Prompt: “That’s how we ended up spending the night in jail.”
150 words.
We parked at the Honobia Community Park in Honobia, along the Little River in southeast Oklahoma. We set the five hound dogs loose and traveled north. The dogs picked up the scent. They moved fast through the dense forest, and we, racing behind, barely kept up. After thirty minutes, the dogs’ baying told us they had somehow managed to bring our prey to a halt, either trapped or treed. Coming into a small clearing, the muddy remains of an old, dried-up cow pond at its center, we saw him. He was furious and bellowing, stuck in the mud. At every attempt to free himself, he became more and more bogged down. We called the newspaper and reported it to the authorities, and that’s how we ended up in jail. We did not know that in Honobia, Oklahoma, it is, in fact, illegal to harass Bigfoot.
Today, Thursday, and Friday, we celebrate three martyrs. Today, we remember Manche Masemola, an Anglican woman from South Africa who, in 1928, was put to death by her parents at age 15 for converting to Christianity and refusing to renounce her faith. She was unbaptized, but she declared she would be baptized in her own blood. Tomorrow is the Feast Day of St. Agatha, who, in 251 AD, was put to death at age 19 for refusing to renounce her faith and marry a Roman prefect. Shortly before her death, she prayed, “You Lord, who have created and guarded me from my childhood, and made me to act with manly strength, have taken from me the love of the passing world, who kept my body from contamination, who made me overcome the torments of the executioner, the iron, the fire, and the chains, who gave me in torment the virtue of patience! Please accept my spirit now, for it is already time that I should leave this world by your command and reach your mercy.” She is the patron saint of breast cancer patients, which points to some of the torture she endured. And, finally, Friday is the Feast Day of St. Paul Miki and his companions, who were missionaries in Japan in the 1500s and were put to death for proclaiming the Good News. Before he died, he said, “The only reason for my being killed is that I have taught the doctrine of Christ. I certainly did teach the doctrine of Christ. I thank God it is for this reason I die.”
Those are three of the estimated 70 million Christian martyrs since the time of Christ. Even today, 5,000 to 10,000 people are estimated to be martyred each year—people who died for the same cause as Manche, Agatha, and Paul Miki.
On her feast day, Saint Methodius of Sicily spoke of Agatha. The words he shared are true for Agatha and for all who have stood upon the solid rock of their faith in Christ Jesus. Methodius writes, “The woman who invites us to this banquet is both a wife and virgin. To use the analogy of Paul, she is the bride who has been betrothed to one husband, Christ. A true virgin, she wore the glow of pure conscience and the crimson of the Lamb’s blood for her cosmetics. Again and again she meditated on the death of her eager lover. For her, Christ’s death was recent, his blood was still moist. Her robe is the mark of her faithful witness to Christ. It bears the indelible marks of his crimson blood and the shining threads of her eloquence. She offers to all who come after her these treasures of her eloquent confession.
“Agatha, the name of our saint, means “good.” She was truly good, for she lived as a child of God. She was also given as the gift of God, the source of all goodness to her bridegroom, Christ, and to us. For she grants us a share in her goodness.
“Agatha, her goodness coincides with her name and way of life. She won a good name by her noble deeds, and by her name she points to the nobility of those deeds. Agatha, her mere name wins all men over to her company. She teaches them by her example to hasten with her to the true Good. God alone.”
My prayer is that none of us ever has to experience what these and so many others have gone through. My prayer is that if we do, we can stand as firmly in our faith as they did. My prayer is that we can look to their lives and their deaths and find the courage to live our faith in the smallest of details. As St. Josemaría Escrivá tells us, “‘Great’ holiness consists in carrying out the ‘little duties’ of each moment.” (The Way, #817)
The study of wisdom in Scripture is fascinating, and I’d like to delve into it more deeply, but at its core is the fact that wisdom is a grace given to us by God in order to live according to God’s will. However, wisdom is only knowledge until it is applied. For example, “Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad.” As author Terry Pratchett noted, “Wisdom comes from experience. Experience is often a result of a lack of wisdom.”
Our readings for today provide an excellent lesson on the application of wisdom and its absence, beginning with our Old Testament lesson. I’ll share with you a different translation of the lesson from Micah, as it will help clarify what is being said. The Lord says,
“Come, present [My] case before the mountains, And let the hills hear you pleading. Hear, you mountains, the case of the LORD You firm foundations of the earth! For the LORD has a case against His people, He has a suit against Israel. “My people! What wrong have I done you? What hardship have I caused you?”
Why is God pleading a case against His people, accusing them? Micah has outlined three major offenses elsewhere: social injustice and the oppression of the poor, the corruption of religious and political leaders (who were essentially the same people), and the worship of false gods. Micah cries out against all these sins, all of which arise from the people looking to their own understanding and wisdom and choosing what they believe is better over the wisdom of God and what God said is better. Therefore, God is not happy, and He is making a case against His people. At this point, God even challenges the people to make a case against Him, but before they attempt such a foolish endeavor, He reminds them of what He has already done for them, saying,
“Testify against Me. In fact, I brought you up from the land of Egypt, I redeemed you from the house of bondage, And I sent before you Moses, Aaron, and Miriam. ‘My people, Remember what Balak king of Moab Plotted against you, And how Balaam son of Beor Responded to him. [Recall your passage] From Shittim to Gilgalb— And you will recognize The gracious acts of the LORD.’”
We are familiar with the events in Egypt—how the Israelites were held in captivity for 400 years. Yet when God heard the cries of His people, He came to their rescue. He sent them “Let My People Go, Moses.” There were the ten plagues, the release, and the parting of the Red Sea. Then, at Mount Horeb, God gave them the Law, He gave them His wisdom, so they would know how to live and do so without excuse. This was God’s wisdom spelled out for the people; however, they sinned because they still relied on worldly wisdom, which cost them dearly, and they spent the next 40 years wandering in the desert. Finally, God allowed them into the Promised Land.
As they were going, they encountered many obstacles, including King Balak and the Moabites that Micah mentioned.
Balak had witnessed the Israelites’ progress through the lands and seen how they conquered all, and he was terrified. In an attempt to defeat them, he applied his version of wisdom and sent emissaries to Balaam. Balaam was a sorcerer of sorts, renowned for his ability to bless and to curse. Although not an Israelite, he could speak to God.
The emissaries of Balak came to him and asked him to curse the Israelites so that Balak’s armies could defeat them. Balaam spoke to the Lord, but the Lord said, “Don’t even think about it.” Two more times the emissaries asked Balaam to curse, and two more times God said, “No.” However, wanting to get paid and relying on his own wisdom, Balaam set out anyway, riding his donkey, to see these Israelites. It turned out the donkey was far wiser than Balaam.
As they were going, the donkey saw an angel of the Lord holding a sword that blocked their path, and the donkey turned aside. Balaam, unable to see the angel, beats the animal. After the third time and the third beating, donkey turns to Balaam and, impersonating Eddie Murphy, says to Balaam, “I just know that before this is over, I’m gonna need a whole lot of serious therapy.” (Shrek, 2001)
No, that’s not it. The donkey essentially says, “Fool, can’t you see that angel standing right there?” At which point the angel reveals himself. Long story short, Balaam blesses the Israelites instead of cursing them. He wises up for at least a moment. It is believed that Balak was later killed in battle, and we know that Balaam was executed for his treachery.
In His case against the Israelites, the Lord makes one final appeal to His wisdom and the good it brings when He says the people should remember what happened at their passage from “Shittim to Giglgal.” This is a reference to the miraculous crossing of the Jordan River, when the waters backed up, and the people crossed into the Promised Land on dry ground.
God accused the people because, using their own wisdom, they oppressed the poor, their religious and political leaders were corrupt, and the people worshiped false gods. God furthered His case by showing how good He had been to them by defeating those who would hold them captive, attempt to conquer them, or curse them. God demonstrated the foolishness of the “wisdom”—the wickedness—of these mortal kings and the people by showing how He had loved and protected them. How His way was so much better. Yet, the people were disobedient and sinned against Him and one another. The wisdom of God far exceeded the wisdom of the Israelites and their enemies, but the people were not obedient.
All this was a demonstration of what Paul, quoting Isaiah, said to the Corinthians. “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.” Note that Paul is being sarcastic about the wisdom of the wise and the discerning. He is laughing at the “wise” who apply earthly wisdom instead of God’s.
So Paul asks, “Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?” Paul answers his own question by telling us that God has flipped the script. Those who think they are wise, He shows to be fools. “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are.” Just as He has always done, God is turning things upside down.
God chose a young peasant girl instead of the Emperor’s daughter. God chose a baby in a manger instead of a king in a palace. God chose 12 men—tax collectors, fishermen, ordinary sinners—instead of scholars to be His disciples. Finally, God chose to be enthroned on a cross instead of a throne of gold lined with soft cushions. God chose the foolish, the weak, the lowly, and the despised. The greatest act of foolishness was when God chose a Cross to defeat all His enemies. And, to the world around us, it is the greatest insanity when we do the same, choosing the cross so that we can defeat those who come against us, seeking to separate us from our God. How do we persevere in the face of this opposition? Micah explains,
“He has told you, O man, what is good, And what the LORD requires of you: Only to do justice And to love goodness, And to walk modestly with your God; Then will your name achieve wisdom.”
We achieve true wisdom when we choose the wisdom of God, when we choose the Cross and the ways of God, as exemplified in Jesus Christ. This is not the wisdom of the world or our own. In fact, it is quite the opposite. For it is not the way of the rich, the fat and happy, or the powerful. No. The wisdom of the Lord says,
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. “Blessed…” and wise are those who live by these words of God.
“The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.” We are blessed when we live according to the wisdom of God.
Today, where do you find wisdom? In other words, what or who do you trust and place your faith in?
Do you place your faith in people—political or religious leaders? The Lord says,
“Cursed is he who trusts in man, Who makes mere flesh his strength, and turns his thoughts from the Lord.” (Jeremiah 17:5)
Do you put your faith in this world? Jesus says, “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal” (Matthew 6:19).
How about those idols of your own creation—your strength, your resources, position, talents? Jonah said,
“Those who pay regard to vain idols forsake their hope of steadfast love.” (Jonah 2:9)
You get the point. Blessed are the poor, the meek, the peacemaker. Blessed are those who seek and follow the wisdom of God. Jeremiah says,
“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought, for it does not cease to bear fruit.” (Jeremiah 17:7-8)
The world may view your trust and the wisdom you live by as foolishness, but it is the wisdom of God, given only to His beloved children. “Do not swerve to the right or to the left; turn your foot away from evil” (Proverbs 4:27), and choose the wisdom of God. It takes time to learn, but it is not hidden from anyone who seeks it. As St. James tells us, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” (James 1:5)
Let us pray: (from St. Thomas Aquinas) Grant us, O Lord our God, a mind to know you, a heart to seek you, wisdom to find you, conduct pleasing to you, faithful perseverance in waiting for you, and a hope of finally embracing you. Amen.
G.K. Chesterton, in his biography of Thomas Aquinas, wrote, Aquinas “was called the Dumb Ox. He was the object, not merely of mockery, but of pity…[St. Albert the Great knew] that the dunce is not always a dunce.. his famous cry and prophecy [about Thomas] – “You can call him a Dumb Ox; I tell you this Dumb Ox shall bellow so loud that his bellowings will fill the world.”
Chesterton also says, Aquinas “would not be an Abbot; he would not be a Monk; he would not be a Prior or ruler in his own fraternity; he would not be a prominent or important Friar; he would be a Friar. It is as if Napoleon has insisted on remaining a private soldier all his life.”
Given the expanse of his mind, Thomas Aquinas could have done just about anything he chose. Instead, he chose to think deeply about his faith and then share with us what he learned.
An excerpt from one of those writings—The cross exemplifies every virtue
“Why did the Son of God have to suffer for us? There was a great need, and it can be considered in a twofold way: in the first place, as a remedy for sin, and secondly, as an example of how to act.
“It is a remedy, for, in the face of all the evils which we incur on account of our sins, we have found relief through the passion of Christ. Yet, it is no less an example, for the passion of Christ completely suffices to fashion our lives. Whoever wishes to live perfectly should do nothing but disdain what Christ disdained on the cross and desire what he desired, for the cross exemplifies every virtue.
“If you seek the example of love: Greater love than this no man has, than to lay down his life for his friends. Such a man was Christ on the cross. And if he gave his life for us, then it should not be difficult to bear whatever hardships arise for his sake.
“If you seek patience, you will find no better example than the cross. Great patience occurs in two ways: either when one patiently suffers much, or when one suffers things which one is able to avoid and yet does not avoid. Christ endured much on the cross, and did so patiently, because when he suffered he did not threaten; he was led like a sheep to the slaughter and he did not open his mouth. Therefore Christ’s patience on the cross was great. In patience let us run for the prize set before us, looking upon Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith who, for the joy set before him, bore his cross and despised the shame.
“If you seek an example of humility, look upon the crucified one, for God wished to be judged by Pontius Pilate and to die.
“If you seek an example of obedience, follow him who became obedient to the Father even unto death. For just as by the disobedience of one man, namely, Adam, many were made sinners, so by the obedience of one man, many were made righteous.
“If you seek an example of despising earthly things, follow him who is the King of kings and the Lord of lords, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Upon the cross he was stripped, mocked, spat upon, struck, crowned with thorns, and given only vinegar and gall to drink.
“Do not be attached, therefore, to clothing and riches, because they divided my garments among themselves. Nor to honors, for he experienced harsh words and scourgings. Nor to greatness of rank, for weaving a crown of thorns they placed it on my head. Nor to anything delightful, for in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.”
He wrote over 20,000 pages (some estimates say up to 100,000), and the way we think about your faith is directly related to those writings. His influence is beyond measure. Even so, on December 6, 1273, Aquinas had a deeply moving religious experience. He never wrote of it.“[E]verything he had written,” shared a friend, “seemed like straw to him by comparison with what he had seen and what had been revealed to him. He believed that he had at last clearly seen what he had devoted his life to figuring out and, by comparison, all he had written seemed pale and dry. Now that he could no longer write, he wanted to die.” He died four months later on March 7, 1274. Perhaps, one day, we’ll learn what he learned.
Someone asked me why I don’t tell Boudreaux jokes anymore. Answer: There are only so many of them, and the ones remaining aren’t necessarily suitable for church. Which leaves me today with having to tell you one I’ve already told you, but it is in my top five.
One summer, no one living along the bayou could catch any fish except old Boudreaux. Knowing Boudreaux, the game warden thought something might be up, so he asked him how he did it. Boudreaux told the game warden he would take him fishing the next day and show him. Once they got to the middle of the lake, Boudreaux took out a stick of dynamite, lit it, and threw it into the water. After the explosion, fish started floating to the surface. Boudreaux took out a net and started scooping them up. When he had them all gathered, he looked back at the game warden, who was just sitting there with his mouth open, too stunned to even speak. Finally getting his wits back, the game warden started hollering at Boudreaux, “You can’t fish like that. It is so illegal that I’m hauling you into jail this very moment.” Boudreaux sat there for a moment, then he took out another stick of dynamite, lit it, and handed it to the game warden, asking, “You gonna fish or you gonna talk?”
Today, we read about Peter and some of the other fellas out fishing, but I’m guessing they weren’t prepared for what happened either. How their lives could be so radically changed and so quickly. Perhaps, as they were hauling in the day’s catch, they were making plans for a family outing after Synagogue on Saturday or thinking they needed to renegotiate the price of fish due to the increased fishing tax. Whatever they were thinking, I can’t imagine it included hearing the words, “Follow me,” and then following after some itinerant rabbi.
When you consider those events, can you imagine doing the same? The Gospel says they “immediately” followed him. One second you are a fisherman, and the next you are a disciple, crisscrossing the country, living rough, snatching a piece of grain from a field you are passing to have something to eat, and going through a pair of sandals every week. Sure, you are meeting new people, and there are the miracles—my goodness, the miracles—and you are listening to teachings that, for the first time in your life, allow you to come to an understanding of God. But there are also the more difficult parts. Some truly hate the rabbi you are following. After a while, there is even talk among some of them about finding a way to have him arrested or even put to death. After all, they did try to throw him off the cliff that one time. Then there was the time you thought you were going to die out on the sea when that great storm came up out of nowhere. As you huddled in fear, the rabbi slept in peace. When you cried out to him in your fear, he chastised you, then he chastised the storm, and the seas were calm. Thinking back on the day you met him and he said, “Follow me,” probably more than once a day, you ask yourself, “What the heck was I thinking?”
Years later, after witnessing his death and resurrection, you find yourself in prison, awaiting your execution. In the hours leading up to it, you reflect once again on those first words, “Follow me,” but you no longer wonder what you were thinking. Instead, you know within your very soul why you were chosen, why you were called: to serve His purposes. To be a fisher of men and to assist in ushering in the very Kingdom of God.
If you think back on your life, many of you probably remember the time when Jesus spoke those same words, “Follow me,” to you. For many, including me, we don’t know why we responded as we did, immediately dropping our old life and following him. For me, I don’t remember the date and time, but I remember the moment, and I have no way to describe it. Yet—in the twinkling of an eye—I stopped everything and followed him.
Like you and those first disciples, I have seen miracles—oh, yes, I have—I have seen lives transformed, and I have begun to learn more deeply about the things of God. But things weren’t always so good, and then I stuck with you lot. There are still days when I ask myself, “What the heck were you thinking?” (I also direct that question to God!) But I still remember the moment he said, “Follow me,” and I’m still amazed that he chose me.
What does all this have to do with today? As I thought about those first disciples and us, I was reminded of how similar we are to them in our lives and experiences. Individually and together, we experience times of great joy and great sadness, times of need and times of abundance, faith and doubt. Through faith and the knowledge imparted to our souls, we sit on the hillside listening to Jesus teach. We look over His shoulder as He reaches out to bring life where there was death. We see those who love Him and those who deride Him. We witness His brutal death, and we wait in the upper room with the other disciples for those three days, then rush to the tomb after Mary Magdalene tells us He has risen. In all these ups and downs, we may once again ask, “What was I thinking?” But then we remember: we have been chosen and we have a purpose. “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” (1 Peter 2:9) We have been chosen for this time and this place to be the Church and to be His witnesses. Today, I ask you to remember that all we do is because we have been chosen to follow Jesus and to be a great light in the darkness. We are the Church, and we have all been called to be fishers of men to assist in ushering in the very Kingdom of God.
Take some time to consider this: Jesus said to you, “Follow me.” If you’re listening to me today, there is a very good chance you did just that. So if that is the case, why did He call you? To what purpose have you been called into service in the Kingdom of God? When you begin to discern that calling, engage with it. Live it. St. Paul said in his letter to the Ephesians, “We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (2:10) And again, he says in his letter to the Philippians, “It is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” (2:13)
Thomas Merton said, “If you want to identify me, ask me not where I live, or what I like to eat, or how I comb my hair, but ask me what I am living for, in detail, ask me what I think is keeping me from living fully for the thing I want to live for.”
You have been called by Jesus. You have responded that you will follow. Now ask yourself, “What am I living for in Christ Jesus and His Kingdom?” Are you going to fish or talk? In the words of the Captain of the Starship Enterprise, Jean-Luc Picard, “Engage.” Start fishing.
Let us pray: O Lord, our God, You called Your people to be Your Church. As they gather in Your Name, may they love, honor, and follow Your Son to eternal life in the Kingdom He promised. Let their worship always be sincere, and help them to find Your saving Love in the Church and its Sacraments. Fill with the Spirit of Christ those whom You call to live in the midst of the world and its concerns. Help them, by their work on earth, to build up Your eternal Kingdom. May they be effective witnesses to the Truth of the Gospel and make Your Church a living presence in the midst of the world. Increase the gifts You have given Your Church so that Your faithful people may continue to grow in holiness and in imitation of Your Beloved Son. In His name we pray. Amen.
When I was 12 years old, my biggest concern was whether I was going fishing or hunting. It didn’t matter much to me. When our Saint for the day, Agnes, was 12, her biggest concern was avoiding being married off. She was a very beautiful girl and from a wealthy family. It sounds wrong to us, but 12 was about the right age for young girls to be married in the 300s, when Agnes was alive.
Agnes, however, had different plans. She said, “I am already promised to the Lord of the Universe. He is more splendid than the sun and the stars, and He has said He will never leave me!” “Jesus Christ is my only Spouse.” That didn’t go over with the many suitors, some of whom were much older, and one eventually accused her of being a Christian before the governor, which was illegal. At age 12, Agnes was beheaded for her faith. St. Abrose remembers her in his treatise On Virgins.
“Today is the birthday of a virgin; let us imitate her purity. It is the birthday of a martyr; let us offer ourselves in sacrifice. It is the birthday of Saint Agnes, who is said to have suffered martyrdom at the age of twelve. The cruelty that did not spare her youth shows all the more clearly the power of faith in finding one so young to bear it witness.
“There was little or no room in that small body for a wound. Though she could scarcely receive the blow, she could rise superior to it. Girls of her age cannot bear even their parents’ frowns and, pricked by a needle, weep as for a serious wound. Yet she shows no fear of the blood-stained hands of her executioners. She stands undaunted by heavy, clanking chains. She offers her whole body to be put to the sword by fierce soldiers. She is too young to know of death, yet is ready to face it. Dragged against her will to the altars, she stretches out her hands to the Lord in the midst of the flames, making the triumphant sign of Christ the victor on the altars of sacrilege. She puts her neck and hands in iron chains, but no chain can hold fast her tiny limbs.
“A new kind of martyrdom! Too young to be punished, yet old enough for a martyr’s crown; unfitted for the contest, yet effortless in victory, she shows herself a master in valor despite the handicap of youth. As a bride she would not be hastening to join her husband with the same joy she shows as a virgin on her way to punishment, crowned not with flowers but with holiness of life, adorned not with braided hair but with Christ himself.
“In the midst of tears, she sheds no tears herself. The crowds marvel at her recklessness in throwing away her life untasted, as if she had already lived life to the full. All are amazed that one not yet of legal age can give her testimony to God. So she succeeds in convincing others of her testimony about God, though her testimony in human affairs could not yet be accepted. What is beyond the power of nature, they argue, must come from its creator.
“What menaces there were from the executioner, to frighten her; what promises made, to win her over; what influential people desired her in marriage! She answered: “To hope that any other will please me does wrong to my Spouse. I will be his who first chose me for himself. Executioner, why do you delay? If eyes that I do not want can desire this body, then let it perish.” She stood still, she prayed, she offered her neck.
“You could see fear in the eyes of the executioner, as if he were the one condemned; his right hand trembled, his face grew pale as he saw the girl’s peril, while she had no fear for herself. One victim, but a twin martyrdom, to modesty and to religion; Agnes preserved her virginity, and gained a martyr’s crown.”
A Saint that demonstrates that God’s love and grace can extend to any, even the very young.
In a small town, it was T-Ball season. The kids were ages 5-6, and there were only enough to form two teams, each with 17 kids. Each child played at the same time, and it was a bit of madness, but great fun for all.
A father tells about his son, who played on one team, and a girl named Tracy, who played on the other. Tracy wore Coke-bottle glasses and hearing aids. When she ran, her bad leg would lag behind her, and one arm would windmill wildly. Tracy wasn’t very good, but she had a lot of spirit. When she batted, she would hit the air, and she would hit the T, but very rarely would she connect with the ball. When she did, it might roll six inches. However, the coach and everyone else, on both sides, would yell, “Run, Tracy! Run!” And she did, but she would get thrown out at first. This was the case until the very last game of the season. Tracy got up to bat, and Tracy clobbered it, knocking it past all 17 infielders (the outfielders had gotten bored out there, as nothing ever made it to them). The stadium erupted, “Run, Tracy! Run!” She did. The other team could have easily thrown her out, but chose to fumble around with the ball so that Tracy could score an in-park home run.
The coaches got her to first base, then second, then third, but… the father picks up the story.
“Tracy started for home, and then it happened. During the pandemonium, no one had noticed the twelve-year-old geriatric mutt that had lazily settled itself down in front of the bleachers five feet from the third-base line. As Tracy rounded third, the dog, awakened by the screaming, sat up and wagged its tail at Tracy as she headed down the line. The tongue hung out, mouth pulled back in an unmistakable canine smile, and Tracy stopped, right there. Halfway home, thirty feet from a legitimate home run.
“She looked at the dog. Her coach called, ‘Come on, Tracy! Come on home!’ He went to his knees behind the plate, pleading. “The crowd cheered, “Go, Tracy, go! Go, Tracy, go!” She looked at all the adults, at her own parents shrieking and catching it all on video. She looked at the dog. The dog wagged its tail. She looked at her coach. She looked at home. She looked at the dog. Everything went to slow motion. She went for the dog! It was a moment of complete, stunned silence.
“And then, perhaps, not as loud, but deeper, longer, more heartfelt, we all applauded as Tracy fell to her knees to hug the dog.” (Dangerous Wonder, p.60)
For me, that seemed like a very simple explanation of life. We have goals. We put in the work required to achieve them. We execute the plan. We set out.
For many, once the plan is in motion, there may be a few hiccups or interruptions along the way, but when we are truly focused or involved, these do not deter us from achieving the goal.
For Tracy, the goal was to hit the ball and score a run. In many ways, we are doing just that. However, unlike Tracy, when we are focused and achieving, we may notice the smiling dog along the third base line, but that is all. We will not stop to hug the dog. We will score. We will win. Over time, we will be like everyone else in the stadium that day—we will not notice the twelve-year-old geriatric mutt, lazily settled along the third base line. He will fade into the background, but that won’t matter. We will have met our goal and succeeded.
It is funny, in a sad way, how, as we grow older, we no longer notice many things like that. We say we don’t have time or that we can’t be bothered by such trivial things as a “smiling mutt” in whatever form it may take. Places to be. People to see. Things… very important things to do.
Trouble is—at least how I see it—we spend our lives like that, always chasing something, then one day we wake up old, never having truly reached our preset goals and having missed so many opportunities to witness the wonders of this world because we were so intent on our goals that they faded into the background.
When was the last time you were brought to a dead stop in wonder? In amazement? When was the last time your heart paused at what was unfolding before you? If you have, instead of staying in the moment—taking time to hug the goofy dog—simply smile and move on to the next item on the agenda. Does the brief moment of wonder fade as quickly as it arrives?
Perhaps I’m just talking about my own life this morning, and I’m the only one caught in this trap, but I don’t like to think about the things I’ve missed because I was so focused on what I was chasing. I believe this is why I’ve started traveling over the last few years and want to continue doing so, which is largely a response to a quote attributed to Virgil: “Death twitched my ear, ‘Live,’ he says, ‘for I am coming.’” That was all the motivation I needed.
You say, “Well, Father John, that’s all nice and good, but what does that have to do with anything today?” My response is a story from the Gospels.
It has been a long day with Jesus and the disciples. After all, they have fed 5,000 men, plus women and children. Jesus sends the disciples on ahead while He stays behind to pray. The disciples get in the boat and begin to cross the sea, believing Jesus will do the same after a while. Scripture tells us, “The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were frightened. But he said to them, ‘It is I; do not be afraid.’” Jesus was walking on the water.
Within your mind and within your soul, how do you feel about that—Jesus walking on the water? Does that create a sense of wonder at least as strong as Tracy’s when she saw the geriatric mutt, or do you just keep moving toward your goal? What if I told you that this same Jesus healed a man with leprosy, gave sight to a blind man, and, after a man had been dead for four days, raised him to life? Anything? How about this? Jesus, the very Son of God, was crucified, died, and was buried, then on the third day rose from the grave. Does that get your motor running, or have you heard it so many times that it has just become part of the background between third base and home plate?
We become so focused on achieving our goals that even the wonder and amazement of Jesus can fade into the background. We know those old stories by heart and we no longer give them the power to transform our lives or the world around us. The statement “Jesus rose from the dead” should level us, but instead we ask, “Got it. What’s next?”
Today in our Gospel reading, we have another scene with John the Baptist. Jesus is nearby, and John speaks of him. The next day, John is visiting with two of his disciples, Andrew and, although unnamed, we believe to be the Apostle John. The Baptist points to Jesus, and Andrew and John follow. Sensing them, Jesus turns and asks, “What are you looking for?” They respond, “Well, uh, we were, you know, a buh buh buy… where are you staying?” Jesus says, “Come and see.”
Jesus says, “You are searching for many things. You have goals in your life, things you want to accomplish. You’ve been working toward them, but stop. Come and see what I will show you.” Come and see what?
Defending the faith, St. Paul told the Corinthians what they would see.
“What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.”
(1 Corinthians 2:9)
Come and see the wonders of our God, given to us in Christ Jesus our Lord. Come and see lives transformed. Come and see the healing of bodies, minds, and spirits. Come and see God and participate in His Kingdom. Come and see, and the list goes on.
This is our Annual Meeting Sunday. It is a time when I seek to articulate where I would like to see us go over the course of the next year. This year, it is for us to come and see the great events of Jesus again. To be struck with such a sense of wonder that our hearts well up with a joy that brings us to an even greater love and deeper service to our God.
By all means, have your goals and aspirations, but do not let Jesus become just another part of the background. Bring Him to the forefront. Allow Jesus the opportunity to stop you in your tracks in wonder and draw you into a deeper relationship with Him.
Let us pray: God, our Father, You redeemed us and made us Your children in Christ. Through Him, You have saved us from death and given us Your Divine life of grace. By becoming more like Jesus on earth, may we come to share His glory in Heaven. Give us the peace of Your kingdom, which this world does not give. By Your loving care, protect the good You have given us. Open our eyes to the wonders of Your Love that we may serve You with a willing heart. Amen.
Trying something new with this audio version of the sermon delivered live. If you listen, would love to know what you think. Thank.
The Captain of a ship reports: When I first went to sea, I was a Third Mate. I knew everything. After sailing for a few years and earning my Second Mate license, I realized I had a lot to learn. A few years later, I became a Chief Mate. It became apparent that there was much I still didn’t know. After years of sailing, I became the Captain of my own ship. Reality set in; I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. It’s ok. I have a third mate who knows everything.
Author Charles Bukowski said, “The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence.” That is a true statement. However, intelligent people sometimes also believe they are truly unqualified for the position they have been entrusted with. They consider themselves to be frauds. This is known as imposter syndrome, which can be broadly defined as “the tendency to favour a narrative that ‘you’re not good enough’, or doubting your own capabilities, while fearing exposure of being a fraud.” (Source)
I don’t know how widespread such a problem is, but I do know that inside the walls of the church—not just ours—it is likely widespread.
Think about your experience here. You come through the doors, and the floors are clean. Heck, Chuck makes them shine (thank you, Chuck). There’s the smell of incense in the air. It’s comfortable, and we’ll even give you a cushion if your backside is a bit thin and doesn’t provide enough padding. When we look at the images of Jesus in the stained-glass windows, including those of the crucifixion, I love them, but they’re so cleaned up. Jesus doesn’t look like He’s been beaten or flogged. There’s no dirt. There’s no blood. All that has been cleaned up. When we come forward to receive the Eucharist, we receive the bread—it’s a perfectly round, bleached wafer. It, too, has been cleaned up from what bread normally looks like. (Please don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. I would not change any of this. I believe that it is the way things are supposed to be. I’m just making observations here to make a point.) In addition, I wear some of the finest vestments available; our choir sings beautifully, accompanied by the organist and the lovely instrument he plays. Our entire experience of walking into this building is one of entering a well-ordered, clean place. That’s just elements of the space and the liturgy. What about the people?
Folks, you are marvelous, darling! Gorgeous. Handsome. It’s like walking into Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon, “where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.” Then there’s you.
You look around you. You see the beauty of the place and all that takes place. You see folks all nicely scrubbed, sitting in their pews. And you think of yourself, and that imposter syndrome kicks in hard. You believe, “I’m not good enough,” “If they knew what I was like on the inside, they wouldn’t let me through the doors,” “This place and these people are all cleaned up, but I’ve been wandering through the mud of this world, and I track it around everywhere I go.” Not only do we see ourselves in such a poor light, but we also come to firmly believe that Jesus sees us the same way.
We think of Jesus—He’s nice and clean and shiny. He’s up there, looking down on my muddy self, and He’s disgusted by what He sees. How can He stand me? As a Christian, I am a fraud.
Today, we celebrate the Baptism of Our Lord. It occurs every year on the first Sunday after the Epiphany. It is the day when Jesus comes to the forerunner, John the Baptist, to be baptized in the Jordan River. The Church teaches us that through this one act, Jesus accomplished so many things. Primarily, it inaugurated Christ’s ministry, sanctified the waters so that all who enter the waters of baptism might be cleansed, and revealed the nature of the Holy Trinity. These things are good to know, but I’m thinking today about the physical event of that baptism.
When I was younger, growing up in Louisiana, I always thought of the Jordan River, where Jesus was baptized, as being about the size of the Mississippi or the Red. However, it is quite different. At its widest, the Jordan is only 80 to 100 feet wide. With a good arm, it would be easy enough to throw a rock across.
The environmental conditions in Israel are very arid and desert-like, except around the Jordan. There is fertile ground, and along the banks grow reeds and other water plants. It is also quite muddy.
If you think about the people coming to be baptized by John along the banks of the river, you can imagine it was a pretty trampled, sloppy place. Nothing pristine about it. Walking down to John, you’ll have to traipse through that mud. Going into the river, you’ll be washed clean—both spiritually and physically. However, when you come back out again, you’ll be spiritually clean, but physically… there you are in the mud again. The same was true for Jesus. When He came out of those waters, He didn’t miraculously glide across the mud and mire. No. He walked through it.
I thought of that image as I considered us here today. We come into this place and look around. It is clean and pristine. All these people are clean, with no blemishes or dirt on them (trust me, that is not the case. Oy!) Everything here is so well ordered, except for me. I’ve traipsed through the mud of this world, and I track it everywhere I go. How can Jesus stand me? But what we forget is that Jesus does not avoid the messy and dirty places. Jesus, in His humanity and divinity, chose… chose to walk through the mud of this world in order to find and save us, so that we might be with Him where He is.
St. Paul writes to the Philippians, “Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:6-8)
Jesus humbled Himself to walk through the mud with us so that, in the end, He might raise us to new life through our own baptism. As Paul said to the Romans, “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6:3-4)
You’ve walked through the mud of this world. Jesus gave up the very throne room of Our God so that he might walk through that mud to find you.
The psychoanalyst Carl Jung wrote, “Modern man can’t see God because he doesn’t look low enough.”
We don’t believe Jesus can tolerate our messiness. We look up and around us. We look for Him in the Heavens and high on the altar, all clean and shiny. He is there, but perhaps more importantly, He is down here with us.
King David wrote,
“I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.
He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him.”
(Psalm 40:1-3 NIV)
Through your baptism, Jesus lifted you out of the slimy pit and out of the mud and mire. He gave you a firm place to stand. He made you worthy of the promises of Heaven. If along the way you find yourself traipsing through some mud…
Remember the Last Supper, when Jesus washed the disciples’ feet and when He came to Peter. Peter said that Jesus would never wash his feet. What was Jesus’ response? “‘If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.’ Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!’ Jesus said to him, ‘The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean. And you are clean.’” (John 13:8b-11)
When you come into this place, you are not an imposter. You are not a fraud. If you have walked through some muddy places, you need to wash your feet in the sacraments of Confession and the Eucharist, but you are clean. You are worthy. You are one whom Jesus loves. You are one He has gone to the furthest reaches to find. You are God’s child.
Let us pray: By God’s gift, through water and the Holy Spirit, we are reborn to everlasting life. In God’s goodness, may He continue to pour out His blessings upon us, His sons and daughters. May He make us always, wherever we may be, faithful members of His holy people. May He send His peace upon all who are gathered here, in Christ our Lord. Amen.
Candle in a Cave 