Occasional Sermons

Avi, May, Gao, and I recently returned from our roadtrip to Tennessee. Normally, food militant that I am, I don’t allow them to drink soda pop, but in my largesse I deemed our vacation a special occasion during which the rules could be bent. Accordingly, at our first restaurant stop, I ordered them all a soda pop. I waited to hear their expressions of delight, and even more so their expression of gratitude for my freewheeling beneficence, but I waited in vain. “Why does Avi have so much more ice than me? It’s not fair,” May began. I glanced at their glasses. That waitress must not have kids, I thought to myself, because Avi had tons of ice and May just a few melting pieces floating pathetically at the top of the glass. “Avi, share some of that ice with your sister,” I requested. “But that’s not fair,” protested. “On our last vacation when we were allowed to have soda, May had more ice than me, and you didn’t make her share it.” “But that’s still not fair to me this time,” May quasi- reasoned. Gao, a quick study, caught on to the dynamic in no time. “Why is my straw orange?” she complained. “Theirs are purple and pink. Why did I have to get the orange one?” “Well there you have it,” I pronounced. “May has little ice; Gao has an ugly straw color….Life has been, in different ways, equally unfair to both of you, so that’s fair.” At that point, they weren’t quite sure what I was talking about. I wasn’t even sure at that juncture what I was talking about, but it halted the momentum of the conversation. Before Avi had the chance to realize that she had gained the high ground over her sisters, a little girl walked by with her mother. As she passed by I heard her say, “Why do they get soda when I had to have apple juice. No fair.” The other mother and I exchanged knowing glances. Misery really does love company. Perhaps I am serving some kind of penance of just desserts, because I remember having like conversations with my parents when I was about their age. More likely though, it is probably safe to generalize that children have a keen sense of fairness, albeit one driven by self-interest. But I would submit that really they are little different from us adults. We too have a keen sense of fairness, ours too driven by self-interest. We just give expression to it in an adult manner, a manner more discrete and subtle. It is a measure of our character, I suppose, the extent to which our sense of fairness is not driven by self-interest. The poet Thomas Grey recognized something like this when he wrote, “Each to his suffering, all are men, condemned alike to grown -- the tender for another’s pain, the unfeeling for his own.” Yes, child or adult, self-interested or not, we all share a sense of fairness. The philosophers, naturally, have argued over where it comes from. As far as I can make out, they argue that it is either a posteriori, or subsequent to experience – something we learn from our environment; or a priori, prior to experience – something which preexists our environment. And of those who argue that it is a priori, they argue further over whether it derives from our nature or derives from that which transcends our nature. Being a Christian, I believe it’s the latter. But again, regardless where it comes from, we all share it. This accounts for the fact that Jesus’ parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard is one of his least popular parables. Quite frankly, it offends our sense of fairness. The owner of a vineyard went to the marketplace at first light to hire laborers for the day. He agreed to pay those he found there one denarius, a fair day’s pay for a fair day’s work. At nine he returned to the marketplace and encountered more laborers waiting to be hired, so he hired them too, promising to pay them what was right. He returned again to the marketplace at noon, three and even at five, an hour before the workday ended. Each time he hired the laborers he encountered there. When the workday was over, he ordered his manager to pay the laborers in the reverse order in which they arrived. To those who had worked just an hour, he gave one denarius. They must have been overjoyed to have earned a day’s wage in an hour, but no less overjoyed than the laborers who had worked all day, for they having worked ten times longer were now entitled to nearly ten times that wage. But as it turned out each laborer, regardless of when he arrived, received just one denarius. So the laborers who had worked all day complained. “It’s not fair.” But the owner of the vineyard merely responded in effect that he was within his right. It was his money, and he could do what he wanted with it. The owner of the vineyard perhaps was within his right, but he wasn’t fair. I wonder what would have happened it I had taken that line with my sons, “It’s my money and I can do whatever I want with it.” I too would have been within my right, but I wouldn’t have been fair. Is Jesus teaching us that it’s this way with God? No wonder it’s an unpopular parable. But in fact, it is an unpopular parable because it is a misinterpreted parable. Everyone seems to miss one point, but it’s the key point. Jesus is teaching not about the marketplace but about the kingdom of heaven. “The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers.” Jesus is teaching about the age that he would soon inaugurate by his Holy Spirit, roughly but certainly not perfectly manifested by his church. And what Jesus is teaching is that our sense of fairness in the marketplace, which he so very brilliantly evokes so that we may be en guarde against it, does not apply in the church. It doesn’t matter how late in God’s salvation history you join the church. When you join, you receive the same benefit. You receive the Holy Spirit – a spirit of unity and equality in him, a spirit that rejoices the more that are included, a spirit that is as generous and loving as he was. What is in fact unfair is when those who joined the church earlier in God’s salvation history lay claim to special benefits, even the right to exclude or subordinate latecomers. Yet despite Jesus’ teaching, this has happened from the beginning. The very first members of the church, the Jewish Christians, claimed special benefits and attempted to exclude then subordinate the gentile Christians. And it has happened ever since. Anywhere, within the church, you see one type or class of person laying claim to special benefits and excluding or subordinating another type or class of person, usually a type or class of person different from their own, then by one pretext or another, and insidiously, it’s usually an appeal to scripture, then this unfairness is likely funding it. And it’s ironic, because those who perpetrate this unfairness overlook that they are too latecomers to God’s salvation history, whatever type or class of person they are. We are all latecomers to God’s salvation history. Look at the date. Jesus is teaching that the church simply does not work the way of the marketplace, that we must be aware of this and adjust our perspective so the church will be more fair, thus more happy and harmonious. And if you think about it, there is another place this applies. It applies to our nation. Again, we are all, at least most of us, latecomers to America, latecomers to citizenship and participation in the American dream. Yet often we who have nothing more than two or three generations on others, again because they are a different class or type of people, lay claim to special benefits and attempt to exclude or subordinate them. American belongs equally to all who want to be citizens and to participate in the American dream, to everyone American can possibly accommodate. And when we become aware of this and adjust our perspective, we and the nation will be more fair, thus more happy and harmonious. Amen.

As much as I like to run and bike and swim, I must confess that I’ve never taken much of an interest in spectator sports. Since so many people have told me over the years that I’m crazy not to like them, I’ve given some thought as to why I don’t. I’ve formulated a theory that since I have a bad sense of direction and often mistake my left for my right that my spatial perception is impaired, and I can’t process properly what’s happening on the field or court. But in the last analysis, who can account for likes and dislikes? All I know is that spectator sports of whatever kind make me bored and restless, petulant even. So I don’t watch them, and no one expects me to any more. Some years back though I felt certain I’d have a change of heart. It turned out that a son of mine was pretty good at football and was predicted to make a sizeable contribution to his high school team. I wouldn’t so much be watching a spectator sport, I thought. Rather, I’d be watching my son, my own flesh and blood, my pride and joy. Surely this would override my impaired spatial perception. But by the first game, I discovered I was wrong. I guess there are limits to maternal devotion. Before the first quarter was over I was bored and restless, petulant even. But of course I could scarcely beg off of his games. What would my son think? Never mind my son, what would the other mothers think? There’s no peer pressure like the peer pressure of other mothers. So I determined to make a heroic sacrifice and attend his games. I learned quickly never to sit near the dads. They tracked every play and second guessed every call. They’d have zero tolerance for my like. I therefore sat with the other mothers, chatting occasionally to pass the time. One night, there was a lull in the chatting, and I happened to glance out on the field. Just then all the stars aligned. The opposing team was about to score a touch down and win the game. It was all but a done deal. They were on the 10 yard line, and there were two minutes left. They threw a pass to a player in the end zone, and suddenly from out of nowhere someone soared high into the air and intercepted the pass. It was my son. Before anyone knew what was happening, he was on the move, dodging and ducking, zigging and zagging. Soon he outmaneuvered the pack, and was running, like I’d never seen him run, down the field. Three players were in hot pursuit -- gaining and gaining, but just as they were at his heels he somehow widened the distance between them and then left them behind. By this time, I was on my feet. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. My eyes were bulging out of my head. I was jumping up and down. And I was not the only one. When he scored the touchdown there was rampant joy and hysteria. You’d think Christ had just numbered us among the sheep. When I went down to congratulate him he was talking with his coach. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” his coach said. “I didn’t,” my son replied. “The group spirit somehow carried me down the field.” I guess there was that one day I took an interest in spectator sports. All this was, as I said, some years back. My son lives on his own now in New York City. I think life is a bit tougher than he thought it would be. He lives paycheck to paycheck working very hard at a job he doesn’t like much, though he knows he’s lucky to have a job at all. Being at the epicenter of the economic meltdown, he has many reminders of the high unemployment rates. We spoke recently and happened to reminisce about that football game. “It was such a big deal to me at the time,” he said, “but in the long run it was nothing.” “It wasn’t nothing” I said. “It was an accomplishment.” “Maybe,” he said, “But it didn’t change anything for me.” It’s hard growing up, I thought, as I listened to him. At least when you’ve been grown up a long time like most of us, you accustom yourself to life’s limitations and disappointments. Though as I reflected upon his words later, I realized that, disillusionment aside, he had a point. Even if it had somehow changed something for him, it would have just deferred the question. Because if you think about it, how can anything that is IN the world and OF the world really change the world? In the last analysis, it’s always going to be the same old story, and the same old story will end the same old way. It’s like old Ecclesiastes from our Old Testament lesson realized. “A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever….What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; There is nothing new under the sun.” There is nothing new under the sun. That’s how my son felt, and how we may be tempted to feel from time to time or all the time. But it’s not true. It’s not right, and it’s not true. There is something new under the sun. It began the first Pentecost, and the apostles prove it. Take the apostle Peter. There’s nothing in the record about it, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he was once in the spotlight. He was the leader. He was the one with the charisma. He was the one who took charge. But then life caught up with him, and before he knew it all that was left was a caricature of his former self; all that was left was his half cocked attempt to assert himself before those who now took little notice of him. All four gospels capture the same embarrassing portrait. Some of them even go so far as to make apologies for him. Look what spectacle he made of himself at the Transfiguration. Jesus went with some of his disciples to a mountain top. Suddenly he was transfigured and there appeared at his right hand Moses and at his left Elijah. Some great epiphany was at hand! What did Peter say? He said, “Boy it’s sure good that I’m here.” It was sure good that he was there? There stood the Son of God and standing in his midst the Father of Prophecy and the Father of the Law, and it was sure good Peter was there? And why? So he could build each of them a little tent. And he made a like spectacle of himself at the foot washing as well. It was the night before Jesus’ execution. The disciples were gathered together with Jesus in the upper room. Premonition hung in the air. The disciples awaited from Jesus some sign, some cue, some signal. Jesus arose and removed his outer robe. He poured water in a basin and began to wash their feet. He sought to symbolize in his actions what he before he departed wanted his disciples to learn -- that servants are not greater than their masters, nor messengers greater than the one who sent them. But when Jesus got to Peter’s feet, Peter refused to let Jesus wash them. Jesus assured him that he would come in time to understand what he was doing. Peter continued to balk. When Jesus insisted, Peter said he would permit it only as part of a full body wash. At this point I’m surprised that the evangelist John did not record the rolling of Jesus’ eyes. And these spectacles were nothing compared to the spectacle he made of himself after Jesus’ arrest. Just prior to his arrest, he proclaimed to Jesus, and I quote, “Even though I must die with you, I will never deny you.” And we all know what happened after Jesus’ arrest. He denied him not once, not twice, but three times. Jesus may have given Peter a special place of honor among the disciples, but it was not for any merit on Peter’s part. That wasn’t the way Jesus operated. It was because he looked at Peter and all people with compassion and forbearance. He saw that a special place of honor among the disciples was what Peter earned but needed. But then came Pentecost. The disciples were gathered again in the upper room when suddenly it was just as we heard described. There was the rush of a violent wind. Divided tongues as of fire rested upon each of them. We just heard it described, but we didn’t hear described what happened next. Peter had never been much of an orator, and that was probably for the best. What he said in private dialogues was bad enough; forget public speeches. But suddenly he was a great orator, and his words backed a punch. In his very first sermon, which is the very first sermon recorded in the Christian Church, he stood before the same crowds who had executed Jesus for a messianic imposter and declared to them that David himself had foreseen that the messiah would be the one that death could not hold. “Let the entire house if Israel know with certainty,” he concluded, “that God has made him both Messiah and Lord, this Jesus whom you crucified.” And that was just the beginning. Peter too was never known for his bravery. Just the opposite, he was known for his cowardice. But when questioned by the religious authorities about a miraculous healing he had performed, he stood before them his chest out, his head held high, and as brave as any man, and declared, “…let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified…The stone that the builders rejected has become the corner stone. There is salvation in no one else.” And when they demanded that he henceforth keep silent about Jesus Christ, he went on. “Whether it is right to listen to you rather than God, you must judge, but I cannot keep from speaking about what I have seen and heard.” The religious authorities were so confounded they let him go on his way. There was indeed change for Peter and change for his world. Into the degenerate Roman world there came through the apostles something new! It was not change from within which is no change at all, but change from above, change from the Spirit of Pentecost. It was in and of God’s world. It was the Spirit of the Pentecost. Friends in Christ, first the bad news. We don’t have it in us. We might think for a time that we do. We might hope for a time that we do. We might have our triumphs. But we don’t have it in us. We can make nothing new under the sun. But now the good news: But the Spirit of Penetcost has entered history. And by it and through it we do have it in us. We can make something new under the sun. We can do nothing less than bring heaven to earth. This is the good news for Pentecost. Amen.

As a pastor, I get asked quite a bit about the meaning of the cross. It’s a hard question. My father, who was a pastor before me and who is buried in these sacred grounds, devoted his whole life to the question. He tried to write a book about it, but he could never finish it. It was a hard question for him too, and he was a brilliant man. In fact, it has been a hard question for the Christian Church. The Christian Church down through the centuries has come up with four separate theories about the meaning of the cross, but all of them have holes in them. Even C.S. Lewis, when pressed on the question said that we Christians aren’t exactly sure how the cross works, but we’re just sure that it does. I think about the meaning of the cross a lot - when I wake up in the middle of the night; when I am out for a walk; when I feel the weight of my own sin. This much I think I can say for sure. Jesus bore his cross as a willing sacrifice. The New Testament makes that crystal clear. Jesus bore his cross as a willing sacrifice. He knew how badly he would suffer. The Romans made sure everyone knew that. He did it anyway. And there’s the thing. It would make no sense at all that he did if Jesus did not have faith in the ultimate goodness of being. So in a strange and mysterious and paradoxical way, you could even say that on the cross Jesus testified to the ultimate goodness of being. And he was vindicated. God resurrected him. The result was that God’s cause was advanced in history in a way it never was before and never will be again. Today is Memorial Day Sunday. We are called to remember and honor all of the soldiers who died on the field of battle. I am a student of World War II. I have been studying it pretty much my whole life. I will take it any way I can get it - histories, documentaries, biographies. There have been some fine dramatizations of it. My favorite is the miniseries Band of Brothers. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it. I warn you though it’s very vivid. So vivid that I can’t watch parts of it. I have to cover my eyes. The toughest scenes to watch were of the fighting at Normandy, fighting done by men who were still boys, really - 18, 19 years old. They bore the brunt of a world war. And what I can’t even watch they had to live. If you think about it, those soldiers had something in common with Jesus. They made a willing sacrifice. And the suffered too, boy did they ever suffer. But it didn’t stop them. Though again, it would make no sense at all if they didn’t have faith in the ultimate goodness of being, and the reality and worth of freedom and equality and just peace. And the result, again, was that God’s cause was advanced in history. This makes those soldiers nothing less than Christ figures. Now they may not have believed as we believe. But it really doesn’t matter. God works through his own people to be sure, but he works too through people who are not his own. Think of Ruth the Moabite. Think of Cyrus of Persian. Think of the Roman Centurion. Think of the Samaritan or the Syro-Phoenician woman. Willing sacrifices made in faith in the ultimate goodness of being. It would appear to be the very mechanism of redemption. And friends, this all has application for us, if we want to be even remotely worthy of them. We are now called to make willing sacrifices in faith in the ultimate goodness of being in advancement of God’s cause in history. This means we don’t get to live lives of ease or complacency or aimlessness. This means we don’t get to hoard our time and resources. This means we don't get to take shortcuts through life, short cuts that, ironically, get us nowhere. All of that needs to be sacrificed. Instead we, need to enact our belief in the primacy of justice, the primacy of peace, the primacy of truth ,and above all the primacy of love. No matter what it costs us. Moses was dying. So he gathered the people around him. What were his dying words? What did he tell them? He told them that each and every day they had a choice. They could choose the way of blessing, or they could choose the way of curse. That's our choice too each and every day. We can choose the way of curse. We can deny the ultimate goodness of being and find no higher meaning than selfishness and hatred and cynicism and suspicion and fear, and in so doing make everything we touch all that much worse, or we can affirm the ultimate goodness of being and find higher meaning in everything, in every breath we take, and in so doing make everything we touch all that much better. Each and every day it’s our choice. Let us pray to God that our choice honors him, his son, and the fallen soldiers we gather here to remember. Amen.

The virgin birth, the angelic host, the adoring shepherds, the star of Bethlehem, the wise men from the East… – the portents of the great destiny to which Jesus was born. But of what followed these portents, the Bible tells us almost nothing. One wonders how Mary and Joseph shared with their son that he had been born to a great destiny, and how he bore that knowledge those long years in Nazareth as he waited in obscurity for that great destiny to come to pass. But one is left to wonder. The Bible tells us only that when Jesus was a young man of some thirty years, the prophet John the Baptist appeared in the Judean wilderness with an urgent proclamation. John proclaimed that the people must repent of their sin, and as a sign of their repentance, be baptized, for God’s messiah was coming. News of John’s proclamation must have stirred something within Jesus. Jesus must have sensed that John’s proclamation had to do with him, that the great destiny to which he was born was now to be made known to him. And so he summoned himself from the life he was leading in Nazareth and went down to Judea to be baptized by John. And of course, Jesus was right. Upon his baptism, the heavens opened, the Holy Spirit descended upon him, and the voice of God declared, “You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.” The great destiny to which Jesus had been born was thus made known to him. Jesus was God’s messiah. But that was not the fullness of that which was made known to Jesus at his baptism. The voice of God also made known to him that the vocation of God’s messiah was to sacrifice himself for human sin. For you see, the “the Beloved” of God, and the vocation of “the Beloved” of God had been described by the prophet Isaiah some five hundred years earlier. Isaiah foretold that God’s Beloved, when he came, would be held of no account, would be oppressed and afflicted; would be despised and rejected by humanity; and finally would be cut off from the land of the living -- but that his wounds would be wounds for the sake of human transgression; his punishment would be that which would make humanity whole; and that out of his anguish, he would see light. Yes, at his baptism, the great destiny to which Jesus had been born was made known to him, and too how that great destiny would be wrought. And it is through what was made known to Jesus at his baptism – that he was God’s messiah whose vocation it was to sacrifice himself for human sin -- that his ministry must be understood. For instance, immediately after Jesus’ baptism, he was led by the Holy Spirit into the dessert to be tempted by the devil, but tempted how? Clearly, he realized, tempted not to sacrifice himself for human sin. Recall with what the devil tempted him – worldly dominion, the ability to save himself from peril, to deliver himself from need. But Jesus withstood the devil’s temptation, “Away with you, Satan.” Jesus then called twelve disciples, but why? To attempt to teach them that he was indeed God’s messiah whose vocation it was to sacrifice himself for human sin; to teach them so as to prepare them, to teach them so that they would someday teach the world. Recall his continuous attempts to get through to his disciples. His first time: “Then he began to teach his disciples that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed… He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and rebuked him.” And his second time: “They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him….But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.” And his third time, this time in graphic detail: “They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them. He took the twelve again and began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, ‘See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.” Recall Jesus’ words to James and John near the end of his ministry when they blindly made a bid for preeminence in Jesus’ coming kingdom, “You don’t know what you’re asking; are you able to be baptized with the baptism with which I have been baptized?” Jesus never did get through to his disciples. He was left to hope and trust that in the giving of the Holy Spirit they would recall his words and recover their meaning. The night before Jesus was crucified he instituted a ritual meal. But why? So his sacrifice for human sin, his broken body and shed blood, could be commemorated by his disciples, as it is to this day. He then went to the Garden of Gethsemane where he threw himself to the ground in anguish and prayed to his father to find another way. But why? Because the immediacy of his sacrifice for human sin made it dreadfully and terrifyingly real to him. It is one thing to consider your death abstractly or from a distance, quite another when it is squarely before you. Yes, it is through that which was made known to Jesus at his baptism – that he was God’s messiah whose vocation it was to sacrifice himself for human sin -- that his ministry must be understood. And it is something we must guard and keep very close, for a number of reasons. Principally, of course, because we affirm with the witness of the New Testament and the Christian Church throughout the ages that the cross of Jesus was no mishap or accident, but “according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God.” It is the mystery that lies at the very heart of our faith – The cross of Jesus, on which God’s messiah sacrificed himself for our sin. And too we must guard and keep it very close because it underscores the utter greatness of the man we follow. Jesus was a man, vulnerable in the face of suffering and death, like us. Yes, in Jesus the fullness of the Godhead was pleased to dwell, but as the apostle Paul explained in his epistle to the church in Philippi, In Jesus, God emptied himself, humbled himself, and was born in human likeness in the form of a servant. God was hid within Jesus. But we don’t need Paul to affirm that Jesus was vulnerable in the face of suffering and death. If Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane was not enough, recall Jesus on his cross, broken and shattered in body and spirit – “Eli, Eli, lema sabbachthani.” “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” And as a man, vulnerable in the face of suffering and death, amidst all the clamor and turmoil of his ministry and as lonely as he must have been in the knowledge, he bore what was made known to him at his baptism with faith and obedience, bore it through to its bitter conclusion, for our sake. And finally, we must guard and keep it very close because it bears upon our understanding of our own baptisms. For as St. Paul explained in his epistle to the church in Rome, it is through our baptisms that we become beneficiaries of Jesus’ sacrifice for our sin. “Therefore,” Paul declared, “we have been buried with Jesus [through our] baptism into death, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the father, so we too might walk in newness of life.” And the benefit we receive from Jesus’ sacrifice for our sin, we learn too from Paul, is newness of life. It is newness of life, by which we know that Jesus sacrificed himself for our sin. It is newness of life by which we know that his sacrifice for our sin has too overcome the death our sin has merited us. It is newness of life by which we know the great destiny to which we were born is eternal life with God. It is newness of life by which we know Jesus will return and swallow all of creation in his glory; and newness of life, friends in Christ, by which our lives and all life have hope. And so, how are we to respond to all that inheres in the baptism of Jesus for us? How are we to respond? By simply receiving the newness of life with which our baptisms have made us beneficiaries and by growing in that newness of life in his truth, less for our own sakes than the sake of our larger world, which needs his truth now more than ever. Amen.

What in the world would have induced the Magi to embark upon the journey described in this morning’s gospel lesson? There were countless practical reasons not to. For one thing, the journey was a very long one – from Sheba to Bethlehem was hundreds of miles. And they could hardly hop on a plane. They had rather to hop on camels – slow moving beasts for such a distance. The journey could have taken them weeks, perhaps even months. For another thing, the journey was a very uncertain one. They didn’t know whether they’d find their way or even where, in particular, they were going. Moreover, there were few road or maps. They had but a star to guide them. A star. This meant too that travel by day was out of the question. They had to make their way by night. And too, the journey was fraught with perils -- the first and foremost being the peril of nature. They were at the mercy of wild animals, and indeed the Bible documents people being mauled by lions, bitten by snakes, and stung by scorpions. What’s more they were traveling through desert regions. They were at risk of dying of thirst, and again the Bible documents that this was not unheard of. And then there was the peril of wicked men, like King Herod. We know from the Bible as well as contemporary life that there is nothing more perilous than wicked men. Wicked men discern no morality and acknowledge no law – hence their depravity and cruelty and recklessness. Look what King Herod did, for instance, to the innocents of Bethlehem. He ordered them massacred lest they grow up to threaten his crown. And if these reasons weren’t enough for the Magi not to embark upon that journey, there are plenty more. Scholars still debate among themselves exactly who these Magi were – whether they were astrologists or wise men or kings or magicians. But whoever they were, they were not outlaws or desperadoes. They were men of considerable eminence. And men of eminence normally uphold the status quo. The status quo has profited them, after all. There was no profit to be had in risking the status quo, in rocking the boat over some gambit. Furthermore, they were not even the subjects of the King that they were seeking. Nothing of his reign would ever have the slightest effect upon them. Add to that that the rightful subjects of the King that they were seeking were not particularly fond of foreigners. If truth be told, they were downright xenophobic. The Magi weren’t particularly wanted in those parts. And so, let us return to the original question. What in the world would have induced the Magi to embark upon that journey? There were countless practical reasons for them not to. I have my own explanation. Could it be that somehow, someway, dimly, vaguely, the Magi perceived in that star a sign of the beckoning of God? For God is a God who beckons in signs – The manna, the quail, the blooming rod, the fleece, the still small voice, the babe wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger, the sign of Jonah. It may sound far-fetched, but I can think of now other plausible explanation for the Magi to embark upon that journey. And if this is true, friends, then it’s altogether possible that God beckons us in signs. It could be anything – a star, yes, or a rainbow. But too it could be a child in poverty, a stranger in need, a widow in mourning. It could be a lie we all know to be a lie. It could be a coincidence that we doubt is only a coincidence. It could be anything. As with the Magi, it is ours to perceive in the signs in our lives the beckoning of God; ours to perceive, and then ours to embark upon a journey. Of course, there are countless practical reasons not to. The journey could take a long time. It could take the rest of our lives. You know how it is with these things. Way leads on to way. You get to one horizon only to see another. It could be uncertain. We have no idea where we’ll end up – only the general direction we are heading. That’s not the best game plan for a journey. And of course, there are perils. The journey would probably lead us through dangerous terrain. Most journeys of any distance do. And then there are today’s Herods, hating the truth because it opposes and accuses them. And let’s face it, it’s pretty comfortable right where we are right now. There are countless practical reasons for us not to, but let’s return to the Magi for a moment. There was not one practical reason for them to embark upon that journey, and not one practical reason for them, at their journey’s end, to have felt, as they did, perfectly justified in having done so. After all, the “King” that they journeyed to behold was poor, lowly, wrapped in rags, and born to a peasant girl, who in other circumstances they would have taken no notice of. Yet, upon beholding that King, some strange truth broke in upon them; a strange truth about the nature of ultimate sovereignty, about the nature of ultimate power, about the nature of ultimate existence. They could scarcely have conceived the fullness of it, yet they felt its force fully enough to fall on their knees and pay homage to him and offer him gifts. They felt its force enough to steal away in defiance of King Herod and in allegiance to him. No doubt they left him changed men. No doubt too that they had no regrets about their journey. I guess it’s safe to conclude that the practical course is not always the best one. A New Year has now dawned upon us. I could say glibly or tritely it promises to be a great year, but this would not be right. It promises more realistically to be a challenging year. A challenging year for us, yes, with weather systems run amok, with political turmoil, with international tensions, with all the frets and fears and failures we all harbor and bear; but so much worse for so many others, especially those across the world those ravaged by violence and poverty. But our God will send signs to beckon us, and we must be vigilant to perceive them and courageous to embark upon impractical journeys, that through us in this coming year his way of truth, his way of justice, and his way of love is accomplished through us. This is the word of God for Epiphany. Amen.

“Then Pashur struck the prophet Jeremiah and put him in the stocks that were in the upper Benjamin Gate of the House of the Lord.” This morning’s Old Testament lesson would seem to indicate that the prophet Jeremiah was not well received. Indeed, such was the case. The prophet Jeremiah was not well received. In fact, that is putting it mildly. The prophet Jeremiah was not only beaten and set in stocks by the priest Pashur. He was thrown into a muddy cistern. And when I say muddy, he sunk up to his waist. There he was left for dead. He came within a hair’s breadth of being lynched by an angry mob. Even his own family conspired to kill him. And these were just the physical assaults. There too was the derision. The king himself flouted him publicly in the most egregious way. The people jeered at him whenever he passed. Yes, to put it mildly, the prophet Jeremiah was not well received. This is because the prophet Jeremiah made an unpopular demand upon Israel. He demanded that Israel integrate belief with practice or face the judgment of God. And to make matters worse, he made the demand by exposing, accusing, and threatening, and in the most angry and denunciatory terms. Here is but a small and, believe it or not, relatively mild dose of the man; this to those who gathered at the Temple for worship: “Hear the word of the Lord, all you people of Judah, you that enter these gates to worship…Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Amend you ways and your doings, and let me dwell with you in this place. Do not trust in these deceptive words: ‘This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord.’ For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood… and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will dwell with you in this place….. But there you are, trusting in deceptive words to no avail. Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, swear falsely, make offerings to Baal, and go after other gods…and then come and stand before me in this house which is called by my name, and say, ‘We are safe!’ – only to go on doing all these abominations? Has this house, which is called by my name, become a den of robbers in your sight? You know, I am watching, says the Lord. God now to my place that was in Shiloh, where I made my name dwell at first, and see what I did to it for the wickedness of my people Israel.” Shiloh, of course, had once been Israel’s central shrine until it was destroyed by the Philistines. Exposure, accusation, and threat in the most angry and denunciatory terms, but at the same time the irrefutable truth. But Israel wasn’t having it, for essentially two reasons. For one, it was the prophet Jeremiah’s form. No one like exposure, accusation, and threat, especially in the most angry and denunciatory of terms. It is unpleasant. It is uncomfortable. It is offensive. And because it is, it became easy for Israel to view the prophet Jeremiah’s form as the problem and to overlook his content. And too, Israel, Israel believed at least, was not really so bad as all that. After all, Israel was God’s chosen people -- God, by the way, who was, “slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love…forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin….” Sure Israel had its warts and freckles, but who doesn’t? Compared to its pagan neighbors -- those uncouth, unclean, barbarians -- Israel was the most enlightened and advanced nation there was. Israel was as good as it gets. Why couldn’t the prophet Jeremiah see it that way -- as a cup half full scenario -- and keep his big mouth shut? Martin Luther King, Jr., for all the fanfare he now receives every January, was not well received either, and again, that is to put it mildly. It was for him about how it was for the prophet Jeremiah. As King himself described it, “Due to my involvement in the struggle for the freedom of my people, I have known very few quiet days in the last few years. I have been arrested five times and put in Alabama jails. My home has been bombed twice. A day seldom passes that my family and I are not the recipients of threats of death. I have been the victim of a near fatal stabbing. So in a real sense I have been battered by the storms of persecution. I must admit that at times I have felt that I could no longer bear such a heavy burden….” And too it was because King made the same unpopular demand upon America as the prophet Jeremiah had made upon Israel. King demanded that America integrate belief with practice or face the judgment of God. He demanded that the freedoms that inhered in the Constitution that declared all to be equal and that inhered in the Bible that declared all to be created in the image of God be afforded to African Americans. And King did not even expose, accuse, and threaten, at least not with the same anger and denunciation as the prophet Jeremiah. This was because standing between King and the prophet Jeremiah was Jesus Christ, who had shown that God’s cause was to be won by redemptive suffering. And so King substituted for anger and denunciation non-violent resistance – boycotts, marches, and sit-ins – through which he and the African American people indeed learned the way of redemptive suffering. But America, like Israel, wasn’t having it, again for the same two reasons that Israel wasn’t having it. It viewed the problem as King’s form and overlooked his content. They disliked his demonstrations. They were chaotic, dangerous, and frightening. What’s more, they were illegal. African Americans should just wait for the wheels of justice to turn, America declared, wait for the legislature and judiciary to act. They would have their equality in due time. King countered that unjust law was no law at all, and that the African American people had been waiting for 340 years. “I guess it is easy”, he wrote, “for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, ‘Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick, brutalize, and even kill your black brothers and sisters with impunity; when you see the vast majority of twenty million Negroes smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society, when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television and see tears welling up in her little eyes when she is told that it is closed to colored children, and see the depressing clouds of inferiority begin to form in her little mental sky…when you have to concoct an answer to your five year old son asking in agonizing pathos: ‘Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”…When you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading white and colored, when your first name becomes boy, when your wife and mother are never given the respected title Mrs,…then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over…..” But America believed, grant King his eloquence, the larger problem was still his demonstrations. And what’s more, he needed to do something about that perspective. American wasn’t really as bad as all that. American believed itself too God’s chosen people, compared to its neighbors the most enlightened and advanced nation there was. It had, after all, fought a war to end slavery. America was as good as it gets. So why didn’t King see it that way, as a cup half full scenario, and keep his big mouth shut? But the reason that prophets, whether from Israel or America, don’t see it that way is because they see it through God’s eyes, God’s eyes that penetrate pretext and evasion, indifference and indolence, fear and weakness, eyes that will neither slumber of sleep until there is equality, freedom, and justice for all the people he created. Prophets are not well received, and they probably never will be, but history does have a way of vindicating them. Martin Luther King knew this. “One day the South will recognize its real heroes,” he wrote, “….They will be old, oppressed, battered Negro women, symbolized in a seventy two year old woman of Montgomery, who rose up with a sense of dignity and with her people decided not to ride the segregated buses….They will be the high school and college students….courageously and nonviolently sitting at lunch counters and willingly going to jail for conscience’s sake. One day the South will know…these children of God were standing up for the best in the American dream and the most sacred values in our Judeo-Christian heritage carrying our whole nation back to those great wells of democracy which were dug deep by the Founding Fathers in the formulation of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.” King was dead right. History has vindicated them all. All this makes you wonder how we would have received King had we been a church in the separate but equal south of the fifties and sixties? Would we have overlooked his content for his form? Would we have believed that we really weren’t so bad, that we were as good as it gets? And it makes you wonder how we would receive a prophet today. Perhaps our prayer, as we honor Martin Luther King, Jr. should be that God raise up another prophet of social justice, so that we may prove that we stand ready to vindicate him. Amen.

Birmingham, Alabama was just like any other city in the Jim Crow South. It was segregated. But perhaps the word “segregated,” as negative as are its connotations, is something of a euphemism in this particular case. Segregation can be taken simply to mean separation. Locker rooms are segregated. Dormitories are segregated. This means that men and women have separate facilities -- separate, but equal, to coin a loaded phrase. But of course, this was not what was going on in the Jim Crow South, nothing of the sort. It wasn’t as if there were separate but equal facilities for African Americans and White Americans. It was that African Americans were not permitted the use of White American facilities. Libraries, stores, parks, schools, restaurants, rest rooms, swimming pools, transportation, hotels, amusement parks, houses, apartments, and of course, churches. African Americans were not permitted the use of these facilities, or if by rare exception they were, that use was severely restricted. Needless to say, African Americans had nothing comparable of their own. And how was this so-called segregation enforced? By signs, mostly - “White” and “Colored.” Now you may say to yourself? Signs? What kind of enforcement is that? Signs can easily be ignored or defied. If someone put a sign saying “No Calvinists” at my health food store, I’d go in anyway and read them the riot act to boot. And after all, African Americans comprised, depending on the count, a third to a half of the population in the Jim Crow South. How could such egregious discrimination be enforced by signs? Well, truth be told, especially when African American discontent in the Jim Crow South began to grow, there was some concern among White Americans that signs were not enough. So in Birmingham for example, to give the signs additional muscle, eighteen unsolved bombings took place in African American neighborhoods. I don’t know about you, but if I were an African American in Birmingham in those days, and there was the threat that my children, or any children, would be blown to pieces, I think I’d read (and heed) the signs. In 1963, Martin Luther King, Jr. turned his attention to Birmingham. He began to organize peaceful demonstrations there. In short order, a judge ordered King to cease his demonstrations on the grounds that Birmingham had not granted him the required permits. King ignored the order and was thereupon imprisoned. A colleague who came to visit him brought him a local newspaper. In it King saw a full page advertisement taken out by white clergymen declaring that his demonstrations were, and I quote, “untimely.” King, in the margins of that newspaper, began a letter of response to that advertisement. When he ran out of space in the margins, he continued the letter on toilet paper, until he was at last supplied with a notepad. King’s letter, of course, was his immortal manifesto, “Letter from Birmingham Jail.” In it, he argued for the “timeliness” of his demonstrations. There were, basically, two fronts to his argument. The first front of his argument was that it is easy enough for those who are not suffering from social injustice to tell those who are to be patient, to wait. And of course, King is irrefutable here. It would be like telling someone who is dying of thirst to be patient, to wait, while you yourself are sitting right beside a well; or like telling someone who is starving to death to be patient, to wait, while you’ve just come from a feast. It’s rather hypocritical, insensitive, and indifferent. It’s rather hardhearted. It’s rather cruel. Allow me to quote King at some length on this point: “For years now I have heard the word "Wait!" It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This "Wait" has almost always meant 'Never." We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that ‘justice too long delayed is justice denied.’ We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God-given rights…Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging dart of segregation to say, "Wait." But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: "Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?"; when you take a cross-county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored"…, when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at a tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of "nobodiness" -- then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.” The second front of his argument was that to ask African Americans to be patient, to wait rested upon the false premise that social justice is evolving by some kind of natural process; that it wasn’t something that must be struggled for. Again, to quote King, this time with much greater brevity: “Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be coworkers with God.” And when King was freed from the Birmingham Jail, he continued the struggle for social justice there. That struggle reached its nadir when children aged six to sixteen joined in the demonstrations in place of their parents who could not risk the loss of their livelihoods. The response of the Birmingham police was to throw the children in the Birmingham jail. Before long, the jail was packed past capacity with nearly 1,000 children. When other children continued to demonstrate and there was no room left for them in the jail, the police turned their power hoses upon them. The force of the hoses snapped their bones and washed their small bodies down the streets. And this lost Birmingham its war against African Americans. By this time the press had turned its attention to Birmingham. Photos of the persecuted children spread throughout the country and the world, which together convulsed in moral horror. The process of integration in Birmingham was then haltingly begun. The signs began to come down. Birmingham, Alabama turned out to be the turning point in the Civil Rights Movement. It was where Martin Luther King Jr. taught the Jim Crow South and teaches us here today that the immoral course is to tell those suffering from social injustice to be patient, to wait; and the moral course is to join the struggle to achieve social justice. Martin Luther King Jr., was undeniably, from a secular standpoint a visionary, and from a Christian standpoint a prophet. He gave a face to wisdom and conviction and courage. His leadership changed the course of this nation in a worthy direction. That, of course, is why we honor him each year on his birthday. But there’s one compliment that can’t be bestowed upon him. It can’t be said he was original. He himself again and again decried his own originality. He insisted he was merely following the Bible. And indeed he was. Just consider just our New Testament lesson. Paul had founded a church in Corinth, Greece, and from his letter to that church it appears that the minute he left Corinth, they screwed everything up. It’s little surprise really. The barriers between Jews and Greeks were impenetrable. You can’t overcome a cultural barriers of that magnitude with a little evangelism. What the church in Corinth errantly took from Paul was that if Christians were justified through Jesus Christ, at the end of the age and then alone they would be saved. Between now and then, it was pretty much business as usual. Justification through Jesus Christ functioned basically as a “Get Out Of Hell Free” card. Paul wrote to the church at Corinth that if that’s how they viewed justification through Jesus Christ that they were justified, “in vain.” “Now,” Paul declared, “is the favorable time." What Paul tried to impress upon the church at Corinth is that justification through Jesus Christ was a call to active service in the here and now. It was a call to stand up and be counted. It was a call to accomplish salvation in that place and time. It was a call to timeliness. What King did really was to make the Bible come alive in the Jim Crow South. And on Martin Luther King, Jr. Sunday, may he inspire us to make the Bible come alive in our time as well. Amen.

My grandmother, God rest her soul, was an expert bargain hunter. That woman really knew how to pinch a penny. And expertise, in bargain hunting and everything else, requires years of experience, such that a thing becomes second nature. My grandmother over the years developed a seemingly innate sense of the precise value of a diamond in the rough. And her reputation preceded her. She had only to arrive at an estate sale or auction or garage sale, and the crowds parted and let her have her way. She always walked away with what she wanted at the price she wanted. No one could rival her. I like to think that in my own small way I am a chip off the old block. I like to think that I too am an expert bargain hunter. After all, I watched the master at work. I am always trolling for a steal. I even schedule my morning run around garbage pick-up days to potentiate the discovery of treasure discarded in the parkway. Of course,garbage is the ultimate bargain because it’s free. Last week then, I had to run to a discount store for a few “essential” necessities, and I made my usual pass down the clearance aisle. To my delight and excitement, last year’s swimming apparel was marked 75% off. I was in need of beach wraps for the girls for the upcoming season, and it seemed truly a case of “seek and you will find” because there were three of them - all one size fits all. At the sale price they were five dollars, and since I had the remains of of a gift card from the store, I only had to shell out two dollars for all three beach wraps. A fair day’s work, I congratulated myself. Yes, I was feeling good about my achievement until I got home and had the girls try on the “one size fits all” beach wraps. My girls, though they are the same age, happen to be very different sizes. One girl is on the tall side, one girl is on the short side, and one girl is of medium height, after the fashion of The Three Bears. The beach wrap for the girl on the tall side fit her like a sausage casing. It was so tight that within seconds she had laceration marks around her neck. The beach wrap for the girl on the short side, was, so to speak, swimming on her. It was so big on her that it formed a train behind her. Of course the beach wrap for the girls of medium height actually fit her, but she claimed it was “lame,” so my achievement was a bust, and I was out two dollars. I did learn one thing from the experience, however. I learned that one size does not fit all. One size may fit the majority, but one size does not fit all. And this applies to more than just clothing. In fact it applies to just about everything. It applies to the lifestyles we choose to adopt. It applies to the vocations and avocations we pursue. It applies to the way we configure our families. It applies to the company we keep. It applies to our fashion sense of lack thereof. It applies to the abodes we make our homes. It applies to the ways we enact our roles. It applies to if and how we create intimate partnerships. One size does not fit all. There is no one way to do and to be. But there’s a problem with this, and it has to do with the fact that one size fits the majority. The majority then often expects that because one size fits them, that it must fit the minority too. And so they exert pressure upon the minority to conform - to deny that they are different, to deny their individuality, to deny their uniqueness. The minority is then at risk of being driven to a place of self denial and self contradiction to prevent being maligned or marginalized. Personally it seems ridiculous that people should be pressured to be what they are not. And the ridiculousness becomes compounded when the Bible is conscripted to support what we can label the “one size fits all tyranny.” Because in fact, the Bible wants nothing to do with it. For one thing, look at the wide assortment of “sizes” of its characters: Ezekiel, who, in an era when long hair and beards were the style, shaved every hair off his head and face with his sword? And the Lord put him up to it. Or Hosea, who married a prostitute and embarked upon the quintessential non-traditional marriage? And again, the Lord put him up to it. Or Solomon, who took for himself a thousand foreign wives? And the Bible never faults him for it, only that he worshiped their foreign gods. And don’t get me started on Jesus of Nazareth. Suffice it to say that we worship him for his uniqueness. They’re simply not “one size fits all” kind of folks. But more to the point, the overall message of the Bible wants nothing to do with the ”one size fits all tyranny.” There are places in the Bible where its truth breaks agonized and clear. Proof texting - or choosing a sentence here or there from the Bible to support your own preconceived biases (and those biases are usually formed of hatred and fear) - is always bad. But at the same time, there are places in the Bible which really manages to capture its overall spirit. “In Christ, God was reconciling the world to himself,” would be such an example. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” would be another. And today's words from Jeremiah would be yet another. “This is the covenant I will make, says the Lord, I will put my law within them. I will write it on their hearts. “ Jeremiah envisions a new covenant between God and God’s people. A true covenant. The true covenant, a covenant written upon the hearts of believers. But the timing of Jeremiah’s words was beyond strange, because the nation that had once been Israel lay before him in ruins. And Israel had not thought of itself as just any nation. Israel had thought of itself as God’s nation. The nation of Israel had been the very axis of Israel’s faith. But Jeremiah, the weeping prophet, shed no tears at the ruin of the nation of Israel. He declared that the axis of Israel’s faith would now be what it should have been all along = the hearts of believers. What Jeremiah was saying was that the nation of Israel should never have been the axis of Israel’s faith in the first place. Nor should that axis have been any preexisting majority of any kind, - whether it be the nation, whether it be race, whether it be ethnicity, whether it be orientation, lineage, or stature.. But solely the hearts of believers, wherever they came from, whatever they looked like, whoever they happened to be. This, Jeremiah was saying, would be how God would covenant with God’s people. This would hardly seem to buttress the “one size fits all tyranny.” As I said, the Bible wants nothing to do with it. Today is Mother’s Day, the day, obviously, on which we honor the institution of motherhood. And so, what application has all (or any) of this to the institution of motherhood? It has plenty. Too long, I think, we have held an idealized view of the institution of motherhood in ways that are sentimental or nostalgic or anachronistic. We have envisioned the ideal mother as Betty Crocker rolled into June Cleaver rolled into Laura Petrie - rather one size fits all. But whenever there exists a one size fits all mentality, there is too the threat of the "one size fits all tyranny.” Let us turn again to the biblical character to see if the mothers of the Bible fit this mold? There are the mothers of Bethlehem who wept inconsolably as Roman soldiers massacred their infant sons. There is Elizabeth who struggled with infertility her entire life until she was finally granted a son in her old age, a son she would live long enough to see beheaded. There is Hagar who along her her son Ishmael were driven from their home into the desert where Hagar begged God that she not be forced to witness her son die from thirst. And of course, there is Mary, a poor teenager who found herself pregnant, and who came to learn that the son she bore would be lost to her for the sake of the redemption of humankind. Hardly one size fits all. And let us turn too to the axiom that we may derive from the Bible’s overall message, that relationships must take root not from any preexisting majority, but between sympathetic hearts of individuals. And let then reconsider the institution of motherhood - set the ideal against reality, so that we may honor the woman who is raising children by herself, the woman who has been forcefully separated from her children by the law of the land, the woman who balances and juggles her vocational calling with the demands of child rearing, the woman unable to conceive who becomes a surrogate mother to the children in her sphere, the woman whose children have moved on and left her with a hole in her heart, the woman who exigency drove to give her child up for adoption, the woman who adopted that child, the woman who has lost a child, the woman who is raising her children's children. And yes, too, Betty Crocker and June Cleaver and Laura Petie as well. The point is, on Mother’s Day, we are called to honor all women who are possessed of a mother’s heart, and that depth of love that can only spring form the source of all love -- the God of Jesus Christ. Amen.