YEAR B 2024 all saints

All Saints, 2024
Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Since this is the feast of all saints, we will once again renew our Baptismal covenant. Because it is the feast of ALL saints. And if you are bothered by anything I’m about to say, I encourage you to think deeply about why you are bothered.  And then I strongly encourage you to come and talk to me about it.  My door is always open.

There is no denying that the past decade has coarsened our rhetoric, expanded our divisions, and heightened our worst impulses.  In the past week, we’ve witnessed profoundly hateful campaign rhetoric, which—as usual—was then retrofitted to be called "jokes." And these are not even funny jokes. And these not-funny jokes are especially not funny for the people on the other end of what are very real threats to their personal safety. 

So today we will affirm our faith using the Baptismal covenant, because it is the feast of ALL saints.

Together, we will promise to respect the dignity of every human being,  Every person is made in the image of God.  And—in case it’s not obvious—human beings, made in the image of God, are not vermin.  Human beings, made in the image of God, do not poison our blood.  And Americans who vote differently than you do are still human beings made in the image of God, and they are not enemies. 

The dystopian hellscape we keep hearing about is not there. When you pull back the curtain, what you find is . . . people. Just people. Fellow Americans.  People like my immigrant great grandfather who came to this country because it is a good place, and is not the world’s garbage can.   People.  Beloved children of God. People in whom we have sworn to seek and serve Christ.  People whose dignity we have promised to respect. 

Whatever your politics, calling other people animals and vermin and poison and enemies is not the language of our baptismal covenant.  It’s just not.  Every single person is created by God, made in the image of God.  A beloved child of God. And when you call people—who are made in the image of God—anything other than made in the image of God, you are blaspheming the God who created them.  Since every person is made in the image of God, whatever you say about them, you are saying about God.  Whatever you say, you are saying about God.

Way back in 2020, we put a sign in our own private yard endorsing a particular candidate we favored for office. People left this church over that sign. Not because we had  A  sign, but because of whose name was on that sign. It wasn’t the sign; it was the name.  I will not make that mistake again, because our congregation is already a mere remnant of what we were before the pandemic. But if a sign in my yard makes you leave your church . . . . well, I don’t know what to say.

Today, we will affirm our faith using the Baptismal covenant, because it is the feast of ALL saints. 

We are going to need to start looking for unity no matter who wins this election. And—in some outcomes—there are people who will need extra protecting in the days and months ahead. The LGBTQ people whose dignity you have promised to respect. The people of color you have promised to seek and serve Christ in. The immigrants and strangers and widows and orphans whom God tells us over and over are God’s FAVORED children will need extra protecting.  And, to be completely honest about it . . . so will women.  

When the flames are burning this hot, it is our Christian duty to turn down the gas, and to shelter those the fires are aimed at. We are a sanctuary from politics, not an accelerant for it.  We are a place of shelter for the needy, not a fortress against the world.  As Episcopalians, we are people who are held together by our baptismal covenant, and we make very specific promises . . . with God’s help. 

On this feast of all saints, we will once again affirm our Baptismal covenant. Because it is the feast of ALL saints. 

We make these promises with God’s help.  And if you have trouble keeping the promises you are about to make with God’s help, ask God for help. Because with God’s help, we can do better. With God’s help, we must do better. With God’s help, we will respect the dignity of every human being.  With God’s help we will seek and serve Christ in every single person, known and unknown.  Because with God’s help we are the body of Christ in this world.

On this feast of all saints, we will once again affirm our Baptismal covenant. Because it is the feast of ALL saints.  And with God’s help we will make good on the promises we make.

Amen.

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 23

Pentecost 23, 2024
Jeremiah 31:7-9
Psalm 126
Hebrews 7:23-28
Mark 10:46-52

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

In the first lesson this week, from the prophet Jeremiah, we heard that God is going to bring back the people who have been exiled, “and among them the blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor, together; a great company, they shall return here.”  The more I thought about this group of people, the more I could see what it is those people have in common.  The blind, the lame, those in labor, they would slow us down, right?  If we are racing back to our ancestral land, we’d probably prefer that those folks just kind of meet us there at some point when they can.  I mean, a great multitude can only move as fast as the slowest members.

But what’s more interesting here is that those particular people, the blind, the lame, and those in labor all rely on the community to get them to a distant destination.  If you can’t see, you need someone to guide you.  If you can’t walk, you need someone to carry you.  If you are in labor, you need someone to hold your hand while you scream obscenities at them.  (Or so I’ve heard.)  All these folks rely on the community, and God is not going to let them be left behind.  Everyone comes home together.  Everyone.  God says, “With weeping they shall come, and with consolations I will lead them back.”  And the vulnerable bring along what makes them vulnerable, because they are loved as they are, and God will protect them, through the community around them.

And gospel reading we just heard is also about community.  But it’s about the transformation of the community.  Bartimaeus, son of Timaeus, is sitting by the side of the road.  A large crowd is walking with Jesus, and the blind man cries out to him.  And what does the crowd do?  Do they pick him up and carry him along?  Do they tell Jesus that Bartimaus needs his help?  No.  Instead they sternly order him to keep quiet.  Their instinct is to leave him behind, because they’re following Jesus.

But then . . . Jesus stands still, and he tells the crowd to bring the blind man to him.  Interesting that Jesus doesn’t go to the man.  Jesus doesn’t tell the man to come to him.  No, Jesus tells the community to bring the man to him.  The community turns to the man in need and tells him to take heart, because Jesus is calling him.  And throwing off his cloak (which we’ll come back to in a minute), he gets up and goes to Jesus.  And Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?”  And here we have to stop for a moment.

I don’t know if you have any friends who are blind.  But more than once I have asked a blind friend if they would want to have their sight back.  The answers are mixed.  Those of us who can see assume that blind people really want to be like us.  But that’s not necessarily so.  Even people who could once see—they know what it’s like—those people do not necessarily want to have their sight back.  My brother—who is losing his sight—has told me he has like supernatural hearing now.  There can be upsides to losing one or more of our senses.  Point being, we want to be careful not to assume that everyone who is “different” wants to be like us, right?

And so look what Jesus does here.  He doesn’t assume the man wants to be able to see.  He asks the man himself: What do you want me to do for you?  I find that both interesting and important.  Jesus asks the man what he wants, without assuming he would want what we might want.  And Bartimaeus says, “My teacher, let me see again.”  Jesus tells him his faith has made him well, and then Bartimaeus follows Jesus on the way.  He becomes part of the community.  The same community that originally sternly told him to be quiet, and then tells him Jesus is calling him, and now walks together with this man.  The community has also changed because Jesus has brought healing to the one they wanted to leave behind.

Okay, great story.  But back to the man’s cloak.  As we heard, the crowd told the man that Jesus was calling, and “throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus.”  Consider for a moment Bartimaeus’ position in life.  He is blind and begging by the roadside.  He has a cloak, and maybe a bowl to collect the alms he might receive.  That cloak is very likely the one possession this man has.  The one thing of any monetary value in his life is this cloak.  And hearing that Jesus is calling, he throws off his cloak, springs to his feet, and comes to Jesus.

If you think back to a couple weeks ago, we heard about a rich man who came to Jesus and asked what he must do to inherit eternal life.  He was told he’d have to leave everything behind, and the rich man went away sad.  What we saw in that case was someone who was trying to save himself.  He wanted to learn how to do it on his own.  But the blind man Bartimaeus, and also the people from the first reading—the blind, the lame, and those in labor—they all know that they cannot save themselves.  They must rely on God; they must rely on the community.  And God and the community are there for them, in both cases.  Carrying them when they cannot carry themselves.

So . . . this week we are kicking off our annual stewardship campaign.  I was asked to preach a sermon about stewardship, and I agreed.  And then I read these lessons and thought, “Uh oh.”  But the more I thought about it, the more of a connection I saw.  Because, in a way, the blind man’s cloak is his offering.  It represents what he is willing to give up in gratefulness to follow Jesus.  Unlike the rich man two weeks ago, Bartimaeus leaves behind literally everything in order to follow Jesus.  It’s like the most extreme example of sacrificial giving.

Of course, he could have brought his cloak with him to Jesus.  But he leaves the cloak behind and brings his blindness with him.  In his excitement to be healed, his possessions become secondary.  And he ends up as part of the community, and together they follow Jesus.

Now I know the connection between Bartimaeus and stewardship is not a straight line for us.  But the idea of holding our possessions lightly is there.  There is a broad continuum between the rich man who kept his possessions and went away sad, and the blind man who leaps up and leaves everything behind.  None of us is at either of those extremes.

But ever since the start of the pandemic in 2020, I think we have all learned to hold our possessions just a little more lightly.  We’ve found ourselves focusing on our health, and our families, and our friends.  Money and things became a little less important when we found ourselves staring death in the face for months and months on end.

And over my time here in Massillon, I’ve watched the people of St. Tim’s unwavering generosity with your contributions of clothes and food and toys, in seeing how you volunteered countless hours working in the garden, cleaning the building, singing in the choir, teaching our children, providing food for our neighbors, and so much more.  In seeing you give your time, talent, and treasure, I know that we all continue to move a little closer to Bartimaeus and a little farther away from the rich man who went away sad.

The theme of our stewardship campaign this year is Walk in Love.  You’ll recognize that as part of the offertory sentence, which you’ll hear in just a few minutes.  Walk in love, as Christ first loved us.  

As we begin our stewardship campaign this year, I encourage all of us to consider what it is we are willing to part with in order to see the ministry of Jesus grow in this place.  Maybe it’s just a little.  Maybe it is significant.  And both of those are okay, because we are a community together.  We carry one another all the time.  But no matter what we might pledge, Jesus is calling and welcoming each one of us.  To heal us from whatever holds us back from following him on the way.  To join together in this community to share the good news to others that they too should take heart, because just like Bartimaeus, Jesus is calling for them too.

When Jesus asks us, “What do you want me to do for you,” let’s give some thought to what our answer might be.  Because God can do anything; we just need the courage to imagine what it is we want to do together.  God is with us, and God will always be with us.  And together we walk in love, as Christ loved us, and gave himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God.

Amen.

Massillon Tigers Prayer Service

Tigers Prayer Service
10/26/2024
Hebrews 12:1

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

So, I didn’t grow up around here.  I grew up in Niagara Falls NY, which is near Buffalo.  (Go Bills!)  The high school I went to had about 1,200 students, which is pretty close to what Washington High School has these days.  We had a football team, and I played in the marching band.  Our stadium—if you could call it that—seated, maybe, 500 people.  And I never once saw the stands filled in my four years of playing in the band.  I suppose we were more of a hockey school.

So imagine my surprise when I moved to Massillon eight years ago to become the priest in this church.  A high school football stadium that holds over 16,000 people!  More than 30 times the size of my high school stadium!  A stadium that is filled for most games, and is always filled for the rivalry game.  I hate to sound like an outsider, but this is just crazy to me!  I definitely had a completely different experience than people who grow up in Massillon.

Which got me to thinking . . . why is that?  Why is the only remaining Paul Brown stadium so big?  And how can it possibly still sell out when the school only has around 1,200 students?

And, well, you know the answer before I even say it.  The reason is because of the great cloud of witnesses.  It’s not exactly the same as the great cloud of witnesses mentioned in the reading from Hebrews we just heard.  But the idea is the same.

All those people who keep coming out to cheer you on, they are your cloud of witnesses.  In the good years and in the not so good years, the people of Massillon stand behind this team.  They support you as athletes, they support you as students, and they support you as people who will go on to support the ones who come behind you.  Massillon has always had a strong and faithful football program, because Massillon has always had strong and faithful people.  You are not the first to play the game here, and you won’t be the last.

Which brings us to today.  Everyone in town feels like this is their game, like this is their day to beat McKinley.  And—in a way—it is, sure.  But for each of you sitting in this room today, there’s something more.  Because this is literally your game and your day, in a way that no one else will ever know.

Whether you are throwing a ball, or blocking a tackle, or carrying water to the players, or calling the plays from the sideline, this game is your game.  You are the ones who will play this game, in front of—and on behalf of—that great cloud of witnesses who are supporting you, and who will always support you.

Massillon is a unique place, and I am proud and honored to host this prayer service with you each year.  Whether or not we share the same faith tradition, we are still each made in the image of God.  The God who creates, redeems, and strengthens us this day, and all the days to come.  May God bless you all, and may God keep you safe today, and every day.

Amen.

The Burial of Geoffery Hill

Geoffrey Hill, 10/25/24
Isaiah 25:6-9
1 Corinthians 13:4-7
John 6:37-40

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I did not know Jeff Hill.  In fact, I don’t know that I ever met him in person.  But I know many of you, his friends and family.  I was most familiar with his father, Dr. Ed, and with his sister Sarah.  And I’ve read with interest that amazing obituary.  I feel like I have a sense of the man without knowing him, because I know you, and I’ve read those words, and heard some of your stories, and that amazing poem we just heard.

A theme running through Jeff’s life was a desire to give back.  And a person who so emphasizes giving back shows that they know deep down that everything they have is a gift.  You can see it in our use of the word “back.”  We have been given, and we strive to give back.  And this leads to caring deeply for others.  Helping those who were, “not given,” if you will.  Jeff Hill intentionally choosing to spend so much time working with children is a perfect example of this.  Caring for children who need our help is among the highest of callings.

Jeff gave back because he could see the gifts in his own life.  And you can contrast that with people who think things are being taken away from them.  Who aren’t recognizing the gifts in their lives.  Who are just learning to see their own lives and gifts.  Those are the people Jeff spent time trying to help.  He knew that all good things in life are a gift, and he shared what he had as a person.  Jeff’s unrelenting—and feisty—love for his family shows that he knew all of you to be a gift to him as well.   

In the passage of scripture I read a few minutes ago, from John’s gospel, Jesus says, "Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.” And “I will lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day.”  Jesus does not lose what is his.  All of us are given the gift of life on this earth, and when our time here is through, we return back to the one who gave us that precious gift of life.

Jeff spent his days giving to others, caring for others, helping others.  And he passed that desire to give back on to all of you.  And now he has returned to the one from whom every good thing comes.  Though Jeff is lost to us as we continue to live out our own gift of life, he is not now—and never was—lost to God.  Because Jesus does not let go of what is his, and he will raise each of us up on the last day.  May God bless Geoffrey Hill, and may God bless all of you.

Amen.   

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 22

Pentecost 22, 2024
Isaiah 53:4-12
Psalm 91:9-16
Hebrews 5:1-10
Mark 10:35-45

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I spent a lot of time this week trying to think of a modern example that would be similar to what James and John are doing in today’s gospel reading.  At some point, it occurred to me, coming up with a contemporary example is pointless.

We all know what James and John are doing.  We’ve all done what James and John are doing!  We do it all the time.  We corner someone and ask for a favor, without first telling what the favor will be.  “Hey, I wonder if you could give me hand with something.”  Or children say, “Hey, Mom, I need your help with something.”  Then, once we’ve got the person’s agreement to help us, we have the upper hand.  “You said you would help me!”  Yes, but you didn’t say that the “help” was to give you all the cookies! James and John are using their friendship with Jesus to get what they want.  And if you’re anything like me, you have to admit, this is often how our prayer life looks: using our friendship with Jesus to get what we want . . . but that’s a story for another time.

Of course, there’s another side to what James and John are doing.  They’re also playing a political game against their fellow disciples.  By banding together and asking Jesus for the choice spots at his right and left, they’re trying to create a common-interest caucus, where all the good seats are locked up because they bring their political might to bear.  It’s like a Sons of Zebedee political action committee, ZEB-PAC, and they’re lobbying for their own personal interests and advantage.  This coalition of the James and the John has outmaneuvered the other disciples by being the first to ask for the key positions in the new government they think Jesus is setting up.

Meanwhile, the other disciples are now angry because they have been blind-sided by ZEB-PAC, since they either never thought of asking, or because they were too polite to try to demand a place of privilege. Whatever the reason, the other disciples are now mad at the Sons of Zebedee for moving in and taking all the good spots.

It’s easy to laugh at all this, and I think maybe we’re supposed to get some amusement at their expense.  But at the same time, the tragic side of it all is certainly prominent.  Because once again, the disciples don’t get it.  Just a few verses before today’s reading, Jesus has told his disciples for a third time that he must be handed over to the authorities, and will be beaten, mocked, spit on, killed, and rise to new life.

He JUST said it!  Like five seconds ago.  And the next paragraph begins: then James and John came to Jesus and said . . .  This is the third time in Mark’s gospel that Jesus tries to tell his disciples how the story is going to end, and it’s the third time the disciples completely misunderstand.

The first time Jesus tells them that he must be handed over to the authorities and be killed, Peter takes him aside and says “This cannot happen to you!”  And do you remember what Jesus says?  Jesus calls him Satan!  Apparently Peter had the wrong answer.  And then, in the next chapter, Jesus again tells the disciples that he will be betrayed and killed and rise again.  And the disciples did not understand and were afraid to ask him, so they begin to argue about who is the greatest among them.  Obviously, the disciples had the wrong idea. 

And then, in the next chapter, Jesus tells the disciples a third time that he will be betrayed and killed and rise again three days later.  And James and John start asking to be given good positions on his royal court.  The disciples are not getting the picture here.  They’re simply unable to understand that Jesus is not talking about taking over the earthly government.  They can’t get it out of their heads that Jesus is supposed to overthrow the oppressive earthly rulers and set up the new system.

But in all three of these cases, where Jesus talks of his own death at the hands of the authorities, when the disciples get it wrong, Jesus points to something.  The first time, when Peter tells Jesus to stop talking like a crazy man, and Jesus calls him Satan, Jesus points to the cross.  The way forward, for Jesus, and anyone who wants to follow him, is to take up their cross and follow him.

The second time Jesus predicts his death, and the disciples argue about who is the greatest among them, Jesus points to a child.  The way forward, for Jesus, and anyone who wants to follow him, is to become least among others, to be willing to be as a child.

And, today, the third time Jesus predicts his death, and the disciples start trying to call in favors for political power, Jesus points to baptism and the cup of suffering he must drink.  He says to James and John, "You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" They reply, "We are able!”  Wow.  Talk about clueless, huh?  It’s like they’re little kids with plastic helmets and light sabers reporting to the Army recruiting office.  “Sons of Zebedee, armed and ready for duty, Sir!”  I think if you and I were in Jesus’ position, we couldn’t help but laugh at these two.

But Jesus can see the gravity of the situation.  Their ignorance and eagerness is to be pitied, not mocked.  Jesus says to them, "The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized.”

In some ways, these words can be interpreted as recognition of the persecution of the early church.  Many of the disciples died in horrific ways.  They did suffer death; they were handed over to the authorities to be mocked and beaten; there is a literal sense in which the words of Jesus were true for them.  They drank the cup, and were baptized in the baptism, if we think of those words as metaphors for all that Jesus was to suffer.

Here in Massillon, you and I are not likely to be persecuted or killed for our faith.  But there is another sense in which the disciples were baptized and drank the cup, and we share with them in that same baptism and cup.  At Baptisms in the Episcopal Church, usually the priest sprinkles water on the baby’s head and we hope she doesn’t scream too loudly.  Other churches, like most Baptist churches, have a huge hot tub behind the altar, and practice what is called “full immersion,” which is just what it sounds like. 

As we profess in the Nicene Creed each week, there is one baptism.  But there are many ways to get the deed done.  And our method of sprinkling drops gets a bit disconnected from the full immersion in running water that the early church used.  It’s still baptism in our little font, but we miss the powerful imagery of being drowned and brought back to life.  We are baptized into the death of Jesus, as Paul says, and we rise to new life, just as Jesus does.  You and I are baptized with the same baptism of Jesus, the same baptism of all the saints, the same baptism of James and John.  Are you able to be baptized with the same baptism that Jesus is baptized with?  Crazy as it seems, the answer is yes.  You and I stand at the recruiting office with our own plastic helmets and light sabers saying, “Reporting for duty, Sir!”

And what of the cup?  Are we able to drink of the cup?  Here again, I think we might get distracted by the subtlety of our current method.  We think of gulping down a cup of suffering.  Grabbing the goblet with both hands, holding our breath, and forcing the stuff down in a show of devotion to Jesus.

But that is not how it goes for us.  Instead, you and I come week by week, month by month, year by year, to this altar.  We take little sips, drops in fact, of the cup that Jesus offers to us.  Over a lifetime, we drink this cup of suffering, because it is also the cup of life, the blood of Christ, the cup of salvation.  One small sip at a time, over the course of a lifetime, we do indeed drink the cup.  And we find it to be the source of life, the way forward.  Like the disciples, we do not understand what Jesus is telling us about his mission of salvation, but we can look to the things he is pointing at.
The cross.  The child-like life of service.  And the baptism and cup.

And eventually, if we look where Jesus is pointing, we find him pointing at himself.  The way of salvation, whether or not we are ready, whether or not we feel worthy, and whether or not we understand.  You are baptized with the baptism of Jesus, and we do indeed drink from the cup of salvation.  We are the disciples of Jesus.  We are the friends of Jesus.  We are his siblings, all of us sitting at his right and left, as we gather around the table with him, along with the saints of every time and every place.

Amen.

The Burial of Terry Tolerton

The Burial of James Terry Tolerton
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 23
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
John 6:37-40

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Terry Tolerton was a remarkable man indeed!  Though I did not know him personally, you all did.  That’s why you’re here today.  To pay tribute to a man you loved, who made a difference in your lives.  I have heard a few stories about him, and I’ve read his obituary, and we’ve heard the wonderful testimonies from John, Christina, and Will.  And I can tell just by looking around this room today that he left a great legacy.

And as I thought about all the things Terry did over the course of his 82 years, I realized the common threads running through his life are consistency, and showing up.  I mean you can just run down the list.  Two tours in Vietnam, a war that many people bent over backwards to get out of fighting.  But Terry showed up.  He served his country proudly.

He had a lifelong obsession with golf—which I’m guessing has something to do with why we are gathered in this particular place—but nobody is born a good golfer.  Golf is a game that is perfected over the long hall.  Again: consistency and showing up.  Terry’s level of commitment to family shows these traits as well.  And building a business from one little shop into a multimillion dollar organization.  That happens through consistency and showing up.

And, possibly the greatest example of this was in his final years caring for his beloved wife Judy.  He was there for her, because he loved her.  So often in life it is easier and even tempting to not show up.  To just tell yourself that somebody else will step in.  But the life of Terry Tolerton is a shining example of the value of consistently showing up.  I have no doubt that Terry is greatly missed, for who he was as well as the for example he set for all who knew and remember him.

I hope that you will continue to share your stories and memories of your time with Terry in the days and years ahead.  But here is what I really want you to hold onto as you leave this place today . . .

In the passage of scripture I read a few minutes ago, from John’s gospel, Jesus says, "Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.” And “I will lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day.”  Jesus is always consistent, and faithful, and keeps showing up, and never loses what is his.  All of us are given the gift of life on this earth, and when our time here is through, we return back to the one who gave us that precious gift of life.

Terry spent his days consistently showing up.  And he passed that attitude on to his children and his friends.  And now he has returned to the one who always shows up, in every circumstance, and every stage of life.  Though Terry is lost to us as we continue to live out our own lives, he is not now—and never was—lost to God.  Because Jesus does not let go of what is his, and God consistently shows up for each one of us, and will raise us up with Terry on the last day.  May God bless Terry Tolerton, and may God bless all of you.

Amen

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 21

Pentecost 21, 2024
Amos 5:6-7,10-15
Psalm 90:12-17
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

The epistle reading from Hebrews and the gospel lesson from Mark go together perfectly today.  And what ties them together is one of my favorite themes of all:  God is God, and we are not.  I feel like I could end right there.  God is God, and we are not.  Amen.

But let me say more.  A man comes up to Jesus and kneels before him and asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”  So much to say about this question!  First of all, we don’t know what he means by the phrase “eternal life.”  I’m trying to wean myself from using Greek words in sermons, so I’ll just say that the literal translation of what he is asking for is “age-long life,” that is, life without beginning or end.  He most certainly does not have in mind what we think of as heaven, or God’s kingdom.  He is asking for life that has no beginning or end.  So, again, we don’t know quite what it is he is even asking for here.

Secondly, he uses the phrase, “What must I do to inherit.”  Now, in my family, there is no inheritance coming my way—at least not that I know of.  But if I imagine myself in a family that did have an inheritance laid out in a will, it would never occur to me to ask what I must DO to inherit what is already rightfully mine.  It’s like asking, “What must I do to get a birthday present?”  Or like my cat asking, “What must I do to be fed?”  The answer in all these cases is . . . what . . . exist?  Have a pulse?  You don’t earn an inheritance.  I mean, not in a healthy family.  It’s like asking, “What must I do to earn your love?”

So that shows us the road map ahead here.  The man is working from the assumption that he CAN do something to EARN an inheritance.  And he’s also starting from the vantage point that it’s certainly possible, since he’s been doing and doing and doing all his life.  Then Jesus rattles off the commandments to the guy: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.”  And what does the man say?  “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.”

Seriously?  Seriously.  You have kept all these since your youth?  What were you raised by wolves?  And it’s important to note the inclusion of the word “defraud” in this list.  You don’t usually get this in a list of the commandments.  And it makes me wonder if Jesus threw it in there for a reason.  Because a command not to defraud definitely lends itself to the follow up from Jesus, to go and sell everything and give the money to the poor and follow me.  Of course, it’s even possible that the man hasn’t defrauded anyone personally, but is part of a system that oppresses the poor and protects the wealthy.  Which is a whole other sermon.  We don’t know.

But what we do know is that this requirement from Jesus makes the man go away sad.  And, we don’t know if he went and did what Jesus said.  Maybe, maybe not.  However, the entire conversation with Jesus seems rooted in the man trying to justify himself.  I have done all these things since my youth.  So check me out Jesus!  I probably don’t really need to do anything in order to inherit eternal life because I’m rocking it over here.  But I just wanted to be sure you knew how great I am.

And after he goes away sad,  Jesus says to the crowd, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” And they were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?”  Which makes me ask, wait, was everybody rich?  They hear that it’s hard for the rich to enter the kingdom of heaven, and their response is “then who can be saved?”  And to their astonishment, Jesus says, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”  And that’s the key here.  Impossible for mortals; possible for God.  Whatever their reason for asking, “Then who can be saved?”  Jesus reminds them that God can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.  God is God, and we are not.

And then, hot on the heels of that exchange, Peter has to go and open his big mouth.  He says, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.”  Translation, Peter is now trying to justify himself, just like the man on his knees.  We’ve been doing an awful lot over here, so check us out Jesus!  We probably don’t really need to do anything in order to inherit eternal life because we’re just rocking it over here.  But we just wanted to be sure you knew how great we are.  Same point, just different words.

Both Peter and the man who approaches Jesus have a secondary agenda.  And that agenda is to let Jesus know just how terrific they are.  Look at what we have done!  All this on our own over here.  We probably don’t even need any help from God because we’re just so darn good!  And it is awfully tempting for us to fall into that same trap.

Look at me Jesus, coming to church and everything.  Making a pledge toward the stewardship campaign.  Bringing in supplies for the animals, and blankets for the needy, and letting the other drivers go first at a four-way stop sign.  We love to pat ourselves on the back.  And we look to others to support us in that.  Praise is a tempting drug for us all.  And—when it comes down to it—the more we do, the harder it is to remember that we can never do enough.  I mean even Mother Teresa needed Jesus!  We cannot earn an inheritance.  But it sure is hard to stop trying!

And that brings us to the epistle reading from Hebrews.  As we heard, “before God no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account.”  Sounds a lot like the collect for purity.  To you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid.  Except we get the addition of “The one to whom we must render an account.”  Sure we are naked and laid bare before God’s eyes, uncomfortable as that sounds, but render an account?  That sounds pretty scary doesn't it?  It’s one thing to be known, but quite another to have to answer for it.

But then we also heard, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses.”  That’s a lot of double negatives, so let’s reword it.  In Jesus, we have a priest who can sympathize with our weaknesses.  Sympathize with our weaknesses.  God knows our failings, and Jesus understands what it is like to be human.  It’s easy to forget that.  But as we say in our Creed every single Sunday, Jesus is fully God and fully human.  He knows what it is like to be us.  And he knows we are unable to do it on our own. Even as we are so anxious to tell God we have followed all these commands from our youth, and have given up everything to follow Jesus.   And that brings us back to the main point: God is God, and we are not.  And then we come to the best part of all the readings today, from Hebrews . . 

“Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”  I think we have to break that sentence down, because it is really really good news if we really can hear it.  

First, God sits on a throne of grace.  Think about how you imagine a throne, and the purpose of a throne.  Thrones are for power and punishment and judgment.  This, however, is a throne of grace.  A throne of unmerited unconditional acceptance.  And when we approach that throne, we receive mercy.  Mercy, not judgement, not demanding an account, not accusation.  We receive mercy.  And we find grace in our time of need, because God knows we need grace, because we can’t do it on our own!  God is God, and we are not.

So hear that sentence again:  “Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”  With boldness!  We worship a God who knows us intimately, who knows we cannot do it on our own, who knows how much we want to point at all the good stuff we have done in order to win favor, and who still offers us grace upon grace.  We are known, and we are loved.  All that we are and all that we do is known to God, and we are loved.

And together, we can approach the throne of grace with boldness.  Because we are known.  Completely known.  And we are loved.  Completely loved.  And we are always invited to this Altar, where mercy, and grace, and forgiveness, and compassion, and sympathy, and honor, and dignity, and love reign supreme.  Let us approach the throne boldly, because we are boldly loved.

Amen.