy Holy from the Isaiah reading that we heard today. Coincidence? I don't think so. I think that is the Holy Spirit moving today, telling us that the one who sees and knows all things is with us, urging us to trust that spirit and to jump.

When God asks Isaiah who will go for him, Isaiah jumps. He does not know where he is going or what God is asking him to do, but he just decides to risk it. He jumps and he says to the angels, "Send me!"

Nicodemus was too scared to trust Jesus so he went to a Jesus at night, when no one could see him and no one would know that he went. Nicodemus was a Pharisee. He had a reputation. He did not want to send the wrong message, going to see this radical preacher. Nicodemus was not free to jump. He cared too much about what people thought of him, how to make his decisions, how to be popular. So he snuck to Jesus in the dark to ask Jesus some questions, to see if he was really from God.

Nicodemus asked Jesus about himself and about God and Jesus told him that if he wanted to see God, he must be born of water and the spirit. "You cannot see the Kingdom of heaven unless you are born from above," is what Jesus said. You must be born of water and the spirit in order to know God. You must make the change into another world. You must be born. 

Born into what? That's the tough part. If you are to see the kingdom of heaven, you must be born into something that you cannot see. "The wind blows where it will," Jesus explained, "and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from. So it is with everyone who is born of the spirit." They must be born into something that they cannot see and cannot understand, but something that they can feel.

When we are baptized, we are born into something that we cannot see and do not understand. We are born to a life that no longer belongs to us. Outside these walls today, people are sliding down the urban slide, the largest water slide in the nation. But these three children are taking the biggest jump today. They are jumping into eternal life.

Olivia is wearing her princess dress today. She calls this church God's castle, which is perfect since she will be gaining an entrance into the kingdom of heaven. Spencer is our baby, happy and wonderful. Show him pictures of this day, the day of his birth to eternal life. And Jamari, his mom works in the nursery and he is big enough to carry the Holy Spirit dove out of here today. 

All three of these children will encounter moments in their lives when they feel terribly alone, when they have to make difficult choices or risk great things. This world is changing fast and becoming Christian is much riskier than going on that water slide. They will grow up in a world where it is no longer standard or normal to actually go to church or be baptized. They may be questioned or even made fun of or ridiculed because of their faith. It may become harder to be Christian. Think of how many people have come here today to slide and how few have come to worship. We are taking risks. We are different. But if you have the courage to live the life of the baptized, Jesus will be standing there always with his hands open, ready to catch you when you are ready to jump.