Sermon: Proper 16 RCL A1 – “Holy Purposes”


Many are familiar with the story of Adolf Hitler being rejected from the Academy of Fine Arts Vienna twice. There is no way to know, and many other factors were involved, but might world history have been different if he had been accepted?

One small action, and the result affected everyone on the planet. There are many such stories.

At the Paris Peace Conference in 1919, President Woodrow Wilson received a petition and letter from someone who worked at the Ritz Hotel in France, asking that France withdraw from Vietnam. Another hugely complicated issue, however, it is believed by many that the hotel employee was a young Vietnamese man named Ho Chi Minh. One little thing might have changed much.

Little actions, leading to tremendous results.

Our story from the Old Testament is the beginning of the Exodus and traces the transformation that unfolded in Egypt over many years. When Joseph’s brother came to him, Joseph was held in very high esteem by Pharaoh; however, over time that relationship was forgotten, and the Israelites had become so numerous that Pharaoh and the Egyptians feared them. To weaken the Israelites, they were ruthlessly oppressed.

To further decrease their numbers, two midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, were summoned by Pharaoh. Why them? Scripture does not say. Perhaps they were the ones in charge of others. Whatever the case, they were instructed to kill all male children of the Israelites as soon as they were born.

Unlike Prissy from Gone with the Wind, who didn’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies, these two were professionals. They, like all other midwives, were important members of the community and would have worked day and night, caring for mothers and babies. However, when Pharaoh commanded them to kill the male babies, there was one thing he failed to factor in—these two women feared God more than they feared him. Therefore, they found a way to disregard Pharaoh’s orders. Whether by deception or flat-out lying, they allowed the male children to live. When his covert plan to deal with the Israelites failed, Pharaoh simply demonstrated his own ruthlessness and ordered all male Israelite babies to be thrown into the Nile River—to be murdered.

As the story proceeds, a woman becomes pregnant. We don’t learn her name here, but it is Jochebed. (Exodus 6:20) Jochebed is a woman who is living in very harsh conditions. She is a slave and greatly oppressed. Her child is born, and it’s a boy. Knowing that Pharaoh decreed that all male children be killed, she hides her child for three months. When it becomes apparent that she can no longer hide him, she comes up with a plan.

In English, we read that she made a basket and covered it in pitch. In Hebrew, she made a tevah. The word tevah is used only once elsewhere in Scripture. It is what Noah was told to build—an ark. Jochebed makes an ark for her baby, places the child in it, seals it with pitch, and, in a way, following the command of Pharaoh, casts the ark into the waters of the Nile.

The baby’s sister is also not named here, but we learn it later. She is called Miriam. If Jochebed’s life was hard, Miriam’s was even more so. In the story, she watches to see what happens, as any loving big sister would. She watches the course of her brother’s ark.

The ark and the baby float down the Nile and are seen by Pharaoh’s daughter. We never learn her name, but among all the women in Egypt, she is at the highest point of society. Unlike the midwives, Jochebed, and Miriam, she has everything. She is daddy’s little girl. When she sees the baby in the ark, she immediately knows he is a Hebrew child, but unlike Daddy, she does not see a nemesis or someone to be feared. She sees a child, one to be pitied. Even knowing that Pharaoh has commanded all male Hebrew babies be killed, she finds a way to save this child. Seeing this, Miriam runs over and says she can find someone to nurse the child. Pharaoh’s daughter agrees, and the baby is returned to where he began—in the arms of his mother, Jochebed.

Who was the baby? Moses.

So often, when we read the story of the Exodus, we become so focused on the central characters, God and Moses, that we fail to see the part everyone else played. However, in this part of the story, Moses does only four things: he rides in a basket, he eats, he sleeps, and he poops. That’s it. However, if it hadn’t been for the work of the others, the story would have ended very quickly, and Moses would have drowned in the Nile River.

You are familiar with Saint Paul’s teaching to the Romans that we read today. He says, “As in one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another.” He will later expand on this idea, but here he continues by saying, “We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us: prophecy, in proportion to faith; ministry, in ministering; the teacher, in teaching; the exhorter, in exhortation; the giver, in generosity; the leader, in diligence; the compassionate, in cheerfulness.”

The list is short, but the categories are very broad. It could have easily included midwives—those who care for the poor and the innocent. Those who are willing to stand up against injustice. Those who give of themselves so others might have life.

The list could’ve included the Jochebeds of the world. Those who faithfully fulfill their calling as a mother, father, or guardian, and who, after doing all that is required of them, entrust the work to God.

Paul’s list could also include those like Miriam, who watch and discern. Who know when to speak and what to say. Who know how to put the pieces together so that God’s work moves forward.

The list can include individuals like Pharaoh’s daughter. Those who can use their position and resources to save and care for the less fortunate. Those who can see not a problem to be dealt with, but a child of God made in His image—a human being who deserves the opportunity to survive and to thrive.

The story of Exodus is not just the story of Moses. Instead, it is the story of God and the individuals He endowed with specific gifts so that His will might be accomplished in their lives and in the world. And that is not only the story of the Exodus; it is also the story of the Church.

Each person seated here today has been endowed with a particular grace, a specific gift that can be used in the church and in the fulfillment of God’s purposes. As Paul said, we do not all serve the same function, but together as the body, we serve God.

The gospel reading today is known as the Confession of Saint Peter. Jesus first asks, “Who do the people say that the Son of Man is?” The disciples answer, “Some say this, others say that.” Jesus then makes the question personal: “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answers with his confession, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.” Jesus responds, “Peter, you get the gold star,” but then Jesus does something interesting—He tells Peter who he is: “I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.”

Paul tells us that we each have a part to play in God’s kingdom, but sometimes we may not know what that part is. One way to find out is to turn Jesus’ question back to Him. Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” So ask Him the same question. “Lord, who do you say that I am?” Like Peter, you may hear Him come straight up and tell you, or, like Moses, you may encounter a burning bush. However, it is more likely He will say to you, “Open your eyes and look around. What do you see?”

When you do, like Jochebed, you might see those who are vulnerable and in need of nurturing so they can be prepared to go out into the world. Like the midwives, you might see a specific need that must be met for God’s work to continue. Like Miriam, you may be one who has the gift of discernment, organizing others to accomplish the work. Like Pharaoh’s daughter, you may have the resources and compassion to help those less fortunate.

God is funny like that. He’s not going to look at you and say, “You’re a mighty fine brain surgeon, so I’m going to make you a carpenter.” No. God says, as He did with Peter, “You’re a mighty good fisherman, so I’m going to change what you’re fishing for. Instead of fish, it will be people.” If we allow it, God will take our natural gifts and give us opportunities to use them for holy purposes. When we do this, it is called ministry, where a little action can have tremendous results. You may only see one small part. You may not be able to see the wider scope of what is taking place. However, you may see that one piece, that one little thing, that completes the greater work.

Pray, “Lord, who do you say that I am?” Then open your eyes. He will show you. When He shows you, don’t just sit on it. Pick up your call and fulfill your purpose.

Let us pray: Lord Jesus, You call all your people to be your Church, and you give each of us gifts to share. Look with love upon those who serve as lay ministers in your house. May their work build up your kingdom on earth and bring your light to the world. Keep them close to you in daily prayer, and let their lives reflect your great love. We ask this in your holy name. Amen.

Sermon: Epiphany 3 RCL A – “Talk or Fish?”


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.

Sermon: Epiphany 2 RCL B – “Signs”

Photo by Nicolai Berntsen on Unsplash

In the 1960s, Time Magazine was seeing a decline in subscriptions. Something had to be done, so the decision was made to make a mass appeal to potential subscribers. Previously, such appeals had required a great deal of manual labor: writing, sorting, stuffing, labeling, stamping, etc.; however, about that time, IBM had come out with a razoo machine known as a computer that promised to eliminate all that work and make life easier. Time employed the computer and put it to work. With the database uploaded and the paper trays full (or whatever it was they had back then), someone hit start. It worked, with a couple of glitches (it seems nothing has changed regarding computers.) A rancher out in Wyoming, who never got all that much mail, began receiving mailbags full of letters. All told, he received 12,634 letters, all containing the same emotional appeal to subscribe to Time Magazine. The rancher read a dozen or so of those letters and must have taken it as some sort of a sign because he then wrote a check for $6 to Time Magazine to pay for a subscription. He also included a brief note with his check—“I give up!” 

The Oxford Dictionary defines signs—as in signs and wonders—as “an object, quality, or event whose presence or occurrence indicates the probable presence or occurrence of something else.” One thing that is pointing to something else. We partially define a sacrament as “The outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.” Baptism in water is the outward and visible sign of the cleansing that is taking place within our souls. However, some may view one thing as a sign, while others may see nothing at all or only coincidence. As Umberto Eco, the author of The Name of the Rose, wrote, “The understanding of signs is not a mere matter of recognition (of a stable equivalence); it is a matter of interpretation.” (Semiotics and the Philosophy of Language

I’ve told you this story before, but I like retelling it on occasion because it helps me remember the signs of my own life.

I had graduated from college and was working for a marketing firm in Dallas, but by the mid-90s, I had my fill, so I quit the white-collar job and moved to Butte, Montana. To pay the bills, I did several jobs, including working as the custodian at St. John’s Episcopal Church. 

I’m a night owl, so I would go to the church late at night to do my work and, afterward, would go into the sanctuary, lean up against the altar, and say my prayer. One night, I prayed, “Lord, you’ve given me some smarts and a pretty good education. I’m happy doing this job, but if there is something else you want me to do, you need to let me know.” (A word to the wise: never give God an open-ended option.) The honest truth: I went home and crawled in, slept a bit late the next day, and woke up about when the mailman was delivering. In the mail was a large envelope. It contained something I had not requested, nor would I have even thought to order—an application to seminary.

“The understanding of signs is not a mere matter of recognition…. it is a matter of interpretation.” I only received one piece of mail, not 12,634 pieces, but I understood that one piece of mail as a sign. I did not try to interpret it on my own but took it to faithful friends and the Church. Based on my current position, you can see that we all got the wrong interpretation! Actually, I believe we did. I can’t imagine myself doing anything else. Signs and interpretation of signs.

There are many signs within Holy Scripture, which are sometimes very clear, but often, they are up for interpretation. In his Gospel, John is kind enough to tell us when a sign has occurred, and he does so on seven occasions. 

The first was turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana, and also, in Cana, he healed the official’s son who was dying. While in Jerusalem, He healed the paralytic who was lying next to the Pool of Bethesda, and then, on a hill beside the Sea of Galilee, he fed the 5,000. This was followed by the fifth sign, walking on water, and later, He healed a man who had been born blind. Finally, Jesus gave the greatest of all signs: He raised Lazarus from the dead.

For each of these events, John tells us that what the people saw was a sign, but remember, a sign is an event or object pointing to something else, but to know what they are pointing to, we must first interpret them. In doing so, we understand that Jesus is not limited to earthly restraints. He can transform the ordinary—water—into the extraordinary—the best wine. He can heal those who are dying and restore those who are broken. He can take what little we have and produce a cup that is overflowing. He has power over the natural world, and He allows us to see what has been hidden. And, finally, He shows us that, with God, death has no power over us. 

So, if we have these seven signs, and those are our interpretations, then what are these signs pointing us to? What is the greater meaning? “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance….” The seven signs that John tells us about all point to the Resurrection—itself, a sign to us of things to come.

Were these all the signs that Jesus gave? No. Toward the end of his Gospel, John tells us, “Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.”

All these signs that the disciples witnessed and more that are not recorded, but… can I ask you a question? Where’s my sign? Where’s your sign? How come they got to see signs, and all we are left with are a few words in a book written 2,000 years ago? The only problem with that statement is that it is not true. Why? Because we, too, are provided signs. Signs not written in the book or identified as such are no less signs. Take our Gospel reading for today—the calling of Philip and Nathanael. 

Jesus sees Philip and says, “Follow me.” Philip follows, and the first thing he does is find his buddy, Nathanael. Nathanael has his doubts but goes. Jesus sees Nathanael coming and says, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” 

That encounter is not one of the signs identified by John. For you and I, there are some cryptic sayings that need explanation, but they are summed up as the calling of the disciples but… what would Nathanael say about that encounter? “It was a day like any other day.” “Nothing special happened.” “No signs to see here.” No. Jesus’ statement to him, “I saw you under the fig tree,” was a sign for Nathanael. It was a sign that pointed him to God, for he declared, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” Nathanael was called and was known by God, and that calling and that knowing were all the signs he needed.

I’ll tell you something that you may not know: you have been called by God. You are known by God. As the Psalmist sings,

“My frame was not hidden from you
  when I was made in the secret place,
  when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.”

God saw Nathanael under the fig tree, and God saw you before the creation of the world. God called Nathanael, and God calls you. That is your sign. You don’t need 12,634 pieces of mail or an application to seminary to know this to be true. You only need to look within to see the signs clearly. The only question remaining is, “How will you interpret them?”

Let us pray: Heavenly Father, You gift us with all the good gifts that make us the people you created us to be. Help us to know and find your will and to trust that you will help us to understand the individual path you call us each to journey in life. Where there is doubt, give us courage. Give us hearts open to your quiet voice so we can hear your call. Help us to know your faithfulness and help us to be faithful to that which you call us to. Amen.