Grace Episcopal Church, Galveston
Gospel: John 3:1-17
March 8, 2020
It was the middle of October some years ago when I was with our school’s 6th Grade at Camp Allen. On this particular morning, our group was scheduled to participate in what the counselors there call the “giant swing.” In this aptly named challenge, participants wore helmets and harnesses, and were supervised by a trained facilitator. It was quite safe. It just didn’t look safe.
In the “giant swing” challenge, the youth who volunteered ascended a ladder, two at a time, and wrapped their arms around a wooden bar suspended from ropes. Then, each one’s harness was attached to the bar and checked by the facilitator. To begin the swinging, the participants were hoisted back and upward, up to 25 feet in the air. When the swing was released it was quite a thrill ride, moving back and forth, until coming to a stop on its own.
Now to be clear, you would never catch me on this contraption. I was always careful to stress this as an optional activity for our groups...there was no requirement to ride the “giant swing.” Each year some students would opt out with me and watch from the side. The adults’ role was to encourage and support the students as they discovered their level of tolerance with each activity.
This particular year, there was a 12-year-old who was in line for the giant swing, but he was in tears. I quietly reminded him that the activity was optional; he was welcome to bow out and stay on the sidelines with others who had declined. But he would have none of that; he held his place in line and when his turn came, climbed up onto the swing beside his classmate, where the facilitator attached his harness to the bar. After the challenge, he was a little embarrassed that he had cried, but mostly he was so very proud of himself!
What this youngster did was the very definition of courage. In order to be courageous you have to be experiencing fear. And, the greater the fear, the more courage it takes. Courage is the ability to face difficulties and challenges despite our fears.
Does it seem like it takes more and more courage just to function day to day? Risk is a part of the soup in which we live. Of course, the big risk du jour is the novel coronavirus which has rapidly spread from one end of the earth to the other. As this sermon was being prepared, at least 5 people in Harris County had tested positive for Covid-19. These people had all recently travelled to other countries, so presumably infections have not yet originated locally. We do not have confirmed cases in Galveston, but you know it’s just a matter of time. The risk for infection is low, but people are definitely taking precautions. I see this, for example, in the depletion of local stocks of hand gel. Bishop Doyle directed the clergy late Thursday to take some precautions in our worship. As it turns out, Grace began implementing most of these precautions last Sunday.
My son and daughter-in-law had been planning to take our grandson, Jonah, to the Houston Rodeo today. They know Jonah would love the petting zoo there. But, I’m not sure if they are going to take him after all. I don’t think they fear being infected with the novel coronavirus at this point, anyway. Their worry is over the question: “What happens if someone who attended this crowded event is later diagnosed with Covid-19?” “Will the whole family need to go into quarantine for 2 weeks?”
Doing anything worthwhile involves personal risk and exposure. Even to love another person is taking a risk. I love my grandson, but I’m also constantly worrying about that kid! Is he worth the worry….absolutely! The choice we face is a choice between Love and Fear. God in Christ offers us the courage to choose Love.
In our first reading, we heard God’s call to Abram. (God would later designate Abram as “Abraham” which in Hebrew means “father of a multitude.”) God’s call at this point, meant moving from the familiar place where Abram had grown up with his family….it does not sound like Abram was even given the destination at first. He simply set out as the “Lord had told him,” and that took the courage to believe. By trusting God and letting go of the safety and comfort of the familiar, Abram would be able to change the world to better align with God’s loving purpose. Abram chose Love over fear.
Nicodemus is called a “leader of the Jews,” so he was likely a member of the Sanhedrin, the ruling council headed by the Chief Priest. Nicodemus was a rabbi of great learning and stature. What would people think if they knew that Nicodemus was seeking out Jesus? What could such a highly placed leader learn from a lowly itinerant preacher? Would others on the Sanhedrin think Nicodemus was betraying the nation by going to see Jesus? Courage is like the Spirit, it is a mystery how we come to have it. In my imagination, Nicodemus was inspired by the way Jesus taught and demonstrated Love. God gave Nicodemus the courage to chose Love over fear.
The readings today show us how courage enabled our spiritual ancestors to face fear. Nicodemus took the precaution of waiting until cover of darkness to find Jesus. It is on us to face our fear of infection and to respond in ways that are reasonable and consistent with God’s Love. Are there reasonable precautions we should take now to prepare for the days and weeks to come? What supplies or food would we need to hunker-down for 2 weeks if we were quarantined? We’ve been more diligent about washing our hands, but do we make it a habit to disinfect our phones as well? What risks might Love require us to take in the coming days and weeks? Caring for elderly parents, running errands for a homebound friend, providing childcare for your grandchild….all of the things we do beyond the doors of our homes may need a second thought now. Let us pray for discernment to know when Love requires us to stay home and when to venture out. Let us see a quarantine, if imposed, as a way to love our neighbor. Let us pray for the courage to choose Love over fear, and especially for the courage to hope for the future beyond the present moment. AMEN
Grace Episcopal Church, Galveston
Gospel: Matthew 4:1-11
March 1, 2020
Jesus’ Baptism was followed by an ordeal. The Spirit, the very breath of God, led Jesus into the wilderness where he had to contend with the elements for 40 days. This was no camping trip, this was a spiritual proving ground. He would be confronted by the Adversary of Scripture with temptations but not until the very end, when Jesus was presumably at his weakest, most vulnerable moment. It seems hardly fair for Jesus to have spent 40 days where food was scarce to non-existent, and then to have the opening salvo of temptation be food! But, fairness in these “hunger games” was never part of the deal. The stakes were high, for it was a battle for our souls that would culminate on the Cross of Calvary. As Paul describes it in his Letter to the Romans, “By the one man’s obedience the many will be made right with God.”
In Lent we are reminded of the Apostle Paul’s view of the Incarnation: Jesus became what we are, so that we could become what he is. Christians make the faith claim that Jesus of Nazareth, as the 2nd Person of the Trinity dwelling among us at a point in history, was fully God and fully human at the same time. The fully human part in this equation means that Jesus while in the wilderness was vulnerable like us, that Jesus was hungry, afraid of the unknown, and subject to temptation. Jesus is the model for Christian life, so let’s not be under any misconception that life is guaranteed to be easy. A comfort zone was never part of the deal. In Lent, we look carefully at the wilderness metaphor, because like it or not, wilderness is part of our journey as well.
We encounter a spiritual wilderness at any point we enter a time of great uncertainty. Like some of you, Layne and I are reading the daily Lenten reflections in the “Living Well through Lent” booklet. In today’s reflection entitled “Wilderness,” Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde notes that in life we encounter 2 kinds of wilderness: the kind we choose to enter and the kind that “comes to us without warning.”
For me, an example of the kind of wilderness we choose was my decision to retire. At first, I thoroughly enjoyed not having to rise early, not having to rush through getting ready and not having a daily commute. I loved the change. But, it did not take long for the high from the initial freedom to wear off a bit and for boredom to come into play. In this wilderness of my own choosing, I learned more deeply that I was more than the job that had defined me for so long. I learned that I was not ready to “throw in the towel” and sit around the house all day. I learned that activities of self-improvement and hobbies alone were not enough for me to be the person I felt called to be in this phase of life. That was about the time a member of the Diocesan staff called me early in 2018 asking how I would feel about being considered as Interim Rector at Grace, Galveston.
An example of the kind of wilderness you don’t choose, one big example that many of us have in common, was Hurricane Ike. I served as head of school at Trinity Episcopal School in those days. As the school year began in 2008, none of us had any idea Galveston would be devastated by flood waters from the 3rd most destructive storm ever to make landfall in the United States. Ike hit in the early morning hours of September 13, and the damage was such, we could not reopen school until October 20! Usable classroom space was very limited, but it worked because only a fraction of our students returned at first. Some days we had electricity and some days we did not; Xerox copies of textbooks had to be used in place of those that had been destroyed. Teachers and students adapted to circumstances; there was no other choice. Reflecting on all of this at the end of the school year in May, I noted that we had all changed in some way. Were there things we no longer took for granted? Did the stuff we own no longer seem as important as before? Was there a greater sense of connection among those who were recovering? Was there a greater desire to help others who were victims of tragedy? I think we came out of it all with a new perspective, stronger resilience, and a greater ability to see God at work among us. As the years go by, we need to remember those days and try not to lose sight of the insight and character gained. Though, let me underscore this, dear God please, none of us want to go through that again!
Whether chosen or not, we all, at one time or another, find ourselves in the wilderness. Bishop Budde explains that the wilderness always has a pearl of great price to impart. I think Jesus left the wilderness knowing he would never say “no” to God. In the end, he was victorious over death, winning our salvation, being obedient all the way to the Cross.
The journey of Lent means owning the wilderness in which we find ourselves at this point. Some of the uncertainties we share. What’s going to happen when Covid-19 comes around? How will the ideological divides in my community play out? Other uncertainties seem more specific to the individual. What is that biopsy or that blood test going to reveal? How do I parent my adult children? It is so much easier to examine the old wilderness times than the ones we might be in the middle of now. But I think, at least, if we can see the pearls that came forth in the past, perhaps we find enough hope to be on the lookout when we leave the place of today’s unknowns.
Repentance is a recurring concept in Lent. It’s the best theological description of the pearl to be found in the wilderness of Lent. It comes from the Greek word “metanoia.” The term includes contrition, but it means more than that. The term “repent” means a complete turning around. In other words it means transformation as in the transformative power of God’s love.
Perhaps, real change does not happen in a comfort zone. Educators have the idea that there are two kinds of tests and assessments. The one with which we are most familiar is summative; this kind shows what you know. But there is another kind of test called a formative assessment. This is the kind of test in which you learn and grow by taking the test itself. Real life is more like a formative test, and the wilderness experience can be a formative test when we find a pearl of great price in it. AMEN.
