Month: October 2016

All-Saints C: Blessedness Incarnate

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Rainbow_1574OLD TESTAMENT:  Daniel 7: 1-3, 15-18

Read the passage from the Book of Daniel

The Book of Daniel is believed by most scholars to be the most recently authored Old Testament book (probably 167-164 bce).  The dating is pretty reliable because it has so many references to specific historical events.  The time was one of intense suffering for the Jewish people under Antiochus IV Epiphanes, who attempted to eradicate Judaism and replace it with purely Greek practices.  He eventually committed the “Abomination of Desolation” by sacrificing a pig on the altar at the Temple in Jerusalem.  He was eventually driven out of Judea by the Maccabees, a period that is celebrated by the festival of Hanukah.

The Book of Daniel is set during the time of Antiochus IV and the persecution of the Jewish people and the message essentially is one of hope and belief that this time of crisis will pass, the forces of evil will be overthrown, and God’s kingdom will be established once and for all.  When all this occurs, the righteous will triumph.

In Chapter 7, where our reading is, there is a shift from the King’s dream to Daniel’s dream and this is sometimes looked upon as the heart or center of the entire book.  It recounts a dream of deliverance, which are usually associated with situations of negative political rule, such as the rule of Belshazaar.  Dreams are images of what could be, an act of faith that looks past the world around us.  It is interesting to note here that apparently Daniel is not only capable of interpreting others’ dreams but also his own.

Some scholars suggest that this is the first event in the series that follows, implying that the four winds of heaven are actually the catalyst that brings forth the beasts from the deep and that God initiates that action.  There is no indication that the beasts rise at God’s request, but are simply part of the chaos that ensues.

The sea is a symbol of chaos and the four beasts represent the different world empires that have conquered the Jewish people and other nations.  (Perhaps, the Babylonians, the Medes, the Persians, and the Greeks.)  The ten horns on the fourth beast symbolize the rulers of the Greek empire or provinces and the “little horn” (verse 8) is probably Antiochus himself.

Verse 15-18 is actually a summary of the whole vision that is told in more detail throughout Chapter 7.  Daniel is, of course, confused by his own dream and seeks an interpreter, where he gets a summary of the whole vision:  The worldly powers will arise but God will conquer them all and God’s kingdom will be everlasting.  In essence, the “saints of the Most High”, as many translations read, will eventually emerge victorious and the evil forces threatening Israel will be destroyed.  The conflict and its results are certain.  This promise of the victory of the saints is probably the reason the passage was selected as the first reading for this All Saints Day.

The crucial thing to remember when reading apocalyptic literature is that it is not a prediction about the future but an interpretation of present events written in coded language, which, obviously, would have made more sense in the context in which it was written.  You have to remember that studies of eschatology, or “last things”, for Judaism referred to the coming of the Messiah.  Christianity, on the other hand, sees it as something that has begun but has not yet come to completion.

In an essay entitled “Waltzing with the God of Chaos”, Barbara Brown Taylor writes:

 

Where is God in this picture?  God is all over the place.  God is up there, down here, inside my skin and out.  God is the web, the energy, the space, the light—not captured in them, as if any of those concepts were more real than what unites them—but revealed in that singular and vast net of relationship that animates everything that is.  God is the web, the connection, the glue, the air between the molecules…

            As for God’s plan?  You know, whether God has a file I can break into and find out what I should be doing ten years from now?  The more I learn about chaos theory, the more I favor the concept of life with God as a dance instead of a blueprint.  God makes a move, humankind makes a move, then humankind makes a move based on God’s move…

            In a lot of ways, to read science is to be tempted to become a deist—to believe in a clock-maker God who sets things in motion and wishes the creatures luck.  But I’m a Christian, which means I’m schooled in paradox.  I’m schooled in the opposite of any truth being another great truth.  And so I live in the paradox of this God who seems to have set things in motion and yet is still involved.  There’s some evidence that things are random to a point, and yet, I have experience of some spirit that seems to direct my feet at times.  So I’m stuck with both of these, and I’ve somehow got to live into the paradox of that.  They may not fit together, but I’m stuck with the two. (From “Waltzing With the God of Chaos”, by Barbara Brown Taylor, in The Life of Meaning:  Reflections on Faith, Doubt, and Repairing the World, p. 47-50.)

 

  1. So what, then, does this have to do with us?
  2. What does this speak to you about God’s actions?
  3. What image of God does this reading leave for you?

 

           

NEW TESTAMENT:  Ephesians 1: 11-23

Read the passage from Ephesians

Most scholars agree that Ephesians is considered what you could call a “Deutero-Pauline” work, implying that it is “second” or “secondary”.  (This would also refer to 2 Thessalonians and Colossians).  These letters were probably written in the 70’s or 80’s.  Paul more than likely died around 60, sometime around Nero’s reign.  So, rather than being written by Paul himself, Ephesians was more than likely written by a follower of Paul, using the format and even the style that Paul employed in his letters.  This is not plagiarism.  In that society, placing someone else’s name on a work was considered the highest form of compliment.

The main purpose of Ephesians, probably written to a Gentile audience, seems to be to remind the believers of their communal identity in their new status in Christ and to urge them to walk in ways that demonstrate this communal identity and unity.  (When you think of it, this idea of “community” would probably have been more difficult for Gentiles to grasp than for the Jews of that time, who had a sense of community embedded in their very being.)  The church here is understood as a Body of Christ that is exalted, which resonates with our understanding of the community of saints here and forever.

It is important to remember that in the New Testament, “saints” refers to all the people of God, rather than the later understanding of it as specific individuals of invincible faith and heroic nature.  Saints are all believers who have been called and have been sanctified, or made holy, in their new relationship with God.  In verse 11, the term “obtain an inheritance” echoes Israel’s destiny to be God’s “lot” or heritage.  Ephesians makes the risen Christ their basis for obtaining this inheritance.  In verse 18, “the riches of the glorious inheritance of the saints” refers to that inheritance that is extended through Christ who God raised from the dead, caused to sit in “heavenly places”, and gave authority over all things.  The reading closes with a reference to the church as the Body of Christ that is triumphant in all things, the point of eschatological fulfillment.  In other words, the Body of Christ is us.

 

  1. What message does this reading hold for you?
  2. What sense of connection to those that have gone before does this give you?
  3. What does it mean for you to have this “inheritance”?

 

 

GOSPEL:  Luke 6: 20-31

Read the passage from The Gospel According to Luke

Traditionally, the All Saints gospel has been the Beatitudes found in Matthew.  But since we are in Year C of the Lectionary, the Lucan version is the gospel of choice for the year.  There are several differences in the two versions:  In Matthew (the more familiar one), there are nine beatitudes; in Luke, there are four. The Matthean beatitudes are spoken from a mountain, probably since, as one writing to the Jewish community, this would depict that it was something important.  (Reminiscent of Moses on Mt. Sinai.)  The version told by the writer of Luke is spoken from a “level place” (sometimes called the Sermon on the Plain).  For Luke, this seems to identify Jesus with the people.  In essence, it gives the impression and sense of Jesus no longer elevated above us but standing here with us.  Matthew’s beatitudes are spoken to a “crowd”.  When Jesus speaks in the Lucan version, he speaks specifically to his disciples, to those who are professing to follow him.  What follows is the standard for which every disciple should strive.  (“You”)

For me, this is very powerful because he’s showing us exactly what to do.  It leaves us no room to morally judge others.  He really wants us to listen to him.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer said this:  Humanly speaking, we could understand and interpret the Sermon on the Mount in a thousand different ways.  Jesus knows only one possibility:  simple surrender and obedience, not interpreting it or applying it, but doing and obeying it.  That is the only way to hear his word.  He does not mean that it is to be discussed as an ideal; he really means us to get on with it.

Matthew’s beatitudes have no corresponding “woes”.  But in Luke, there are four “woes” that correspond to four “blessings”.  The main focus of both versions is not the individual petitions but, rather, a glimpse of what the Kingdom of God should be like.  Essentially, the Kingdom of God will bring about a reversal of fortunes.

In first century society, poverty was not just a plight, but a social shame.  These people were believed to have done something wrong in the eyes of God and were shunned and depicted as “dirty” and “unacceptable”.  Jesus reverses that social order.  The first beatitude describes a way of life, and we, who are not poor—not really—often run to Matthew for relief.  Because we are not poor, this beatitude either mystifies us or leaves us feeling guilty rather than joy.  I’m not sure that we should get so wrapped up in the specific language.  For me, it’s a matter of humility, of emptying our lives and opening them to God’s vision of what the world should be.

Once again, it’s about paradox.  We read it and we think we have it figured out.  In this world, “blessed” often means having wealth, or security, or ease of life.  It often means that things are going well.  But “blessedness” for Christ has nothing to do with the quality of this life at all.  It is about being one with God and one with others.  Perhaps being Christian, itself, is about being paradox, about looking at the world in a different way and being open to seeing things one has never seen before.

Does it make more sense like this?:

 

“Blessed are the poor for they already know that God is all they need and are open to receive what God offers; blessed are the hungry for they know where to look for sustenance and they are thankful for small but glorious abundance; blessed are those who weep for they know where to look for comfort and they know how to comfort others; and blessed are those who are hated or excluded or shunned for they truly know what it means to be Christian and to reach out in love.”

 

I’m sure you remember all of the accounts and the press coverage of the 2006 shooting in the Amish schoolhouse in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania.  After the community lost five young girls and had five more that were seriously wounded at the hand of a shooter, the world expected the usual—grief, anger, vengeance, and, most of all, justice.  And while the rest of the country, prompted by the press, responded with shock and anger, the Amish community responded with graciousness, patience, and love.  Instead of being consumed with revenge, this community lavished forgiveness on the killer’s widow, her parents, and the killer’s parents.  In subsequent interviews, the Amish community made it clear that it was not a mandate from their church; it was an expression of their faith.  In their understanding, they could only receive what they could give, for that was the only way that they could grasp what they had been given.  In her column in the “National Catholic Reporter”, Sister Joan Chittister suggested that “it was the Christianity we all profess but which the Amish practiced that left us all stunned.”  She concluded that the Nickel Mines Amish surprised our world the same way the earliest Christians astounded the Roman world:  “simply by being Christian”.

“Being Christian”—perhaps that in and of itself is a paradox.  Perhaps rather than being good, we’re meant to be faithful; rather than being godly, we’re meant to show people who God is; and rather than making sure that the world is filled with justice, perhaps we’re meant to fill it with love, and grace, and hope, and forgiveness, and a vision of something that it’s never seen before.

 

  1. What message does this reading hold for you?
  2. Why is this a difficult passage for us?
  3. In these terms, what does it mean to be “Christian”?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

The future belongs to those who give the next generation reason for hope. (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin)

 

The saints are those who, in some partial way, embody—literally incarnate—the challenge of faith in their time and place.  In doing so, they open a path that others might follow.  (Robert Ellsberg)

 

The past takes us forward.  (Diana Butler Bass) 

 

 

Closing

Think about those who we have lost this year and who we would like to remember.  Think about those with whom you journey.  Think about your own journey.

 

For those who walked with us, this is a prayer.

For those who have gone ahead, this is a blessing.

For those who touched and tended us, who lingered with us while they lived, this is a thanksgiving.

For those who journey still with us in the shadows of awareness, in the crevices of memory, in the landscape of our dreams, this is a benediction. (“Feast of All Saints Prayer” from In Wisdom’s Path, by Jan L. Richardson, p. 124)

 

 

Proper 26C: The Redemption of the Tree-climbers

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zacchaeus-joel-whitehead
“Zacchaeus” (Joel Whitehead)

OLD TESTAMENT:  Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-3

Read the passage from Habakkuk

Most scholars agree that it is difficult to date the writings of the prophet known as Habakkuk.  There are references in it to times preceding the Babylonian exile, so it is possible that it may be a few decades before the invasion of Judah.  The portion of Habakkuk set down for today is part of a dramatic dialogue between God and the prophet. Although the writing is really remarkable, it is sort of hard to read.  Habakkuk laments the amount of protracted wickedness in the land. The wicked continually oppress the just, and there is neither law nor justice in Judah. The despairing Habakkuk asks God how much longer the wicked will prosper. God’s reply is decisive, if shocking. In order to punish the wicked of Judah, God is raising up the military might of the Babylonians. The idea of God’s use of foreign invading armies as punishment of the wicked for their sins is classic Hebrew thought from the period. (It’s the “do bad, get bad” formula that is so prevalent in the early Scriptures.) The rest of Habakkuk 1 contains a description of the atrocities committed by the Babylonians on the people of Judah.

The second part of the reading has the prophet objecting strenuously to God regarding the treatment of the Judeans. He elects to ‘stand at my watchpost’ until he receives God’s response. God’s answer comes in the form of a short oracle, which Habakkuk is ordered to write down. It is to be written clearly, and apparently in large characters, so that ‘a runner may read it’ – a messenger in a hurry running by can still read it and understand it!

The oracle itself is preceded by God’s reassurance. The time will come when God’s vision for a righteous Judah will be fulfilled. Even if it is a long time coming, it will happen. The focus is on the ‘spirit’ of the proud, who have pride in their strength. On the other hand, the ‘righteous’ do not live by their own strength, but rely on their faith in God.

It is the old story—the wicked supposedly carry within themselves the seeds of their own destruction. On the other hand, the believers contain the seeds of close relationship with God. This teaching is to be applied in a wider context than that of Judah and the Babylonians. It speaks to all nations opposed to the people through whom God is building the divine kingdom on earth.

We live in a self-sufficient age that teaches us that we are in charge of our lives.  But that flies in the face of God’s providence.  There are seasons in our lives when everything is right with our world; there are also seasons of darkness and difficulty.  It is in those times that we are told to wait on the work of the God who waits with us.  We live in a world and a society that often prays for God to “fix” things.  But sometimes God just wants us to focus on the vision that is just ahead.

 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. Is this passage more difficult for you or more uncomfortable? Why?
  3. What vision of justice do you find in the passage?

NEW TESTAMENT:  2 Thessalonians 1: 1-4, 11-12

Read the passage from 2 Thessalonians

This is penned as Paul’s second letter to the church at Thessalonica, but in all likelihood it may have been written by a follower of Paul’s who sought to protect Paul’s foundations that had been so carefully laid before.  In fact, it sort of takes a different track than its supposed first letter.  (In fact the five verses that our Lectionary skips seeks to comfort the Thessalonians by assuring them that those who persecute and afflict them will get their “due”—sort of a spiritual terrorism that, sadly, is alive and well even today).

The letter exhorts its readers to give thanks for their ongoing faith.  This actually means “coming to faith”, probably not adhering to some set belief system.  But it is a costly faithfulness, perhaps one that even puts their lives in danger.  They are in fact growing in their faith – none of the modern trend to look on faith as something which gains one entry to a status or a future heaven and counting for little in real life!

The object here is love and, in particular, love for one another. Perhaps that reflects the pressure. And with that, we are given the assurance of prayer.  To be made worthy of one’s calling appears to mean something like: to help you to measure up to what it demands by becoming the kind of person it requires. That of course depends on human response to God’s work in us, but it assumes that the life and agenda of God is directed towards producing good intentions and good deeds. Goodness is a helpful and very human way of understanding God’s grace. It is not a sterile morality which does nothing wrong (and does no one much good either), but a dynamic (“in power”) movement of the Spirit to produce in us the fruit of love in both attitude and action – strong enough even to undo the vengeance motif laid out earlier!

We want to go for easy alternatives in this world.  This discounts that.  Faith is costly; faith is hard; but through God’s grace, we will find peace for us and for the rest of the world.  The writer was also reminding the church at Thessalonica that they were shaped by spiritual friendships.  They were not in this alone.  Their faith was indeed growing abundantly.  Few things in life are more powerful than a person of growing faith.  When someone is growing in faith, their life bears fruit.  Faith that inspires is consuming, costly, and constantly extravagant.

 

  1. Why are so many so quick to jump on that sort of “spiritual terrorism” type of motif?
  2. Why is the notion expressed here so difficult to embrace?
  3. What “costs” do you see as being associated with faith?
  4. What does the community of faith, these spiritual friendships, mean to you in your faith journey?

 

 

GOSPEL:  Luke 19: 1-10

Read the passage from The Gospel According to Luke

This is a familiar story for many of us.  In fact, if you grew up in the church, you probably sang a song about it.  But put it in context—the story sequences are beginning to come to a close.  Jesus nears Jerusalem (and we all know how the tale ends).  But, here is one last outcast on the way to Jerusalem.  The name Zacchaeus means “clean” or “innocent”.  Perhaps it was wishful thinking on the part of his parents.

But here we are—Zacchaeus tries desperately to see Jesus (much like the blind man that Jesus just healed).  We hear that Zacchaeus is rich (much like the rich man who was sad because he couldn’t part with his wealth.)  And Zacchaeus is small and blocked by the crowd (much like the children kept back by the disciples).  He is a tax collector (like the one that we read of last week praying humbly in the temple.)  Perhaps the writer created some sort of composite character in case we didn’t get it before.  And in true Lukan-style reversal, the shunned, “unclean”, “non-person” is found and redeemed.  But the point is that, unlike some of the others, Zacchaeus joyfully welcomes Jesus into his home.  He didn’t just receive unmerited, undeserved grace and stop there.  He changed.  He had the courage and the veracity to look ahead straight into that vision of God.  And then he tithed!  The miracle is not that Jesus welcomed him or that he was redeemed.  We all know that happens over and over.  The point was that he changed.  THAT is the miracle.  And now Zacchaeus sees.  And when Jesus sees Zacchaeus, he announces salvation—not just to this slight little “non-person”, but to the whole of Creation.

We envision ourselves the redeemed.  In fact, we see ourselves as those called by God to help in the redeeming.  Are we truly ready for those who are the “unclean” to change?  Are we willing to change along with them?  Are are we holding on desperately to our riches and our beliefs and our ways of seeing?  Are we unwittingly participating in the suffering of others by allowing injustices in this world?  What does it truly mean to be righteous?  When’s the last time any of us let down our guard and climbed a tree?

 

I wonder if he ever had second thoughts about what he promised Jesus as his feet first met the ground and his eyes first met Jesus’ eyes.

*****************************************

The afternoon sun dappled through the palladium windows in Kirby Parlor at Perkins School of Theology one autumn afternoon a couple years ago. It lit up the rugged, handsome features of an athletic 60 year old man seated in a circle of about 30 young preaching students. He was John Irving, the novelist, author of The World according to Gap, Cider House Rules, and A Prayer for Owen Meany among other novels. He was on campus to do the Tate lectures at SMU and graciously agreed to spend an hour with my preaching students. They provided the topic: What do sermon writing and novel writing have in common?

“Where do you start when you write a novel?” asked one young student.

Leaning forward, he said, “I always begin at the end, with the last scene. I put in it, in excruciating detail, what I want the reader to see, smell, taste, feel, hear …Then I flashback to the very beginning,  to what I call the inciting incident that jumpstarts the whole plot. Then I flash forward, scene by scene, each scene a domino that hits the next, that hits the next, that hits the next, each domino absolutely necessary to the next one, all crucial to the final one, until I arrive once again where I began, at the end.

Leaning forward even further, with an almost religious zeal in his fine brown eyes, he said:  “The trick is, friends, to make people realize there is so much at stake that they must keep reading, from one scene, one domino to the next, with each one asking “Why?” and “What is next?”, feeling that life as they know it can’t go on until they reach that final scene that they read last but that I wrote first.  That’s how I write a novel. You preachers should try it sometime.

Who am I am to ignore John Irving’s advice? Think about preaching a “John Irving” sermon on Zacchaeus. You could use this form on lots of different texts- probably narrative texts would work best.

Start at the end and flash back to the beginning and show how the ending depends on every scene that precedes it.

**********************************************

The things we say in a moment of gratitude. I sit at my table, alone now, shaking my head in disbelief, but with a sort of smile on my face. The voice of Jesus had faded and his footsteps receded as he went on his way to Jerusalem.  Jericho will seem forlorn without his voice and tread.  Servants quietly move around the room, clearing scraps of bread and half filled glasses. Still I sit, shaking my head. What was I thinking? What did I promise? How will I ever give away half my possessions to the poor and repay those I have defrauded four times over? The things we say in a moment of gratitude!

I wouldn’t be sitting here stunned and yet smiling if Jesus had not entered Jericho and passed through it on his way to Jerusalem. That’s how all this came about. But Jesus is always on his way to Jerusalem, always on the way to his death, but also to his life. His path to his crucifixion and resurrection always passes through my town.

I had heard about this healer and teacher, this one who ate with sinners and who touched the unclean.  But if he had not entered Jericho and been passing through it, he would have been only a distant rumor. I would never have been able to see who he was. I would have heard his stories about a shepherd leaving 99 sheep behind and seeking the one, a woman sweeping the house for a lost coin, and a father seeking to save two lost sons. But if he hadn’t bothered to come through my town, I would never have met my Shepherd, my Homemaker, and my Father.

It was as if he came looking for me. Oh, I guess I did my prior part as well. I was looking for him. If I had not had such a yearning to see who Jesus was, I would not have climbed a sycamore tree to see him. And, if there had not been a sycamore tree handy, I would not have been able to see him. None of the taller townspeople was likely to put me on their shoulders! I ran and I climbed, undignified behavior for one already disdained in the town. I ran and I climbed- why? Because Jesus was going to pass that way. That’s the “whisper down the lane” news I had heard. “He’s coming this way. Line up along the parade path. He’s coming this way.”

If I had not been high in my perch I would not have been able to see the top of his head and the sweep of his robe as he went by. That would have been enough for me. Just to see him from a distance. If he had not stopped right under my tree and looked up at me, I would never have seen his face. I would never have met those searching eyes.

If he had not stopped under the place where I was perched, he would not have seen me, would not have been able to direct his invitation to me. Never been able to instruct me to hurry. I did my part. I hurried. There is an air of urgency about an unexpected invitation, an unannounced guest.  If he had not stopped under my tree I would not have felt that stomach lurching sense of dismay, followed by elation. “He not only notices me, he forgives me. He sees me as worthy to host him in my home!” As I clambered down, I remembered the story Jesus once told about an unforgiving servant whom a king forgave of a great debt, who then turned around and would not forgive another. I would be the forgiving servant. His invitation said so much about his respect for me despite all I have done, all that still needs to be forgiven.

As soon as my feet hit the ground, I heard the grumbling of my neighbors. They hate me. They resent me. They call me a sinner. Sinners are those who are ill or disabled or poor, or, who, like me, though rich, are ritually unclean because of what we do for a living. I take their money for the Romans. Others are unclean because they dye cloth or tend sheep or have to sell their bodies for their daily bread. “You’re right,” I feel like saying. “He is going to be the guest of one who is a sinner… But a grateful one, a repentant one.”

What if Jesus had listened to their grumbling and said, “Oh, my bad. He is a sinner, isn’t he? Bad choice for the first stop on my progressive dinner. I’ll move on to someone else.” He would have rescinded the invitation and gone on to Jerusalem, gone on to dine in someone else’s home.  But he didn’t listen to them.  Instead, he listened to me and to what I said next.

If I hadn’t said “Look, half my possessions I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much,” my life wouldn’t now have to change.

The things we say in a moment of gratitude. I sit at my table, alone now, shaking my head in disbelief, but with a sort of smile on my face. The voice of Jesus has faded. His footsteps have receded as he went on his way to Jerusalem.  Jericho will seem forlorn without his voice and tread.  Servants quietly move around the room, clearing scraps of bread and half filled glasses from the table. He is gone, and yet, he is somehow still present, still here to guide and energize me. Still I sit, shaking my head. What was I thinking? What did I promise? How will I ever be able to give away half my possessions to the poor and repay those I have defrauded four times over? The things we say in a moment of gratitude! (Excerpt from “Dominoes, Anyone?:  Lectionary Reflection on Zacchaeus, Luke 19: 1-10, by Dr. Alyce McKenzie, October 22, 2010, available at http://www.patheos.com/community/mainlineportal/2010/10/22/dominoes-anyone-lectionary-reflection-on-zaccahaeus-luke-191-10/, accessed 27 October, 2020)

 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. What does this story say about redemption?
  3. Where do you find yourself in this story?
  4. What about climbing that tree?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

The whole future of the Earth, as of religion, seems to me to depend on the awakening of our faith in the future. (Pierre Teilhard de Chardin)

Prayer is hope’s breathing.  When we stop praying, we stop hoping.  (Dom Pedro Casaldaliga)

 

Unless one says good-bye to what one loves, and unless one travels to completely new territories, one can expect merely a long wearing away of oneself and eventual distinction. (Jean Dubuffet)

 

 

Closing

Close by reading the words of “Would I Have Answered When You Called”, by Herman G. Stuemfle, Jr., The Faith We Sing # 2137

 

Would I have answered when you called, “Come follow, follow me!”?  Would I at once have left behind both work and family?  Or would the old, familiar round have held me by its claim and kept the spark with in my heart from bursting into flame?

 

Would I have followed where you led through ancient Galilee, on roads unknown, by ways untried, beyond security?  Or would I soon have hurried back where home and comfort drew, where truth you taught would not disturb the ordered world I knew?

 

Would I have matched my step with yours when crowds cried, “Crucify!” when on a rocky hill I saw a cross against the sky?  Or would I too have slipped away and left you there alone, a dying king with crown of thorns upon a terrible throne?

 

O Christ, I cannot search my heart through all its tangled ways, nor can I with a certain mind my steadfastness appraise.  I only pray that when you call, “Come follow, follow me!”, you’ll give me strength beyond my own to follow faithfully.  Amen.