My mother had thin skin.
Thin skin. Thin skin.
I think of her bandages and her bruises and the blue of her veins.
The pale of candles and the gray of fog begs forgiveness.
Smoke. Mist. There. Not there. Be careful.
Thin skin. Thin skin.
Love tears hurt wounds. I'm bleeding. Where'd that come from?
She had thin skin and was often bleeding.
I wanted her skin to be thicker. I wanted her to heal more quickly.
I wanted her not to be wounded by a quick glance or a sharp tongue.
But she was. She was she was. Forever wounded and forever woundable.
I wanted her to have armor. Instead, she had thin skin. Thin like an eardrum that hears everthing with percussive force.
Thin like eyelids that can't hold back the intensity of life. What others welcome, thin skin cannot withstand: sun, light, life's simple brushes bumps and bruises.
She had thin skin and I'm sorry.
Some ideas and thoughts of the Rev. Charlie Dupree, a priest in the Episcopal Church.
Monday, March 6, 2017
Monday, February 6, 2017
Epiphany IIIA - Mr. Zebedee
Preached by the Rev. Charles Dupree at Trinity, Bloomington
"As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee
and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending
their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their
father, and followed him." (Matthew 4: 21-22)
During a recent conversation about the passage we just heard,
someone said the following: I feel sorry for father Zebedee.
Father Zebedee . . . Who’s that? He’s not really a character
that we think about in Scripture. In
this case, Mr. Zebedee is the father of the two disciples that Jesus has just
called. James and John are their names. Jesus calls these two fellows to be his
disciples and they follow. But they leave something behind - their father, Mr.
Zebedee. In that day, Mr. Zebedee would have really depended on these two sons.
He’d probably been training them since they were young boys, teaching them how
to work the boat, read the weather, pay attention to the wind. He’d taught them
how to work those nets like masterful technicians. Mr. Zebedee taught James and
John as sons, but also as business partners. They relied on each other as
family. Mr. Zebedee probably hoped to leave the family business to James and
John.
So, what’s up with this Jesus fellow coming into the picture
and messing things up? They abandon
everything that they had learned. They drop their nets. They drop their
family. They drop their father and their father’s hopes to follow Jesus.
Discipleship isn’t predictable.
It reminds me of a story told by American theologian, Will
Willimon:
William Willimon used to be the dean of the chapel at Duke
University. "One day he received a phone call from a very irate father.
The father exploded on the other end of the line, telling Willimon furiously,
’I hold you personally responsible for this!’ He was angry because his
graduate-school-bound daughter had decided (in his words) ’to throw it all away
and go and do mission work in Haiti with the Presbyterian Church.’
The father screamed, ’Isn’t that absurd! She has a B.S. degree from Duke and she is going to dig ditches in Haiti! I hold you responsible for this!’
Willimon said, ’Why me?’ The father said, ’You ingratiated yourself and filled her with all this religion stuff.’
Will Willimon is not easily intimidated. He asked the father, ’Sir, weren’t you the one who had her baptized?’
’Well, well, well, yes.’
’And didn’t you take her to Sunday School when she was a little girl?’
’Well, well, yes.’
’And didn’t you allow your daughter to go on those youth group ski trips to Colorado when she was in high school?’
’Yes . . . but what does that have to do with anything?’
’Sir, you are the reason she is throwing it all away. You introduced her to Jesus. Not me!’
’But,’ said the father, ’all we wanted was a Presbyterian.’
Willimon, who has an instinct for the jugular, replied, ’Well, sorry, sir, you messed up. You’ve gone and made a disciple.’"[1]
The father screamed, ’Isn’t that absurd! She has a B.S. degree from Duke and she is going to dig ditches in Haiti! I hold you responsible for this!’
Willimon said, ’Why me?’ The father said, ’You ingratiated yourself and filled her with all this religion stuff.’
Will Willimon is not easily intimidated. He asked the father, ’Sir, weren’t you the one who had her baptized?’
’Well, well, well, yes.’
’And didn’t you take her to Sunday School when she was a little girl?’
’Well, well, yes.’
’And didn’t you allow your daughter to go on those youth group ski trips to Colorado when she was in high school?’
’Yes . . . but what does that have to do with anything?’
’Sir, you are the reason she is throwing it all away. You introduced her to Jesus. Not me!’
’But,’ said the father, ’all we wanted was a Presbyterian.’
Willimon, who has an instinct for the jugular, replied, ’Well, sorry, sir, you messed up. You’ve gone and made a disciple.’"[1]
We don’t know if Mr. Zebedee calls up Jesus and blams him
for his sons misguided future. But I hope that Mr. and Mrs. Zebedee sees in
their children’s eyes a faithfulness – a belief that they can and will make
the world better. For Mr. Zebedee, this involves a faith of his own – trust in
his sons to be fishermen, but different kinds of fishermen.
Every single human life has a purpose. And that purpose, as we understand it, is to
bring health and wholeness to God’s world.
That purpose, whether as individuals, or as a community of faith, as our
catechism teaches us, is to restore all people to unity to God and each other
through Christ. Every single human life
is has a part to play in God’s plan for restoration. Every single human creature has an unfolding
potentiality. And when God calls and
calls and calls, God’s purpose moves closer and closer to the surface, until,
one day, we must do something about it. In the Jewish tradition, they say that
every blade of grass has an angel over it saying, ‘grow, grow, grow.’ This same kind of thing happens to us. God’s breath, God’s spirit, is moving within
and around each one of us, calling us into our full potential, and whispering, Grow, Grow, Grow.
Sometimes, this growth happens quickly, and sometimes it
takes its time. Sometimes we plan for it, and sometimes it comes out of left
field, like a child who surprises us by how they really have been listening.
They’ve been listening and watching everyday.
It’s important to note that the Zebedee son’s call does not
come to them in some holy temple. They
aren’t ordained by some bishop somewhere.
They’re not praying or doing holy things when the call comes. Their call
comes in the middle of the work day.
They’re not even out on the water. They’re on the shore, fixing their
nets. They don’t have degrees – they have
calloused hands and wind-burned cheeks. “When God calls, [we] should not think so much about who [we]
are, but about what Jesus [is making of us].”[2]
So, if you want to pick up the phone and blame someone or
something for you or someone you love being a disciple, I’m happy for the Church
to take the blame . . . The Church that fed you, shaped you, told you stories,
listened to you. The Church that married you and baptized you. The Church that
made you conscientious, compassionate, passionate. The Church that asked you to
love yourself, love God, love your neighbor. The Church that makes you scratch
your head and shake your fist in befuddlement, and the Church that helps you
fall asleep at night, knowing that you are loved. Yes. Blame the Church for all
of that. The Church can take it. Blame the church, for its role is to shape and
form disciples, and disciples you are.
Grow. Grow. Grow, disciples.
What is Jesus making of you in this moment?
Glory to God, whose power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine . . .
Sunday, January 22, 2017
Epiphany II - What are you seeking?
Preached by the Rev. Charles Dupree at Trinity Episcopal
Church, 2017
John 1:18 No one has ever seen God.
John 1: 38 What are you looking for?
Do you ever wonder how much
time we spend looking for something. You may have seen me walking around church
with a water bottle. This is a stewardship effort for me. I don’t buy water in
plastic bottles, so I have one bottle. But I lose it all the time. “Where is my
water bottle,” I say as I retrace my many steps.
Where are my car keys? Where
is my phone? Where are my gloves? Where did I leave my shoes? Where did I put
my glasses?
A popular one for downtown,
“Where am I going to park?”
From clean socks to your
children’s left shoe, we spend a lot of time looking. How much time do we spend
looking for things? A recent survey says that the average American spends 55
minutes a day looking for things they can’t find.
Another survey says that
Americans will lose approximately $5000 dollars worth of stuff over a lifetime.
What are you looking for?
This might be a question that we ask our spouses or family members every day
before racing off to work or school, but today, somebody else is asking us.
“What are you looking for?”
he asks. His name is Jesus, and I don’t think he’s referring to a misplaced
phone charger.
This idea of Looking, of
seeing, of searching, of finding, is very important in the Gospel of John. The Gospel of John is all about pointing out
who Jesus is. This is why there are so many uses of the verb “look” or “see.”
A few examples from the
portion of John’s gospel that we hear this morning:
From John’s first chapter:
·
29. John SAW
Jesus coming toward him.
·
John points to
Jesus, “THERE is the Lamb of God. . .”
·
32. John SEES the
spirit descend and stay on Jesus.
·
34: John says, “I
have SEEN it – this is God’s Chosen one.
·
Again in 36: John
LOOKS toward Jesus and says, “THERE is the Lamb of God.”
·
And when the
disciples start to follow Jesus, Jesus asks them, “What are you looking for?”
So our Gospel writer spends a
lot of time telling us who Jesus is, and what his purpose is. Primarily, Jesus
is here to be God in the flesh. Earlier back in verse 18, we hear that “no one
has ever seen God.” But now we have, and John spends a lot of time pointing out
that this Jesus is now here, in the flesh. Who? What? Where?
There! Look! See!
We kow it’s not polite to
point, but I imagine John the Baptist pointing with his finger to Jesus. THAT
ONE! See, we can see God, and he stands there in the flesh, I can point him out
to you. I can point God out to you. There, look, see.
Again, we remember that
Jesus’ birth just four short weeks ago, is about the incarnation. And this
Jesus we can ese with out own eyes is here so that we can see and know God and
point to the ways that life and society can be different. Seeing is believing,
they say.
Remember, first things are
important in the Gospel. In John’s Gospel these are Jesus’ first words are
about looking, seeking, searching. So today, Jesus asks the most philosophical
question ever asked, “What are you LOOKING for?” And in asking the question,
Jesus also answers the question. For Jesus himself, in the flesh, in body,
standing right in front of them, is the answer. And this answer has to do with closeness.
In Jesus, there is a
closeness to God that was never before possible. And John the baptist’s role,
in this Gospel, is to point to him and say, “There he is. We can be as close as
the Jesus right in your midst.”
As 21st century disciples,
our role is no different. We are to point to Jesus – to where he is active and
moving and bidding us go. We are to point to the Kingdom. We are to point to
the vision that God, through Jesus’ teachings, has imagined for us.
If there was anyone who knew
how to do this - whose life pointed to Jesus. If there was anyone who saw Jesus
everywhere all the time, it was the man whose life we celebrate tomorrow: Martin
Luther King, Jr.
Guided by what he saw in
Jesus Christ – guided by the eyes of his faith, Dr. King refused to accept, as
he wrote, “he refused to accept the view that [human]kind is so tragically
bound to the starless midnight of racism and war. I refuse to accept,” he says,
“that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.
I believe,” he says, “that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the
final word.”[1]
King was a disciple – a
student – a witness – always expecting Jesus to show up. And if Jesus had asked
Dr. King, “What are you looking for?” I’m sure he would have given Jesus an
earful! He would have been as clear with Jesus about what he was looking for. What
was he looking for? Life and Freedom and Equality for all God’s people. And Dr.
King was clear with all of us that we should be looking for it, too.
What do we spend our time
looking for?
Is it our phone chargers and
for our earbuds? Is it our chapstick and our car keys? Or, is it something
deeper?
But today, Jesus, God in the
flesh, is asking, “What are you looking for?”
What are you looking for?
What motivates you? Are you following a path that will take you there? Are your
eyes set on a leader that will lead you in that direction?
We are all looking for
something. Some sort of change. For deep meaning. For significance – for a
place to find and use our gifts. And, my hunch, is that this is why God has
brought you here today. My friends, if you are looking for something, deeply
and honestly, if you are desiring something so bad it hurts, chances are, God
put it there and is already leading your in that direction.
So, as you move to the Altar
this day, hear God’s question to you, “What are you looking for?” And don’t be
afraid to tell God, honestly, what it is that you deeply need, and deeply
desire. And then, keep your heart and your eyes open for what God will show
you.
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