10 Bulls Book is a piece produced in 1993 and only just converted to .pdf for the world to share.

Our gospel reading for today comes from the 14^th Chapter of Matthew. It’s the story of the miracle of the feeding of the 5,000. But before I read the gospel verses, I’d like to put the event in its historical context for greater understanding of the forces whirling around Jesus, his disciples, and John the Baptist.

According to tradition, and maybe to fact, John the Baptist was Jesus’ cousin –– his friend –– his helper.  They had grown up together, and according to the gospel, John saw his mission as preparing the way for Jesus.  But John had run afoul of King Herod –– and with Herod’s wife, Herodias.  You see, Herodias had been married to Herod’s brother, but Herod had persuaded her to divorce his brother and to marry him.  This is a story of betrayal and intrigue, and was as immoral and unacceptable in Jesus’ time as ours, but was typical behavior for the Herods.

Jewish law prohibited a man from marrying his brother’s wife –– unless the brother was dead.  Herod’s brother Philip was very much alive.  John the Baptist denounced Herod for marrying his brother’s wife.  When John denounced King Herod, he was moving into dangerous waters.  In fact, Herod would have murdered John, but John was so popular with the people that he hesitated to touch him, so Herod threw him into prison instead.

But Herodias, Herod’s wife, had no such qualms.  She sent her daughter, Salome, to dance at Herod’s banquet.  Herod was so pleased that he promised Salome whatever she wanted.  After consulting with her mother, Salome asked for John’s head on a platter.  Having made a public promise, Herod had to keep it.  He had John beheaded, and presented John’s head to Salome, who gave it to her mother.  John’s disciples buried John’s body, and then went to tell Jesus what had happened.  That’s where our Gospel lesson picks up today. In Matthew, Chapter 14, starting with the 13^th verse, we read:

14:13 Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns.
14:14 When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.
14:15 When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.”
14:16 Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.”
14:17 They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.”
14:18 And he said, “Bring them here to me.”
14:19 Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds.
14:20 And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.
14:21 And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

Matthew, verse 13 says, “Now when Jesus heard this (in other words, when Jesus heard that Herod had beheaded John) Jesus withdrew…in a boat to a deserted place by himself.”  Jesus had drawn large crowds wherever he went, but now he needed to be alone.  He needed a chance to think –– to grieve –– to pray.  He needed to shed a tear for John, who had been his lifelong friend.

But the crowds wouldn’t allow Jesus his opportunity to mourn.  They didn’t know about John’s death.  They didn’t know about Jesus’ grief.  They knew only that Jesus was a great teacher and a great healer –– and they wanted what he could give them.  Jesus had departed by boat, but they guessed where he was going and got there ahead of him.  When Jesus arrived at his destination, there was the crowd –– waiting for him.

A lesser man might have been angry or disappointed at this intrusion, but Jesus wasn’t angry.  He had compassion for these people, who were so needy.  He stepped out of the boat and began to heal those who were sick.

Keep in mind that Jesus had intended to go somewhere private –– remote –– a place where he could be alone.  That’s exactly what this would have been if the crowd hadn’t figured out where he was going, and if they hadn’t gotten there first.

Jesus’ disciples, seeing the great crowd in this usually deserted place, began to worry.  It would soon be suppertime, and there was no food to feed these people.  They advised Jesus:

“This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves” (v. 15).

I’ll have to confess that I admire these disciples.  They had the foresight to spot a problem before it became a problem –– and they had the street-smarts to come up with a solution.  They didn’t wring their hands, and they didn’t wait for the situation to spiral out of control.  They came up with a practical solution –– send the crowds away now –– and advised Jesus to do that while there was still time.

I admire these disciples for another reason too.  They were concerned for Jesus, and they wanted to make sure that Jesus didn’t get himself into trouble.  They were also concerned for the crowd, who would soon find themselves hungry and miserable as the sun began to set.  The adults might have managed all right, but what about the children!  I doubt that a chorus of children crying themselves to sleep on that hillside would have been pleasant.  There was the potential for a good deal of misery, and the disciples wanted to help Jesus –– and they wanted to help the people.

So the disciples advised Jesus, “Send the crowds away!”  Send them away NOW, while there is still time!  TAKE CHARGE, Jesus, and get ahead of the problem before the problem gets ahead of you!  End the day on a positive note, and end it NOW!

But Jesus had his own solution.  He told the disciples, “They need not go away; YOU give them something to eat” (v. 16).

The disciples looked at each other and took stock of their meager resources.  They said, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish” (v. 17).  They must have been thinking, “Come on, Jesus!  Get serious!”

But Jesus said, “Bring them here to me.”  Bring me the bread and fish.  Then Jesus ordered the crowd to sit down on the grass.  That was a bold step, because Jesus was, in essence, inviting the people to prepare to receive a picnic lunch.  He was raising their expectations beyond reason.

Listen carefully to what Jesus did next.  He TOOK the loaves and fish –– and looked up to heaven –– and BLESSED them and BROKE them and GAVE them.  Do you recognize that language?  That’s the kind of language that we use at the Lord’s Table.  It’s the kind of language we use to celebrate the Eucharist.

In other words, Jesus is going beyond feeding these people.  He is transforming this moment on this remote hillside into a holy moment –– a sacred celebration.  He intends to offer these people something to eat, but he also intends to offer them something more.  He intends to involve them in a holy occasion –– a moment when they can experience the presence of God in their midst –– a moment when they can see Jesus revealed to them as the Son of God.

I’m not saying that this was the first Lord’s Supper, because it wasn’t.  But I am saying that, in Jesus’ hands, the bread and fish became something more than bread and fish –– something blessed.

In her book, Two-Part Invention, Madeleine L’Engle tells about the evening her husband, Hugh, proposed to her.  Hugh took her to a nice restaurant for dinner, and then took her back to her apartment.  He suggested that they play some music, and selected a recording of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake.  Then, as the music played, he took a book of Conrad Aiken’s poetry from her bookshelf and leafed through it until he found just the right place.  Then he read these words to Madeleine.  He said:

“Music I heard with you
was more than music,
And bread I broke with you
was more than bread.”

And then he asked Madeleine to marry him.
Of course, Madeleine said Yes!  Of course, they got married!

“Music I heard with you
was more than music,
And bread I broke with you
was more than bread.”

With those words, Hugh was telling Madeleine that their time together had become something more than ordinary time.  It was time that went beyond working to eat and eating to survive.  Their time together was time raised to the next level –– time in which there was deep spiritual communion –– holy time.  His proposal of marriage was an invitation to spend the rest of their lives at that higher level.  It was an invitation to bless and to be blessed –– to love and to be loved.  Of course, Madeline said Yes!

I don’t know if the people in that crowd experienced that moment on the hillside with that kind of awareness.  Some probably did.  Most probably did not.

But the disciples did.  They saw something they could not have imagined.  Jesus blessed the loaves and broke them and gave them to the disciples.  Then the disciples gave the broken loaves to the people.  As the people passed the baskets of bread from one to the other, each person took enough to satisfy his or her hunger.  The story then concludes this way:

“And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children” (vv. 20-21).

Five thousand men –– PLUS women and children.  How many would that be?  Seven thousand?  Ten thousand?  We don’t know exactly how many that would have been, but we do know that it would have been a huge crowd.  It would have been far more than the disciples could have fed with five loaves of bread and two fish.

Everyone ate, and everyone’s hunger was satisfied.  But there was food left at the end –– twelve baskets full of food –– a symbol of abundance –– evidence that a miracle had taken place –– evidence that Jesus was not bound by the usual rules of arithmetic –– evidence that God was present on this hillside.

The feeding of the 5,000 is the only miracle reported in all four gospels, an indication of how important the event was to the early Church. But not all scholars believe that a supernormal event took place. In John 6:8, we read “One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, ‘There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” Some have pointed to this young boy, who supplied the small amount of food that Jesus then blessed, as an indication that people brought food with them that day. This makes sense, of course. How many of us have hastily packed a sandwich – or even more – if we know we’re about to travel far and don’t know how long we’ll be gone. In this case the miracle would have been that everyone shared what they had brought with those who had brought nothing. And sharing is no small miracle! But, in John’s version, as in Matthew’s, the miracle comes about in the presence of an emotional catalyst – compassion. And compassion leads to caring for your neighbors as you care for yourself. It’s putting the Golden Rule into action.

Let’s take a minute to talk about catalysts, since it’s important to this interpretation, and since many don’t know much about them. In chemistry, a catalyst speeds up – or even causes – a chemical reaction but is not changed itself. It can be used over and over to speed up reactions. For instance, that’s what a catalytic converter does in a car. There’s something in that device that changes the composition of the exhaust so that it does not harm the environment. The catalyst purifies – in the case of a car’s catalytic converter, the catalyst changes noxious fumes to something not so harmful. And it remains unchanged; it can be used over and over again, and it does not wear out! Everything around the catalyst may fall apart, but the catalyst remains unchanged. I don’t know that I’ve ever thought of compassion as a catalyst before, but it’s certainly an active principle here – both in Jesus’ healing of the crowds, and in his assuring that they receive a meal.

In either case, Matthew miracle or John miracle, compassion takes an active and primary role – and I would suggest, in both accounts, that the miracle is activated through the compassion of Jesus, though the miracle requires the help and compassion of others; it is the disciples, after all, who distribute the bread; in John’s account, it’s the young boy who freely offers what he has for all. Compassion acted upon is always an expression of love and must have a profound effect. It is the expression of “we” more than the expression of “I.” Jesus calls us, by his example, to be compassionate toward all.  When we are taught to be rugged individualists all our lives, this is a difficult lesson to learn.

I wish I could have been there that day.  I wish you could have been there too.  I wish we could have shared that moment with Jesus.  If we had been there, I wonder what we would have seen.  I wonder what we would have believed.  Would we have been among those who saw only that they received enough food to satisfy their hunger?  Or would we have been among those who saw something more?  I don’t know.

But I do know this.  I know that Jesus still touches lives today in miraculous ways.  Jesus still transforms people’s lives.  Jesus still breaks into our world in ways that break the rules of basic math.  Jesus still and always will be the God of compassion and love.  And I know that some people see that, and others don’t.

We, like Jesus’ disciples on that momentous day, are always tempted to believe that we don’t have enough.  Not only are people starving in places like Africa –– there are hungry people here in my town of Urbanna, and likewise here in Foneswood.  Not only is there an AIDS epidemic in Third World countries, but there are epidemics at work in right here in the good old USA. There is an AIDS epidemic, yes –– but there is also an epidemic of drug use –– and an epidemic of alcoholism –– and an epidemic of mothers and fathers who fail to provide for their children’s’ basic needs –– and there is an epidemic of violence. There is an epidemic of obesity, caused by the very abundance that we misuse.

In the midst of such terrible need, we are tempted to throw up our hands and say, “What can we offer in the face of so much need?”  What can we offer those who are hungry other than a box of canned goods?  What can we offer those who are infected with AIDS other than a few dollars?  What can we offer those who have lost their homes in a natural disaster beyond a few blankets and a few prayers?

But Jesus says, “Bring them here to me.”  We say, “But we have only a few cans of peaches and a handful of green beans” –– but Jesus says, “Bring them here to me.”

Then Jesus blesses the little that we have and sends us out to meet the need.  We, in this congregation, together with Christians around the world, make a huge difference in the lives of millions of people.  We are able to do that because Jesus invites us to bring what we have –– and then he blesses it and enables it to bless those who will receive it.

As he did on that deserted hillside, Christ invites his disciples –– invites us –– to be his partners in compassion and love.  When we see hungry people, he says, “You give them something to eat.”  When we protest that we do not have enough, he says, “Bring it to me.”  Then he blesses it and makes it enough to do what he intends to do.

Jesus calls us to be faithful, and he calls us to be compassionate.  More, Jesus calls us, as Christians, to be the catalysts that transform the world through love, through compassion. If we will do what he calls us to do –– and go where he calls us to go –– he will bless the little that we bring –– and he will bless us –– and he will bless those to whom he sends us.

Amen.

Good morning! Today I’m going to preach the Gospel. If someone told me five years ago that I would be a lay preacher, I would have said, “not likely. ” In fact, “it will be a cold day in a very, very hot place before you hear me preach!” And yet, here I am. Life has always exercised power to take me in directions I never would have discovered on my own. So today I am the preacher; my job is to speak. You are the congregation; your job is to listen. If you finish before I do, my feelings won’t be hurt if you leave early.

There are many echoes among the different scripture readings we’ve just heard.

Imagine. Man is meant to be a lofty creature. He is created just a little lower than God. It is not a stretch to claim that his birthright is to live in the Kingdom. This is good news, all right.

This is what’s come to be known as the Great Commission, and it amounts to giving the disciples marching orders. Carrying them out would consume the rest of their lives. And they carried this commission with great zeal. These are the last words from Jesus to the eleven. Let’s take a few minutes to talk about the passage.

We have different ways of signaling that something important is happening. When the President arrives, the band plays "Hail to the Chief. " When a VIP arrives, people roll out a red carpet. A teacher once told me, "I can’t tell you what will be on the test, but when I tap my foot and say ‘This is a Teaching Point,’ you should listen very, very carefully. "

In the Bible, having something take place on a mountain was like saying, "This is a Teaching Point. "It signaled an important event:

So it is significant that the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. Jesus directed the disciples to the mountain as a way of saying, "This is a Teaching Point! Pay attention!"

Seeing Jesus on the mountain, the disciples worshiped him––but some doubted.

In Matthew’s account, the last time the disciples had seen Jesus was at the crucifixion. Only Mary Magdalene and the other Mary had seen the risen Christ. Now the disciples could see for themselves that Jesus, who was dead, was alive again. No wonder they worshiped him.

But some doubted. What they were seeing was unbelievable––so they didn’t believe it. How could they believe it? There were all sorts of possibilities. Perhaps Jesus had not really died on the cross. Perhaps someone who looked like Jesus had died on the cross. Perhaps someone who looked like Jesus was standing before them on the mountain. Imagine the welter of confused thoughts racing through their minds! It’s no wonder that some of them doubted.

Matthew says, "And Jesus came to them. "This, too, is important. Rabbis didn’t come to their disciples; disciples came to their rabbis. It was a matter of respect, of acknowledging who was important. Disciples needed their rabbi––their rabbi didn’t need them. But Jesus came to the disciples. It was the disciples who were needy, but Jesus came to them.

Jesus still does that. Jesus still seeks us out. Even when we have wandered away, he is still there for us––seeking us out––calling us back––hoping for our return. He loves us like a father. He loves us like a mother. We may break his heart, but he waits for our return. And he does more than wait. He comes to us.

Then Jesus said:

That was an amazing speech. In English it is only 61 words. In the original Greek, it was only 51. We think of the Gettysburg Address as a tiny jewel of a speech, but it was many times longer than Jesus’ Great Commission. Jesus used those words to tell his disciples what to do. Those few words have also come to spell out the church’s mission. Note the verbs. We are to GO, to MAKE DISCIPLES, to BAPTIZE, to TEACH, and to REMEMBER. Jesus’ disciples, doing those things, turned the world upside down. Even today, when we go––and make disciples––and baptize––and teach obedience––and remember––we turn people’s lives upside down.

First, as disciples, we are to GO. Where must we go? We go where God calls us. Yes, God may call us to go to another nation. Or God may call us to go to go to a prison. Or God may call us to go to our neighbor. Or God may call us to go to our workplace. Every day, wherever we go in life, we are called. Wherever we go, we go as emissaries of love. We embody the love of Christ. We love our neighbor as dearly as ourselves. If the spirit of God is alive in us, it is not an onerous task to share Gospel knowledge wherever we are. But I have found in my own life that sometimes it is difficult to remember to love my neighbor as myself.

We are to MAKE DISCIPLES of all nations. That sounds as if we should all go to Africa or Asia. But, in the original Greek text, Jesus actually said, "Make disciples of all ethne. "In the mouth of a Jew, the word ethne could mean Gentiles. When Jesus says, "Make disciples of all nations," he is making two emphases:

We are to BAPTIZE. Baptism has always been the beginning point of the Christian life. Baptism initiates us into the family of God. To be baptized in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit is like being adopted into a new family. At our baptism, we take on Christ’s name. We become Christians. At our baptism, we begin to grow into oneness with the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. When we baptize people, we bring them into the family.

And then we are to TEACH them. What is it that we teach them? Jesus told us to teach the new disciples "to OBEY everything that I have commanded you. "

We are to teach the new disciples to OBEY Jesus!

Well, there is one more instruction. Do you remember what it is? We are to go, make disciples, baptize, teach––and then we are to do one more thing. What is the last instruction in the Great Commission? It is REMEMBER. We must not forget to remember. Jesus said, "And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age. " Perhaps this remembering is the key to the whole Great Commission. There’s nothing like the everyday pressures of life to make us forget.

When that happens, the power drains out of us. We become anxious––or fearful––or discouraged. We begin to wonder why nothing is happening. We wonder where Jesus is. We wonder if he has abandoned us.

So Jesus says, "Remember! Remember that I am with you always! Remember that you do not have to be anxious or fearful! Remember that you are not responsible for success or failure! You are responsible only to be faithful! I am with you! Remember!"

In my own experience, the best way to remember is through prayer. It’s through quieting the mind and opening to God. And sometimes it’s fun to listen to popular songs as if they were hymns. Bob Dylan is one of my favorite composers for doing that, but many are good. Dylan wrote, “So when you see your neighbor carrying something, help him with his load, / and don’t go mistaking Paradise for that home across the road. ” That’s not a bad prescription for putting the greatest commandment into action.

And here’s a true story about Irving Berlin; once he wrote a love song, but couldn’t find the right closing line. He wanted something that would capture the sentiment of the song. He had written these words:

Remember the night, the night
you said "I love you"?
Remember?
Remember you vowed
by all the stars above you?
Remember?
Remember we found a lovely spot
And after I learned to care a lot
You promised that you’d forget me not…

At that point, he stalled. The song sat there, unfinished, for weeks. It kept playing its way through his mind, but he could not get the last line. It nearly drove him crazy. Imagine listening to a song over and over and having it stop just before the end. If that would be difficult for you, imagine how difficult it would be for a gifted songwriter like Irving Berlin.

And then, one day when he was least expecting it, the words came to him. He rushed to get them on paper before he forgot them––and then he played through that final stanza.

Remember, we found a lovely spot?
And after I learned to care a lot,
You promised that you’d forget me not––
But you forgot to remember.

When we get discouraged––when we are anxious––when we want to give up, perhaps Jesus is thinking, with great compassion:

But you forgot to remember.

He says, "Remember, I am with you always. I am at your side. Don’t worry, don’t be afraid. I am with you always. Remember! Don’t forget to remember. "

No matter the travails of daily life,
Life seems defined by the simplest act:
Breathing—from first breath to last.
The beating of your heart.

The moments when you are caught breathless
at the sight of beauty.
The soft sighs as you snuggle your lover.

The shock of your heart skipping a beat,
the pain in your chest when your love is harmed.
The tingle of electric shocks through the nervous system—
A transitory sensoria; vibrating in waves of energy

All is naught but waves of energy—
buzzing little particles, bouncing off each other.

as time passes
and days come and go
reasons for survival lose their importance
and I really don’t see
why in the cosmos
would I bother to work
or use money
and then I think why
do I live such a complicated life?
why not give up the comforts of living
and end my suffering.
I really don’t know,
am I too lazy,
or not lazy enough?

We spent the night,
talking about thinking about thinking;
about how humans think.
Because we were waiting for the action to come.
The world of ideas—
The world we live in.
We try to see where they coincide.
Because we are the introspective animals—
The waveforms that compress other waveforms into patterns.
Because we are the thinking animals,
Because we are chattering monkeys.

Good morning! I am delighted to be here, and I would like to thank Pastor Mike for calling on me to speak in his absence. The scripture readings for today have special meaning for me, and I’ve always found them compelling, even difficult. Because of this, it was important to me to accept his invitation.

The scripture readings deal with communication – how God communicates with us, and what we can expect when we don’t listen – and also how we communicate with each other, and even how we can communicate with God. The scripture suggests that real communication is a two way street, with communication back and forth. It’s only when it becomes one-way, when we start talking to ourselves, so to speak, that we are wayward and get in trouble. For communication to be two-way, the first requisite is to be a good listener, keep an ear out for truth. And then, when you hear, respond. That is conversation. Anything else is just talk, talk, talk to the ends of the earth.

In Proverbs, “Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice. At the busiest corner she cries out; at the entrance of the city gates she speaks: ‘How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple? How long will scoffers delight in their scoffing and fools hate knowledge?…Because they hated knowledge and did not choose the fear of the LORD, would have none of my counsel, and despised all of my reproof, they shall eat the fruit of their [italics mine] way and be sated with their own devices. For waywardness kills the simple, and the complacency of fools destroys them;”

Busted! Wisdom is crying out in the streets, but few are listening. On the other hand, if we do listen to Wisdom, and choose “the fear of the LORD,” a benefit is promised, and it’s a good one: “those who listen to me will be secure and will live at ease, without dread of disaster.”

It’s worth noting here that the fear of the LORD does not mean quaking in abject terror at the feet of divinity. To fear the LORD, in ancient times, was to turn toward him in awe and respect and reverence. That’s still what fear of the LORD means, I believe. But, in the blinking of an eye, you can turn away from divinity, even if you’re trying to lead a holy life. You can be deaf to the voice of Wisdom.

Last week, when I was reading “Mike’s Meanderings” from the Philippi newsletter aloud to my wife, Anna, I changed one of the words to create a pun; it turned Mike’s meaning ‘on its head.’ I often do that in conversation, or other very similar things. I play with words all the time.

“Among Christians of all denunciations around the world,” I read, “there seem to be two main visions of God’s will, both claiming biblical authority, that are both almost diametrically opposed to each other.”

Suddenly Anna broke in to my reading: “Does it really say that?”

“No,” I said, “I made it up. It should say ‘denomination,’ not ‘denunciation.’”

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“Yep.”

“Wyatt, why did you do that?” Anna scolded. “You know, you really must examine why you do things like this. On the one hand you embrace all kinds of spiritual knowledge, you’re always reading about it, you regularly practice meditation and sudarshan kriya (a breathing technique we both practice) and on the other hand you hold it all at arm’s length, even deny it. Why do you do it?”

Busted! Wisdom cries out in my own kitchen, and I had better listen.

In Psalm 19, one of my very favorites, “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard; yet their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world.” It seems the entire creation is a silent shout proclaiming the divine glory of God. A shout that is not speaking in human speech. The only way to hear this shout is the way it is presented, in silence louder and more perfect than any words or speechifying, because “The law of the LORD is perfect, reviving the soul; the decrees of the LORD are sure, making wise the simple.” To hear this shout you have to train yourself to listen. And then, the simple are made wise when they do.

The psalmist continues, listing qualities of the LORD that “rejoice the heart…enlighten the eyes…endure forever…are true and righteous altogether… More to be desired than gold, even much fine gold.” There are two things I’d like to point out at this juncture. One is that every time I have referred to the LORD so far, it appears in the Bible all in capital letters. It was translated like this because the word itself is untranslatable into English. It’s an ancient word that means – sort of – “I am that I am,” the words God spoke out of the burning bush to Moses. “I am that I am.” In other words, pure spirit, the very spirit that “I am that I am’s” creation tells the glory of. The other is that the qualities – dare I say human speech – of “I am that I am” – the law, the decrees, the commandments – are the precepts of that Spirit, that “I am that I am,” and they keep the people of God safe in the presence of Spirit. The next time you read the word LORD all in capitals, you may want to substitute “I am that I am;” It gives a different feeling, and meaning, to the passage.

The psalm ends with a prayer of petition, the kind of prayer where something is asked for. It’s perhaps the most common prayer, certainly one we’re all familiar with. “But who can detect their errors?” the psalmist asks. “Clear me of hidden faults. Keep back your servant also from the insolent; do not let them have dominion over me. Then I shall be blameless…”

It’s a wonderful, heart-felt prayer. Clear me of hidden faults, because I cannot see them. And keep me back from the insolent, do not let them have dominion over me.

When Anna asked why I turned Mike’s words on their heads, I replied that I honestly didn’t know, but that I was painfully aware of the habit. Upon reflection though, I partly pun because there is almost always humor in it, and I think I tend to be entirely too serious about life and work, and for that matter, spiritual matters. It’s nice to inject humor into discussions about eternity, about salvation – these are weighty matters that people have been nattering about for millennia. Sorry, but there’s part of me that thinks this nattering is just talk, talk, talk, talk. The chattering goes on and on to the ends of the earth and prevents us from experiencing the very things we talk about – eternity and salvation. And I think a lot of that experience is structured in silence. So when we speak, our words should count for something. And maybe what they should – or could – count for would be to lead us back to silence, where we can more fully hear the silent shout of the spirit through God’s creation. Because, are we not part of this creation? Are we not part of the silent shout? And if we hear it, is not every human heart part of that shout? Yes. I think so. But to hear it, we must first listen for it.

Another reason I turn words on their head is because I enjoy the mental shock of challenging others’ ideas. I like using language in provocative ways. Those of you who have spent time around me know that this is a habit with me, but I’m not sure the habit adds to the discussion of ‘truth’ and ‘what is truth’ that I do love to engage in. It’s more playful frivolity. I like the humor and the laughs. But, in fact, playful frivolity can hinder discussion, hold it at arm’s length, and be a distracting hindrance. I’m mostly listening to myself, and there is no real dialogue. I’m laughing at my own joke. On some level, it is insolent. Just as the psalmist says – LORD, “I am that I am,” save me from the insolent, that I may be blameless.

Busted! By the psalmist – I have met the enemy, and he is me!

When we are talking we are not listening. We cannot hear the wordless voice of God emanating from the silent shout of creation. The danger is that we separate ourselves from a loving God and feel separation. Even worse, we give up our union so that we can think that we are correct, right, even righteous! And we are seldom aware that that is what is happening. But, as soon as we start thinking that we are important, we start feeling that we are alone. We talk, talk, talk to the ends of the earth; we feel that we are ‘right;’ we make our points; and, in making our points, we can miss the Point of the silent shout altogether. We feel our energy depleted in aimless talk, while the creation is shouting all around us, unheard.

As James notes, “So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits. How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire…no one can tame the tongue…with it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not be so.”

Busted! This time by James.

To use another example from my life, and one I’m sure many can relate to: When I was a young man, I liked to drive fast. I did not hesitate to speak badly of the slower drivers on the road, the ones who held me up.

I willfully told them to go to heck, because they didn’t believe in gosh. (You can laugh, that was a joke).

Now that I’m older, and a much safer driver, I find myself occasionally becoming impatient and angry with the drivers that buzz by weaving in and out of traffic – me at a younger age, of course. Shut up, Wyatt, just shut up; pay attention to your own driving, not the driving of others. Judge not lest you be judged. One difference between the old me and the young me is that I am aware of these things.

So, busted! This time by me. You might think I’m extravagant, but to paraphrase Jesus for the 21st century – the Kingdom of Heaven is like driving all the way to Washington, D.C. without having a single unkind thought for any driver on the road! (That’s not a joke, I’m serious).

But how would you feel if you were busted by Jesus? That’s what happened to Peter in the passage from Mark. Jesus has just finished teaching his disciples that he “must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” Peter is listening, all right, but he can’t accept what he hears! Peter takes Jesus aside and starts arguing with him. The actual word the passage uses is "rebuke." Kind of like, "Jesus, how dare you say such things!" I imagine it may have continued something like this: “Hey, let’s just go down to Nag’s Head for a while, until this all blows over. There’s lots of folks there who need your teaching, and the weather’s always great this time of year. There will be other Marys and Marthas there, good cooks and good places to stay…think how welcomed we’ll be!”

The response from Jesus is swift and unequivocal: “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Peter is busted.

Then, it gets even worse for him – Jesus turns to the crowd and the rest of the disciples, and says “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

Sometimes you can be standing right next to God, and he’s talking to you, and you just don’t want to hear the message. And you’ll start arguing with him. And you’ll try to cut a deal to get your own way. And He will bust you, every time, and lead you away in the handcuffs that you’ve designed yourself. But there’s something else he’ll do, too. He’ll teach you how to remove your handcuffs and throw them away. He’ll teach you how to live in freedom. And He’ll always be there for you.

He asks you to deny yourself and pick up your cross and follow after him. He doesn’t ask you to pick up his, though clearly, once you have picked up your cross, you must have the courage to be crucified for – or by – the truth of your cross. You have nothing to lose but your handcuffs. You have everything to gain – freedom – Paradise and Eternity, in fact – and all you have to do is pick up your cross, whatever it is, and follow after Jesus, who demonstrated that death has no power.

And be advised, more than anything, the power of Jesus’ words in this passage from Mark come from the Resurrection: “the Son of Man must undergo great suffering,…and be killed, and after three days rise again.” It is the Resurrection that gives power to Christianity, not the crucifixion. In fact, the crucifixion means nothing without the Resurrection. So ask yourselves “What is my cross?,” or “What are my crosses?” and pick them up, and love them, for they are the way to freedom. This is good news. It is also hard news.

Maybe complacency is your cross. It’s awfully easy to just “kick back” and enjoy here in Deltaville, but the psalmist tells us that “the complacency of fools destroys them.” There’s no eternity in being a couch potato, that’s for sure. Or maybe it’s an eternity of boredom.

Maybe it’s one of the seven deadly sins – maybe gluttony – “O no! I overate again! The devil made me do it!” No, not the devil – you made yourself do it.

Maybe it’s greed, and the desire for money and possessions burns like a fever in your brain – “O, it’s OK, that’s the way God made me!” No, that’s not the way God made you, that’s the way you made you. You might think of any of these sins as a covering you’ve put over your true image – the image of God, of divinity, of love – as a pale substitution for your real image. The pale substitution is your cross. On the other side of it is life that is more full and abundant.

You see where I’m going. Your cross is your cross. The pale substitution is exactly what separates you from God. It’s what you’ve put in place of God; it’s an idol. It is exactly what has to be unmade in ourselves to heal a separation that, after all, we have imposed on ourselves. Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit are always there, in and with love, saying "follow after me!" It’s a journey we must make; we each have our own journey, but as Christians, we also travel together in community. This is what, for me, the church is for.

The journey starts for me – and maybe ends – in prayer. I mentioned the prayer of petition earlier in this talk, when the psalmist asks and entreats "…who can detect their errors? Clear me from hidden faults." I’m sure we all pray like this, and it’s necessary to do so. There is also another kind of prayer, a prayer of surrender. This kind of prayer asks for nothing. I’m speaking of meditation. There is a long and rich tradition of meditation in the Church, but in recent centuries it seems to be a prayer skill that has been relegated to monks and mystics. Brothers and sisters, it need not be so.

I have practiced meditation for decades now, and it is in the silence experienced in meditation that a lively personal spirituality has grown in me. I mention it here because a short time devoted to meditation each day has immeasurably increased the joys in my life, and I think it would improve the quality of anyone’s life. Diving in to silence has made me a better listener. Sometimes the ‘silent shout’ of the creation is a palpable force that shakes me from the inside out. My speech is no longer inflammatory, but informed by silence.

In Matthew, Chapter 5, the first beatitude is "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven." When I was a child, I could not figure out how being poor in anything could lead to the Kingdom. Then, as a young man, I realized that the passage probably referred to being "humble in the spirit." That made more sense to me. But then I started to meditate; in experiencing meditation I began to think that the passage had been mistranslated. Maybe it should be "Blessed are the poor within the spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven." First of all, meditation is a denial of self. When I meditate well, the world falls away, and my self with it. Things become very quiet. There is a feeling of expansion. There is a palpable sense of timelessness and eternity. I become peace. And when I come back to the world, it seems fresher and more alive than before; it’s been made new. Through the years, many of my bad habits – not all of them yet, but many – have just naturally fallen away.

I wish this for all. I pray that our crosses, as soon as we recognize them and pick them up, may naturally fall away, and leave us smack dab in the middle of heavens telling the glory of God; the firmaments proclaiming his handiwork. The Peace that Passeth All Understanding.

Amen.

Poking the bear again
with just the right pointed stick.
To go to hyperspace—
and to see into the next few dimensions.

Poke, Poke, Poke!

I feel tingling in every atom of my being
which, while fully outlining and highlighting
every neuron and fiber of sense in the physical body
then— extending beyond the tiny physical manifestation I live in
then— my conscious moves beyond this little piece:
Into occupancy— into the mind of the cosmos, the body of the universe.
My face is every face, your face, my face—
My body is every body, your body, my body—
This I is the instrument of goddess
That you is the instrument of god

Everything is everything, do you understand?
Allow to be, of course! — do not judge or define, of course not!
No forget.

Expectation brings sorrow, do not be sad my love.
See the beauty, and you will worry not. The complete
complement will be there, whether it is
seen or unseen.

I see all shapes become smooth and flexible, and running off into 8 dimensions
I see every single color as a shimmering spectrum of all component colors in each color.

Please universe, tell me what to manifest. I am your instrument.
Really? Just be?
Everything is everything, that is all that needs to be said.
Being is the only necessary action.

End transmission.

It is easier and harder to be funny than you think. Comedy is telling the truth in an original and (hopefully) artful way. This is true of any medium for expression.

Create an unique perspective and style that builds on predecessors with insight and wit to dissect a subject. Any subject is appropriate, but it must be something that tugs at your soul so deeply that you feel it in the pit of your stomach.

We laugh when there is a fact of life that is far too painful to take seriously. Allowing yourself to tell jokes about something people are uncomfortable with brings a taboo subject out into the open. In this way stress is relieved, by laughing at the realities of life.