"The God Who Is" a sermon

“The God Who Is”

St. Thomas’ Episcopal, Richmond

Year A, Proper 17, Aug. 31, 2014

Last week I got the chance of a lifetime, and it was nothing I deserved, it was nothing other than a gracious and generous gift.  It was offered.  And without thinking, I accepted and I am so glad I did.

Before school starts on Tuesday, this last week was the only chance that I knew that we could take the girls out of town while it was still summer.  Stephanie, the kids and I ran down to Nags Head for a few days.  After grabbing dinner in Manteo on Monday night, I took the kids to see the marina in Wanchese just down the road.  While driving around, I saw a beautiful fishing boat jacked up on blocks.  The name emblazoned on the side was “Jesus Freak.”  I was on vacation, so I slammed the brakes, backed up the van, and made Stephanie take my picture.  Some of you may have seen her handiwork and my vacation-hubris on Facebook.  Just after the picture, what is not shown was the owner of the boatshop walking out and asking if he could help me.

I was a little embarrassed, but apologized for being in his driveway, but that I was a priest and needed to get my picture with the boat named Jesus Freak.  He laughed, and said the owner would have loved that and that his other boat is named Salvation.  Then after chit-chatting for a bit, he asked me if I would like to see a boat he had just finished that was down in the water.  Now remember, this is around 6 p.m. on a Monday night.

He said to follow him in his truck.  We went just a block away, and there in the water was a beautiful 62’ fishing yacht.  No expense had been spared.  Every detail was custom, and gorgeous.  There was not a wasted inch in the 62’.  The kind man asked my daughter how much she thought it cost, and she said, “$2,000.”  We all laughed, and I said she needed to add a few zeros.  Before all the detail work, it was $2 Million dollars, and after much, much more.

We were out riding around, not even thinking of getting on a boat, when we were surprised by grace and given a gift I will never forget.  Only time I will be able to get on a multi-million dollar yacht like that.  It came out of nowhere, and for an hour we were given a detailed, room-by-room tour and it was astounding.

Moses was about his business as a shepherd, when grace broke in on him.  He was doing his work, when he felt the need to turn aside and “look at this great sight.”  His plan did not include burning bushes and the angel of the Lord, but it happened and he was astounded.  The call of God came when it came, and it was not planned.  It probably wrecked Moses’ calendar.  It was not convenient.  Like the TSA at the airport, he had to take off his shoes.

This was when God broke through to Moses.  He had been in hiding for decades after he committed murder in bout of righteous indignation, and he ran for his life.  He settled far away from Egypt, and planned to live a simple life where no one would know him, and no one would ask him to go back to Egypt.  

But God had other plans.

On July 13, I talked about the general call of God, the call that goes out to any and all.  That call to be good, help others, and to love God with all you have.  Today, however, we are looking at the specific call of God, that person-to-person call, or deity-to-person call, where God steps in and messes up our calendars and calls us to the last place on earth we might expect to go.

The call of God can be all manner of things.  It can come from an off-hand compliment from a stranger that affirms a quietly held idea we have been keeping secret and safe inside our minds, but once vocalized we have to ask if it could be God talking through that person.  The call from God can come from deeply held desires, that we wrestle with for years.  The call of God can be just a part of who we are.

I shared this in the coffee and conversation interview with me during Lent, and I apologize for the repeat.  Growing up, all I ever talked about was being a minister.  Really.  Now there were age-appropriate delusions around what type of minister I would be.  At 4 I was going to Africa to be a missionary, mostly because I wanted to see lions.  At 7, I was going to be the first chaplain on the space station like in 2001: a space odyssey.  By high school, I had it more refined and reined in, but it was still there.  I was surprised at my high school reunions, that people actually stopped me and asked if I became a pastor.  When I said yes, they said I was the only person they knew that actually became what he always said he would become.  The call of God does not have to come from a burning bush.  And it certainly does not have to be about becoming a priest or deacon.  What it has to be about is that piece of the puzzle that you can fulfill in way that no one else can, to the glory of God.  You are uniquely qualified to do what it says in the Lord’s prayer.  “On earth, as it is in heaven.”  Your call is to make this place a bit more like heaven, to the glory of God.

Like Moses, though, we come up with many excuses why this must be some mistake.

3:¹¹ But Moses said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” ¹² He said, "I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain."

I love God’s proof here, “You will know that it was me who did this calling thing when it is all over and you are back here at this mountain with everybody.  Then you will know.”

This call of God is call of faith.  We have to take that step, like Indiana Jones over the abyss, and trust that there is solid ground to catch us.  Even though we have to take this step alone, we do not have to go it alone.  One of the wonderful and exciting things we do as a church is our discernment committees for those who hear God’s call to vocational ministry.  That is something that our Diocese does exceedingly well.  Coming from a place where that was far less established, and people who were really struggling often found out mid-seminary that the ministry was not the call of God, I have seen how not to do it and am very glad of the deliberate and intentional nature of the process here.  When we respond to the call of God, we step out on faith.  But how do we know it is God who is calling us?

3:¹³ But Moses said to God, "If I come to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,' and they ask me, 'What is his name?' what shall I say to them?"  ¹⁴ God said to Moses, "I AM WHO I AM." He said further, "Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'I AM has sent me to you.'"

These verses of Scripture, are some of the most pivotal in the Bible, and the few minutes we have here I cannot do them justice.  But the name God gives for Godself is “I AM.”  The Hebrew here is ambiguous, and God is who God is, and all the permutations of the past and future tenses.  I am who I was, I am who I will be.  I was who I am, I was who I will be.  I will be who I was, I will be who I will be.  In other words, God is God, yesterday, today and forever.  And also what he is saying to Moses is that he is the God who is.  And that is the call we want to hear.  When we hear that call, from the God who is what have we to fear?

But that being said, it does not mean the road is easy.  Moses still had to go back to Egypt.  As Jesus put it in our Gospel reading, speaking to his disciples and to us today, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. ²⁵ For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”(Matthew 16:24-25)

We are called to follow down roads that are not the easy and broad streets, but the hard and narrow.  We know what the cross is, but I find it fascinating that people so often miss the possessive pronoun.  “Their cross.”  We are called to take our cross and respond to God’s call for us.  We might have to do something that scares us, like go back to Egypt or go to a neighborhood we were always to told to stay out of.  We might have to do with less, monetarily or in social standing.  We might have to move.  Susan and Rick, thank you for hearing and responding to God’s call.  Richmond is not the mountains of New Hampshire.  But God who was there, is here, too.

I was glad I stopped my car on Monday to see a boat.  A simple picture became something far greater.  I am glad I heard God’s call from my earliest years.  Moses is glad he stepped aside to see a marvelous sight.  Though it can be scary, the call of God is the greatest of gifts and our highest aspiration.  No matter the call we receive, the God WHO IS, the great I AM, will be with us all the way.  Amen. 

Jesus Did What? A Sermon for Hard Times

Jesus Did What?

St. Thomas Episcopal, Richmond

Year A, Proper 15 August 17, 2014

(Genesis 45:1-15 and Psalm 133 ,  Romans 11:1-2a, 29-32  •  Matthew 15:10-28)

This is not an easy week to get in the pulpit.  The news from Ferguson, Missouri is weighing on my mind.  The cultural tidal wave over the death of Robin Williams.  This week we are emotionally stretched, confronting the worst in our society.  Maybe the worst in ourselves.

I was sitting at the car dealer waiting for my State Inspection.  CNN was playing.  It was Friday morning, and the Ferguson police chief was about to announce the policeman’s name who shot Michael Brown.  A man who looked like me was getting upset by the coverage and was talking back about how anybody who reaches into a police car should expect to be shot.  “Did they report that?” he kept asking.  There were three of us in the waiting room, and he repeatedly directed his questions to me.  I looked at the only other person in the waiting room, who was African-American and my heart asked, “How are we any different from Jesus’ day and time?”  I silently kept writing this sermon, while I tried to chew on this situation in the waiting room, and in Ferguson. 

In the Gospel reading we see Jesus voice the cultural expectations of his day.  It can shock us.

So, what are we going to do with today’s Gospel reading?  There is no easy way to read it.  Jesus comes across as rude or uncaring.  Or Jesus is playing some game with the Canaanite woman.  Or something else.  We do not know.  We cannot know what was in Jesus’ heart, or maybe a better question to ask why the Gospel writer of Matthew included it.  

This is the gift of the lectionary, and maybe the curse, as well.  We are gifted with the task to wrestle with some Scripture that we would rather not touch.  But this is not true to the full picture of Jesus, nor to the forebears of our faith that wanted us to see this side of Jesus and his ministry.  And during this week of bad news, where can we see the Good News in this passage, and can we see it for our day?

We can easily be guilty of hearing this story with very different cultural ears.  If you are sitting next to someone of the opposite sex, raise your hand.  If you are near someone who is not your family, raise your hand.  You might be next to someone of another nationality or background.  If so, you are coming to this story from a very different world, from a very different time.

This woman was not letting go of her hope for her child.  She was needing something unavailable from anywhere, or anyone, else.  She would not back down or let go.  Like a bulldog with a locked jaw, she was holding on to what she wanted.

There was little interaction in this culture of women and men.  There was little interaction in this culture of different cultures or ethnic origins.  Clear lines of division were drawn.  When visiting Palestine in the 1995, I experienced this.  I was in a group of men and women from seminary, and we were invited to a Palestinian home.  We had dinner in the home, the men in the living room eating on the sofas and chairs, while the women were all crowded in the kitchen, standing.  It is a very different world still.

In Mark’s telling of this story, he identifies the woman as a Syrophoenician, instead of a Canaanite as in Matthew.  Whatever population, she was not Jewish.  And in her need of deliverance for her daughter, she crosses the cultural divisions and gender inequalities to beg of Jesus.

The disciples, were feeling the rub of these cultural breaches.  "Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us," they said.  Not only was she a woman, a Canaanite, but she is loud to boot.

Now, I would argue that what Jesus is about to do is, in this context, unbelievably loving.  Unbelievably counter-cultural.

His response to the disciples, not to her, is a reminder of his mission: "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel."  His mission is clear and focused, and this is not “in his job description.”  But she falls at his feet and begs, “Lord, help me.”

Now here we hear Jesus say something that seems so out of our pre-conceived notion of him.  "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs."  Jesus here is expressing a straight-forward cultural understanding of the culture and the time.  And ouch, it hurts us.  I am not justifying.  But that Jesus took the time to acknowledge her, and even more, that he took the time to interact with her would have been seen and heard as revolutionary to the people around him, and to those in the cultural milieu.  But boy, it is hard for us to hear today.  When we use the term of a female dog as a curse, it throws our cultural fuel onto the fire that is already lit.

To Jesus’ words, the woman retorts, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table."  She reaches through the boundaries, barriers and hindrances to redirect the conversation to what she is about, her mission, to see that her daughter is healed.  She was not letting go.

So then Jesus answered her, "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." And her daughter was healed instantly.

Now, we have to see and view this interaction, in a world impacted and changed by the Gospel, and still in need of transformation by the Gospel, we hear the words as harsh.  And we come to the natural question of “Why?”  But I want to invite you to think of this, and many other hard situations differently.

When I was in graduate school, one of the great lessons we repeatedly brought up in Group Dynamics and Reflective Practitioner training was to avoid asking the Why question.  If you ask someone the Why of a situation, they may be able to tell you, but most do what they will do without the reflective practice of wondering and acting upon reflection.  Many of us, too many of us, react rather than reflectively respond.  It seems that the confrontation with the woman urged him to go beyond the obvious and direct response of NO! to listen and respond to the woman and her pleading request.

I do not think that Jesus was testing her, to see if she had the “faith” to get healed.  In fact, he complements her faith, her faith in him as a healer, and her faith in him stepping beyond the cultural chasm between the two.  This was not a test of her faith.  The Why is not in play.  The Why-Would-He-Even-Listen-To-Her is the way many early hearers of this story would have asked.

Jesus, at the beginning of today’s Gospel reading, gives a teaching on being clean, what makes one clean or unclean, and it also went against all of the common assumptions of his disciples.  

Dietary laws, out the window.  All the “Thou Shalt Not” partake laws are dismissed.  What goes in does not make one unclean, but rather what comes out of our heart.  The laws, from Jesus’ view, was not a test to see how “righteous” one could be, but rather, a protective barrier from things that could harm oneself or others.  The laws themselves had become harmful and a form of harming others in the struggle for the “Holier-than-thou” awards.

This woman was not less-than because of her birth, or what her cultural identity was, and Jesus when allowing himself to hear her, sees that her faith and her drive for a healing for her daughter is so beautiful he is wrenched from the normal approach to things and responds to her faith.

If only we could take the time to do this as well.  But instead we play games. Oh yes, these games of interaction still take place, sadly.  We judge, and rank, and rate, and categorize because it comforts us, or helps us prejudge so we do not have to think.  I think that a lot of that is happening in Ferguson, in the media, and maybe even here today as I bring this situation up.

When we ask the Why question, we are playing a game with our response.  When one of my children does something foolish, it is so easy to ask, “Why would you do that?”  #1- duh, they are a child.  #2- If I expect to hear anything other than, “I don’t know.” than I am the fool, not them.  Children by definition explore and learn about the world by asking what will happen if I do this?  BZZZZZ.  We all know the results.

But if I start with the Whats, I can begin to see the Whys.  This applies to my kids and even to our reading for the day.  What did Jesus say and do?  What did the woman in need of healing for her daughter say and do?  It can even apply to the awkwardness in our day and time.

• When the man was going on from a perspective of white privilege at the car dealer, what was I thinking and feeling?  
• What about this made me so uncomfortable?  
• What could I have said to diffuse his anger or the uncomfortable situation in the waiting room?  
• What made him think I would share his opinion and the other man would not?  
• What could I have said to confront his perspective that would have spread light and not more heat?

My immediate response was to ask, “Why are you acting this way?”  In my head, I should say.  Ah, the Why question that puts us in the position of power to assume we are right, or know what’s best.  Asking the what question can shift the perspective and the response radically.

• What is happening here?  
• What triggered that action?  
• What am I thinking and feeling right now?  
• What can I do to spread light and not heat?  
• What can I do to share and receive Grace?

What came out of Jesus, at first glance, his words about dogs, is harsh.  But look at what he did.  Look at how his actions spoke of what was in his heart.  What, not why.

What will we do with this horrible week?  What will we do with the choices Robin Williams made?  What will we do with the ongoing tragedies in Ferguson?  May God help us, and in doing so may we share Grace.  Amen.

"How Will They Know?" A Sermon for VBS Sunday

This is a very short sermon, as it is given in a gaggle of children around me on the floor.  It is a celebration of a great week of Vacation Bible School at the church this week.

Year A, Proper 14 August 10, 2014

St. Thomas’ Episcopal, Richmond, VA

“How Will They Know?”

We have had a great two weeks here at the church.  We had mini-mission camp, and then Vacation Bible School.  We have learned so much and we have played so much.  And all the adults are exhausted, but in a good way.

One of my favorite things this week was walking around and seeing good things happen no matter where I looked.  People were learning Bible stories: Abraham and Sarah welcoming strangers, the Good Samaritan parable, Zacchaeus and Jesus, the story of Abigail and David, and the shipwreck of Luke and Paul on Malta.

We learned lots of memory verses, too.

Matthew 25:35

For I was hungry

And you gave me food,

I was thirsty

And you gave me something to drink,

I was a stranger

And you welcomed me.

Leviticus 19:18b

You shall love

Your neighbor

As yourself.

  

Or Matthew 7:12a

In everything,

Do to others

As you would have them do to you.

These are good words, and they share good news.

I was already told by one of the moms here that somebody was about to get into it with a playmate who was not sharing well, and they heard one of you say, “Choose peace.  Choose peace.  Choose peace.”

Looking at all the work done here this week, I think of how it seemed impossible to pull off.  I am sure a lot of us thought it, but not once did I hear anybody say, “Can we really do this?”  Remember, I did not come on board full time till less than two months ago.  Perspective on this helps.  But all the folks rallied, simplified, and made a great week for the kids.  It was a beautiful thing.  Like Peter, sometimes we have to step out of the boat so that something miraculous and wonderful can happen.

One of the best sermons I ever heard was by Dr. John Kenney, the Dean of the School of Theology at Virginia Union, just down the street here.  He preached on this passage, and said that too often we talk about how we need more faith in Jesus.  He points to this passage, and Peter has faith in Christ to ask to get out of the boat.  He has faith in Christ to walk on water.  When he sees the wind he gets scared, and even then he has faith in Christ to call out for help.  The problem, according to Dr. Kenney, was that Peter did not have faith in what he could accomplish in Christ.  Peter’s problem was that he did not have faith in himself.  How many of us are in the same boat as Peter?

We have to stretch out of our comfort zones to share what is most precious.  St. Thomas’ did that this week. From the Romans reading for today:
10:14 But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?10:15 And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent? As it is written, "How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!"

Teachers and workers, think on that today.  You have beautiful feet.  You brought the good news all week long.  As a priest, and as a dad, I could not be more thankful.  Amen.

A Eulogy for Patrick Cobble

A Eulogy for Patrick Morrow Cobble (1980-2014)

St. Thomas’s Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA

July 31, 2014

There is no adequate way to sum up a life in a few minutes, and there is no adequate way to name our sorrows this day.

Today we come to grieve.  Today we come to remember a young man.  It was said of Patrick by his twin Andrew, that he was an old soul, kind, tender-hearted, too sensitive for this world.

We come together in this church as a way to remember Patrick.  We bring our faith with us when we ask the tough questions.  God is big enough to handle our questions, whether they are whispered or screamed in agony.  God, no matter our approach, accepts us as we are.  God was familiar with the pain of life.

In Isaiah 53, it is prophesied of Jesus:

Who has believed what we have heard? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed? For he grew up before him like a young plant, and like a root out of dry ground; he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity; and as one from whom others hide their faces he was despised, and we held him of no account.

Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have all turned to our own way, and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

We come today to lay our burdens down.  We come today to grieve.

We grieve today for what has happened.  We grieve for our loss.  We grieve for the questions we cannot ask.  We grieve for the answers we will never have.  We grieve today for Patrick.

Theatrical by nature, Patrick was attracted to the stage.  He was in a Disney movie at 7, and caught the bug early.  Even most recently cast as lead in a play with the Drifting Theater Company heading to New York City, and many other roles through the years.

He was not just theatrical on stage, but off as well.  Nancy shared a memory of New Year’s Eve when he was about 7, where he came out with sport coat, white shirt and bow tie with a towel over his arm to serve the sparkling cider.

Or the time he jumped out of a barn loft with just an umbrella, because he had seen it in a Batman movie.  He was quite the character, and held onto the child-like literalism deep into his years.

Always imaginative, as a child he assumed that the Dairy Queen must be married to the Burger King.  Could it be any other way?  And this did not stop; his poetry is left behind in pages of journals and scraps of paper.  His sensitive soul met his imagination and birthed words, words of his soul.  One of his English teachers said that he was the most gifted writer she had ever taught.

Patrick was more than just an actor, tender-hearted, and a writer, I was deeply moved by an email from a friend of Patrick’s and of Nancy’s, neither of whom knew they formed a triangle until the memorial in Tennessee last week.  From an email that was sent, a story was told by a young woman who showed the depth of Patrick’s care and compassion for her when in a very dark time.  In it she said of Patrick: “he was the best friend to me at a time when I really needed one.”  Would that would be said of all of us.  He was a deep and true friend.

While his path took him to several philosophical and religious ideas, he was baptized in the church.  His spiritual self pondered the souls of trees.  He questioned how we could be so active in the destruction of this world, the only one we have.  These questions worried him.  He could not understand why they did not worry more of us.

Last night, Nancy found a quote he left on his Facebook page, from Emilie Autumn in a novel: “You," he said, "are a terribly real thing in a terribly false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.”  (The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls)  We have to ask if this question from the novel was Patrick speaking to himself of himself.

Patrick’s questions and longings are over.  And we have choices to make.  Will his questions haunt us?  Will our questions haunt us?  The Whys?  The What-ifs?

It is my prayer for Patrick to be at peace.  It is my prayer for all of us to be at peace.  In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus said, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling-places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.”  We pray today for Patrick, and entrust him to God’s loving hands.  We entrust him to the dwelling-place in the House of God reserved for him.

But what of us?  We came today to lay our burdens down.  We came today to grieve.  We looked ahead to Jesus, who would know our pain.  In closing, I want to look ahead to the end, the very end, from Revelation 21:

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”

Lord, we thank you for the life of Patrick Morrow Cobble.  We pray for Nancy, Andrew, and all of his family.  Like the beautiful Antheriums at the altar today, we remember the beautiful vitality of this man, and may that beauty remain in our hearts and minds as we entrust him to your loving care.  In the name of Jesus, the lover of all our souls, Amen.

"If God Is For Us..." A Sermon on Romans 8:26-39 & Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

“If God Is For Us…”

Year A Proper 12, July 27, 2014

St. Thomas’ Episcopal, Richmond, VA

One of my favorite passages about prayer is the words of Paul in Romans in today’s lectionary reading.  Unlike the other writings of Paul, where he is reaching back to churches he founded to correct or encourage, in Romans he is reaching forward to a gathering of followers of Jesus who are in a place he has not been, and he is putting all his theological stuff on the table so that they can be on the same page when he arrives.  Or at worst, they will know where he is coming from so they can work it out when he gets there.  Paul here is at his most theological, convoluted on some points, but we have more glimpses into the heart and soul of the man and what his faith means to him.

At this passage, he speaks of the Spirit “interced[ing] for us in sighs too deep for words.  And God, who searches the heart, knows what is in the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.”  Think of it, as we do not know the words to say, or the thoughts to think, we pray.   The Holy Spirit, moving in us and through us, is mingling and pleading with God the Father on our behalf according to God’s will.  Our sacred grunts and groans are enough.  Words fail, but we are known.  Words are not needed.

Then we get to a very problematic Scripture, where it seems a wrong statement at best, or a lie at worst.  “We know that all things work together for good for those that love God, and are called according to God’s purpose.” 

Do we know that?  Do I know that?

Some pretty horrible things are happening to Christians right now, in Iraq and Syria.  Are all things working together for good?  I heard on the radio yesterday that Secretary of State Kerry said that he had never seen the world stage in such a bad condition.  Is the world working together for good?  As Rabbi Kushner’s book was titled, When Bad Things Happen To Good People, we could very well say the same thing.

And the bad does not have to be global.  Like Jacob in the Genesis reading, we can do everything right and there is still a bait and switch.  We do not get what is promised.  Things are not fair.

Before we come back to the theodicy of Romans, this question of the bad happening to those who seem to be the good, I do want us to make note of today’s Gospel reading, and use that to help us illumine what Paul may have meant.

Jesus is preaching is using simple metaphors of the agrarian and fishing variety.  Both would have been common and pervasive in Galilee during his day.  Mustard seeds, yeast, hidden treasure, a pearl of great price, nets pulling in the good and the not-so-good.  These are all metaphors of the kingdom.  They are all surprises, as well.

Mustard seeds, itty-bitty.  Mustard plants, not so much.

Yeast, nigh invisible.  Yeast in dough, all pervasive.

Treasure in a field, hidden and desperately sought.  Purchased field with a treasure to boot, worth every penny.

A priceless pearl, once again worth every penny.

A net pulling in fish of every kind, the wonderful and the awful.  The good are retained, and the not-good are disposed of. 

Now what do all these have to do with the Kingdom of heaven?

These metaphors give handles to the intangible.  They let people grasp the ephemeral.  The Kingdom of Heaven may seem small, but its potential is hidden.  The Kingdom is pervasive and all-encompassing.  The Kingdom is worth the cost, no matter how steep the price.  The Kingdom cannot be avoided.  It receives all.  It encompasses all.  It embraces all.

The Kingdom itself is a metaphor, if you have not realized it, for the work of God in the world and in the hearts and lives of Christ’s followers.

And that is how Paul can say that audacious line, “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose.”  God’s Kingdom is all-pervasive.  Like the yeast and the fishing net, nothing is separate from its influence.

An old story goes that has a man stopping for directions after getting hopelessly lost in the country.  After describing where they are supposed to be going, the local on the porch says, “Well, you know, you can’t get there from here.”

Thanks be to God that we are not in that same situation.  There is no one so far to be unable to get to God, or vice versa. 

I am not saying the cliché here, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”  That would be naïve and false.  Bad things happen.  Evil exists.  There are events that are beyond redemption.

I know many people read this passage and make God the causative agent.  “It was God’s will.”  I do not and cannot say that.  Remember the shortest verse in the Bible is “Jesus wept.” (John 11:35)  There are things and events that break the very heart of God.  We live in a universe where some of the things that transpire, they cannot be redeemed.  Broke is broke.  But, no matter what we have done or what has been done (to us or someone else), we can be redeemed.  

God had a choice to make.  It is in the earliest of our stories.  We were not made a creature like any other.  God saw all of the created order and declared it was good.  But when God got around to creating us, male and female, we were created in the very image of God, the imago Dei.  And when we were created, out of all creation, God declared that we were tov vetov, VERY GOOD.  But as Spider-Man reminded my daughter and  me at the Byrd Friday night, with great power comes great responsibility.  We bear the precious and dangerous gift of Free Will.

Abraham Lincoln was asked in the midst of the bloody Civil War, if God was on the Union’s side.  He responded, “Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my concern is to be on God’s side, for God is always right.”  This is very close to how I hear Paul’s, “If God is for us, who can be against us?”  It is not that God steps into our history to rescue us.  That would be the word “miracle.”  And today, I am not speaking of miracles.  

Today I am speaking of yeast working its way through the dough of our lives.  The slow and steady kneading of our souls.  I want to be so identified with Christ that when people think of me, they think of him; I hope; I pray.  I do not want to be a pita for Jesus; I want to be a big fat yeast roll for him where the yeast of the Kingdom has worked its way into all the aspects of my life.

In my faith, I want to be on the side of justice and peace at work in the world.  Is the world just?  No.  Is there peace?  Hardly.  Watching the news the last week has been horrific, and I see no peace in sight.  But I do not look to the now, and neither did Paul.  He wrote ahead to Rome, doing his best to encourage and support fellow believers in the way of Christ trying to live out their faith in the dominant capital city in the world at the time.  Take the long view, he seems to say.  If we have latched onto the Christ, who has paid the ultimate price to redeem the world, we are on the prevailing side though there are many battles ahead.  “If God is for us, who can be against us?”  and also, “Who will separate us from the love of Christ?  Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?  …No, in all this we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”

There is nothing from without that can take away what we hold within.  Our precious hidden treasure in the field, we have claimed.  The pearl of pearls we have claimed.  And not only that, it has claimed us.  As the old hymn declares, “In a love which cannot cease, I am his and he is mine.”

Paul again: “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

And that is the essence of our faith.

It empowers us and strengthens us.  We look to what should not be do-able, and we think to how and worry not about the “if.”  We are the yeast permeating God’s creative and amazing grace throughout the world.  When we see more and more people begging at street corners, when the line gets longer on Thursday mornings to get a few bags of food at our Food Pantry, when the news is horrific, we have faith.  This is not the end.  If God is for us, who or what can be against us?  Situations might be bigger than you, but God plus you is greater than anything you will ever face.

Frederick Buechner said of our call of God, “The place where God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s great hunger meet.”  In other words, what brings you the greatest bliss comes up against the world’s great needs is where you are to be at work in the world.

That does not mean that the bad will *poof* disappear.  We still have our brokenness and hurts.  But what will we do with our brokenness?  What of our deep sorrows?  Dan Allender, a counselor and president of a seminary in Seattle took Buechner’s quote and reframed it.  “The place where God calls you is where your greatest hurt and the world’s greatest need meet.”  And in this I hear the truth of Paul.  When I in my weakness bring that to Christ, my brokenness is transformed and becomes a thing of beauty and glory in Christ.  Christ did not cause it.  I do not believe Christ wanted it to happen.  But like a child whose precious item is shattered, and brings it with outstretched arms to the loving parent, we bring the broken bits of ourselves and come with trust to Christ.

Why?  Because, as Paul said, “We know that all things work together for good for those that love God, who are called according to his purpose.”  In that, even the worst parts of our lives are brought into the Kingdom, and are wrought into the agents for justice, peace and grace.  Because, “in all these things, we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Sermon: "Fertile Ground and the Call of God"

“Fertile Ground and the Call of God”

Year A Proper 10

St. Thomas’ Church, July 13, 2014

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

¹ That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. ² Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach.³ And he told them many things in parables, saying: 

"Listen! A sower went out to sow. ⁴ And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up.  ⁵ Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil.  ⁶ But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away.  ⁷ Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them.  ⁸ Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.  ⁹ Let anyone with ears listen!"

¹⁸ "Hear then the parable of the sower.  ¹⁹ When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path.  ²⁰ As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy;  ²¹ yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away.  ²² As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing.  ²³ But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty."

I have heard, and even preached, on this passage many times.  So often the parable is used in the idea of evangelism, with the word of God’s kingdom going out.  The question is all about how the word is received.  If we see the sower as one of us, then it is easy to interpret it that way.  But today, I am going to ask you to rethink this passage, and see the sower as God.

If God is the sower, then this parable becomes a look at the Call of God.  God’s love energies are constantly coming down.  As the mystical poet William Blake wrote, “We are put on earth a little space to learn to bear the beams of love.”  The call of God is constant, and universal.  I believe the Call of God comes to us all, all the time.

Now you might be saying, “Rock, we cannot all be priests or deacons.”  My response to that would be, “Thanks be to God!”  But let us be clear, Call and Vocation are different.  We are all called by God, a general Call to follow Jesus in our lives.  Vocation is a specific call, and the two are different.

I could say, “We could all really use some help in the Food Pantry this Thursday from 10-12.  If people could show up, that would be great.”

Specific calls are different and more deliberate.  Bob, where are you Bob?  Bob, can I count on you to help in the Food Pantry this week?  [Wait for response, which will be yes because he runs the Food Pantry.]  Doesn’t that way work better?  But for that to work, I have to know Bob, and Bob has to know me, and Bob needs to know and understand the Food Pantry.  The General Call must come first before the Specific Call can be heard and for it to be able to be responded to.

This parable is a recognition of the fact, that not everyone is going to respond, as it says, to the “word of the kingdom.”  There is the hard-beaten path.  There is rocky ground.  There is thorny ground.  And there is good soil.  This general Call of God is cast out, to everyone, all the time.   The premise of the parable is a Sower went out to sow.  God’s very nature is to seek and save that which was lost.  We all have the opportunity to respond.  Our condition is how it will probably be received.

The hard-beaten path, the busy way, gives no opportunity to the seed to grow.  The comings and goings of life make it hard for us to receive the Call of God.  We’ll get to it tomorrow, but tomorrow gets filled before we can listen.  And then the flighty, the birds, come and eat it up.

The rocky soil is different.  There is a clear and quick response, but conditions are such that despite the initial springing up, there is no way for the roots to get down deep and the grain to flourish.

The thorny soil allows for the seed to germinate, but the thorns be the systemic ills, conditional, or addictions, they choke out this call to the kingdom life so that it does not have a chance.

Then finally we arrive at the good soil, where the seed can both spring up, and go deep.  That is where I want to spend the rest of the time today.  How do we cultivate good soil?  How do we create an environment for the best receptivity of the Call of God?

If you think about it, that is what Christian Formation is all about, or to use an older word, Discipleship.  When we care for our children and our youth by providing them opportunities to start their lives of faith well, and let those roots get down deep before they have to confront the busy-ness of the world, then their faith can get a head start.

But what about the adults?  We have to be a place that is set apart.  We have to be a wayside to the frenetic pull of our culture to busy-ness and consumption.  We have to help people get off the beaten path.

Also, we have to be about helping people get rid of the rocks in their soil.  Maslow’s hierarchy of needs talks about the basics we have to have taken care of before we can focus on the “higher” needs.  It is no accident that Jesus has us pray for our daily bread, and their is no accident that we give food to those that come to us on Thursdays.  Jesus understands that if we are hungry, thirst, or naked it is hard to hear the call of God.

We also have to be about the Thorns.  There are systemic thorns that choke out the hope of people, societal ills that choke out the life of folk.  This could be racism or its byproducts.  Two conversations in our city remind me of this: where to put a baseball stadium, and where the public transportation is allowed to go.  These are more than thorny issues, the are thorns that distract and choke our hope.

The thorns can horrible home conditions or addictions that prevent us from being still and quiet enough to hear that subtle Call of God.

In our Formation, we need to focus on removing the rocks and thorns, and slowly tilling the soil of receptivity both for ourselves and those that come to our doors.

So, what do we do with those that are receptive, and the seeds of the Call of God are growing?  We nurture them.  And when we do, we can see 100, 60 or 30 fold growth!  This is where the Specific Call of God comes in!

One of my favorite St. Thomas moments so far was the Speed Dating day with the ministries a few weeks ago.  People heard a few minutes of many of the ways they can share their faith and their growth.  My 7-year-old was there.  She heard them talk about what SHE could do!  She believed and knew that she could do something, and responded.  I have seen her pledge card.  In her block letters at name she scrawled SOJO.  And on the back, she circled Coffee Hour.  She has a passion for Coffee Hour.  Now, can the call of God come through a 7-year-old’s love of cookies?  YES!  Resoundingly yes!  Her passions, or at least her interest, were piqued.  She heard the call and responded.  She can make a plate of cookies.  And if I remember right, she is doing one in August.  Will it take help from mom and dad?  Of course, but that this environment, and the fertile ground that we are trying to create for her at home, she heard that general call of help, and that specific call of “I can do that!” and she responded.  

That is what Jesus was talking about.

Don’t be confused.  Last week’s lesson in the lectionary, while comforting, was openly telling us that there is work involved in this spiritual journey.

Matthew 11:²⁸ "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  ²⁹ Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  ³⁰ For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

Christ’s call to take on his yoke is a Call to those in the fertile soil to walk beside him, doing what he has done and is still doing at work in this world, and learn from him.  Notice that the rest is for our SOUL, but there is still work involved.  When we are at work in the world doing God’s work in our setting, then we go to sleep at night, we sleep the sleep of the righteous.

Our response to the Call of God is not to think that we have arrived, but that we have begun a life of co-laboring with Christ to change the world.

The place where I learned the most about ministry was a camp for inner-city Richmond children called Camp Alkulana.  In the kitchen where we were allowed to hang out after hours, there was a poster, and its words stay with me to this day.

This is a little story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.

There was an important job to be done and Everybody was sure that Somebody would do it.

Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.

Somebody got angry about that because it was Everybody's job.

Everybody thought that Anybody could do it, but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn't do it.

It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done.

There is a lot of Truth in that.  That general call of God calls all of us to do what we can as we are able.  Remember, the Good Samaritan was not called to medical missions!  He was called to respond to someone there in his path.  And so are we.

You were put on earth, a little space, to learn to bear the beams of love.  Open yourself to those beams, and as you grow and learn and share that love, you bring glory to God.  Hear that General Call of God, and when you hear it, you may begin to get a clear vision of that vocational call, that piece of the puzzle that only you can fill.

The Call of God is so often more the “still small voice” that Elijah heard, instead of the “blinding light” of St. Paul.  Till your soil.  Get rid of the rocks and thorns as you are able, and get help for those things that you cannot, and be ready for a life better than you can imagine.  Amen.

A Sermon: "Letting Go"

“Letting Go”

Year A Proper 7 June 22, 2014

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church

There are some Sundays when the sermons flow.  I read the lectionary, and immediately something comes to mind.  An image, an idea, a “word from the Lord.”  I really believe that the Holy Spirit is at work right now.  I trust that what I am saying is at a prompting from the Holy Spirit.

Also, I trust, you are chewing on what I am saying, even if it is “Where is he going with this?”  Some weeks are easy and immediate.  This week was not.

As I read through the lectionary readings for the umpteenth time, it struck me that it was a time for a priest to make a confession.  I have a hard time with today’s readings.  Every one of them is a hard one.  There is no easy one in the bunch. 

Some Sundays, I can use an easy one to slide into a harder passage.  But not this week.

Look with me, if you will.  In Genesis we have Hagar being banished by Abraham at Sarah’s encouraging so the Sarah’s son Isaac will not have to share his inheritance with Hagar’s son Ishmael.  Now if you remember how this all transpired, Sarah encouraged Abraham to take Hagar, who was Sarah’s handmaid, and produce an heir.  Remember, this was all Sarah’s idea!  But then out of worry, she banishes them to likely death.  They are sent out into the arid land with a wineskin of water.  And eventually Hagar and Ishmael run out of water, and fully expect to die.  Such a loving act!

Or we could look at the Romans passage, where the Apostle Paul makes an argument for dying to sin so that we can live in Christ.  With the dying metaphor, and all the back and forth on sin, it also is a hard place to start.

Then we get to Jesus.  It is like a compilation album in chapter 10, The Greatest Hits of Instructions to Those Being Sent Out.  Matthew almost seems to have taken several remembered lines from Jesus and brought them together for Jesus’ followers commissioning.  But even though these are rules for the road, to our ears when we hear about not loving Father and Mother, Son and Daughter, or taking up our own cross and following, I know I get wrangled. 

So what are we going to do this Sunday?

Instead of spinning and making this all easy, today we are going to talk about letting go.  In the children’s time I told the story of a little boy clinging to what he had, not knowing he was missing out on something greater because he could not let go of the little he had, nor could he envision something so much better that he would forget about what he held onto so tightly.

Sometimes we have to do exactly that.  We hold onto what little we have because we cannot see that something greater is just beyond our sight.  And not letting go can lead to disaster.

In a previous job, I used to be the recruiter for a seminary.  It was my job to drive around to colleges, set up times to meet with professors and chaplains, talk with pre-ministerial candidates, and tell them the benefits of my school.  Often several seminaries would organize these trips together so that we could get a bigger draw and meet with more people.  One of the other recruiters was named Mac, and he drove a twenty-year-old diesel Mercedes.  And he loved that car.  On a joint recruiting trip, we were between small Kentucky college towns, and the fastest way to get from one to the other was over backroads through the country.  Mac was running late, and when he was an hour late for our meetings at the next college we all became a little worried.  When he finally arrived he told us this story.  While holding on to his coffee, he was coming over a ridge, and abruptly on the other side the road curved.  They did not have the blaze orange warning arrows to redirect drivers.  Well, because he was already late, his speed was such that he did not follow the curve but went straight into the yard of the mobile home situated there.  He hit his brakes, but the wet Kentucky bluegrass caused him to slide sideways with his rather hefty twenty-year-old Mercedes diesel made from solid steel.  Sliding sideways over the grass, he hit the mobile home with such force it knocked it off its foundation.  He was a bit shaky after all of this, and looking down he noticed that he was still holding his coffee cup in his hand.  He also shared that maybe his priorities were a bit out of whack.  A wrecked but drivable car, a stranger’s house sustaining serious damage, but his coffee is unspilt.  He was clinging to the wrong things.  How much are we like Mac?

Jesus tells those he has called, “Listen up, if they called the teacher the devil, what do you think they are going to call his followers?  What do you expect?”

Later he goes on, “Do not fear those that can kill the body but cannot kill the soul...”  He does not mince words, when you go out, you do not need to fear death.  This is graduate level faith here.  We are not talking about “love everybody” level.  We are talking about the costs of discipleship, and it can be hard things to hear.

“Present me before others, and I will present you before my Father.  Don’t, and neither will I.”  Ouch.  Okay.

We need to let go of our worries, about how others see us, about how we are going to fare.  Like the Adidas ads I see all over the World Cup games, “All in or nothing.”  They could be Jesus’ words instead of a slogan for shoes.

Jesus said: "^10:34Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.³⁵ For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law;  ³⁶ and one's foes will be members of one's own household.

³⁷ Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; ³⁸ and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.

³⁹ Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

These are hard words.  Very hard words.  Jesus asks of those who follow, to make this their first priority.  Here he emphasizes this with images of infighting amongst those closest to us, but he has put it this way in another setting: “Seek first the Kingdom of God and God’s righteousness.”  (Matthew 6:33)

This is and must be our first priority, and if it is there is a promise, “all this shall be added unto you.”  Or, as one of my seminary professors translated it, “And everything else will fall into place.”

Does this make the path easy?  Of course not.  We still hold onto those things that bring us meager comfort because we forget the better that is to come.

Paul’s whole argument in the Romans’ passage is about letting go.  “Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound?  By no means! How can we who died to sin go on living in it?”

We have to let go of those little comforts we cling to so closely.  Some of those things are good things, family, comfort, entertainment.  Some of those things are our addictions or sins that we have a hard time releasing.  If it is not Christ, we are called to give them over to him.

Notice I said give them over to Jesus, not let them go.  If it is addictions or sins, obviously those are things we need to drop.  But Father or Mother?  Spouse?  Children?  These are the very gifts of God.  Do we drop them?  As Paul said, “By no means!”  But as we entrust them to Christ, and put Christ first, how could they be in better hands?

A story is told of children during World War II who were placed in refugee camps after having been orphaned in the horrible destruction.  They had food, good care, and a safe place to sleep, but sleep often would not come.  The children, despite all the care, were not able to let go of the terrors that had put them in the refugee camps.  Those who cared for the children were at a loss, until someone came up with the idea of giving the children a piece of bread with which to sleep at night.  The children held onto those rolls of bread, and sleep was finally able to come.  The children held in their hands a promise that tomorrow would be okay.

They were children, and the clung to the bread because they emotionally could not understand that tomorrow they would receive the same tomorrow.  They could not see the promise.

For children this makes sense.  But are we children as well?  Do we cling to those things that bring us momentary comfort because we do not see the promise of tomorrow?

And what of the situations where we do not choose to let go of something?  What do we do when we are told that things are being taken away?  The moving and unjust story of Hagar and Ishmael is a perfect example of this.  She did everything that had been asked of her!  No matter how unjust we see it.  She did all that was asked of, or forced upon, her.  

What about our situations?  When we lose a job because we did the RIGHT thing?  Or we come home, and our spouse tells us that what we has assumed was a lifetime promise is over?  When a child is tragically taken from us?  Where is God in those situations?

God is even there.  Hagar had set the child Ishmael down so she did not have to see him die, and wandered a distance away, when she then hears God’s words from an angel and sees the well right there.  God is even there at the end of her rope.

From today’s Psalm:

86:¹⁰ For you are great and do wondrous things; you alone are God.

¹⁶ Turn to me and be gracious to me; give your strength to your servant; save the child of your serving girl.

These are hard words, but necessary words.  We have to let it go.  Whatever it is that clings too closely.  Whatever it is that prevents us from growing deeper in Christ.  The great reversals of Jesus promise a future different from the world we are living in.  The meek will inherit the earth.  The last will be first.  The seekers will become the finders.

We need to let go because something greater than we can possible imagine is coming down the road.  We hold onto things that are distractions at best, life-crushing sins at worst.  Of all the great reversals of Jesus, no challenge is greater, nor is any promise.

³⁹ Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

Amen.

What I Learned at AJC: a reflection on the last 4 years

Tomorrow is my final day at Anna Julia Cooper Episcopal School.  It is a bittersweet day.  I was asked to write up my reflections of my four years there, and forced myself not to think about it till I sat down to write it out.  This is what came out...

What I Have Learned at AJC

I have been in the doubly burdensome role of being a teacher and a preacher to the students and staff at Anna Julia Cooper Episcopal School.  Both come with their own hesitancies and intimidations.  I will have no way of knowing how long any of my lessons will last with any of those who have heard me teach or preach, but I do know that the lessons that I learned will stay with me for a lifetime.

Probably the first lesson I learned during my first year was how to pray.  I have been blessed in my life that even though times have been tight, my family has never been in the position of deep need or want.  Even more, we have never been in position of being unsafe or in fear.  My first year, I remember during prayer requests some of the kids thanked God for waking them up that morning.  Having heard their stories of shootings and other situations around their homes, what had often been a cliche when I had heard it before became an honest and sincere prayer of thanks that the student had been given another day of life.  This touched me in a profound and soul-altering way.   I will never pray the same, and some of my white middle-class privileged assumptions have been pushed to the wayside.  For that I will always be thankful.

You never hold back on love.  Sometimes the most loving actions are to say, "No."  Sometimes the most loving act is to hold people accountable.  Being a strict, but fair, teacher of high standards gives a gift that too often these students have not had.  Would it be easier to be the nice teacher that had an easy class?  Of course.  Would that help anybody in the short or longterm?  No.  And the kids would not respect my teaching or my preaching either one.  Grace comes with grade book sometimes, and to love the kids the best that I can, I had to create a rigorous environment that drove them to be the best that they could be.  My love came out in hard books, and clear, consistent, and hard work.

Lastly, I would have to say that the troublesome issue of race is still something this country and the Church need to continue to work.  I had homeroom with the same group of students for three years, and in the third year of our time together my group of guys (from 6th through 8th grades) and I were able to laugh and joke about stereotypes and differences.  They could ask me about being white, and I could learn from them about being African-American.  They asked me about why white people all looked alike, and why we have funny names.  But it took three years to build trust and the benefit of the doubt so that we could get to a point of honest and mutually-respectful dialogue.  I learned how far we have come and how far we need to go when I was reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn with my 7th grade boys and after about 50 pages one of the students asked who was on the front cover.  The front cover showed Huck and Jim, an escaped slave.  I responded to the question, "Huck and Jim."  The student asked, "Huck is the black guy, so who is the white kid?  Did they have white slaves?"   I said, "No, our slavery was based on racism.  The white kid is Huck, and the black man is Jim."  But then to keep learning, I asked, "So what made you think that Huck was black?"  The student said, "Because he says the N-word all the time.  I have never heard a white person say the N-word."  Wow.  Our society has gotten better, obviously, but that things had been turned on their head to that extent, that this classic novel written to fight racism was now confusing because the white people that this student had had interactions with did not use that word.  I learned a lot that day.

Prayer, love without limits but very clear boundaries, and continuing dialogues on race are all things that I will carry with me, both as a man and a priest.  This time has shaped me, deepened my spirituality and my prayer life, and drawn me closer to God and my neighbor.  "Who is my neighbor?" was asked of Christ.  Anna Julia Cooper School could be a modern answer to that ancient question.  We are all each others' neighbors.