THE HEALING TOUCH II Epiphany 5, 2012 Mark 1: 29-39 St Thomas Fr. Chips Koehler
‘She was in bed with a fever, and the disciples told Jesus immediately. (ευθυσ) [v30] Jesus went to her, took her hand and lifted her up…and the fever left her.” [v.33]
A. Introduction. I would like to take minor exception to the Apostle Paul. Ist Cor. 12:9 could lead one to believe that the gift of healing is given to only a few. I disagree. Using two deeply personal experiences, I will, this morning, argue that we all have the gift of healing, if only we are willing to reach out.
B. Quang Tri Province, Vietnam, 1969. During the winter of 1969 I found myself in a Special Forces Hamlet north of Da Nang in the Demilitarized Zone. We were encircled by Viet Cong. Their ground fire kept helicopters (trying to rescue us) away by day. By night, using flares and continuous low intensity small arms fire, they kept us awake – and we sustained several casualties.
In those days I carried a small Armed Forces Prayer Book with the Psalms. (There were few chaplains in the “Nam.”) My crew had nicknamed me “Padre” because we started and ended every mission with prayer.
One young lad was in a bad way. He needed sophisticated medical care – not available in the hamlet. He was especially bad at night – serious pain – the distraction of the fireworks show outside. He had become inconsolable. He held my hand in a vise grip – I prayed with him, and read the 23rd Psalm – his favorite.
Then he cried out, “Please do something!” I put my hands on his head and prayed for his healing. I held him – told him the gospel story – prayed for help “in the Name of Jesus.” At last he fell asleep, breathing deeply and resting comfortably for the first time in days.
In the morning he awoke – and was smiling. He asked for coffee (it was syrup) and asked me to again read the “Shepherd Poem” [23rd Psalm]. I began to read, he closed his eyes – smiling as I read — then his hand went limp. He was gone.
I tell this as a story of healing. We had prayed, we had touched, we had read the Word – - and he was “saved” in the Lord.
The Greek word σοζω means “heal” – but it also means “saved!” I struggled to heal him. But be died. I had failed to cure him – but he was saved. And he rests with the saints – safe in the arms of our Lord.
Jesus, today, gave his disciples the ultimate paradigm of healing: He responded “immediately;” He was present in her need; He touched her and imparted His power. Jesus would soon send His disciples to teach, preach and heal – driving out demons. And they returned “astonished” at what they could accomplish. // We are called!!
Are you and I up to the risk – the risk of healing? People may laugh; ridicule; one could be charged with practicing medicine without a license. But the real risk is our fear – that the patient may not be cured – that people will resist our touch – wonder at “the name of Jesus” – will think we are nuts!
I will never forget what happened in Vietnam! A person was suffering, dying – and unreconciled with the Lord – but was welcomed into His arms. He was given something to live for – and ultimately to die for – in the healing power of Jesus. I learned that each of us has the power to heal. We “can” if we “will.”
C. Pittsburgh, PA, 1997. There was a young man who was very close to Jan and to me. He was a wonderful, talented, humorous and successful young man, but who had begun as a problem child – diagnosed with dyslexia and a bit of ADD. But he won those battles. He attended a school for dyslexic youth, and was an honor student, editor of the campus newspaper, an athlete and everyone’s favorite guy. Following this “special” experience he “mainstreamed” at a conventional liberal arts college, graduating with honors.
Greatly blessed, he decided to give back after college and returned to that “special” school, where he taught, recruited and worked with admission of students – with a unique insight and empathy for these young men and women. He reached-out to them. He loved them, affirmed them and gave them a role model. One could must say that he healed many of them.
We were so proud. What depth of maturity and character. What emotional and psychological stamina he displayed. What tenderness and unselfishness — which he shared.
We had meant to go up to visit him at his school. He invited us every time we met. We had planned to take some “quality time” together — to listen to his triumphs and his frustrations. I had planned to assist him with a curriculum revision he was preparing – hoping to bring more power to the teaching program. I was to be one of his readers for his Master’s thesis in Education. I kept reminding myself to write and tell him how excited I was that we were colleagues.
What Jan and I did not know was that he also was struggling with – and being treated for – Bipolar Disorder. The evening of March 1, 1997 – at the bottom of a cycle of deep depression – he took all of his pills and went to bed. (Pause)
Tragically, in a rush of self-congratulatory denial, we had failed to hear his silent cry, “If you will — heal me.” We had not responded “urgently” – immediately. We had delayed reaching out! Although called to healing, we had failed. Now, each day of our lives we live with that reminder – our inability to “respond” – to “save,” – to touch, perhaps to heal.
Each day of our lives you and I encounter people who quietly cry out for our healing touch. Are we hesitant to act? Do we have a hard time touching one another these days? But touching – reaching-out – can consist of a smile, a word or taking the time to sit and chat. At times it may call for invoking the name of Jesus on behalf of someone who cries out to be “saved.” calling on the the power of the Holy Spirit which lives within all of us if we courageously call upon His Name. Yes, healing can be risky business, but for us – Jesus’ disciples – there is no alternative. We are called!
We are called to heal – perhaps not to cure – but we are called to take the risk — Dare to Heal – Dare to be Jesus’ healing disciples – Dare to reach out and touch – to touch – - perhaps to heal. Amen!
Sermon, Advent 1, Year B, RCL, November 27, 2011, St. Thomas, Oakmont, JDMurph
I realized how astonishingly global the terrible tragedy that occurred at Penn State had become when I read just this last week, in the Economist—which is a British magazine, an article about soccer and how it is becoming more popular for various reasons, including, the magazine said to my utter surprise, because college football was embroiled in pedophile scandal. Over the past weeks, I have observed how, in so many casual conversations, the topic comes up, as people express sadness and dismay over the whole affair. But the one question that seemed to keep coming up in the conversations I heard was, “How did this go one for so long?” One person answered, ”Well, the reason it went on for at least a decade is because those who found out about it tended to shy away from the uncomfortable and unsavory details of the case.” Generally speaking, so many involved in the case tended to hand the responsibility for what to do to the next higher rung, feeling that, by doing so, their responsibility had been discharged. The higher the message went, however, it seems, the more dilute it became. In hindsight, of course, it is a lot easier to see that such an attitude was inadequate.
But that kind of attitude is not necessarily uncommon. There are rather many things in this broken world that are not right, and in fact, go on for quite a long time, because no one seems to be able to change them. Most of them are not as egregious or as sensational as the Penn State case, but they continue all the same. Sometimes wrong or unjust things go on and on because no one steps forward to take responsibility. Quite often, they go on until something dramatic happens, quite often it is something that exposes the problem in a new way.
For example, as many of us have seen over the past months in the Arab world, a new awareness and demand for more democratic forms of government, that are more accountable to people, have swept through many countries, even though so many of them had been under the thumb of dictators for decades.
For so long, in many of those countries, people would disappear and families would never know what happened to them. There could be no justice or accountability. Economies would be distorted by corruption from those who exercised power over all the others. People were afraid, however, to say anything. Why did it go on for so long? And why is it changing now? Some claim that it was touched off by an educated young man, who desperate after his only means of making an income was forbidden to him, immolated himself. By the flames of his horrible death, somehow a different light was focused on the misery endured by so many from the injustice endemic to their society.
In another example familiar to us from well-known nineteenth century history, the institution of slavery was abolished throughout the British Empire, even though it had lasted, at least in British colonies, for two hundred years. Why did it last for so long—when it clearly was an institution of misery? And why did it finally change? Part of the reason was that Christians began to expose some of the true horrors of the slave trade.
But this darkness that can keep us in silence or addiction or in misery can happen in an individual’s life as much as it does a country or an Empire. A family with an alcoholic member can go for many, many years, living with the pain of the addiction, without any change, most often hiding the misery and covering up the problem. Certainly, if one is to believe the allegations, Jerry Sandusky went for many years engaging in an activity that surely he knew was bound to destroy everything precious to him and tarnish the athletic program of which he was a proud member. Yet this darkness he continued to carry for years. It only changed when it came to light.
The readings today basically say that everybody carries some darkness around within them and sometimes, that darkness becomes so painful and heavy that, with Isaiah, we cry out to God, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down”. Sometimes the pain and the misery can build up and become so bad that, even if it hurts, even if it is costly, still we want God to intervene and sweep away the brokenness and set things right. Isaiah says of all of us, “We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.” It is as though finally the consequences of our brokenness are allowed to fall upon us so that, shattered into pieces, God finally might heal us and put us back together.
So the Day of the Lord, when all see “the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory”, may be very painful—because sometimes truth and honesty can be painful—but even so it will be good. It will be good because God will come to complete the rescue of his people. As Isaiah says, “O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand…we are all your people.” We, all of us, need God to re-make us; we need him to heal and repair our brokenness.
So, knowing our innate brokenness, why does Jesus warn us to be “on the watch”? Is it a warning not to become spiritually lazy? Is it a warning to be sure to repent of our sins every night—to keep short accounts spiritually—so we won’t get caught lacking when he comes back? He warns us to “keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly.” But what does this mean? There may indeed be an element of warning against spiritual complacency to all these passages; after all, there are people who, neglecting the relationship they have with God, become very spiritually numb. And this can be a very tragic thing.
But if Jesus pays for our sins on the cross, if indeed we are restored to God not because of what we have done but because of what God has done for us, then doesn’t it seem to be worse than legalistic to be on pins and needles all the time afraid that Jesus may come back mid-week, in-between the general confessions and absolutions offered every Sunday? If we are restored to God the Father by our love of Jesus Christ then doesn’t it seem to be counter-intuitive to be terrified that Jesus will catch us in a momentarily weak moment?
So if we are not being told to be in a constant state of spiritual “red alert” then what is Jesus telling us? Perhaps the best answer is the example that Jesus gives: “It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch.” If an employer goes away on a business trip, he or she expects that his or her employees will carry on as they usually do, running the business in a regular and faithful way, for the benefit of all of them. If the employees are unfaithful and close the business while the boss is away then there is very little trust between them all. With God, it is even more intimate than that. If indeed we are in relationship with him then, of course, we are doing the things that we see him doing, just as Jesus said that he, in his earthly ministry, was simply doing the things he saw his Father doing.
Perhaps being ready is simply faithfully living the Christian life—which, by the way, does actually mean keeping short accounts (by that I mean forgiving others and asking for forgiveness as a regular way of life and loving our neighbors as Jesus has loved us). If we do this then we aren’t necessarily doing it because we’re afraid that Jesus is coming back any minute, and he might find us doing something we shouldn’t. We simply doing the regular work of being a Christian—and that adds up to a life that is ready. When we live that way, keeping short accounts in a natural way so to speak, then our life, at least before God, is not a cover-up. There’s no horrible exposure when Jesus comes back because we’ve been honest with him all along.
There will be things that will be set right, both in our lives and in our societies. And many Christians work to change unjust parts of our society for exactly this reason—they want even our culture and society to be honest even now—because it is God’s way. Think of the broken things in our country, in the way our society functions, in the norms we have gotten used to, or even in our families, in the people we know, or even in ourselves. God’s way is to bring those broken things out of darkness into light, when all things will be revealed. But when all things will be revealed, they will be revealed only within the love of our Lord Jesus Christ. St. Paul promises, “He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” Amen+
On Prayer, a sermon given by The Rev. Jeffrey D. Murph
Isaiah 55:6-11, Psalm 34:15-22, Matthew 6:7-15
Years ago, when I was a young assistant, one of my duties, among many, was working with our parish’s Older Adult Ministry. There was a part-time lay minister who worked with me and, over the course of a few years, I probably knew the older members in that very large parish better than most. Some of these older members, even though they were in their nineties, were very clear of mind and active in body. One in particular, about whom I want to tell you tonight, was from New Orleans. She was 95 and very proper in her language and manners, always perfectly turned out and gracious in every possible way. I always enjoyed her company. She was blessed with a large extended family, who were all members of our parish and so, when the terrible day came, as sometimes happens when she fell suddenly ill, it turned out that her strength was very thin and she ended up in the hospital. When I arrived, she was surrounded by several generations of family, but she was oblivious to them all. She was continually moaning in a strange rhythmical way. I asked, “Has she been doing this long?” And they answered, “All day long. We can’t get a word out of her and she won’t respond to anything or anybody.” I said, “Well, let me just pray for her.” And after telling her I was there, speaking rather loudly through her wailing, and calling her to prayer, it occurred to me that I should pray one she would recognize. So, very loudly, I started, “Our Father,” and immediately, as if a switch had been thrown somewhere in her mind, she stopped her wailing and joined with me through the whole prayer. At the end, she resumed her wailing immediately. Her family, when I looked up from the prayer, stood with their mouths all hanging open. They couldn’t believe that somehow, the Lord’s Prayer had pierced through the layers of her dementia and illness and confusion. The next day, she died peacefully. The family told me that those words of the Lord’s Prayer were the very last ones she had uttered. And they were thankful for that. In fact, they said, “It was a small but precious miracle.” Most Christians, from across the whole world, no matter what their language, country or background, I would venture to say, know this prayer (sure, I know the Presbyterians persist in saying “debts” and the Roman Catholics don’t add the doxology ending-but it’s really the same prayer, of course). There’s a certain irony in this because I do not think that Jesus necessarily intended for the prayer he taught his disciples to be used literally verbatim, but rather as a model or framework for how to pray. Whatever he may have intended, that cat, of course, is now long out of the bag, as the Lord’s Prayer is now one of the two prayers most Christians know (the other being, “Now, I lay me down to sleep”) Yet, for all its importance, Jesus says something at the beginning, before teaching this prayer to his disciples, which is quite remarkable. He says, “for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” God knows what we need even before we begin to open our mouths to pray. In the letter to the Romans, St. Paul says something very similar; he assures us that “the Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words.” God knows so well what we need that his Spirit sometimes can pray through us even when we cannot give articulation ourselves. God knows our hearts and minds so well, he can even pray through us for what we truly need. But this begs the question, “Well, then, if God knows already what we need then why do we need to pray?” Actually, coming from a Jewish and Christian perspective, our approach to prayer is very different from that of many other religions. For example, the Gentiles of Jesus’ day did make long, complicated, formulaic prayers, almost magical in their attempt to placate or win favor from some pagan god or goddess. Prayers of that sort are marked both by uncertainty (will this incantation work?) as well as manipulation. Today, prayer for many folks ranges from the notion of shouting off a cliff in the dim hopes that there may be someone out there listening to the other end of the spectrum where prayer becomes so intimate that it moves beyond words into a delighted sense of standing in God’s very Presence. Most people are probably somewhere in-between. What does the Lord’s Prayer (the one Jesus actually taught us) say about communication with God? Because many people do not know how to pray. First, despite the fact that we sometimes unthinkingly say it as if it were a formula, it is not a set of magic words. It actually has meaning. That may seem a small thing but Jesus is teaching us that the God of all creation wants us to engage him with our language and with our minds. Our God is not one of disorder and irrationality. Secondly, Jesus sets his prayer in the context that God is our Father, a somewhat radical thing to do even in first century Judaism. This establishes a close and loving relationship with God even before we say anything else-this is very different from many of the religions of the world. Thirdly, the whole first half of the prayer is about God, about his rule on earth becoming more like heaven, about his character and being. I don’t know about you, but one temptation in prayer for me is to focus exclusively on myself and my needs, as if God was some combination “dial-a-shrink and sugar-daddy”. So true prayer turns out to be about not only laying our needs and fears before a loving God but also reminding ourselves just who he is. Fourth comes what even non-religious people include in any prayer: the “God HELP me!” part. Even non-believers may get mad and blame God when things go badly them or when they get desperate. But sharing concerns and anxieties is something we do with those whom we love the most. It’s completely natural and appropriate to ask honesty for what we need from a God who loves and cares for us. Fifthly, in Jesus’ framework, is the prayer for forgiveness. Screw-ups for Christians are never eternal and irredeemable. Yet Jesus warns us that there is a condition: if our own hearts are clamped shut with unforgiveness then we cannot be open to receive the forgiveness God has for us. And finally, there is reality of darkness, of evil. Christian MUST take the reality of evil seriously because, otherwise, the cross makes no sense at all. Jesus himself walked straight into that darkness in order to break its power. You and I, as his followers cannot expect to avoid it completely, but we can sure pray to be spared the worst of the wrath of its death throes. But I want to return to the question of what prayer does. “If God does know already what we need then why do we need to pray?” And what about that story I told, where the Lord’s Prayer pierced through confusion and dementia when nothing else could. William Temple commented that perhaps it was coincidence that things happened for which he prayed but that when he stopped he noticed the coincidences lessened as well. As Jesus’ teaching on prayer in this passage from Matthew demonstrates, God clearly desires for us to be in communication with him through prayer. I know that, at least in my own experience, not only do I believe that prayer changes things but I know it definitely changes me. Let share just one example of this. When I was in seminary, there was another student whom I found to be completely insufferable, which had never happened to me before. Nearly every time I had any encounter with him whatsoever, it would end with my blood pressure highly elevated. To my complete horror, I discovered that I had been appointed by the dean to serve on a committee that he was leading. I came back from the first meeting to my room and started throwing things. At that point, I realized that this was a very spiritually unhealthy thing for me. I also realized that Jesus’ command was to pray for him. So, I began praying like this, “Lord, please help this guy to stop being such an arrogant jerk.” And I prayed that prayer, pretty much verbatim, for quite a long time, several months. Quite unexpectedly, I noticed that my prayer had begun to change after time. I found myself praying, “Lord, please help me deal with this arrogant jerk.” It wasn’t much better, perhaps, but the focus was on me rather than him. Finally, after about a year, I discovered that, without me consciously realizing it, God had changed my prayer once again, to, “Lord, please bring healing into this acquaintance.” And the miracle was, he did. We ended up working on another project my senior year very effectively and I never did figure whether it was because he had stopped being such a jerk or whether God had given me a special grace to overlook it or whether perhaps God had healed us both. After all, I had prayed for all three things. Prayer, since it is communication with the living God who created all things, has more power than we tend to ascribe to it. Over the years of my ministry, I have witnessed actual miracles that were the outcome of prayer. Some of them big and some of them very small. And I have come to understand what Isaiah meant in this second song of his we read tonight, “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” There is a limit to our understanding of the working of the Lord, whose ways sometimes are very mysterious. But after all, we are the creatures; he is the creator. And, as Isaiah again reminds us, “My wordgoes forth from my mouth; it will not return to me empty; But it will accomplish that which I have purposed, and prosper in that for which I sent it.” I do sincerely believe, along with that family gathered in the hospital that day, that, just as St. Paul promised in his letter to the Romans, the Holy Spirit gave utterance to that faithful lady to speak one last time the prayer our savior taught us. And that the blessing and answer to that prayer was not just for her but for her whole family. For our precious Lord is one who “will have compassion, andwill richly pardon.” Prayer is a unique privilege and opportunity to communicate with the living God. If, this Lent, you are afraid that you don’t know how to pray (and don’t be ashamed because even the twelve disciples admitted as much), then the framework Jesus taught us in the Lord’s Prayer is a wonderful model to use. As an illustrious former rector of Calvary Church challenged people, it can be a wonderful experiment to conduct. And, after 35 days (which is what we have left in Lent, not including Sundays), examine the results. “My word that goes forth from my mouth; it will not return to me empty; But it will accomplish that which I have purposed, and prosper in that for which I sent it.” Who knows but whether those words may be the most precious comfort that comes in our hour of deepest need. There is nothing better to “kindle our hearts and awaken hope.” Amen
Sermon give on October 30 by Fr. Chips Koehler
ON EAGLES” WINGS Pentecost 20, 2011 Matthew 23:1-12 St Thomas
Learning to fly a glider was a thrilling epiphany, even for an experienced pilot. Cut loose by the tow plane at 5000 feet above the Mojave Desert, east of Los Angeles, the San Gabriel Mountains rose another 4000 feet above us – and the thermal and orographic updrafts along the mountain range would lift us up – keep us flying. I could fly without interruption, so along as I flew smoothly and confidently – I could soar on the naturally occurring winds and lifts. My personal; record – 2 1/4 hours. I was soaring as on “Eagles’ Wings.
I. Making Religion a Burden
In today’s Gospel we see one of the iconic characteristics of the Pharisees; making religion a burden. God gave the Law to Moses, who handed it down to Joshua who transmitted it to the elders who passed it down to the prophets. The prophets rightly revered the Law, often gave their lives to uphold and sustain it – usually to no avail.
With the return to the Promised Land following the Great Exile, c. 500 BC, and the rebuilding of the Temple, the scribes (then later the Pharisees) pledged that their land would never again be lost thru disobedience to the Law; They lived that The Law would be taught - and “lived out” – every “jot and tittle” – in the lives of every devout Jew.
But soon, far from being God’s salvific principles, e.g. The Ten Commandments, and the Shema (love God, and love your neighbor as yourself) – The Law morphed into thousands of rules and regulations which – if seriously enforced constituted an intolerable burden on the people. Far from teaching reverence for God, for God’s creation and God’s people, the Pharisees taught “blind response to an impossible set of demands.
Jesus totally changed that view of the Law. He, of course, wholeheartedly endorsed reverence for God and respect for God’s people – The Ten Commandments. But He despaired at a religion that no longer lifted people up; It had become a deadweight that dragged them down and instilled depression, given the futility of tying to live up to “all the Law;” It haunted people rather than helping them; It required people to bear the Law, rather than the Law lifting them up. The scribes and Pharisees had poisoned the essence of the Prophet Isaiah when he promised, “They will soar on wings like eagle’s.” (Is 40:31)
II. Eagles in a Storm
An eagle knows when a storm is approaching long before it arrives. The eagle will fly to some high spot, gather the brood and wait for the storm to arrive. When the storm hits eagles set their wings before the updrafts which pick them up and lift them above the storm. As the gale rages below, the aerie of eagles soar above it. They do not escape the storm – they use God’s power to lift them higher, and away from danger.
So it is meant to be in the Christian Church. When the storms of life come upon us, the Church – as that wise eagle is to help us to anticipate the storms; prepare in fellowship – and lead (and be led) above the storms; setting our minds on God – and the promises of the Lord Jesus.
Storms need not overcome us; we have the power of God’s Word to lift us – enable us to ride the winds of life – sickness, tragedy, failure and disappointment – to transform trials into soaring flights of hope, and exhilarating joy.
Let me emphasize that “we” in Christianity. It is people who lift others up – not drag them down; it is people who make the Gospel of love and forgiveness a reality in the lives of those who so desperately need love – and forgiveness – to lift up God’s people.
Fr. Michael Joncas (born 1951) is a priest, liturgical theologian, and composer of contemporary Catholic music. He received an MA in Liturgical Studies from the University of Notre Dame in 1978. then went on to study at the Pontifical Liturgical Institute in Rome. He was ordained in 1980, and teaches at the University of Notre Dame, By far Joncas’s most popular song is “On Eagles’ Wings.” Fr. Joncas metaphorically associates the “wings” of his song with God, but also emphasizes that many eagles may be needed – to lead, and to help to lift others in need.
“You need not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day;
though thousands fall about you, near you they will not stay.
For He will raise you up on eagles’ wings,bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun, and hold you in His hand.”( Fr. Michael Joncas, 1979)
The burdens of life can weigh us down, but they can also shape us – it is how we prepare for them; how we handle them when they arrive; it is whether we lift up – and are lifted up – that defines us a Christians. Christians “live to lift” as well as to be lifted. Our mission is to lift up, not hold down; to carry, not be carried; to exalt, not to be exalted; to encourage, not to judge. It is “we” who are “Christ’s lifters” – as well as Christ’s “lifted.”
Two thousand years ago Isaiah promised: “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.” (Is 40:31) To paraphrase, those who live in the Lord will be lifter -so that all of iGod’s people will be lifted to faith, hope and to redemption. Amen.
Sermon given on August 7, 2011, Proper 14, Year A, Pentecost 8, St. Thomas, Oakmont, JDMurph
Some of you may have read about that infamous Pirate baseball game a couple weeks ago, where, after nineteen innings, with a game that went to 2am, the game was lost to Atlanta because of an umpire’s mistaken call. Shortly after the game, the umpire admitted that he had been wrong, of course. It was one of those things that make baseball such a unique game. Baseball is filled with all kinds of variables and, as anyone knows, things can change in just one inning. Perhaps that is why baseball, it seems more than any other sport, is so incredibly rife with superstitions. From tapping the bat on home plate before hitting, to avoiding walking on the foul lines, to refusing to mention a no-hitter while it is in progress to wearing certain clothes and eating certain things, baseball players, and even managers, often put incredible stock in little rituals, hoping that these little rituals will guarantee them a successful game. These little rituals seem to develop up as a means somehow to ensure success. That somehow, if a player conforms himself to a set of seemingly random and unrelated patterns, he can thereby manipulate the fates to smile on his efforts.
It is not, of course, limited to sports. Whether it’s because people are creatures of the routine or whether we simply put half stock in little rituals that are supposed to keep life safer and happier, we might, in the course of everyday life, knock on wood, toss salt over our shoulder, avoid black cats, walk around ladders, clear our calendars on Fridays the Thirteen, all just to be on the safe side. And sometimes, perhaps without realizing what we’re doing, we can conjure in our minds a similar approach in how we relate to God. What I mean is that many Christians might tell you that, if you pray regularly, obey the Bible, go to church, be kind to people, in other words, be a good Christian then your life will go well, that God will favor and protect you in this life. In their minds there’s a quid pro quo: be good and you’ll get good things from God.
In a way, doesn’t that sound a little bit like Elijah’s complaint in today’s first reading. “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” To be honest, Elijah did have grounds for complaint. After all, the evil Queen Jezebel had, just before this reading, sent a message to him saying, “May the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not make your life like that of one of them.” (referring to the dead priests of Baal, who had been slaughtered when they lost their contest with Elijah). And that evil queen had unstintingly persecuted those who worshipped the Lord in her quest to make Israel a nation that worshipped Baal, to the point where even Elijah himself had pretty much been in hiding for over three years. Elijah seemed to be saying to the Lord, “I’ve been faithful, I’ve been good, and yet everybody else who loves you has been killed and now she wants to kill me. What are you doing about it?”
Haven’t many of us been in the same place as Elijah? Haven’t there been times in our own lives when we say, “Lord, I actually still believe in you, I actually go to church and try to be a good Christian. Can’t I get a little consideration here?” Implied in our minds, whether the notion is fully articulated or not, is the underlying idea that we’ve got a bargain with the Lord and we expect at least a few things in return from him. Are there any superstitions we’ve built into our relationship with God? “Lord, I’ll do this with the understanding that you are going to protect me from that”. At least in the case with Elijah, God doesn’t really seem to answer directly his complaints; at least, he doesn’t seem to answer, “why?” But the Lord does say, “”Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.” (an implication that there are at least seven thousand others who have been faithful like Elijah and also an implication that the others will be dealt with). But the Lord doesn’t waste any more time on Elijah’s aggrieved feelings of abandonment or complaint. Instead, he simply gives him work to do, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-Meholah as prophet in your place.” The only concession God gives Elijah perhaps is to recognize that he is tired and so he arranges for him to anoint an apprentice prophet to travel with him and to succeed him.
But wait, there is something more. By telling Elijah to do all these things, God reveals that he is still in control—not Baal, not Jezebel, not the weak and double-minded King Ahab and not even Elijah himself. So how does God deal with us in similar situations? Are there certain things we have to do to manipulate God into doing the things we want him to do?
Look at Peter. He and the other disciples were in trouble in the gospel story today. When I went to Israel fifteen years ago, I saw a replica of the kind of small boats fishermen used and I can assure you, you wouldn’t want to be out in the middle of the Sea of Galilee in the middle of a gale in one. But you know, you don’t have to be on a boat in the middle of battering waves to feel storm-tossed. I talk to people every single week who, I know, are overwhelmed by the incredibly high and disorienting waves everyday life tosses at them, people who are having to deal with difficult things like unemployment, sickness, not having enough money to pay their bills even if they have a job; things like taking care of elderly family members or raising children in a culture that is astonishingly distracting, or dealing with the limitations that advancing age can bring. A lot of people criticize Peter because he didn’t have enough faith to keep walking on top of the water so he began to sink. But I say, at least he got out of the boat. Matthew doesn’t report any of the other disciples taking that chance. Look at the similarities between Elijah and Peter and the apostles. All of them were frightened. They didn’t know what to do. Perhaps they felt a little abandoned by God, after they had been so faithful. Why would God send such a terrifying storm on the very ones who trusted his son, Jesus, enough to go traipsing around the hillsides of Galilee following him? “Lord, save me!” Peter cries. Why would God let Elijah win the contest with the pagan priests of Baal to bring rain to a drought-stricken land if he was going to let Queen Jezebel plot to take his life? “I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” Why won’t God come through to help me when I’ve tried to be a good Christian? This is not always a superstitious question.
Though we do not live a life modeling ourselves, with the help of the Holy Spirit, on the example we have in Christ Jesus because of a superstitious desire to get God to do what we want, still, if we are relationship with him, if he loves us and we love him then, when we are in trouble, will he not help us? “Lord, save me!” Peter called. “I alone am left,” Elijah plaintively pleaded. St. Paul says, “No one who believes in him will be put to shame”… and “everyone who calls on the Name of the Lord shall be saved.” God doesn’t save us because we’ve been good; he saves us because we’re in a relationship with him and he loves us.
Yet what does this salvation mean? Paul certainly had his troubles. In the end, his head was chopped off. And yet, he had no fear because he had a rock solid confidence in God’s love (even though he had been an enemy of Christ Jesus) and of his purpose. What do we have confidence in and what gives us this confidence? Our confidence is in the cross of Jesus. The cross, that we put up on our altar, and that we wear around our necks, and that we put on the top of our churches is the constant reminder that the world can do its absolute worst and yet still God’s power to save is stronger. Jesus was ridiculed, rejected, given a sham trial and put to a painful and shameful death. Yet the Father raised him on the third day. The life he lives and the life we share with him will never die.
God will not be manipulated by superstition or even by a pile of good deeds to do according to our ambitions or private plans. But, just as Jesus “immediately reached out his hand and caught [Peter}, saying to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’”, so he will all who call upon his name. And then, like he did with Peter and with Elijah and also with Paul, he will send us to do the work he knows will be best for us to do. Who knows, he may call us to step out onto the water, at least figuratively. After all, salvation is not about us; it is about our relationship with God. Now do you think Elijah imagined that Jezebel had changed mind about killing him, or do you think Paul thought his status as a trained rabbi and a Roman citizen would protect him from danger or that Peter never had another day of fear? No. No more than a faithful Christian today imagines that baptism will ensure life as a rose garden, with no troubles or sorrows.
But we do not need to live with fear, we do not need to live with anxiety over whether we will have been good enough, we do not need the obsessive attention to any superstitious rite because, as Paul says, “if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” “Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?” Amen+
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