I have tonsilitis again. But I wish I could speak like this:
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Tagged!
Erin tagged me, so here goes:
Here are the rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five other people.
Like Erin, my computer is right next to a bookcase, but here goes, because Walter Brueggemann's Theology of the Old Testament is actually on my desk:
"The full sentence of testimony, which characteristically becomes revelation in Israel, is organized around an active verb that bespeaks an action that is tranformative, intrusive, or inverting. Thus special attention may be paid to causative verbs in the hiph'il stem. In what follows, we shall give detailed attention to the regular stock of verbs used by Israel in its testimony. "
In turn, I tag Erik, Sean, Cory, Kristie, and Kristin.
Here are the rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five other people.
Like Erin, my computer is right next to a bookcase, but here goes, because Walter Brueggemann's Theology of the Old Testament is actually on my desk:
"The full sentence of testimony, which characteristically becomes revelation in Israel, is organized around an active verb that bespeaks an action that is tranformative, intrusive, or inverting. Thus special attention may be paid to causative verbs in the hiph'il stem. In what follows, we shall give detailed attention to the regular stock of verbs used by Israel in its testimony. "
In turn, I tag Erik, Sean, Cory, Kristie, and Kristin.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
First Homiletics Sermon
Text: Mark 8:13-21
And he left them, and getting into the boat again, he went across to the other side.
Now the disciples had forgotten to bring any bread; and they had only one loaf with them in the boat. And he cautioned them, saying, ‘Watch out—beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.
They said to one another, ‘It is because we have no bread.’ And becoming aware of it, Jesus said to them, ‘Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? And do you not remember?
When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ They said to him, ‘Twelve.’ ‘And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ And they said to him, ‘Seven.’ Then he said to them, ‘Do you not yet understand?’
There’s a problem with this gospel lesson. It’s a little too close for comfort. Too close to Lent, to Easter, to want to reflect on who we are in the story. We want to be observers, but we’re much, much, more than that.
I have a teacher who mentioned to my class that his teacher, in turn, had revealed this lesson as a abject truth about Jesus – that we, reading this text a couple thousand years later, were obviously so much smarter than the disciples because we ‘get’ what Jesus is saying. Of course, Jesus feeds thousands. Obviously, then, he’s the Messiah. We understand that, with eyes and ears. The disciples didn’t. Case closed.
But maybe it’s not like that. Maybe we’re in the text, and as mystified as the disciples. Sometimes it’s hard to see the point that Jesus is making.
The disciples certainly have a pretty good record of being boneheaded, but we’re supposed to have the benefit of two thousand years of commentary, literacy, and Scripture to make the point easily accessible to us. In this gospel, though, it seems like Jesus is being deliberately obtuse – he’s hiding his point from the disciples, and by default from us the reader and listener. Then Jesus rubs it in, asking do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? Do you not remember? Do we not remember what? What are you talking about?
I know what it feels like the miss the point continuously, to completely lack in understanding that looks totally natural in others. I’m notorious, as I mentioned, for missing the point of movies. But I’m almost totally inept at carpentry. I can pound a nail without doing grievous bodily injury, but I can’t read a blueprint, use a table saw, or operate a power nailer without needing to call an ambulance, a lawyer, in some cases a pastor for absolution.
It’s so bad that in high school, my shop teacher let me write an essay instead of finishing my final project. He said he couldn’t let the chest-of-drawers I was making out of his shop and still keep his job. Not a pretty sight.
But for a while I pursued a job in the construction field, in my ignorance thinking that I could pick up the knowledge I needed to get the job done. I’d be sitting at a crew meeting, listening to the talk about joists and joints, completely oblivious to what the foremen were meaning.
Oh, I knew the words all right. But there was no relationship between what I heard and saw and what the foremen were meaning about good construction. I spent some time lost in my own ignorance, and a few times had it pointed out to me in no uncertain terms.
This is what Jesus does with the disciples. When Jesus, out of the blue, tells them beware the yeast of the Pharisees and of Herod, they think he’s talking about bringing enough lunch to go around. They’ve got some cause to be concerned, because they hadn’t really thought of bringing more than one loaf. They had forgotten, according to our text today. There’s another way of translating that Greek word, though – it (epelathouto) can also mean ‘neglect’.
There’s a difference there. If, in a rush to get out the door, I miss giving my son lunch, I’ve forgotten. I may have to ask someone for a snack or buy him something, and I’ll feel pretty ashamed when I do. But if I deliberately leave, knowing that where I’m going someone will feel obligated to feed a hungry toddler, I’m being neglectful. Forgetting can be a mistake. Neglect implies a certain design.
It’s easy to point out the obvious – two days before this Jesus fed 5000 men and their families, and then immediately before they get into the boat again he’d just repeated the feat, albeit with a slightly smaller crowd. Surely the Christ could feed 13 hungry men with just one loaf of bread? I think that the disciples deliberately only brought one loaf along, because they knew that they could sit back and let Jesus do his parlour trick again.
That declaration, it’s because we have no bread, seems to me to be more of an quasi-invitation than an honest confession. They were willing (and happy) to sit through another lecture from the Teacher. Then they’d get some food. It worked pretty well, and could cut down on the amount of packing each disciple had to do for a long trip. One loaf, and Jesus could just feed them again. Instead of a apologetic remark, it’s more a melodramatic eye-roller – gee, boss, we forget the bread. Shucks. Well, we got one loaf, so you can do something about it, right?
I don’t think that the disciples were ignorant of what Jesus had done, but I do think they were content. Content to let Jesus do the muscle work again. In John 6:26, shortly after the feeding of the 5000, the crowd again comes looking for Jesus. Standing and replying to them Jesus said: very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. The disciples, like the crowd, were happy to go with the status quo. If you hung around Jesus, you got fed. A pretty good deal, really. Listen to some good parables, and spending quality time with this guy who could be the Messiah – well, then you’ve made a good investment.
It can be easy to overlook the source of blessings in our lives, and to take things for granted. We get good jobs by the sweat of our own brow. The promotion came because I worked harder. People like me because I’m a success. I’m the source of all that is good in my life.
Then it comes crashing down. The real-estate broker becomes broken. The investment advisor can’t seem to give good advice. The perfect mother can’t make the perfect life. Death comes to the wealthy and powerful. Then people turn to God, and ask where are you? They seldom wait for an answer.
But that’s not Jesus’ point, and he doesn’t stop there. He wants to know if the disciples understand what he means by his actions. He wants to know if they’re really committed to his mission, or if they, like the crowd, are happy to tag along because of the free food. So he asks them if they understand the baskets. It’s a loaded question.
Talking about ‘baskets,’ in Greek Jesus uses two different words that are both translated simply as ‘basket’ in our English bibles. When he asks, when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets did you collect?, the word he’s using comes from the Septuagint, a Greek manuscript of the Old Testament. 12 baskets. Enough to feed the tribes of Israel, the chosen people of God.
And when Jesus asks and the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets of broken pieces did you collect?, he uses a word that appears only in the New Testament. 7 baskets. Enough to feed all of creation, which was brought forth in just seven days. All that the world needs is found in that little boat, in Jesus, who provides for all.
There are patterns to this story, and the feeding of the five thousand and four thousand. It starts with people coming to Jesus because they’re hungry, or want healing. In essence, they want a parlour trick; a sign that God is doing good things directly to them to make their lives better. Jesus feeds the crowds by miraculous means, but nobody seems to notice – all eat and have their fill, then Jesus slips away to another place after the extra baskets have been gathered.
As they travel, Jesus reveals something about himself to the disciples: in Mark 6:48 he walks across the sea to their boat, and our gospel reading today is a revelation of another kind; instead of revealing something about the person of Jesus it reveals more of his mission. In both cases the disciples feel like they don’t understand, yet they’re amazed. They know they’re missing something, but they don’t know what. Full of the food from one miracle, they miss the true point that Jesus is making.
Like the disciples, we don’t always understand what Jesus says, or does. Why can’t we, as Jesus demands of the disciples, open our eyes and ears and gain understanding? If only it were that easy.
When we feel like we’re missing something, not understanding something that first appears to be so glaringly obvious, it’s easy to go instead for something that’s quick. Something that makes us feel good about ourselves and being ‘us’. We reach for the yeast of the Pharisees, and the yeast of Herod. It’s easy, and cheap. Even though we, like the disciples, may be in a boat on a journey with Jesus we often turn and try to find our own food.
The yeast of Herod makes bread that rises high and mighty. We get it through politics and business, wheeling and dealing until we get the best buy. It rises fast, too, and makes us look rich and prosperous. The yeast of the Pharisees lets us make our own bread, better than we think we can get from Jesus. Through fulfilling religious law, keeping ourselves righteous and clean, we use the yeast of the Pharisees to make bread that we can keep just within our own little group. But neither provides much sustenance. Even though the loaves look appetising and fine, they are empty. When they are gone, they are gone and with them goes our hope and treasure for the future. In their pursuit we try to row farther and farther away from Jesus, trusting ourselves to find bread. The yeast of the Pharisees and of Herod has a corrupting influence on the hearts and minds of the people of God.
But the good news is that we are still together with Jesus, and he is always revealing himself to us in new and enlightening ways. We are on our journey through life with Jesus Christ, who is never far away or remote from us and is always coming to us in lean times, times of trouble, sorrow, or grief. When the evening comes, Jesus comes to us across the gulf that we want to separate his presence from us. When we admit that we truly need Christ, we accept that we, like the disciples, are in the boat with Jesus.
Being in the boat with Jesus means that we trust he feeds the whole world, and that there is always enough bread for us, as well. We acknowledge that we are never alone, never forsaken, and that we are always provided for. We can’t control where the boat goes, except to give slight direction, and we’re always at the mercy of our environment.
We are given the gifts that we need to be sustained in our journey through life – community, spiritual sustenance, hope of everlasting life with our Redeemer who lives. Through the Eucharist Christ sustains all of creation, binding all together in unity, individuals in community through the saving actions of our Lord.
If there is ever a time to speak of our ‘personal relationship with Jesus,’ it’s in this context. We realize that Jesus provides bread pro me ('for me') as we are individuals, but also that that same bread is provided pro nobis (for us), for all people are provided for in Christ Jesus.
The Church is the boat that the disciples travel in with Jesus. The disciples represent the community of the church, who often feel that they are responsible for their own development. It’s easier to assume that we make our own destiny instead of trusting Jesus to provide for us. And he does. The greatest gifts that comes with Jesus is the gift of community – the group of people that gathers on the hillside, the small group that gathers in the boat. Jesus multiplied loaves and fishes, resources that the community already had at hand. When the community offers up their resources and trust to Jesus, all eat and have their fill.
We may not understand. Like the disciples, we may not see or hear the message that Jesus continually places before us. We like to lie back and wait, keeping a small store of goodies for ourselves to keep surviving while we wait to see if Jesus is going to do something for us. We each bring our own gifts, our own resources, but we pride ourselves on having gained them without help, and we often fail to realise that all those are blessings from God. We can all eat from what is left over in those baskets because they are full of the grace of God, who gives abundantly to all.
We know that we are all in the boat, on the same journey with Christ. And what we have, no matter how little we think that may be, no matter if we think we forgot something to bring for ourselves, is always enough. Trusting that Jesus will always be with us is the mark of our belief. Becoming part of the mission of Christ is the mark of our faith. When those two are hand in hand we truly become disciples, and the gates of hell cannot prevail against us.
Amen.
And he left them, and getting into the boat again, he went across to the other side.
Now the disciples had forgotten to bring any bread; and they had only one loaf with them in the boat. And he cautioned them, saying, ‘Watch out—beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.
They said to one another, ‘It is because we have no bread.’ And becoming aware of it, Jesus said to them, ‘Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? And do you not remember?
When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ They said to him, ‘Twelve.’ ‘And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ And they said to him, ‘Seven.’ Then he said to them, ‘Do you not yet understand?’
There’s a problem with this gospel lesson. It’s a little too close for comfort. Too close to Lent, to Easter, to want to reflect on who we are in the story. We want to be observers, but we’re much, much, more than that.
I have a teacher who mentioned to my class that his teacher, in turn, had revealed this lesson as a abject truth about Jesus – that we, reading this text a couple thousand years later, were obviously so much smarter than the disciples because we ‘get’ what Jesus is saying. Of course, Jesus feeds thousands. Obviously, then, he’s the Messiah. We understand that, with eyes and ears. The disciples didn’t. Case closed.
But maybe it’s not like that. Maybe we’re in the text, and as mystified as the disciples. Sometimes it’s hard to see the point that Jesus is making.
The disciples certainly have a pretty good record of being boneheaded, but we’re supposed to have the benefit of two thousand years of commentary, literacy, and Scripture to make the point easily accessible to us. In this gospel, though, it seems like Jesus is being deliberately obtuse – he’s hiding his point from the disciples, and by default from us the reader and listener. Then Jesus rubs it in, asking do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? Do you not remember? Do we not remember what? What are you talking about?
I know what it feels like the miss the point continuously, to completely lack in understanding that looks totally natural in others. I’m notorious, as I mentioned, for missing the point of movies. But I’m almost totally inept at carpentry. I can pound a nail without doing grievous bodily injury, but I can’t read a blueprint, use a table saw, or operate a power nailer without needing to call an ambulance, a lawyer, in some cases a pastor for absolution.
It’s so bad that in high school, my shop teacher let me write an essay instead of finishing my final project. He said he couldn’t let the chest-of-drawers I was making out of his shop and still keep his job. Not a pretty sight.
But for a while I pursued a job in the construction field, in my ignorance thinking that I could pick up the knowledge I needed to get the job done. I’d be sitting at a crew meeting, listening to the talk about joists and joints, completely oblivious to what the foremen were meaning.
Oh, I knew the words all right. But there was no relationship between what I heard and saw and what the foremen were meaning about good construction. I spent some time lost in my own ignorance, and a few times had it pointed out to me in no uncertain terms.
This is what Jesus does with the disciples. When Jesus, out of the blue, tells them beware the yeast of the Pharisees and of Herod, they think he’s talking about bringing enough lunch to go around. They’ve got some cause to be concerned, because they hadn’t really thought of bringing more than one loaf. They had forgotten, according to our text today. There’s another way of translating that Greek word, though – it (epelathouto) can also mean ‘neglect’.
There’s a difference there. If, in a rush to get out the door, I miss giving my son lunch, I’ve forgotten. I may have to ask someone for a snack or buy him something, and I’ll feel pretty ashamed when I do. But if I deliberately leave, knowing that where I’m going someone will feel obligated to feed a hungry toddler, I’m being neglectful. Forgetting can be a mistake. Neglect implies a certain design.
It’s easy to point out the obvious – two days before this Jesus fed 5000 men and their families, and then immediately before they get into the boat again he’d just repeated the feat, albeit with a slightly smaller crowd. Surely the Christ could feed 13 hungry men with just one loaf of bread? I think that the disciples deliberately only brought one loaf along, because they knew that they could sit back and let Jesus do his parlour trick again.
That declaration, it’s because we have no bread, seems to me to be more of an quasi-invitation than an honest confession. They were willing (and happy) to sit through another lecture from the Teacher. Then they’d get some food. It worked pretty well, and could cut down on the amount of packing each disciple had to do for a long trip. One loaf, and Jesus could just feed them again. Instead of a apologetic remark, it’s more a melodramatic eye-roller – gee, boss, we forget the bread. Shucks. Well, we got one loaf, so you can do something about it, right?
I don’t think that the disciples were ignorant of what Jesus had done, but I do think they were content. Content to let Jesus do the muscle work again. In John 6:26, shortly after the feeding of the 5000, the crowd again comes looking for Jesus. Standing and replying to them Jesus said: very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. The disciples, like the crowd, were happy to go with the status quo. If you hung around Jesus, you got fed. A pretty good deal, really. Listen to some good parables, and spending quality time with this guy who could be the Messiah – well, then you’ve made a good investment.
It can be easy to overlook the source of blessings in our lives, and to take things for granted. We get good jobs by the sweat of our own brow. The promotion came because I worked harder. People like me because I’m a success. I’m the source of all that is good in my life.
Then it comes crashing down. The real-estate broker becomes broken. The investment advisor can’t seem to give good advice. The perfect mother can’t make the perfect life. Death comes to the wealthy and powerful. Then people turn to God, and ask where are you? They seldom wait for an answer.
But that’s not Jesus’ point, and he doesn’t stop there. He wants to know if the disciples understand what he means by his actions. He wants to know if they’re really committed to his mission, or if they, like the crowd, are happy to tag along because of the free food. So he asks them if they understand the baskets. It’s a loaded question.
Talking about ‘baskets,’ in Greek Jesus uses two different words that are both translated simply as ‘basket’ in our English bibles. When he asks, when I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets did you collect?, the word he’s using comes from the Septuagint, a Greek manuscript of the Old Testament. 12 baskets. Enough to feed the tribes of Israel, the chosen people of God.
And when Jesus asks and the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets of broken pieces did you collect?, he uses a word that appears only in the New Testament. 7 baskets. Enough to feed all of creation, which was brought forth in just seven days. All that the world needs is found in that little boat, in Jesus, who provides for all.
There are patterns to this story, and the feeding of the five thousand and four thousand. It starts with people coming to Jesus because they’re hungry, or want healing. In essence, they want a parlour trick; a sign that God is doing good things directly to them to make their lives better. Jesus feeds the crowds by miraculous means, but nobody seems to notice – all eat and have their fill, then Jesus slips away to another place after the extra baskets have been gathered.
As they travel, Jesus reveals something about himself to the disciples: in Mark 6:48 he walks across the sea to their boat, and our gospel reading today is a revelation of another kind; instead of revealing something about the person of Jesus it reveals more of his mission. In both cases the disciples feel like they don’t understand, yet they’re amazed. They know they’re missing something, but they don’t know what. Full of the food from one miracle, they miss the true point that Jesus is making.
Like the disciples, we don’t always understand what Jesus says, or does. Why can’t we, as Jesus demands of the disciples, open our eyes and ears and gain understanding? If only it were that easy.
When we feel like we’re missing something, not understanding something that first appears to be so glaringly obvious, it’s easy to go instead for something that’s quick. Something that makes us feel good about ourselves and being ‘us’. We reach for the yeast of the Pharisees, and the yeast of Herod. It’s easy, and cheap. Even though we, like the disciples, may be in a boat on a journey with Jesus we often turn and try to find our own food.
The yeast of Herod makes bread that rises high and mighty. We get it through politics and business, wheeling and dealing until we get the best buy. It rises fast, too, and makes us look rich and prosperous. The yeast of the Pharisees lets us make our own bread, better than we think we can get from Jesus. Through fulfilling religious law, keeping ourselves righteous and clean, we use the yeast of the Pharisees to make bread that we can keep just within our own little group. But neither provides much sustenance. Even though the loaves look appetising and fine, they are empty. When they are gone, they are gone and with them goes our hope and treasure for the future. In their pursuit we try to row farther and farther away from Jesus, trusting ourselves to find bread. The yeast of the Pharisees and of Herod has a corrupting influence on the hearts and minds of the people of God.
But the good news is that we are still together with Jesus, and he is always revealing himself to us in new and enlightening ways. We are on our journey through life with Jesus Christ, who is never far away or remote from us and is always coming to us in lean times, times of trouble, sorrow, or grief. When the evening comes, Jesus comes to us across the gulf that we want to separate his presence from us. When we admit that we truly need Christ, we accept that we, like the disciples, are in the boat with Jesus.
Being in the boat with Jesus means that we trust he feeds the whole world, and that there is always enough bread for us, as well. We acknowledge that we are never alone, never forsaken, and that we are always provided for. We can’t control where the boat goes, except to give slight direction, and we’re always at the mercy of our environment.
We are given the gifts that we need to be sustained in our journey through life – community, spiritual sustenance, hope of everlasting life with our Redeemer who lives. Through the Eucharist Christ sustains all of creation, binding all together in unity, individuals in community through the saving actions of our Lord.
If there is ever a time to speak of our ‘personal relationship with Jesus,’ it’s in this context. We realize that Jesus provides bread pro me ('for me') as we are individuals, but also that that same bread is provided pro nobis (for us), for all people are provided for in Christ Jesus.
The Church is the boat that the disciples travel in with Jesus. The disciples represent the community of the church, who often feel that they are responsible for their own development. It’s easier to assume that we make our own destiny instead of trusting Jesus to provide for us. And he does. The greatest gifts that comes with Jesus is the gift of community – the group of people that gathers on the hillside, the small group that gathers in the boat. Jesus multiplied loaves and fishes, resources that the community already had at hand. When the community offers up their resources and trust to Jesus, all eat and have their fill.
We may not understand. Like the disciples, we may not see or hear the message that Jesus continually places before us. We like to lie back and wait, keeping a small store of goodies for ourselves to keep surviving while we wait to see if Jesus is going to do something for us. We each bring our own gifts, our own resources, but we pride ourselves on having gained them without help, and we often fail to realise that all those are blessings from God. We can all eat from what is left over in those baskets because they are full of the grace of God, who gives abundantly to all.
We know that we are all in the boat, on the same journey with Christ. And what we have, no matter how little we think that may be, no matter if we think we forgot something to bring for ourselves, is always enough. Trusting that Jesus will always be with us is the mark of our belief. Becoming part of the mission of Christ is the mark of our faith. When those two are hand in hand we truly become disciples, and the gates of hell cannot prevail against us.
Amen.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
The Boy's Carrot
He's about 3 months old in this -- I found it on my computer while organizing some old files. If you're wondering, cold, clean carrots are probably the best teething aids we've found. Nutricious, too.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
I'm a fool.
If I had three minutes to introduce Jesus as a guest speaker, or the next act on a variety night, how would I do it?
I would love to take the Steve Harvey route, I really, really would. Swirling lights, drumrolls, keyboard tinkles, the whole nine yards. But I can’t see Jesus surrounded by screaming fans. As near as I can recall, the last time he was in front of a crowd they were calling out for his death. He ran to the tops of mountains to get away from crowds of people who wanted to see his next miracle. Like watching trained dogs at the country fair.
The people he talked the most to were the people who hung around the edges, who didn’t pay ‘full ticket price’ to watch the master at work.
So here’s maybe how I’d introduce Jesus:
Ladies and Gentlemen;
(maybe make that “broken and sorrowing:”)
I’d like to take a minute to welcome the latest country bumpkin to annoy our prestigious leaders. I can’t re-introduce him because he’s been with us all this time, and will be, he says, ‘to the end of the age’. We’ll settle for the end of the beer tonight. It’s taken him a while to get here – remember, he only rode a donkey once, and then only for a short time.
The media call him lazy, a drunkard, and a glutton. His own cousin could accuse him of ‘sheep-stealing,’ so if you’ve got people you want to keep around you, you may want to send them out about now. If you’ve got secrets here tonight you’ll probably want to slip out, too – he’ll tell you everything you’ve ever done if you stop to talk to him.
If you came here hungry, we’ve got a fish and two loaves in the kitchen – we’re not five thousand here, so we figured we didn’t need as much. If you came here thirsty – well, there’s two cups here. One’s full of water – clear and cold. The other….well….that’s the same cup he drank of. We’re not big on passing that one around.
I hope that you noticed the hearse parking around back – given that we’re not big on tombs in our culture, some of you have taken the liberty of bringing your loved ones around. We don’t mind that here so much; just make certain that you collect that vehicle when you leave. For the other representatives from funeral homes and other guests in mourning: we just ask that you keep the wailing down so that other guests can hear. Our speaker will be with you shortly.
I’ve noticed that tonight we made a lot of space for handicapped guests; I appreciate that. I heard something on the roof a while back. I just hope they notice the skylight and the pulley system we’ve installed for that purpose. Again, please take your equipment with you when you leave. No shoving, and please, don’t let the blind lead the blind again. We’re still paying on the settlement from last time.
He’ll call on you, and he’ll expect an answer in the affirmative. This can be a commitment, so hopefully you haven’t promised mom you’ll sit with her tonight, and you’ve laid Uncle Henry to rest. Sit, and keep watch with him tonight.
Here’s a man who will talk for hours, and hours without a point, so listen carefully. He may ask questions later.
His mother’s husband called him Joshua, she called him Jesu; the Pharisees called him a blasphemer and several mistaken people in the past have called him just ‘God’. His closest friends call him ‘rabbouni,’, his Father called him ‘beloved,’ and we who are here tonight know him as Jesus.
Brothers and sisters, as we’re here with our burdens and labours, let’s give them up: give up everything – heart, soul, and mind – give them up to welcome the second coming of our king –
- king of the hungry and poor,
- king of the hopeful and hopeless,
- king of the helpful and helpless,
- king of the lost and wretched,
- king of the maimed and forgotten,
- king of the despised and unclean,
- king of the blind and the lame,
- king of the lowly and desperate,
- king of innocents and children,
- king of widows and orphans,
- king of prostitutes and thieves,
- king of adulterers and divorcees,
- kings of retards and fools,
- King of kings and Lord of lords,
Jesus, who is called the Christ, the Son of the Living God.
I would love to take the Steve Harvey route, I really, really would. Swirling lights, drumrolls, keyboard tinkles, the whole nine yards. But I can’t see Jesus surrounded by screaming fans. As near as I can recall, the last time he was in front of a crowd they were calling out for his death. He ran to the tops of mountains to get away from crowds of people who wanted to see his next miracle. Like watching trained dogs at the country fair.
The people he talked the most to were the people who hung around the edges, who didn’t pay ‘full ticket price’ to watch the master at work.
So here’s maybe how I’d introduce Jesus:
Ladies and Gentlemen;
(maybe make that “broken and sorrowing:”)
I’d like to take a minute to welcome the latest country bumpkin to annoy our prestigious leaders. I can’t re-introduce him because he’s been with us all this time, and will be, he says, ‘to the end of the age’. We’ll settle for the end of the beer tonight. It’s taken him a while to get here – remember, he only rode a donkey once, and then only for a short time.
The media call him lazy, a drunkard, and a glutton. His own cousin could accuse him of ‘sheep-stealing,’ so if you’ve got people you want to keep around you, you may want to send them out about now. If you’ve got secrets here tonight you’ll probably want to slip out, too – he’ll tell you everything you’ve ever done if you stop to talk to him.
If you came here hungry, we’ve got a fish and two loaves in the kitchen – we’re not five thousand here, so we figured we didn’t need as much. If you came here thirsty – well, there’s two cups here. One’s full of water – clear and cold. The other….well….that’s the same cup he drank of. We’re not big on passing that one around.
I hope that you noticed the hearse parking around back – given that we’re not big on tombs in our culture, some of you have taken the liberty of bringing your loved ones around. We don’t mind that here so much; just make certain that you collect that vehicle when you leave. For the other representatives from funeral homes and other guests in mourning: we just ask that you keep the wailing down so that other guests can hear. Our speaker will be with you shortly.
I’ve noticed that tonight we made a lot of space for handicapped guests; I appreciate that. I heard something on the roof a while back. I just hope they notice the skylight and the pulley system we’ve installed for that purpose. Again, please take your equipment with you when you leave. No shoving, and please, don’t let the blind lead the blind again. We’re still paying on the settlement from last time.
He’ll call on you, and he’ll expect an answer in the affirmative. This can be a commitment, so hopefully you haven’t promised mom you’ll sit with her tonight, and you’ve laid Uncle Henry to rest. Sit, and keep watch with him tonight.
Here’s a man who will talk for hours, and hours without a point, so listen carefully. He may ask questions later.
His mother’s husband called him Joshua, she called him Jesu; the Pharisees called him a blasphemer and several mistaken people in the past have called him just ‘God’. His closest friends call him ‘rabbouni,’, his Father called him ‘beloved,’ and we who are here tonight know him as Jesus.
Brothers and sisters, as we’re here with our burdens and labours, let’s give them up: give up everything – heart, soul, and mind – give them up to welcome the second coming of our king –
- king of the hungry and poor,
- king of the hopeful and hopeless,
- king of the helpful and helpless,
- king of the lost and wretched,
- king of the maimed and forgotten,
- king of the despised and unclean,
- king of the blind and the lame,
- king of the lowly and desperate,
- king of innocents and children,
- king of widows and orphans,
- king of prostitutes and thieves,
- king of adulterers and divorcees,
- kings of retards and fools,
- King of kings and Lord of lords,
Jesus, who is called the Christ, the Son of the Living God.
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