Where's God?

 Christ Episcopal Church, St. Joseph, La.

I had the great fun and joy of spending Friday with my grandbabies. You might recall that I have two, a boy and a girl, born December 23, 2021. So they are rapidly approaching their first birthday. Jaxson, the boy, is walking. Madison, the girl, was born tiny and spent her first 48 hours in the NICU, so she’s physically a bit behind him.

 

Nevertheless, the two of them can get into a lot of trouble together already. So… Friday I’m sitting on the couch keeping an eye on them while they travel the living room together, Jaxson walking and Madison right behind with her odd but efficient crawl method.

 

  

Now I do not understand fully the fascination that draperies hold for kids, but soon they ended up on the floor with their heads behind the living room drapes that were just long enough to cover their heads and not their bodies. And so…. a game of peekaboo ensured.

 

I’m sure you know how it goes. I’d call out, “Where’s Jaxon? Where’s Maddie?” And they’d push back the curtain to reveal their faces and I’d say, “There’s Maddie! There’s Jaxson!” and they would giggle, and go back under the curtain for round… umpteen.

 

A childish game for sure. But this morning I propose that we are a lot like those toddlers when it comes to seeing God and being seen by God. One of the ways we are like them, is that we cover our faces and think we are hiding from God. Well, we aren’t, and at some level we know that. Nevertheless, we keep trying to hide from God. But that’s a different sermon, and I’m not going there this morning.

 

Here's where I’m going this morning: We wear veils over our faces—fairly thick ones—most of the time. And those veils prevent us from seeing God. 

 

Remember that two weeks ago, I preached here at Christ Church about the story of Zaccheus. I said that he was seen by God and that it transformed his life. I didn’t mention it then, but, in fact, an historian of his time records that Zaccheus went on to become the First Bishop of Caesarea. Pretty remarkable: From despised tax collector to honored Bishop.

 

I also noted that Zaccheus, as well as the rich young ruler, and truthfully lots of people in the New Testament, met Jesus on the road into Jericho. And then I said, “I think there’s a lesson for us in there somewhere! If church is the only place you are looking for Jesus, you’re not looking very hard!”

 

 

Today I will say, if the only place you are finding God is in church, then that veil you wear over your face most of the time is blocking your view.

 

See, that’s what I think today’s Gospel story is all about: It’s about looking for God in... well, not exactly the wrong places, because God is definitely here. More accurately, it’s about looking for the limitless, unbounded, living God.. in limited, bounded, mortal places.

 

God does not need this building. Any more than God needed an elaborate “tabernacle” constructed of fine wood and gilded with gold to be carried across the wilderness by our early ancestors, the Israelites. God did not need the First Temple, built of fine materials by Solomon and decked out in gold and jewels. God did not need the Second Temple, begun by Herod the Great and under construction for 46 years--the one Jesus predicts will fall in today's Gospel story.

 

Of course, God graciously met the faithful in those temples and continues to meet people of faith in all manner of temple and synagogue and church across the face of this planet. But God does not need these buildings. Every one of them will, one day, crumble to the ground.

 

We need them. We humans need the buildings. Or at least we think we do!

 

Because the limitless, unbounded, living God does meet us in these limited, bounded, mortal places. And it is good for us to take a shower, dress up nice, put on our best behavior and come to meet God here on a weekly basis. Good on us for doing that!

 

The problem comes when we confuse “a house of God,” like this church, with God’s home, which is the universe and everything in it, including us. We are the home of God! How many times does the Bible tell us that? How many ways did Jesus say it? The one I remember best is when he said, “The Kingdom is among and within you.”

 

So what is the nature of the veil we wear that leads us into the trap of conflating our “houses of God” with the constant and ubiquitous presence of God “out there” and everywhere we turn?

 

Well, I think part of it is we’re not so sure we want God everywhere out there and with us constantly. Maybe this sermon is a little bit about hiding from God after all! Because if God is everywhere and within me, how can I curse and flip a bird at the guy or gal who’s driving way under the speed limit in the passing lane? 

 

A dead sperm whale that washed up on the shore of Indonesia had 13 lbs of plastic trash in its stomach.

More seriously, if the home of God is the universe, how can I continue a lifestyle that produces the almost 6 pounds of trash per day that is the average per person in the U.S.A. BTW, only about 1.5 pounds of that gets recycled. The rest of it ends up in massive, smelly landfills in God’s living room, and acres of trash clogging God’s—and our—water supply and tons of plastic in the bellies of one of God’s most extraordinary creations—the whale. 

 

In other words, we really prefer to meet God primarily on Sundays when we are scrubbed and dressed nicely and on our best behavior!

 

I think another thing that contributes to our tendency to seek God here and not out there is fear. Because.. what if we really did see God in the face of all other human beings? How would that change our lives? We would have to give up our most fondly held prejudices, the ones we use to reassure ourselves that we are the “good guys” and those other folks over there who do not behave or think or value as we do are the “bad guys.”

 

In his letter to the Thesselonians, Paul says that people should work, and if they don’t work, they shouldn’t eat. I don’t have to ask for a show of hands to be pretty sure we all agree with that. But let us not get self-righteous about it, because our very agreement raises a question we would probably all rather avoid.

 

That question is, if we work so we can eat, why then do we have in the United States about 38.1 million people, that’s 11.8% of us, who are classified as “working poor,” meaning that they work—real jobs, essential jobs—but live below the poverty line. They make daily choices between food for the table and repairing the only vehicle they have to get to work, or between food and medication, or food and paying the electric bill.

 

The veil we wear over our faces that inhibits our seeing God everywhere, in the Universe and in everything in it, including our fellow humans, protects us from uncomfortable truths. It protects us from having to consider how we might need to change our own lives so to honor God’s creation and treat it justly and to love our neighbors as ourselves.

 

Pulling aside that veil is not child’s play. It takes courage. As Jesus says, it will separate you from family and friends, who do not want to hear about the working poor, or how human behavior is destroying God’s creation at an alarming rate, people who prefer to keep the veil in place.

 

But there is also joy to be found in lifting the veil. It’s the joy of meeting God at every turn. As Jesus says, the joy of gaining your own soul.

 

In the name of God, father, son and Holy Spirit, AMEN.

Being Seen

 October 30, 2022, Christ Church, St. Joseph, La.

A few weeks ago, I saw a cartoon in a friend’s Facebook feed that really grabbed me. I do not remember all the details, but it was about something I do a lot. It poked gentle fun at people like me, who continue to buy books long after they already own many, many books they have not yet read.

 

It said something along the lines of, ‘Really, I am on track to read all the books I own. I should be finished by the time I’m 564 years old.’

 

I laughed. And then I posted a comment. “I feel seen,” I said.

 

 

 I’m guessing most of us have had that experience. We look at a screen or a show or a meme, we watch a movie or read a cartoon, and we feel seen. We feel understood. We recognize our selves. Often we laugh.

 

And perhaps most powerful of all, we realize that we’re not alone. Someone else in the world is like us in some way.

 

Today our Gospel story is about a guy who ‘gets seen’ in the most powerful, life-changing way possible. He gets seen by God.

 

I think it’s important that Zaccheus gets seen by God because he goes to extraordinary lengths to get a look at God. Of course, he didn’t know it was God he was trying to see. I’m sure he thought Jesus was just an itinerant prophet passing through town.

 

But something he had heard or something about his own life, or maybe some combination of Jesus’ reputation and Zaccheus’ circumstances or experiences, came together and compelled him to go get a look at Jesus, indeed, to go the great indignity of climbing a tree to try to get a glimpse of him.

 

See, Zaccheus was not exactly just an “ordinary guy.” He was not the town drunk who climbed the tree in a stupor. He was not a kid who climbed trees for the fun of it. He was a wealthy man, very wealthy, because he was a tax collector and not just a tax collector but the chief tax collector for the town of Jericho.

 

And that means he might well have been the most powerful and the most despised guy in town. He had the backing of the oppressive Roman regime to collect taxes as he saw fit—lining his own pockets as he wished, as long as he gave the Romans their due. But the social price he paid for that was to be thought of pretty much as a traitor, a Jew who worked for the enemy.

 

I’m sure his wife dressed in finery. But I wonder how she felt about being the wife of the town pariah. I’m sure his kids had everything they wanted, but I’ll bet they got teased unbearably in school. I imagine Zaccheus knew the hard way that money and power do not bring happiness or contentment. Maybe that’s why he was so ripe for the picking.

 

But ripe for the picking he was. Here’s this wealthy, powerful guy climbing up a tree, risking everybody on the ground looking right up his skirt…  hoping to get a glimpse of Jesus and, in all likelihood, assuming Jesus will never once look up at him.

 

Why would he? Why would the prophet and healer, the most righteous man he had ever heard of, take note of the biggest sinner of them all?

 

But of course he did. Indeed, Jesus calls out to Zaccheus before he even gets to the tree. He doesn’t just happen to look up and see this guy perched in the tree. He doesn’t wait for the fruit to fall. He calls out, “Come down, man, I’m on my way to your house!”

 

Wouldn’t you love to have seen Zaccheus come down from that tree? I’m betting it took a fraction of the time it took to climb up. I’m guessing he grabbed a limb and swung to the ground, because there he is in the blink of an eye, face to face with Jesus.

 

I said earlier that Zaccheus was “ripe for the picking.” At this point it is worth comparing this story to another well known story about a man who goes looking for Jesus.

 

I’m speaking of the man known as the “rich young ruler” in the story told in Matthew. So there’s similarity right away. Both Zaccheus and the young ruler are wealthy.

 

And there’s a second similarity: They both go to encounter Jesus on a road Jesus is traveling, Zaccheus on the road into Jerisho, the young ruler while Jesus is traveling about Judea healing and teaching.

 

Neither of them, you will notice, goes to church or the synagogue to find Jesus. Indeed, the people Jesus encountered in the synagogue mostly criticized him, argued with him, or chased him out of town!

 

I think there’s a lesson for us in there somewhere. If church is the only place you are looking for Jesus, well… you’re not looking very hard! You’re taking the easy way out. However hard it is for us to drag ourselves out of bed on a Sunday morning, it’s nothing like actually following Jesus out into the world where he carried out his ministry and called upon us to follow him!

 

As the Franciscan friar and priest Richard Rohr has somewhat famously said, “It’s a whole lot easier to go to church than it is to follow Jesus.” It’s perhaps my favorite of his sayings.

 

But back to the rich young ruler and Zaccheus the tax collector: there the similarity ends. The rich young ruler walks away shaking his head. He encountered God with a capital “G,” but it did not change him. He already had his god with a small “g,” namely his wealth.

 

Zaccheus is transformed. He does not wait to be told what he needed to do. The words tumble out of his mouth. He has been seen by God and he knows he has been seen. He is humbled, and he knows what to do.

 

Again, notice the contrast. The rich young ruler asks, “Teacher, what must I do…” “What must I do…” He had an agenda. He was looking for another rule to follow. He did not expect or want to be seen for who he really was.

 

Zaccheus came with no agenda other than to see. And he got more than he bargained for. He seeks God with an open heart and mind, and so he accepts the gift of being seen. You’ve seen me Lord, he acknowledges, now here’s what I’m going to do.

 

And that’s the most powerful lesson of all: Being seen by God can transform us. It can heal us. It can change our lives.

 

But we must be ripe for the picking. We must put our own agendas aside. We must know that we have been seen as the sinners we really are, not as “the good church people” we imagine ourselves to be. Only then will we be transformed.

 

In the name of God, father, son and Holy Spirit, AMEN.