The Great Judgment... In Context

PROPERS:          PROPER 29, YEAR A (Last Sunday after the Epiphany)     

TEXT:                MATTHEW 25:31-46                

PREACHED AT ST. ST. JOHN’S, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The call of the Great Judgement is not to some distant place; it is a call to our current surroundings.        

 

            The gospel passage today – the Great Judgement – is one of the most frequently quoted and most ignored parables in the gospels.

 

+ + + 

 

            Years ago, I sat in the nave of St. Thomas’ Church, Diamondhead, with Bishop Leo Frade, the then-bishop of the Diocese of Honduras.  We were discussing Mississippi’s annual medical mission to the remote village of San Juaquin in the mountains of Honduras.

 

            I asked Bishop Frade how he would describe the importance of that mission.

 

            He thought for a moment.  Then he began with words from the 25^th chapter of Matthew: “As you have done it to the least of these, you have done it to me.” And then he told the story recounted in our gospel lesson today.

 

            The Honduras Medical Mission, which continues to this day, was born, of course, out of the sense of Christian mission that the late Dr. Bob Donald from here at St. John’s felt.  It’s first effort was launched from this very parish.

 

            Each year, thousands of dirt-poor Hondurans receive life-changing medical, dental, and veterinary care from the successors to that first team that was launched by this congregation.  A symbiotic relationship has developed between those of us who are materially-blessed, and the impoverished villagers of the central Honduran mountains.

 

            Because of the sweat-equity and finances committed to that mission, San Juaquin now has electricity, clean water, ongoing medical care, and other necessities for a developed community.  To go on a mission trip there is a life-changing experience.

 

            A great illustration:  Years ago, when I was rector of Church of the Resurrection in Starkville, we sponsored the mission for two years.  Upon returning from Honduras on our first mission, the team leader came to me before Sunday service, having just returned from Honduras. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “David, I have seen the Lord.”

 

            He had had a spiritual epiphany. In the least of these he had encountered Jesus.

 

            I don’t know that I ever heard Dr. Bob express it this way, but as we had done it to the least of these, we had done it to the Lord.

 

+ + + 

 

            But there was another side to it.

 

            The next year, I was talking with a member of the Starkville congregation, a pediatrician, encouraging him to go on the next mission to Honduras.  His care of children could be very helpful in San Juaquin.

 

            I was stunned when he said, “No.” I asked him why.

 

            His response was telling… and gently confronting. “We have thousands of people – children and adults – fifty miles from here who live in abject poverty and need the same things.” He was speaking of the Mississippi Delta, of course. He went on: “Why doesn’t the Diocese of Mississippi have a mission there?”

 

            He was right, of course. I backed off and thought.

 

            The passage we just read, the Great Judgement, isn’t a geography lesson.  It does not say as you have done it to the least of these in another country, you have done it to me. It says, simply, as you have done it to the least of these, you have done it to me. Here, In Jackson County, and in the Mississippi Delta. Wherever there are God’s children. Wherever there is need.

 

            This is not to diminish the wonderful work the Diocese of Mississippi and the successors to Dr. Bob Donald have done in Honduras.  The work there has been remarkable.  The results have been amazing.  Lives have been transformed. And it all came to be from this parish, and your sense of mission.  You have done other things since.

 

            We should not beat our breasts over our limits and inability to respond. We grow in an openness to the mandates of Jesus’ teaching.  But we should remain open.

 

            We need to remember that the work is never done.  It is a different take on Jesus’ saying, “The harvest in plentiful, but the laborers are few.”  There are ongoing needs at our doors, and the Great Judgement calls to us.

 

            It is up to us to answer. 

Entrusted With Treasure

PROPERS:          PROPER 28, YEAR A  

TEXT:                MATTHEW 25:14-30                

PREACHED AT ST. AUGUSTINE’S, NAVARRE BEACH, ON SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        We are entrusted with much; we are called to increase that which we are given.

 

            On Thursday evening, December 3, 1987, I stood before the Bishop of Mississippi at Trinity Church, Pass Christian, Mississippi.  I was taking my vows to be ordained as a priest in the Episcopal Church.

 

            Bishop Duncan Gray, Jr., was an imposing figure to me.  Even though he was not a big man, he was larger than life to me.  His courage over the years had made him iconic to many Mississippians. He was deadly serious as he ordained me.

 

            Midway through the liturgy, after I had taken my vows and he had laid hands on me, he gave me a Bible and said these words:

 

Receive this Bible as a sign of the authority given you to preach the Word of God and to administer his holy Sacraments. Do not forget the trust committed to you as a priest of the Church of God.

 

         For the past 36 years, I have been mindful of those words – especially the trust I had been given. Through my years as curate, as vicar, as rector, and finally, as Canon to the Ordinary, I was mindful of that trust.

 

            How that looks in the rearview mirror of eternity, I do not know.

 

+ + + 

 

            In the gospel lesson today, Jesus tells us of a man going on a journey. The man is wealthy, and he decides to entrust his riches to three of his slaves. One gets five talents. One gets two talents. And one gets one talent.

 

            There is some disagreement today about the value of a talent – a measure of wealth in biblical times. Some experts say a talent was equivalent 20 years’ wages.  Others place the value of a single talent between $1,000 and $30,000.  Whatever – those talents were worth a lot.

 

            The three men, entrusted with the man’s riches, did different things.  The first, given five talents, wisely invested them.  The second did likewise.  The third man buried the talent in the ground for safekeeping. 

 

            This parable is not about investment strategy, it is about trust… and what we do with that entrusted to us.

 

            The man in the parable returned home… and asked for those riches he had given to each of the slaves.  The one given five returned 10, and he was rewarded.  The one given two returned four, and he was rewarded.  However, the one entrusted with one talent had literally hidden his under a rock and returned only that single talent. He was castigated and cast out of the household.

 

            Jesus adds a curious teaching: “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” 

            What does this mean?

 

            Personally, I think it has to do with what I call spiritual compound interest.  Each of us has been entrusted with much.  I do not need to detail all those blessings here.  If you cannot discern those blessings, this sermon will not help.

 

            But if you see those blessings, know those blessings, embrace those blessings. And nurture those blessings, you will be like the very wise servants and will know more of the divine trust.

 

            But the message on the other hand, is that if you deny those blessings, ignore those blessings, and hide those blessings, they seem to disappear, as if they are not there at all.  They do not grow and multiply. They seem lost to us.

 

            It is like the issue to trust, the more we nurture and care for it, the more it grows and yields fruit.  The more we deny it, it atrophies and dissipates.

  

Good News AND Bad News

PROPERS:          PROPER 25, YEAR A  

TEXT:                MATTHEW 22:34-36

PREACHED AT HOLY TRINITY, PENSACOLA, ON SUNDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The good news is that the expectations of God are quite generous; the bad news is that they are seldom met by anyone.    

 

            What do Episcopalians have to learn from Southern Baptists?

 

            In my case, a lot.

 

+ + + 

 

            I recently heard a podcast featuring an interview with Dr. Russell Moore.  He is the recently resigned president of the Southern Baptist Church’s Ethic and Religious Liberty Commission.  He is 52 years old, lives in Nashville, Tennessee, and is a native of Biloxi, Mississippi, just down the coast.

 

            He is one of the most respected evangelicals on the modern scene. He has recently taken up the post of editor of Christianity Today.

 

            Normally, I wouldn’t pay much attention to a Baptist – a Southern evangelical.  But, considering his journey, I wanted to hear what he had to say.

 

            And it was well worth the time.

 

+ + + 

 

            He had much to say, much more than I can cover here. But his basic approach to preaching cast some light on the art and practice of Christian proclamation.

 

            First, he said, you have to recognize that there is some good news and bad news.  The bad news is that everyone is sinful and is in need of God.  Everyone.  Not just a few of us, but everyone.

 

            The good news is the gospel.  Each and every one of us is free to receive the gift of God’s love that is present in the life, ministry, and message of Jesus Christ.

 

            I thought about that.  Two things occurred to me.

 

            First, I realized that most of the sermons I have heard from evangelical preachers in the past have fulfilled the good news/bad news components of Dr. Moore’s approach.  However, most have delivered the bad news with a sledgehammer.

 

            That doesn’t work. That approach reflects the philosophy my father once described to me: “Beatings will continue until morale improves.”

 

            The second thing I realized was that most of the sermons I have heard in the Episcopal Church, and the bulk of my own sermons, have emphasized the “good news” portion of Dr. Moore’s approach.  Unless we know we need the good news – by the pointing toward the bad news – we are unlikely to accept the gift. Few of us are motivated by an unwanted gift.

 

            The challenge is the balance between the two and how the need for the good news is presented.

 

            So, let us turn toward the gospel and see what it has to say.

 

+ + + 

            In today’s case, it is good news-bad news-good news.

 

            The Pharisees have come to Jesus, after he had confounded the Sadducees about taxes being paid to Caesar. They had a question which was certain to confound the young rabbi.

 

            “Teacher, which commandment of the Law is the greatest?”

 

            This was a question grounded in thousands of years – and thousands of pages of the Law, as recorded in sacred writings.  How would Jesus choose?

 

            Jesus paused, and then he spoke: “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

 

            Rabbi Hillel, a noted Jewish sage and contemporary of Jesus answered essentially the same question with these words: “What is hateful to you, do not do to another.”

 

            So, there was the good news.  God’s expectations of us can be summarized quite easily.  We heard them in the Summary of the Law earlier today. As Jesus notes elsewhere, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

 

            So much for the good news. There it is. 

 

Now for the bad news. None of us can consistently meet that standard. That is the nature of the human condition. We fall short of even that low requirement. All of us are broken.  All of us fall short.  As Paul writes in his Letter to the Romans: “Wretched that I am! Who will save me from this body of death?”

 

            If the greatest Christian missionary expressed that angst, how could we expect to be different?  The fact is that the person that we love least or despise most – regardless of what that person has done – calls our standing before the Law into question.

 

+ + + 

 

            Now for the real good news – the ultimate good news.  It is the good news that Russell Moore referred to. It answers the question Paul had posed: “Who will save me from this body of death?”

 

            As a gift of the gospel, each of us overcomes our human limitations, our human condition, our flawed and broken nature, by virtue of the grace of God in the person of Jesus Christ.

 

            Nor matter our limitations… regardless of what we have done, thought, or said… we are recipients of the eternal gift which molds us into children of God.

 

            That truth is the good news which overcomes any bad news. 

Found Difficult and Not Tried

PROPERS:          PROPER 24, YEAR A  

TEXT:                MATTHEW 22:15 - 22

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, OCTOBER 22, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The essential theme of the Gospel is a radically different life from the reality the world chooses today.

 

            This week has been a yo-yo for sermon writing.

 

            I had originally planned to suggest that this gospel lesson would have been better placed around April 15.  And I wanted to mention that what the Pharisees were looking for was a one-armed economist like Harry Truman was seeking – someone who could not say “on the other hand.”

 

            But it was not to be. Events intervened.  And they cried out for the light of the gospel.

 

            It is safe to say that Jesus lived in a difficult time. His tiny nation – Israel – had been dominated by stronger foreign powers for centuries. At one point, it was the Babylonians. Later, it was the Greeks. And then came the Romans.

 

            The Babylonians and Romans laid waste to the holy city of Jerusalem, razing it to the ground, with blood running in the streets.  The Greeks committed religious abominations which prompted an uprising of the people.

 

            Jesus preached a radically different way of life. But as transformative as it was… as much as it has touched lives in the last 2,000 years… it did not change his part of the world. We continue to recreate earlier events.

 

            New York Times columnist Tom Friedman wrote a column this week that mentioned the craziness of that part of the world. He retold the story behind the Syrian use of Hamas Rules.  Hamas Rules was grounded in a 1982 rebellion against Syrian president Hafez al-Assad. The rebellion began in the Syrian town of Hama. When Assad took revenge – on his own people – he destroyed the town, killed 20,000 people, and then bulldozed the town as flat as the surrounding desert.

 

            Today’s Middle East is not that different.  And it was not different in Jesus’ day. Despite what Jesus taught and lived, it is still eye for an eye, or worse. It is a world of violence and recriminations.  It is like Hitler’s quest for German living space – lebensraum -- which prompted his attack on Poland in 1939.

 

            Mahatma Gandhi once said that if the world lives according to an eye for an eye,” the entire world will be blind.”

 

We live in a broken world, as events in Israel in the last two weeks have shown us.  And despite the example of Jesus, we are not getting better.

 

            The example of Jesus is seen in his life and death. Instead of rebelling or leading an insurrection, he walked to the cross.  He was true to his word, and he gave himself freely.

 

            Down the through the centuries, we have seen those who took him at his word. The thousands of martyrs in ancient days, such as Justin Martyr, Ignatius of Antioch, Stephen, Polycarp of Smyrna, and Cyprian.

 

            More recently, we have the examples of Janani Luwum of Uganda, Oscar Romero of El Salvador, and Martin Luther King of the United States.  All sought right and truth without resorting to violence.

 

            In our lifetime, we’ve even seen others – such as Gandhi – take up non-violence and suffering as their chosen path.

 

            What do we say to a world that is ruled by might and by violence? As the trite saying goes, “What would Jesus do?” We seldom answer that question with accuracy.

 

            To be sure, there are times we must act against the principals of Jesus. Sometimes the evil on the other side is too great.  But it should always be viewed as a tragedy – as an example of seeking to right a broken world.

 

Jesus’ response was to go to the cross. His early followers did not rebel. They took up their crosses and followed him.

 

            Our three-year lectionary, from all four gospels, gives us good snapshots of gospel scenes. But with the exception of late Lent and Holy Week we do not see the main thrust of Jesus’ teaching – the role of righteous suffering; of turning the other cheek.

 

            G. K. Chesterton said, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting.  It has been found difficult and left untried.”

 

            How do we resolve this morass in which our world finds itself?  I do not know.  But this is a world of sin, just like Jesus’ day, and the light of the gospel shines in the darkness. 

The Ground of Being

 PROPERS:          PROPER 12, YEAR A  

TEXT:                MATTHEW 13:31-33,44-52

PREACHED AT HOLY TRINITY, PENSACOLA, ON SUNDAY, JULY 30, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The value of the Kingdom goes beyond our human attachments; it is to be viewed as the “ground of being.”

 

One of the major points of wrestling for me in my faith development has been the concept of loving God above all things.

 

With our human attachments, how is that possible?

 

How do we find greater value in our faith than we do the love of family members? How do we place a higher level of importance on something so ephemeral – greater than our homes, our livelihoods, our financial security?

 

To refer to a recent passage from our lectionary, I wonder how we are to love God more than our mother, our father, our sisters, and brothers.  I ponder how we are to continue our journey of faith when we are called to “let the dead bury the dead”.

 

There is an old story about a seeker coming to an old wise man, saying, “I want to know God.” The old man took the young man to a lake, where it was assumed the young man would be baptized.  The old man pushed the young man’s head under water and held it there. And held it. And held it.

 

The young man struggled and fought, seeking to come out of the water and breathe again.  When he finally broke loose, he erupted out of the water and yelled at the old man: “What are you trying to do?”

 

The old man responded: “When your thirst for God is as strong as your yearning for air to breathe, you will find him.”

 

I wonder how many of us have the same thirst.

 

There are many allegiances which take priority for us. These days, it seems to be politics as the primary identifier. Station in life or society is another. One’s own race or nationality is also high on the list.  Financial security is important, too. Our cherished relationships to loved ones claims a top spot.

 

All these fade in comparison to Jesus’ call for commitment to the kingdom.  It is not subtle – it is there throughout the gospels. Sacrificing one’s earthly loyalties – to the point of taking up a cross and following Jesus – is the repeated call of the gospel.

 

Jesus tells us five small parables today – the parables of the mustard seed, the yeast, the treasure in the field, the pearl of great value, and cast net.

 

They tell us of the expansiveness of faith.  The mustard seed goes from a tiny seed to a great shrub.  The small measure of yeast leavens the whole batch of flour.

 

They tell us of its tremendous value.  The treasure hidden in the field. The precious pearl.

 

They tell us of the breadth of God’s kingdom. The cast net which gathers fish of every kind, for sorting to be done by the one who threw the net.

 

The gospel – like our faith – is layered.  With the kingdom, there is a generous gift of grace.  There is also expectation.  But, underlying it all is the call for the primacy of our commitment to the kingdom.  It calls us to the highest level of loyalty – forsaking all others concerns.

 

I wrestle with that. Perhaps you do, too.  I love my family (especially my wife and grandchildren!) I value my home – and these days, especially air conditioning. I treasure my freedom and this country – though I am troubled by the political tension. I am incredibly thankful for financial security.  My ordination and vocation as a priest these last 36 years have been a source of pride – and is of inestimable value. My health, within reason, means much to me.

 

And I haven’t even mentioned our dogs!

 

How does faith take primacy over all these? I wonder. Maybe you do, too.

 

I turn to theology – actually, a formative theologian for me:  Paul Tillich.

 

Paul Tillich was like many great many 20^th century theologians: a German, who came to the United States, faced with the threats of Hitler’s regime.  His systematic theology is dense and is included in a three-volume series (much less than Karl Barth’s 31 volumes, and less than John Calvin’s four books).  His theology is hard to understand – until you uncover its essence.

 

That essence comes clear in his sermons – crystal-clear distillations of his theology.  He writes of God being our ground of being.  That means that our relationship with God is on a different level – it is at the very core of our being.  It is over, under, around, and through our lives.  It is primary to our being, and everything else pales in comparison.

 

There are many ways I can describe myself – priest, husband, father, grandfather, male, American, among others.  But the primary characteristic I claim is child of God. Despite all my other loyalties, I belong to the ground of being.is also expectation.  But, underlying it all is the call for the primacy of our commitment to the kingdom.  It calls us to the highest level of loyalty – forsaking all others concerns.

 

I wrestle with that. Perhaps you do, too.  I love my family (especially my wife and grandchildren!) I value my home – and these days, especially air conditioning. I treasure my freedom and this country – though I am troubled by the political tension. I am incredibly thankful for financial security.  My ordination and vocation as a priest these last 36 years have been a source of pride – and is of inestimable value. My health, within reason, means much to me.

 

And I haven’t even mentioned our dogs!

 

How does faith take primacy over all these? I wonder. Maybe you do, too.

 

I turn to theology – actually, a formative theologian for me:  Paul Tillich.

 

Paul Tillich was like many great many 20^th century theologians: a German, who came to the United States, faced with the threats of Hitler’s regime.  His systematic theology is dense and is included in a three-volume series (much less than Karl Barth’s 31 volumes, and less than John Calvin’s four books).  His theology is hard to understand – until you uncover its essence.

 

That essence comes clear in his sermons – crystal-clear distillations of his theology.  He writes of God being our ground of being.  That means that our relationship with God is on a different level – it is at the very core of our being.  It is over, under, around, and through our lives.  It is primary to our being, and everything else pales in comparison.

 

There are many ways I can describe myself – priest, husband, father, grandfather, male, American, among others.  But the primary characteristic I claim is child of God. Despite all my other loyalties, I belong to the ground of being.

A Transcendent Hope

PROPERS:          PROPER 9, YEAR A    

TEXT:                ROMANS 7:15-25a

PREACHED AT ST. JOHN’S, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, JULY 9, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Paul’s message in Romans is clear: The Gospel is for all; cleanses all the past; and is a message of hope.

            

It is an utter delight to close my time with you with the second lesson today.

 

For the next two months, your second lesson each Sunday will be from the sixth book of the New Testament – Paul’s Letter to the Romans.

 

In my opinion, Paul’s Letter to the Romans is the high point of Christian scripture. The well-known Anglican Bishop, N. T. Wright, compares it to the highest mountain, unmatched by any, providing an expansive view of God’s realm.

 

Profound Christian figures have been inspired by this letter. Augustine, Martin Luther, Karl Barth and others have been touched by the Letter to the Romans.

 

The 15 chapters of this letter provide a magnificent overview of Paul’s theology. And Paul, as you may know, was not a simple thinker or apologist.  He was a very bright, very well-educated Greek Jew.  Before his conversion on the road to Damascus he was viewed as a Pharisee’s Pharisee – a peer to his contemporary Gamaliel. 

 

Paul, as you know, was originally named Saul.  He experienced conversion to Christianity just a few years after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection.  After taking some time to marinate in Christian theology, he embarked on three missionary journeys.  It was during that time that he wrote his various letters to churches around the Mediterranean. 

 

It was on his third missionary journey that he wrote his Letter to the Romans. He was in Corinth and the year was in the early sixth decade of the first Christian century.

 

Since I will not be with you for the coming lessons, I want to highlight the key themes of the next several passages.

 

Today, Paul is addressing something we are all familiar with – the human condition.  It is the fact that each of us, despite our best intentions, will sometimes do those things we would not do. It is an integral part of human nature, and we cannot help ourselves. He labels that tendency as sin.

 

In a plaintive cry, Paul writes, “Wretched man that I am! Who will save me from this body of death?” In other words, how can the gulf between the broken human condition and the divine nature of God be overcome?

 

Paul answers his own question: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” In other words, that gulf between human nature and the divine is spanned by the gift of Jesus.

Paul is writing to the Church in Rome.  He knows that it is a mixture of people and groups.  Some are Jews, who have faithfully attempted to follow the Law. Others were gentiles, who had no regard for the Law.

 

Paul sees them as one and the same. All are under God’s grace and mercy – recipients of the divine gift of justification – being made right with God.  He had made this clear in his earlier Letter to the Galatians: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free.”

 

Paul is making his point by this letter – the gift of justification is for all people.

 

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, is what I consider the high point of the New Testament: Paul’s assurance of hope. Keep in mind this is the same man who has been shipwrecked, imprisoned, beaten, and scorned.  Yet, he sees hope.

 

He recalls all that he has experienced, and he anticipates martyrdom to come. But he writes these words: in all these things we are more than victorious through him who loved us. “^8:38 For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, ³⁹ nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

 

This is Good News for all of us.  If Paul can look on his life – the ups and downs, the highs and lows, his life as Pharisee and his life as a Christian missionary – and see himself embraced in the God of love, we should do the same.

 

            Paul wrote this remarkable letter nearly 2,000 years ago, to a people he had not yet met. It speaks clearly to us today. 

On This Rock

PROPERS:          PROPER 8, YEAR A    

TEXT:                GENESIS 22:1-14

PREACHED AT ST. JOHN’S, PASCAGOULA, ON SUNDAY, JULY 2, 2023.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The bracing story of the near sacrifice of Isaac is an indication of the expansive understanding of God’s movement in the world.   

 

            The first lesson from Genesis is one of the most startling stories in all of scripture.  Something of this sort would likely get a book banned two states over.

 

            This is the well-known story of the near sacrifice of the boy Isaac by his father Abraham. Keep in mind that Abraham and his wife Sarah have longed for an heir.  He had a son from a household slave, Hagar, but that child, Ishmael, and his mother had been banished to the wilderness.

 

            Isaac was Abraham sole hope for continuation of his lineage.

 

            And now he perceived a call to sacrifice his only son.

 

            It is potentially a tragic story.

 

+ + + 

 

            A little historical setting and context might be helpful.

 

            Tradition holds that the place of the near sacrifice is modern-day Jerusalem.  In fact, it said to be the massive stone under the Islamic holy site, the Dome of the Rock. The rock is there, to be seen and touched today.

 

            This then-unpopulated land was known as Moriah. Ancient people saw high ground as holy sites, and that was the case with Moriah.  In the days before Abraham – more than 4,000 years ago -- various pagan groups worshipped in this area.

 

            Nearby this site, only a few hundred yards away, lies a valley, known as the Hinnom Valley, or Gehenna.  In the days before Abraham, various pagan religions would use this valley as a place to sacrifice children to their gods, such as Ba’al and Molech.

 

            Later, this valley would become a garbage dump for the growing town known as Jerusalem.  It was this valley and this burning garbage dump that Jesus would use as his word for hell.  It is also said to be the place in which Judas Iscariot chose to commit suicide after he betrayed Jesus.

 

            So, what does all this mean?

 

+ + + 

 

            Abraham had chosen well for the place to offer his son as a burnt offering.  Such child sacrifices had taken place there for many years.

 

            But this story ends with a different twist.  Once Abraham had bound Isaac, placed him on the rock, and lifted his blade to slay him, he hears another call: “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.”

 

            The word was out.  In the old saying, “There was a new sheriff in town.” The mold had been broken.  This desert God Abraham had encountered did not demand the sacrifice of children.  It may seem to be an obvious point to us today, but in that day, it was radically different.

 

+ + + 

 

            Of course, many years later the story would take on a different meaning with rich resonances for Christians.  We would see the crucifixion of Jesus as God’s sacrifice of his own son.  But that would come 2,000 years later.

 

            Today we acknowledge that gift, and we also see the message offered in the aborted sacrifice of Isaac.  We see the origins of the divine trajectory of God overcoming established patterns of human actions and previous understandings of God’s relationship to humankind.

 

            We now proclaim a God of love; a God who beckons to each of us and is eager to overcome the gulf which separates the human and divine realms.  We know not only that child sacrifice is not expected, we hear our Lord’s words, “Let the little children come to me, and forbid them not. For to such the Kingdom of God belongs.”

 

            The continuing movement of God in our midst opens our eyes of faith again and again.  Day-by-day, we understand God anew, though God never changes.  Our ability to see and understand him does, though.

 

            It leads us to why we are here today. We are not here for unrequited sacrifice, but to celebrate the love which is manifest to each of us in this sacrament.  We celebrate the copious gifts of forgiveness and love that overflow anyexpectation we might have.

 

            Each of us can look back on our lives and say: I have been forgiven for all that I have done; my past is past – it is gone; the hurts that I have caused are no more; the ways I have betrayed those I love are wiped clean; behold, I am a new being with a new life.

 

            As the old hymn says, “On Christ the solid rock I stand.” Not on the old rock on which Isaac would have been sacrificed.