Sermon: Proper 15 RCL A – “Madness”

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Ol’ Boudreaux had never been up in one of those flying machines until one day when some fella came along offering rides. All of Boudreaux’s friends put down their money and took the ride, but Boudreaux just couldn’t trust it. Finally, when his friends started calling him “chicken” and “scaredy cat,” Bou agreed. He got all strapped in, and the pilot took off. When the flight ended, everyone rushed up and asked how it went. Once he had a little nip and got his nerves back, he said, “It wasn’t too bad, but I never really trusted it, so I never put all my weight down in the seat.”

If I had a favorite televangelist, it would have to be Jesse Duplantis—kind of a crazy southern fella with plenty of stories. When I was living in Montana, Jesse came to the capital city for a revival, and I had to see him, so a friend and I drove up. It was everything I expected, except for the beginning. 

If you’ve ever watched one of the events, you know that they do all the preaching and shouting up front, and then at the end, they start the healing—lots of slapping on the foreheads and all that. However, Jesse did just the opposite. He always talked about “being sick and tired of being sick and tired,” so he had the healing service at the beginning. He said, “There’s no point in you sitting all the way through the sermon feeling sick and tired if I can heal you now.” So, he did.

I thought of that for two reasons. First, today, following the confession and before the peace, we will be offering the Sacrament of Unction—the sacrament of healing. For the record, I will not be slapping anyone on the forehead unless they need it. The second reason for telling you about Jesse is because this is back-to-church Sunday. The youth are back in school, and we begin to settle into more of a routine instead of all the goings on of summer. In a way, today is the beginning, and like Jesse, I thought we’d offer the healing up front instead of waiting.

Much is happening in today’s Gospel, but there is the healing of a little girl. A gentile woman came to Jesus and said, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” A discussion follows regarding Jesus’ mission on earth, but in the end, “‘Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.’ And her daughter was healed instantly.”

Unlike ol’ Boudreaux, who didn’t trust enough to put all his weight down, this woman did. Great is your faith—your trust—in God to do those things you ask.

I found a quote in my daily reading. It is from a 19th-century Russian mystic, Vladimir Soloviev. He said, “It is madness not to believe in God; it is the greater madness to believe in Him only in part.” (Source, August 15) It is madness not to fly. It is even greater madness not to put all your weight down. 

If you believe in God, then why do you not trust Him completely? Why do you “believe in Him only in part”? When you call out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David,” do you believe God will answer, or are you putting it out there just in case He’s in the mood?

Last week, I went down to Austin to visit friends. While there, I had a few hours to myself, so I did what we all do—I visited a church to pray a rosary. 

The church I selected was a Maronite Church. They are an Eastern Catholic Church instead of a Western (Roman) Catholic Church. Anyhow, I read up on them on the internet, saw that they were open, and it was only about a mile away, so I decided to walk.

Did I mention it was 105° and there was an excessive heat advisory? Yeah, Mr. Brilliant here. I take off. I arrive at the church soaking wet, sweat running off me, only to discover that the church is locked up tight. Only the office was open, and no one was around. I look around for a few minutes, then sit on a bench in the shade to cool off. Since I was there, I decided to go ahead and pray my Rosary and then call an Uber to get back to the hotel.

I made it through two decades of the Rosary and had not cooled down at all. It seemed I was only getting hotter, so my prayers were very distracted, and I didn’t feel like I could… connect, so I said to Mary, you could send me a nice cool breeze so I’ll know you’re there. It was more a silly prayer than a proper prayer.

About halfway through the third decade, I heard a noise and looked up. It was the priest (it turns out it was actually the Bishop.) He invited me to come inside and finish my prayers, and I quickly took him up on the offer. Somewhere along the fourth decade of the Rosary, I looked up and burst out laughing as the cool breeze of the air-conditioner blew on me. I never really expected Mary to send me a cool breeze, but she did. I believed, but I didn’t really believe. I never really sat down.

When you call out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David,” regardless of whether or not you think your request is silly or not, go ahead and sit all the way down. Know that your words are being heard and that your Father in Heaven is answering. 

Let us pray: O Christ Jesus, when all is darkness, and we feel our weakness and helplessness, give us the sense of Your presence, Your love, and Your strength. Help us to have perfect trust in Your protecting love and strengthening power so that nothing may frighten or worry us, for living close to You, we shall see Your hand, Your purpose, and Your will through all things. Amen.